#i haven’t necessarily gotten a whole lot of sympathy at home

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

Pro Heros Find You Crying

Warnings: tw for body image, mentions of death of pets

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

You were home, alone, when you found out. It wasn’t a particularly big issue, and it wasn’t something that someone else would necessarily care about, but to you, this was the final straw. 

An actor from your childhood, someone who you watched constantly as a child, someone who, albeit from a screen, saw you grow up, passed away. You never got to even meet him in person. The closest you’ve ever gotten was him noticing your comment on a livestream of 12 other people, and smiling.

You never got to thank him. For everything he’d done for you. 

Tears fell from your eyes uncontrollably, dripping from your eyelashes and dropping onto the floor, your clothes, the keyboard. 

Soon, though, you felt dreaded sobs making their way from your core all the way through your vocal cords. They shook your body like an earthquake. Sobs don’t care what they break inside you. They just need to get out.

What no one else would understand about this, though, was that your tears weren’t just being spilled for the actor you never got to thank. No, these represent so much more.

Your childhood is officially gone.

Just as that actor will be grieved, buried, and will rot in the ground with dusty fake flowers above his grave, your childhood will be filled with maggots and worms.

The thing about childhoods, though, is that they still live inside you, even when they’re over.

You always found this fact a cruel one. Even now, you could feel the worms burrowing into your childhood, eating away and destroying all the memories you’ve tried so hard to keep in tact for all these years. 

You sobbed for him, yes. But you were still grieving your loss as well.

Cold, bony fingers met your shoulder. You jumped, yelping at the sudden touch.

“What?! What do you want?!” you screamed. You aren’t usually this ornery, but the embarrasment of being this upset over something so menial, plus the shock of someone else being home with you, caused you to snap.

"What happened?" He gently asked. He met your seemingly angry tone with nothing but pure kindness and sympathy.

"I-I'm so sorry, Toshi...I didn't mean-"

"I know, pumpkin. I know."

He took you in his arms, pulling you towards him.

In between sobs, you explained what happened.

"oh...I see... That does sound like a lot for you to be dealing with."

He stroked your tear stained cheek.

“But...I hope you know that just because you’re older, it doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed to be a kid sometimes. You can still get excited over stuff, and cry over things that seem silly, and have wonder about new things. As long as you keep a piece of your childhood with you, you never have to say goodbye.”

Once you calmed down, he took you out for ice cream: something you haven’t done since you were barely 10 years old. 

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

You quickly clicked your heels into the staff restroom, closing the door behind you and shakily letting out a sigh of relief. You knew you didn’t have much time left before the tears started coming once you got that text, so you decided it’d be best for you to go ahead and have another teacher deal with your class for a few minutes while you let yourself deal with this, alone.

You re-read the text one more time. Maybe it wasn’t what you thought it was.

Y/n... I’m so sorry, but your dog was put to sleep today. 

You shook your head. No, maybe she meant to say that he was taking a nap. Maybe he was still waiting for you, at home, in his little bed...

A sob escaped before you had the chance to control it as you pictured his little black and white face peacefully sleeping on his doggie bed. 

You had that dog for years. He’d been there for you when no one else had, and though he couldn’t speak, you always knew he silently understood what you needed when you needed it.

Now, he was gone.

You covered your mouth, trying your best to supress the sounds of sorrow escaping your lips. Maybe, you thought, if I don’t acknowledge it, it’s not real.

But deep down, you know that’s not true. 

The door to the staff bathroom begins to creak open. 

“Hey, someone’s in here!” you croak out, the tears were even audible in your voice.

“Yeah, and now I’m in here too,” the teacher replied, shutting and locking the door behind him. Something you had forgotten to do.

It was Aizawa, the very teacher you had just asked to watch your students ‘for a moment’.

Before you could ask about them, he mentioned, “They’re fine. I put on a movie for em... but you, on the other hand, are certainly not.”

He took his place next to you on the dirty tile floor of the school restroom, against one wall. He handed you a tissue, noting but not mentioning the fact that you were a mess of tears, ruined makeup, and snot. You gladly accepted, blowing your nose.

Neither of you said much for a good five minutes. You forced yourself to calm down, as to not embarrass yourself in front of him, but the tears were still there, festering below the surface.

“So, what’s got you so upset?” 

That little question was all it took for you to break. You tried, unsuccessfully, to say it. The three little words, “My dog died,” but no matter how much you strained, all that came out was a mess of choked up sobs.

You shakily handed him your phone. His eyes darted to the text, and he instantly understood. 

Aizawa was not one for any physical touching, ever. Even though you had been dating him, he still never really enjoyed holding hands, hugging, or anything like that. 

Today, however, was a totally different situation. He turned to you, opening his arms wide, gesturing for you to ‘come here’.

But you didn’t need anything more. 

You did, and he silently cradled you, rubbing your hair. 

Truthfully, he didn’t know exactly what to say. What could you say? 

Once you began to calm down, he stroked your jaw lightly.

“What was his name?”

“...Theo.” you answered plainly. 

“You loved Theo a lot, didn’t you?” 

You nodded.

“You know, what’s so funny about losing a pet is that...it’s incredibly hard,” he sighed, “Even harder than losing humans.”

Aizawa continued, “It’s because we don’t have anything to gain from lying about loving them. We just do. Animals love their owners completely unconditionally, never needing any reassurance that you love them back a hundred times over. That’s not something that many humans have.”

You nodded.

“ I just hope you know that...you did your best for him. He couldn’t have ever asked for a better owner to share his life with. You did good, y/n,” he whispered. You shot him a shaky smile. Really, your heart was aching more now than ever. 

“You don’t have to do all that. I know you’re not doing well, still. Please, go ahead and go home for the day. I can take on your class, no problem,” he assured.

“...can you...come over after work?” you asked. He nodded.

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum

It’s been almost a year since this pandemic began. You wonder to yourself, how long can that be an excuse for you? 

You had gained weight. A lot of it. You suffer from secret binge eating, indulging yourself greedily in all your favorite comfort foods. Usually, you did this at night, which worked out even better for you, since your boyfriend usually had night watch and was not at home. 

Stretch marks were always a normal sight for you, ever since you hit puberty, but the ones on your stomach have started to move upwards, like vines trying to find the sun. They stared back at you in shades of purples, pinks, and browns. 

You ran your fingers over your now bumpy skin.

Other girls don’t look like this. Other girls are happy with a miniature bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, a granola bar for lunch, and maybe a tiny serving of pasta for dinner. They are the beautiful ones. They must be happy, right?

Your fingers unrelentlessly pinch and pull at your stomach, your thighs, your love handles. All fat.

Each tiny action reminded your body that you hated it. 

Did you even ever love your body? Even when you were ‘skinny’? 

Your eyes met with your face, staring back at you in your mirror. You saw flashes of the girl you once were, tiny memories of a once happy girl.

You couldn’t hold back the wail of grief that racked your whole body. You turned away from the mirror, curling up on your floor. 

That wasn’t any better.

The remanants of last night’s binge surrounded you. Wrappers from your favorite ice cream bar, discarded chip bags, and candy containers scattered your floor.

You suddenly remembered that he’d be home soon, and scrambled to collect all the evidence through your blurry eyes.

Each piece of trash reminded you of your failure, your lack of self control. Your uselessness.

You sobbed harder. 

“Y/n, darling, I’m home!” that peppy, familiar voice announced from the entranceway. You took a deep breath, scooting all the trash under your bed and wiping your face.

You greeted him, a faux smile plastered on your face.

He began to speak, but when he got a good look at you, he paused.

“What happened here, sweetie?” he asked, touching your face. His hand was chilled from the outside air.

“N-nothing. I’m fine,” you lied, forcing the smile a little more.

He squinted his eyes, sitting down at the kitchen table. 

“Go ahead an’ tell me what’s going on with ya,” he offered, patting one knee.

“Baby, it’s nothing. You need to go to bed, I know you’re probably exhausted.”

“The only thing exhausting me right now is you. I’ll go to the bedroom if that’s whatcha want, but I’m not goin to bed until you tell me what’s wrong.” 

Fatgum made his way into the bedroom, quickly slipping into his house clothes before sliding into the bed you both shared.

Before you could join him, he paused, adjusting himself.

He then pulled out a popsicle stick that you neglected to remove from the bed when you made it this morning. At the sight of it, you turned away from him and covered your face.

He was now wholly confused, but ready to deal with whatever it was that was upsetting you. He reached out, pulling you to him. You wanted to protest, but you couldn’t find the strength to anymore.

He rubbed your back in small circles, cooing, “let it out, babydoll...that’s it, good...”

Once you had calmed down quite a bit, he tilted your chin up towards his face, making you make eye contact.

“What have you been hiding from me, love?” he delicately questioned.

You said nothing, but slid out the pile of trash from the night before.

“This...is from last night,” you stated plainly.

You tensed your body, ready for the ridicule, the mocking, the ‘i’m just concerned for your health’ comments. 

You looked up, to see if he could actually see what you’d just shown him. He did. His eyes were dewy yet understanding.

He stood up, placing his arm around you and pulling you towards him.

“I understand,” he whispered into your ear. You clenched your fist.

“No. You can’t understand.” 

You looked up at him, with now angered eyes.

“You’ll never understand, Tai. Never.”

“What do you-”

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO STAY FAT FOREVER! I DO!” you screeched, covering your face. You never yelled at him before, or anyone else for that matter. But this issue you’ve been dealing with was one that no one ever saw from you. It was a raw, bleeding subject, one that you felt as if you’ve just poured a great deal of salt on.

“Darling...” he whispered, pulling you close to him, “What’s wrong with being fat, honey?” 

“Are you kidding?” you spat, “I don’t look good like this, Tai. I don’t fit into my clothes anymore, I-”

“Number one, you most certainly do look good like anything. Number two, I will buy you new clothes.”

You were starting to get frustrated.

“Tai! I’m telling you, I fucking hate myself, okay? I hate my body! And, sometimes, I hate you for pretending to love something that I know you hate, too!”

He pulled you away from him, looking you in the eye. He was serious now.

“Don’t you be puttin words in my mouth. I have never ever, not even once thought about hating you or your body,”

“That’s a lie, Tai! How could you ever love me when I look like this?”

“How could you ever love me when I look like this?” he retorted, gesturing to his fat form. 

You gasped. You didn’t really have an answer.

He knew you wouldn’t, either.

“So, now tell me, y/n... what’s so wrong about being fat?”

You clung to him, apologizing in between sobs.

He hushed you, cooing,” There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, it’s okay. I love you, sweetie.”

You sniffed, “I love you, too.”

[thisaintascenereviews]

Riz Ahmed - The Long Goodbye It’s an understatement to say that the last few years have been a nightmare for a lot of people. A lot of awful things have been plaguing, not just the US but the world, as of late -- COVID, rampant racism, and mass shootings have been the big three, it seems. Well, the last one is more so the US, but the idea of racism is a very universal problem that a lot of places deal with, too, including the UK. It’s gotten so bad that actor and rapper RIz Ahmed released his first album under his own name, 2020′s The Long Goodbye. I didn’t know Ahmed was a rapper until I read an article on The AV Club about the first episode of Ms Marvel that featured one of his songs, so I decided to look it up. I found that Ahmed has been a rapper for many years as well, on top of being an award-nominated and winning actor, but he hasn’t released a lot of music, but his last project was this record in 2020. Conceptualized as a breakup record, The Long Goodbye is a breakup record about Great Britain; the United States is the only country dealing with a fascist and racist dictator in office. The UK has their own far-right extremist, that being Boris Johnson, and they’ve been dealing with their own fair share of racism, especially with the South Asian community that lives in Britain. Ahmed in particular is Pakistani, and he wanted to write a record about breaking up with Britain, as well as the racism that has permeating in his home country over the last few years, and the result is one of the most powerful, poignant, and emotionally intense albums that I’ve heard in recent memory. This album has its fair share of humor injected throughout it, including featuring comedians Mindy Kaling and Hasan Minhaj, just to name a couple of the celebrities that appear on the record in very short and quick interludes that double as voicemails that show sympathy for his “breakup,” but the record doesn’t shy away from being blunt about its point -- Britain is racist, and it’s gotten worse over the last few years or so. The album opens with a poem with no music behind it, just Ahmed rapping about the so-called “breakup,” and using a breakup as a way to contextualize his mixed feelings for how his home country is treating him, just because he’s not white. That’s the thesis statement for the whole record, and on one song, he even comes out and says, “I spit my truth and it’s brown.” Ahmed owns who he is, and he’s not afraid to say it, especially in the face of his oppressors, or people that don’t like him simply for the color of his skin or the culture that he’s apart of. The concept is really the main focus of the album, as well as its lyrics, but Ahmed sounds great on this thing. He has this fire that cannot be put out on this record, You can tell that he’s angry, and for good reason, he has every right to be. This album does have some lighter moments on it, especially with the closing track “Karma,” which has a lighter tone on it, and it’s one of the “catchier” songs on the album; the rest of it is still very accessible, it’s not a weird or experimental kind of album, but it’s not lighthearted lyrically speaking. Just a few years before this, Ahmed dropped Cashmere (as well as another EP, but I haven’t heard it yet) with Heems from Das Racist as Swet Shop Boys in 2016, and I don’t want to review the album, only because it’s very similar to this, just not as specific. Cashmere deals with a lot of racism that Muslims and Hindus experience, but both in the US and UK. Heems talks a lot about his experiences in New York as Hindu man, but unlike this record, where it’s more on the nose and not as fun, Swet Shop Boys inject a lot humor and cleverness into their lyricism that make it more fun, whereas this isn’t necessarily bleak and depressing, it’s just very much on the nose and direct with what it’s trying to say. That’s something I can very much appreciate, though, and I love the record for that. At 27 minutes, The Long Goodbye is a very short album, but that’s mainly because a lot of the tracks are the interludes that I talked about, so they’re only not even 20 seconds a piece. It goes by very quickly, and instead of dwelling a lot on what it’s saying, it just says what it needs to and it gets out. I very much appreciate the album for that, but if you want more, there is a short film that accompanies this record (which won the Oscar for best short film in 2020), and it’s an intense 12-minute film that shows what the far-right want to do with people of color in England, especially South Asian people. It’s not for the faint of heart, as the end is very hard to watch, but it drives the point home very well, and Ahmed recites another poem from the album at the end, and it’s very moving and poignant, just like the whole album.

[et-lesailes]

lockdown lust

pairing: johnny storm x reader

word count: 3270

summary: video chatting with your best friend johnny during quarantine turns a bit steamy.

themes: smut

taglist: @evanstush​​, @tanyam93​​, @bval-1​​, @wonderwinchester​​, @patzammit​​, @rohaintahquil​​, @deidrashouseofpain​​, @sammyslonglostshoe​​, @jadedhillon​​, @bohemian-barbie​​, @whysparker​​, @sebastian-i-stan​​, @sebabestianstan101​​, @lille-kattunge​​, @teller258316​​, @peach-acid​​, @allsortsofinterests​​, @xoxabs88xox​​, @heyiamthatbitch​​, @cptn-sgrogers​​, @heyyouwiththeassbutt​​, @bangtan-serendipity​​, @troublermalik​​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​​, @bookish-shristi​​, @kind-sober-fullydressed​​,  @gingerninjaprincess16​​, @straightforwardly​​,  @denisemarieangelina​​,  @frencchfries​​, @xlanawriter​​, @littlemoistcarrot​​, @pottxrwolff​​, @arianatheangelworld​​, @ifuseekamyevans​​, @southerngracela​​, @nsfwsebbie​​, @rororo06​​, @savemesteeb​​, @raveviolet​​, @inactivewhore​​, @hurricanerinwrites​​, @captainamerica-is-bae​​, @shaddixlife​​, @tessa-bl​​, @marvelouspottering​​, @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc​​, @thegetawaywriter​​, @dwights-new-plague​​​, @rynabarnesrogers​​​, @fckdeusername​​​

notes: man i wish my quarantine was going like this. graphic creds go to the @thewritingdoll​, also patreon saw this first! click here to join :)

You’re laying on your side on your bed, dressed in a simple tank top and shorts with your sports bra just barely peeking out from either side of your shirt, clicking through YouTube video after YouTube video on your laptop. Ever since being unemployed thanks to the pandemic, each day is the same as the previous. Wake up, eat breakfast, watch TV, play some video games, eat lunch, read, try and teach yourself a new language, sit outside on the deck for a bit, eat dinner… you’re slowly going crazy not having anything productive to do, but it at least helps being able to chat with your friends via FaceTime and Zoom. It’s rather depressing being alone and stuck at home, but one of your best friends in particular manages to help quite a lot. Even though Johnny’s going just as crazy as you are, he’s still his fun loving, goofy, and energetic self, and it’s safe to say he knows how to cheer you up whenever you’re feeling the quarantine blues.

A notification pops up on your screen indicating that he’s video calling you, and you gladly answer. “Hey there, gorgeous.” He greets you in his typical flirtatious fashion- as usual, he’s shirtless (you’re assuming also only in underwear) and lounging back in his bed with a beer in one hand. “Fuck, I’m so bored. What are you up to?” You laugh softly, sighing as you look at the YouTube videos on the side of your screen. “Literally nothing. Honestly considering just going to sleep because I have nothing else to do.” 

“You know what I miss?” he suddenly speaks up rather than responding to you, taking a swig of his beer. “Sex. No, I miss even just touching a girl. Like even if it’s a fucking handshake. I’m starting to think I should have just picked a quarantine girlfriend so I could get some action.” You blink and laugh, shaking your head to yourself though you can’t help but admit you understand the feeling. “I’m not gonna lie, I definitely miss the feeling of having someone in the bed with me.” You don’t have a boyfriend, but you did sometimes have a fling every now and then. As Johnny said, though, it’s not just about sex. You simply miss the comforting, reassuring feeling of having a male’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to his body in his slumber. 

“Yeah? So have you been masturbating a lot?” he asks bluntly, and you laugh; you and Johnny are extremely close, and so questions like these never throw you off or make you uncomfortable. “Kind of, yeah, but I’m sure nowhere near as much as you.” You tease with a smirk, and he snickers in return. “Touche, darling. I can’t help it, okay? I have a high sex drive.” He suddenly arches a brow, lifting his drink up slightly. “Hello, why am I the only one drinking? Go get some alcohol, c’mon!” You roll your eyes fondly at his severe ADD, but nod your head. “Alright, alright, be right back.”

You return a few moments later with a glass of wine, settling into your previous position laying on your side and propped up on your elbow, sipping from your glass. “Happy now?” you ask, and he scoffs playfully. “Wine? What are you, forty?” You blink and laugh loudly, making a face. “Beer makes my stomach feel weird! It’s all… carby or whatever.” He hums thoughtfully before reaching out of the frame to pick up something- a bottle of liquor. “Okay, what about shots?”

You look at him in amusement and disbelief, but honestly, you actually feel a little sympathy for him. He just wants company; he’s an incredibly social guy who absolutely loves going out, clubbing, dancing, and meeting new people- of course he just wants a drinking buddy right now. “Alright, alright, I literally just settled down but I’ll get out of bed again just for you.” You wrinkle your nose at him and he cheers happily, pumping his fist in the air. “Hell yeah, that’s my girl! Hurry now before my buzz dies down.” You chuckle softly and get up again, setting your wine down and going back to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of fruit flavored rum. It’s probably going to be a long night if Johnny’s this hyped up already, but you’re actually looking forward to it. You really do love talking to him, especially during this period of time.

An hour flies by without you even realizing it. You’ve been drinking with Johnny the whole time, laughing and chatting and joking around with each other as you usually do; there’s no one who can make you smile as much as he does. His enthusiasm and rowdiness is contagious- you’ve felt so groggy and lazy during these lockdown days, but he always knows how to snap you right back. 

“Hey, Y/N.” Johnny reaches over to grab another can of beer from the table and you catch even more of a view of his rippling abs. “Yeah?” you ask, wondering just how much you’ve drank to actually be checking Johnny out. You can acknowledge he’s an attractive guy, but he’s only been a friend to you all this time- for some reason, you never really entertained the thought of anything more. Perhaps because you’ve seen the way he is with women; not necessarily bad or toxic, but not exactly boyfriend material either. 

“Let’s play a game.” He suggests, giving you a little smirk. “How about Never Have I Ever?” You blink but smile, nodding your head. “Alright, sure. Wanna start?” He suddenly lifts a hand, shaking his head. “Uh uh uh, hold on. This version of the game has a catch.” He downs the rest of his beer before wiping his lips with the back of his hand, grinning at you mischievously. “For every single thing you have done, you have to take off an article of clothing.” 

“What? You know, like, everything I’ve done!” you argue in amusement, and he grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “And you know everything I’ve done. So? C’mon, it’ll be fun. But we can’t do stupid stuff, like “Never have I ever kissed a girl” or “watched hardcore porn”. It has to be more specific.”

You roll your eyes but find yourself agreeing. “Okay. Fine. Shouldn’t you, like, maybe put on clothes first though? You know, so you actually have something to take off?” He blinks and looks down at his half naked body before laughing loudly. “Oh yeah, good point!” You watch as he stands up, eyes directly met with his boxers as he goes to grab a shirt, pants, and even socks and a watch. “You are ridiculous,” you remark, taking a sip of your wine though giggling nonetheless. As always, he knows just how to make you laugh. 

“Alright, I’ll start.” Johnny gets himself comfortable again, dressed in a simple wifebeater and basketball shorts. “Never have I ever… gotten so drunk as a freshman at a college party that I ended up making my really handsome best friend carry me all the way back to my dorm.” You blink and laugh loudly making a face, whining playfully, “Johnny! God, you didn’t even go to school there, why were you there anyways?”

“To carry your ass back home. Now go on, get stripping.” You scoff but take off your tank top, revealing your patterned sports bra underneath. You see him staring and for some reason, you actually feel… excited. This has to be the alcohol, right? You clear your throat, tossing the top aside. “My turn. Never have I ever had sex with someone new five minutes after breaking up with my significant other.” You fire bluntly, the corner of your lips tugging upwards. He laughs, shaking his head to himself. “In my defense, we had only been dating for two weeks, and she went psycho on me. You remember! Right?”

“Just take off the shirt, Johnny.” You laugh, and he arches a brow, playfully retorting, “Wow, bossy. I like it, baby.” He lifts off the wifebeater revealing his abs once again, and you force yourself not to look at them- you know he’d make a comment otherwise. “If we’re going to bring sexcapades into this,” he murmurs thoughtfully, “never have I ever been caught hooking up in a movie theater.” You immediately blush, hiding your face. “Why did I ever tell you about that? It was barely hooking up, it was just making out! And you’ve done that several times at the movies, there’s no way you haven’t.”

“I have, but I’ve never been caught.” He winks and nods towards you. “So, the bra?” You roll your eyes and shake your head, shifting yourself so you’re sitting up on your knees to wiggle out of your shorts. You’re thankful you at least put on some cute underwear today, looking down at the sky blue material with little tiny icons of penguins on it. Johnny shamelessly looks too, chuckling softly. “Wow. Those are fucking precious.” He barely bites on his lip though as he keeps staring, and you feel yourself blushing deeper, quickly settling yourself back down again. 

It’s obvious where this game’s heading. Both of you know it. You don’t know if it’s because of the alcohol, or the fact that you’re just extremely sex deprived, but you’re completely fine with how this night will end. It’s just a fun little game. Nothing wrong with that.

“My turn.” You snap him out of whatever daydream is running through his head, raising an eyebrow. “Never have I ever dated a freaking supermodel.”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Y/N?” he teases, but easily kicks off his basketball shorts. “No. Also why aren’t you just taking off your socks and the watch first?” you ask, and he grins, shrugging playfully. “I’m perfectly fine with just chilling with my dick out wearing nothing but a few accessories. What’s wrong with that?” You shake your head to yourself, though you can’t help but find the thought hilarious. How this boy became so bold and confident, you have no idea, but you have to admit it’s even a bit inspirational at times.

“Okay,” Johnny begins, taking a drink of his beer. He looks more excited now, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Never have I ever had sex with a long term significant other.” You blink and make a soft incredulous noise. “You’ve never even had a long term significant other!”

“That’s right, baby girl! Which is it gonna be, the bra or the panties?” 

“Neither.” You smirk and bring your feet into view, wiggling your toes in the fuzzy socks you had been wearing. “I’m guessing someone here doesn’t have a foot fetish at least, because you didn’t even notice that I’m wearing socks.” Johnny groans in playful annoyance as you take them off, crossing his arms. “Fine, you got me there. Your turn.”

You have to pause for a second. Not to think of what you’re going to say- God, you know Johnny better than he does, you could write a book of all the bullshit he pulls. No, you have to pause because this is where things are going to start getting intense. You’re going to see your best friend naked, and he’s going to see you naked. Both of you are horny out of your minds. Both of you are intoxicated. Do you really want to go through with this? 

“Hello? You there?” he asks impatiently, in classic Johnny fashion. You swear the boy has the attention span of a turkey.

“Never have I ever had a wet dream about my best friend.” You suddenly speak, looking at him intently- he looks at you in surprise for a few moments, but before he can move, you’re suddenly the one slowly lifting your sports bra up and over your head, your breasts moving up with it before lightly bouncing down.

He’s completely speechless, his eyes on your chest as if he’s never seen boobs before, his facial expression getting more and more serious from shock. “Holy…” he finally mumbles, nibbling on his lip. You’ve never seen him look so hungry, so full of desire, and it’s only turning you on. There’s a certain thrill and adrenaline rush that comes with getting intimate with someone you’re “not supposed” to, and you’re definitely feeling that buzz right now. 

“Well?” you ask softly, tilting your head to one side. “I have. Have you?” You’re taking a big chance here, but considering what a sleazeball Johnny can be, you’re certain it’s had to have happened at least once. He looks at you for a few moments before slowly smirking, moving his hands down…

… only to take off his socks. Your expression is one of complete disbelief as you’re about to ask him if he’s actually serious, but then he goes to take off his watch. After that, he moves his hands to the hem of his boxers and pushes them down- his erection jumps up, tall and thick, and you can feel the heat in your core simply from looking at it. He lounges back against his headboard, completely nude, his chest visibly heaving slightly from excitement.

You clear your throat trying not to be too obvious about staring at it. “Why’d you… um… why did you take more than one thing off?”

He leans over and he’s out of the frame for a second. You hear the sound of hands rubbing together. Lotion. “Because I’ve had more than one wet dream.” He answers simply upon returning, keeping his eyes on you as he slowly wraps his hand around his cock. “Do you want to hear about one?” You widen your eyes, now only paying attention to this shaft at this point, watching him pump himself slowly. Fuck, you’re so turned on right now. “Yes,” you breathe out, starting to shift uncomfortably as you subconsciously rub your thighs together.

“In the dream you were dating that dumb ex of yours. I can’t even remember his fucking name anymore. The one I hated, you know who I’m talking about.” Johnny begins, eyes briefly roaming your body on his screen. “I came over one day and he was out somewhere. You were wearing this sexy ass lingerie, to surprise him when he got back. When I walked in, you just immediately jumped up on me without realizing it was me- when you did, you looked all shocked, but I just kept holding you in my arms.” He breathes heavier, starting to pump faster. “We start kissing. Making out. My tongue’s practically down your fucking throat, my hands squeezing your perfect ass, I bring you into the bedroom.”

Your cheeks feel flushed and your own breaths are becoming a little more uneven, completely focused on everything he’s saying. “Then what?” you whisper; you don’t even realize your hand is moving to your breast. He lets out a groan simply from watching you, continuing, “I push you down on your hands and knees on the bed and slap your ass so hard, it leaves a mark. I tell you that you belong to me now, and that I don’t care if your boyfriend has to watch us fuck for me to prove that.” He stares at you as you start massaging your breast, watching in awe as your fingers pinch your nipple ever-so-slightly. “Fuck, you like this, don’t you baby girl? After that, I finger fuck you over and over again, I make you cum so goddamn many times. You’re fucking screaming by the end of it, you’re still on your hands and knees like a good girl, your face is against the mattress and your perky little butt’s up in the air for me. You fucking love every second of it.” He grits his teeth slightly as he keeps pumping, eyes dark with lust. “Then you want to know what happens next?”

“Y-yes, yes Johnny, please,” you practically moan, now practically trying to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the frustration. “Then take off your panties,” he suddenly demands, and you instantly obey, wiggling them off your legs. “Sit up so I can see your pussy,” he growls huskily. You adjust the laptop so that it’s in front of you, sitting and leaning back with your legs spread so that your bare entrance is in view, resting yourself on your elbows breathlessly. “I’m so fucking wet, Johnny,” you whine, moving your hand down your torso and using your fingers to start rubbing yourself. “Please, please keep going…”

“God damn,” he groans deeply, the mere noise in itself making you shiver in pleasure. “After I have you cumming over and over again, I grab your hair and thrust inside you, holding your ass and smacking it whenever I fucking want.” You let out a moan as you push one finger inside, tilting your head back. “Your tight little pussy felt so fucking good around me, babe. I had my big dick poking out your goddamn belly from how hard and deep I fucked you. I was tugging your hair, choking you, spanking you, playing with those perfect tits- you made the perfect little fuckdoll, so obedient, so damn needy.” He smirks, hand moving up and down faster, staring at you play with yourself as he murmurs, “Just like how you are now, hm?”

“Fuck, Johnny,” you whine breathlessly, pushing another finger in and pumping even faster. “I need you right now, o-oh… oh my God. I need your big dick inside me right fucking now…”

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he groans just from hearing you, rolling his neck to one side and shutting his eyes, head tilted upwards. “Would you cum all over my dick, just like you did in my dream?” You gasp, nodding immediately, lips parted and cheeks pink. “Yes! Yes… fuck… I want you to cum inside me, too…” He grins wider, chest heaving as he watches you weakly, hand working his long length intensely. “I can definitely do that, baby girl… o-ooh fuck, I’m close… I’m going to fucking cum right now…!”

“Me too!” you cry out, leaning against the headboard and rubbing hard; it’s not long before Johnny gets a view of you releasing, and the sight is enough to set him off with a loud groan- you can’t help but stare at how much he cums, wishing you could be there to taste all of it. 

“God damn.” He slowly exhales, leaning back entirely. “That was… wow. I fucking needed that.” He barely straightens up to grab a tissue from his nightstand, cleaning his mess but glancing up at you breathing heavily. “And especially with you. You’re so hot, Y/N, I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since I met you.” You widen your eyes surprised, trying to catch your breath as you stare at him. “What? Really…? I… I didn’t think you saw me like that, we were always just such… best friends.”

“Yeah. That’s why I didn’t do anything.” He admits, carelessly tossing the tissue aside, but you’re too shocked to even show any disgust. “You’re the only girl friend I’ve had. I didn’t want to treat you like everyone else. But fuck, it’s been hard.” He pauses and nods towards his length, “This has been too, every time I’m around you.”

Despite the otherwise serious conversation, you can’t help but laugh, even feeling somewhat flattered. You move to sit more comfortably, biting your lip. “Well then,” you mumble tilting your head, “maybe on the next video call I can tell you about my dream…”

[pro-bee]

the road less traveled

Note: I cooked this up in the last 24 hours to try to work through some writer’s block on my post-reunion WIP. So this is a bit of a stream of consciousness mess, but if I don’t post this now, I’m gonna chicken out and all my other ideas are going to go PFFT. Also, this is inspired by all the discourse you guys have been floating around lately so it’s your fault.

Rating: G

Spoilers: Nada. Generally season 17. Possibly AU depending on how you look at things. (Also assumes Summer of Secret Sex happened don’t start with me)

Relationships: Implied Tiva. Vague mentions of Bishop/Torres. General team bonding.

Words: 1700

Summary: Sometimes a case hits a little too close to home. Sometimes it makes people want to do something about it.

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“How could they have known that they each had feelings for each other for so long and not done anything about it?! That had to have been torture!”

Bishop has been on a rant since their team got to their table at their favorite watering hole, decompressing after yet another wild case that has prodded at more than a few wounds between them. It was a story of star-crossed lovers, who held back on their feelings for one another for fear of ruining their friendship (and losing their jobs), until one made a tragic mistake and the other paid for it. One of those times where they get no satisfaction out of getting their suspect, because of the chaos left in its wake. 

“Don’t ask me. I have been in love with the same man since I was 23 and I still haven’t fully figured it out.”

Ziva’s unexpected candor (and unexpected help in the investigation) catches the younger agent off-guard; she wasn’t counting on things taking such a personal turn. Bishop gives her a sad smile, though the answer clearly isn’t the one she necessarily wants to hear at the moment. Torres shifts nervously in his seat across the table from her, unclear on where this conversation is headed, on edge the way he is whenever he’s around his predecessor.

The admission gives McGee pause, but maybe this isn’t the time to press.  “It’s funny, looking at us all now, with families of our own, I can’t imagine having to wait that long to finally be with the person you love. I mean, waiting for years just to act on your attraction…”

“Oh, we definitely acted on it,” she offers in typical Ziva bluntness. “We just failed to follow through on any of it.”

McGee nearly chokes on his drink at the revelation. The wheels start to spin in his head, his eyebrows creased in confusion, as he pieces it together at lightning speed. 

“You guys were sleeping together?!”

“I mean, not the whole time,” her hand waves around on its own, as if to punctuate the sentence, “But… some of the times, yes.”

“Like when?!”

“Now look who is butting in! I would expect that from Tony, but you?” She tsks at him, with mock sternness, until she notices the desperation in his eyes as his world seems to have turned upside down. “Okay, fine… Like… Like, when Gibbs retired, for instance.”

(“Gibbs retired?” “When did this happen?” their newer counterparts interject in unison, but their curiosity goes unanswered in the firestorm happening around them.)

“Back then?! That was… Ziva that almost fifteen years ago! You guys have been together for fifteen years?!”

“No! That is my whole point! We were not together together. We were just… what do you say? Letting out air?”

“Blowing off steam?”

“Yes! That!” Her own drink nearly flies off the table.

“Wait, that means—  How did you keep it a secret for so long?!”

“I knew!” Palmer offers helpfully.

“I am fairly certain everyone knew, eventually.”

“No way!  Gibbs didn’t.” 

“Gibbs definitely knew,” she snorts at the memory of being on the receiving end of his beady stare one morning when she and her partner were just a hair more heated in their bickering than usual, even for them.

“And you lived to tell the tale?!” Surely Boss would have banished them to desk duty, or worse yet, Inventory, if he found out they were hot bunking.

“I believe it was a case of don’t ask, don’t tell. Besides, it’s not like it affected our work.”

“True, you two were just as unprofessional as always.”

She flings her discarded crumpled straw wrapper at him.

His mind still reels, though.

“How— how did I not know that my best friends were hooking up behind my back?!”

“McGee!” she lilts, stretching his name out like a song in the way only she does,  “You cannot be serious! You wrote a whole book about us! Several, in fact!”

“For the last time, Tommy and Lisa were not about you and Tony! Those books were works of fiction!”

“Oh come on McGee,” pipes in Torres, who had until now tried his best to find any escape from this forced socialization. “Even I knew that! And I’ve never even read your books.”

“Or a book, period,” his partner mutters into her glass.

“How do you even know about—?”

“Bishop,” he shrugs.

“Ellie!”

“What?! It’s not like it’s a secret, Tim.”

“It’s personal! And again, Tommy and Lisa are fictional.”

Bishop and Torres roll their eyes in unison.

“Well, then, you must have psychic powers in addition to your keen observational skills as an agent,” she teases, with only a touch of sarcasm in her voice. She can’t believe they’re really hashing out their scars in the open like this, but it is a brave new world.

McGee finally shakes his head and laughs in disbelief, and even she can’t help the grin stretching across her face. Old friends, indeed.

She takes a breath and grounds herself back to reality, reminded again of the point she was trying to make in the first place. “What I am trying to say is that it is so easy to get caught up in your own fears when it comes to matters of the heart. You get so scared that you are not enough, that you are going to upset whatever it is between you, and that when you inevitably mess it all up, and you will, that you are going to ruin the one good thing you have. So you lie to yourself that you do not have it and that it does not mean anything.”

“Are we talking about you or the petty officer now?”

“Both,” she answers with a hint of a wistful smile. McGee returns with his own expression of sympathy, fully aware of all those twists and turns that have led to where his friends are now.

The group sits in companionable silence for a spell, the weight of the week’s case lifting, only to be replaced with familiar exhaustion. 

Ziva feels a buzz coming from her pocket, reminding her that, yes, these matters do come to a close somehow.

- Having fun on a school night?  

- Going down memory lane with the team. 

- The good ones, I hope?

- They are now. :-) Just about done, heading home soon.

- Can’t wait. Kiddo’s asleep. ;-) Love you. 

McGee across the table notices the way her eyes crinkle as she glances at her screen. Once again, he is grateful for these small mercies they’ve been granted. How this story eventually got the happy ending it deserved.

“Well, this has been fun, but it is getting late and I should get home.” She pushes herself off the seat and grabs her coat, untangling her curls from the collar as she twists her arms through the sleeves. “I will see you all soon, I hope.”

“Yeah, I’m beat too,” Torres chimes in, “I’ll walk you out.”

The gang exchange goodnights and talk to you laters, with only the faintest of intrigue from Bishop as her partner, who is not known for his chivalrous nature, follows Ziva out the door.

Standing face to face now, at their full height, Ziva narrows her own eyes at the man, seeing right through him and daring him to come out with it, already.

“Ziva, what you said in there… Is that why you keep pushing me about Bishop?”

She stares at her feet for a second and breaks into a genuine grin now.

“Ah, he finally catches on.”

He breathes in, swallowing his nerves with every gulp of air reaching his lungs. She supposes it’s time to put him out of his misery.

“Look, Agent Torres, if there is anything I have learned throughout all of this, it is that time is the most precious resource we have. I know that it sounds like a cliché, believe me, but it is the truth. When I think about all the time Tony and I wasted over the years… It was not worth it.”

“Yeah, but it seems to have worked out, right?”

“Yes, it has,” she presses her lips together in a regretful smile. “But it very nearly did not. We missed out on so much, I missed out on so much, and it was all because I let fear get the best of me. I liked to tell myself that I was not scared of anything, when really, I was scared of everything.”

Torres absorbs the confession with appropriate gravity.

“Nick, do not let fear rule you. I promise you, whatever happens, taking that chance is worth the risk. I wish I had had the courage much sooner. It might have saved us all a lot of pain.”

He glances through the blinds in the window at the object of this discussion, only for Ellie to catch his eye at that moment. They each avert their gaze on opposite sides of the pane, feeling decidedly like the suspects they’ve just interrogated, without fully understanding why.

“What if I can’t do it?”

“You are a smart man. You will figure it out. You bested me, did you not?” It’s his turn to laugh, and she answers in turn. Maybe she has gotten through to him, after all.

She reaches out to gently pat his elbow. “Take care, Agent Torres.” 

With that, she takes her leave and heads down the street towards her car, the heels of her boots clicking down the sidewalk with every step, leaving Nick to reflect on her words of wisdom. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, unsure of how to proceed. With one last look into the bar, he turns in the opposite direction in search of his own vehicle, more confused than ever. Yet somehow he knows that the former agent is right.

What he doesn’t realize as he turns his back is that Bishop takes one last look at him, Ziva’s words ringing in her ears as well. That maybe blazing the road not travelled is not as scary as it may seem. 

- Bishop, you’ve got a big mouth. See you tomorrow.

She grins at her phone in spite of herself. Maybe that’s a thought for another day. 

[joakimlarsson]

(  @strangerloversindeed | cont. from xo  )

@joeylarsson II <333 ( I seriously love that icon of Joey! )

Cage stared at his friend for a moment before he cradled his head in his hands for a moment. He was sure the grease paint he’d applied for a small last minute gig down at the World’s End had smudged and his stage clothes were well past disheveled. He’d gotten a call twenty minutes ago that aforementioned gig was canceled due to check cancelation. When it rained it poured it seemed. So he’d spent the better part of the day finishing up on painting the nursery and getting the furniture out of storage. He was still a bit dazed and the fact that Colleen had been put on strict bedrest worried him. Complications were the least of their worries but for some reason this new doctor assigned to her seemed to think that things were odd with this particular pregnancy and sent her off hither and tither for every sort of test imaginable. The amnio had been the scariest one by far. They were still awaiting results.

“I appreciate that, Joakim. I really really do and I know Colly does too.”

He heaved a sigh before fiddling with his mug of tea for a moment and sliding a plate of biscuits towards his fair haired friend offering him one before he broke the bit of news he was dreading.

“Don’t tell Helene this yet…but uh…Col’s doctor’s put her on bedrest. We’re not sure for how long. She had an amniocentesis about a week ago and we haven’t heard a peep. I was terrified the first time with El but this time it just seems even more unnerving. If something is wrong do I even bother assembling the furniture for that room or do I just wait until we know for sure?”

He gave Joey an apologetic look and cradled his head in his hands for a moment.

“I’m sorry to dump all of this on you but I really don’t want to worry anyone but it’s like I’ve got all of these ‘what if’s floating around. We’ve told Eldon he’s to be a big brother and you should have seen him, he was so damn happy. But what do we tell him if something does happen? Ugh. This…this right here is the bit that nobody, not the doctors, not those stupid books, nobody tells you. The fear of the unknown. Sound like a loon don’t I?”

   Joey was as aware of his friends situation as much as he was aware of the ache in his own chest from simply hearing those concerns. He knew he would, too, if Helene had any issues - though the subject of children was still only on the table for them at the moment. There was a somewhat silent understanding between the two of them that meant his constant travelling did not seem a fair point in his life for him to raise a child and she got that fully, so they were, only for a short time perhaps, going to wait a few years until the hype had died down some more. It always made him feel an awful lot of guilt, though, thinking she absolutely had to have them or she couldn’t be content, but she reminded him often that it didn’t work that way. A look that he often gave to the worn male beside him was offered yet again, one of sympathy and he knew it was going to be a long and winding road of a little while longer before Col and Cage could relax and cease worrying every single day or anytime something out of the ordinary happened. It did make him wonder, too, just how he would respond to trying times during Hel’s future debacle a ways off; a debacle, because if she wasn’t fretting over every little thing, he knew he would.

   ‘ Oh——they haven’t even bothered to call to take some of the weight off your shoulders? It’d be impossible for me to deal with that sort of thing and not know even a little bit. Surely there’s something they have if it’s been a while .. do you keep receiving very abrupt remarks with them telling you they haven’t got the results back yet? ‘ he asked this in the softest voice, hopeful of all things that was not the cause, because he knew that medical staff unwilling to broach such things generally meant they were putting it off out of uncertainty. He knew that silence was not necessarily a good thing and was praying that that was not the reason why.

   Joey didn’t even think to reach for a biscuit or his own cuppa as he was so fixated on all that his friend was informing him of. He knew that telling Hel would be problematic, so asked not to or otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to do it. The Swede by now knew how the woman would turn, her whole mood shifting until she became a whole different person because she would fall right into mother-mode, refusing to leave her friends side until she knew that all was going to be fine and nothing was going to happen to either Col or the baby. That sort of worry was the type that should be kept close to home and not spread, so he understood Cage asking him to keep it to himself, at least until they are made aware of something more; more positive news.

   ‘  ——oroa dig inte för det, I’m sure they will contact you again soon and let you know that it was nothing serious, ‘ he offered a gentle smile, fingers clasping the others shoulder in support though he figured it would do no good in that moment. Joey would willingly meet up with him at least once a day until something developed, too, because the more outside groundwork he && Colleen had, the easier it would be on them both in the meantime. ‘ If you need any help, I can take some time away from touring if you like.. even watching Eldon for you both during hospital visits and whatnot. I can come over and help decorate while you’re in and out over the next few months, no problem. ‘

[batmads-ao3]

Maria Extra

When his alarm rang that morning, Yuri struggled to pull himself out of dreams and turn it off. His head was pounding. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and tasted like it too. Besides him, Patrick was still asleep, although he groaned a little at the sound of the alarm, which let Yuri know he wasn’t completely out of it.

“We gotta get up, P,” Yuri said, finally grabbing his phone off the bedside table and flicking off the alarm.

Another groan was his boyfriend’s only response.

“P,” Yuri mumbled, poking at the sleeping heap besides him.

He had to admit, it would have been tempting to just shut his eyes and curl back around Patrick’s warmth, his boyfriend could, after all, double as a space heater, and snuggling sounded like a very appealing option right now. Not to mention, he was pretty sure he had never been this hung over in his life. Sleeping it off with Patrick would be pure bliss.

But he had promised Theia that he would be there this morning to see Maria, and even if he hadn’t, he liked Maria. She had this big personality that just wrapped you up in love. She was straightforward and honest about her thoughts and feelings, but she was kind and gentle too. She was the perfect match for quiet and reserved Theia. The two of them were one of the few Soulmate relationships that Yuri respected; them, his parents, and Yuuko-chan and Takeshi back home. They had done it right. Taken the time to get to know each other, fall in love with more than just some arbitrary cosmic bond.

“Patrick,” Yuri said again, at last dragging himself out of bed and grabbing his glasses from the nightstand, “come on, we promised Theia.”

“Promises can screw me when I’m hungover,” Patrick grumbled. “Come back to bed. We’ll tell Theia we overslept.”

“Don’t you want to see Maria?” Yuri asked, glancing back over his shoulder at Patrick.

Patrick at last rolled over to look at him and Yuri’s heart stuttered, as it always did when he saw Patrick ruffled and soft with sleep.

“But I’m tiiiiiiired,” Patrick groaned. He held up his arms limply for Yuri to crawl into them. “Stay in bed.”

Yuri plucked an obliging kiss on Patrick’s lips, but pulled away before he could get locked into Patrick’s arms.

“We promised,” Yuri said again. He stood and started moving for the door. He felt awful, but a promise was a promise, and that was all that was powering him right now.

On the bed, Patrick groaned again.

“You’re terrible,” Patrick said, “making me be awake and functioning when it’s this early and I’m so hungover.”

“It’s ten o’clock,” Yuri reprimanded lightly, pulling open the door. “You get up at five most mornings to go running. How is this early?”

“It’s a Saturday. The day of pre-rest.”

Yuri snorted and walked into the main room, leaving Patrick behind. He blinked at the haze of light coming in through the deck doors, but managed to start making his way towards the bathroom. Patrick had held the lease on this place for a little over a year now, and Yuri knew it as well as his own apartment, maybe better, considering the amount of time he spent here. Patrick was the only resident, so it afforded them a little more privacy that Yuri had given up when he had started living with Phichit. He had P had talked a little about getting their own place, but Yuri was reluctant to leave Phichit on his own, so for now, they had decided against it, and just divided their time between the two places.

He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when Patrick finally made his way into the bathroom. He didn’t stop even as Patrick came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him.

“I love you,” Patrick muttered into Yuri’s shoulder.

In the mirror, Yuri could see the smooth line of Patrick’s dark forehead and the short-cropped fuzz of his hair. His hands were pressed up against Yuri’s chest too; Yuri had had to lift his arms to accommodate them. This—sleepy mornings, waking up with Patrick, and going through their routines together—this was what he wanted, all he wanted, and he’d be damned if someone else tried to get in the way of that. He didn’t care if he and Patrick weren’t soulmates; they belonged together.

He bent and spat out the toothpaste and rinsed out his mouth, Patrick leaning on his back, wrapped around him, the entire time. When he was finished, Yuri turned in his boyfriend’s arms and planted a light kiss on his mouth.

“I love you too,” Yuri said when he pulled away.

Patrick’s eyes were barely open, but he smiled.

“Minty fresh,” he breathed. “How are you not more hungover?”

“I am,” Yuri said, reached up to push his fingers through Patrick’s hair, “but I took an aspirin and I’m not going to let Theia down.”

Patrick leaned forward to rest his head on Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri leaned back against the sink and ran his hands gently up and down his boyfriend’s back.

“You’re a better person than I am,” Patrick muttered.

“I think ‘slightly more motivated’ would fit the circumstances better,” Yuri said in response.

He pressed a kiss into Patrick’s neck and Patrick sighed. Yuri shuddered at the way it tickled the fine hairs on the back of his neck. His grip on Patrick tightened.

“You also looked really good last night,” Patrick said, “and I’m very mad that I got too drunk to sleep with you afterwards.”

“Mmmm,” Yuri hummed. “I liked dancing with you though.”

During the event, and afterwards, at the after-party the GSA always held at Proud House, the house the GSA club rented and passed down to members every year. He was fairly certain that he had Patrick had gotten up on the dining table at one point during the night, dancing in their socks as they celebrated a successful night. They’d been there until about three, and then stumbled back to Patrick’s apartment together.

“Me too,” Patrick said, tilting his head up to plant another kiss on Yuri’s jaw.

At last he pulled away, stretching, and Yuri allowed himself to appreciate the view offered to him; the black and fold glasses that Patrick rarely wore, but which made him that much more attractive, the way the muscles on his chest shifted as he moved, the low dip of his boxers on his waist, the tattoos on Patrick’s biceps, still smudged a little from the paint they used last night to cover them up. One said “run happy,” the other said “run free.” Together, they basically spelled out Patrick’s life motto.

“What?” Patrick said, arms settling back down to his sides as he opened his eyes and caught Yuri watching him and smiling.

Yuri slunk up to Patrick, ran his hands up his boyfriend’s chest, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I think,” he said quietly, “that it would be acceptable if we were a few minutes late.”

“Why are you two always late to things?” Theia asked by way of greeting as he and Patrick walked up to her in Graeme’s.

“Really,” she continued, “do I need to start separating you two? Do you just get two caught up in each other that you forget about everyone else?”

“Yes,” Patrick said, slumping down in the chair next to her.

“We’re also more than a little hung over,” Yuri added, pulling out another chair next to Patrick.

Theia frowned. “How much did you drink last night?”

“Lots,” Patrick said. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, his head evidentially still pounding, but managed to give Theia a smile. “But we’re here now and that’s what matters.”

Theia glanced over to Yuri. “How much longer did you guys stay there last night after I left?”

“Two, three hours?” Yuri said, shrugging. “I don’t know. Definitely blacked out a little bit.”

“Awesome,” Theia said, biting off the word with venom. Yuri just shrugged.

“Where’s Maria?” he asked, glancing around.

“Went to go get our orders,” Theia said, gesturing back to the counter in the main room. She frowned. “I texted Phichit and he said he’s on his way, but have you heard from Victor? I haven’t been able to get ahold of him, and I really wanted him to meet Maria. I thought they’d hit it off.”

At the mention of Victor, Yuri’s heart stuttered, but for an entirely different reason than it had that morning, seeing Patrick tangled up in his sheets. It wasn’t that he hated Victor, necessarily. Victor was his hero, after all, and having him around to help out and give pointers on programs, tips for jumps; it was great. Really, really, great. But on the whole, Yuri thought—no, knew—that it would be better if they kept their distance from each other. It was for the best. Really. For various reasons, Victor didn’t belong here. For example, sooner or later, Victor would have to go back to Russia. Best not to get attached, even as friends.

His only response was to shake his head.

“We don’t talk very much outside of skating,” he told Theia. “We just…don’t have a lot in common.”

Theia nodded in appreciation and Yuri nudged Patrick to get his order. Patrick had folded himself over the table and was taking what appeared to be a power nap on his arms.

“Usual,” Patrick muttered and Yuri stood to go get it.

Maria was loitering by the counter when he got there, and she shrieked when she saw him.

“My baby!” she cried.

Yuri cringed at the noise and she dropped an octave in sympathy as she pulled him in for a hug.

“Oh, I wish I could see you more often,” she cooed. “How are you? How have you been?” She asked as she pulled away, holding him still at arm’s length and looked him up and down.

“Good,” Yuri said, laughing a little. “Tired. Little hungover.”

Maria snorted at his response and pulled him into another hug.

“I love you so much,” she said.

Yuri nodded when she pulled away. Maria, like Theia, was overflowing with love, although they showed it in different ways. Yuri had gotten used to Maria’s easy affection in the years that he had known her, and relied on her to provide advice when he needed an honest opinion from someone outside the situation. For a moment, then, he debated telling her about Victor, but he decided against it as quickly as the thought arose. He trusted Maria, but with something this big, he wasn’t sure she would be able to keep herself from telling Theia.

“How’s school?” he asked.

Maria just waved the question away. “Excellent, though I’ll expand on why when you sit down. I know Patrick’s probably starting to wonder where his coffee is.”

Yuri laughed. “True,” he said.

Maria slipped back to their little table, and when the register girl called for him, Yuri put in his order and Patrick’s, then impulse bought a croissant for them to share. He knew he should probably be more careful about what he was eating in the middle of competition season, but they had looked so nice in the pastry case, and it wasn’t like he was going to be eating it alone.

Patrick was sitting upright, if deeply slouching, in his chair when Yuri came back. Phichit had arrived, and, instead of pulling up another seat, had taken Yuri’s. For a moment, he looked around for another chair to drag up, drinks and the plate with the croissant balanced precariously in his arms, but then Patrick reached out and snagged him by a belt loop and pulled him down into his lap.

“Is that my coffee?” Patrick asked.

Yuri pecked a kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

“Yes.”

Patrick gently pulled the croissant from Yuri’s arms, then pulled his drink from Yuri’s fingers. He took a sip and sighed.

“God I love you,” he said.

“Me or the coffee?” Yuri asked, half teasing.

Patrick glanced up and him with a sweet, crooked smile.

“Both of you,” he said, pulling Yuri down to kiss him.

He tasted like chocolate and coffee and Patrick. For a moment, Yuri was able to lose himself in the kiss, but then he remembered that he was sitting on his boyfriend’s lap in the middle of a very public place and he pulled away, blushing.

Theia, Maria, and Phichit were watching them. Maria had he chin propped up in her hand. Her eyes were practically hearts. Phichit’s too.

“You two are too cute,” Maria said.

Yuri very hastily took a sip of tea. Patrick just slid and arm around Yuri’s waist, bracing him so he wouldn’t fall, and rested his head on Yuri’s arm.

“Damn straight,” he muttered.

“I think you mean, ‘damn gay,’” Yuri said, setting down tea and glancing over at the boy attached to his side.

He could feel Patrick’s laughter reverberating through his ribs. The others joined in too and Yuri smiled. This was a good moment. It put everything else out of his mind until all he could think about was the sunlight, warm and bright, coming in through the windows and streaking across his arms, the feeling of Patrick’s laughter humming inside him, and the brush of Patrick’s arm on the little strip of skin left exposed on his back where his t-shirt had ridden up. It was a moment that filled him up with so much happiness that it left him feeling sleepy and slow and good. He tilted his head to rest it on Patrick’s and took another sip of his tea as the laughter died down again.

“So what’s excellent about school, Maria?” Yuri asked.

Maria planted her hands on the table and screeched in the way she did whenever she had Very Exciting News.

“So many things. Namely, that one of my teachers has like, hardcore connections with The Met, and like, he says that it would probably be good if I got a year under my belt of somewhere more…lowkey, but like, I could definitely audition for next next season and I would probably get in which is…wildly fantastic and I don’t even know how to…like, Yuri, this is my dream. It’s the mother-fucking Met. I could sing at the Met.”

“That’s really awesome,” Patrick.

“I know!” Maria exclaimed. “Ugh. I’m so excited just by the sheer possibility of it. I think I’m going to come back here after I graduate, try and do stuff at the Detroit Opera house, or at the Lyric on Chicago or something. You know, nearby so I can see ma girl, and because I agree with him like, I don’t want to start right off the bat with the big crazy thing, but.”

She laid a hand gently over her heart. Theia pecked a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m excited for you too, hun,” she said.

Maria glanced over at her girlfriend and smiled with so much love her eyes that Yuri dropped his hands to Patrick’s and gave them a quick squeeze.

“So where’s Victor?” Maria asked, turning away at last from giving Theia tender heart eyes. “I want to meet this boy. What’s he like.”

“Victor Nikiforov is flawless,” Phichit whispered.  

“He has four gold medals and customized gold-bladed skates with Russian flags,” Yuri said.

“I hear his hair used to be insured for 10,000 U.S. dollars,” Phichit added.

“I hear he does fashion commercials…in France,” Theia said.

“His favorite kind of dog is a poodle,” Yuri supplied.

“One time, he met Beyoncé on the plane, and she told him he was gorgeous,” Patrick breathed.

“He ran into me while we were skating one day,” Phichit said. “It was awesome.”

Maria blinked at them all slowly.

“You’re fucking with me,” she said.

Wordlessly, they all shook their heads.

“He’s also usually accompanied by this tiny cross between a gremlin and a vicious kitten that we’ve dubbed Yurio,” Patrick said. “He’s my new favorite person and I would die for him.”

“Okay…” Maria said, still looking like she couldn’t quite believe all of this. “Where are they?”

“Not here,” Phichit said, slumping down in his chair.

“I promise that they’re real, though,” Patrick said, reaching out a hand to assure Maria of this. “Like, 100% real, down to the tiger gremlin.”

Maria laughed and it sounded a little hysterical. “You guys are so weird.” She said.

“Well of course we are,” Patrick said, grinning. “We are your friends after all.”