#neurodivergent fanfiction

[manufacturedrainbows]

My fellow fanfic authors, I'm begging on my hands and knees – and Ima hold your hand as I say this – you gotta respond to the readers that leave comments on your work.

I know social anxiety is the worst (trust, my autistic ass understands) but I promise you, nothing deters a reader from commenting more than seeing a comment section with no replies as you continue to post fanfics. Even if it's as simple as "thanks for reading!" or just some cute emojis, it'll show that you're actually engaging with your audience!

We work so hard on our writing, and those of us that post them online want it to be seen, right? Indulging in our little fandoms is how we build connections with people that feel the same way.

It might be hard or even scary, but I find the more you socialize with others (especially in a more controlled environment like a comment section), the easier it gets! 💕

[moonsporemoth]

I just love the fan made idea that the farmer isn't human at all, but instead a cryptic of sorts just owning a farm and being weird. Like chugging mayo, gifting eggs, fishing for hours, and looking through trash are all things humans do sure, but I just love the weird extent farmer can take it to.

[zaceial]

Todoroki Shoto as a partner HCs

Pairing; Todoroki Shoto x gn!reader

Tags; fluff, sfw, hurt/comfort if you squint

Content warning: I headcanon todoroki as autistic/neurodivergent, so there might be some references here and there + mineta being weird but that only lasts like one line

No use of y/n

Contains: Early stages, Affections, Who would know, PDA, His thoughts of the future

Requests open!

Early stages:

As a partner, during the early stages he'd be very nervous to make the first moves, because he isnt sure yet what you'd like or if you're comfortable with some things.

Would love it if you made the first move though

Like holding hands underneath the cafeteria tables, patting his hair as a 'good job!' after training or just slinging your arm around him

He loves it when you do any physical affection

Poor boy's touch starved, he'll take whatever he can get

Would love parallel play, something about just the two of you, sitting in peace and doing your own things

Its nice and quiet, he isn't overwhelmed and there isn't any preassure to do anything, just the both of you in each other's company

Gives you lots of small gifts, like keychains or fancy bookmarks, anything that suits your taste

One time he even got you a small little plushie and placed it on your desk with no explanation whatsoever

Cuddling comes awkward to him at first, but he comes around after a while

By a while I mean MONTHS

He's just not used to it, hugging is already awkward for him, so its hard for him to just lay in your arms for a long period of time

What does he do? Is there a correct way to cuddle? Should he be doing something? Where does he lay his head?

Would definitely search up 'cuddle poses' online

But he just gets even more confused and goes down a deep rabbit hole about cuddling

Affections/comfort:

When he does come around, that's the way he recharges at the end of the day

After a long day of work and socialising he just wants some peace, quiet and some cuddles from his partner

Would just walk in wherever you were, lie down on top of your torso and just stay there, eyes closed and breathing slowed as he calms down

Would rather be the one being held , adores it when you rub circles into his back to soothe him

Would just randomly lay his head on your shoulder whenever he's tired but can't properly sit down and rest during training

And then at this point, he's more comfortable with initiating stuff

He doesn't know what to do if you're ever in a situation that requires comfort

The boy's a bit dense, okay? He saw Momo crying and asked if she was feeling nauseous, then immediately told her there's a preassure point somewhere to relieve it

Offers you his favourite food or any sort of advice because those things are what usually helps him feel better

Would ask you whats wrong, and try his best to fix the problem instead of reassuring you since he's not really good with comforting people

"Whats wrong?" He asks upon entering the room and seeing you sitting down somewhere, eyes puffy and a frustrated look on your face.

"I'm just really overwhelmed, Shoto, all this work is putting stress on me.." You say, wiping your eyes even though the tears stopped a long time ago.

There was a moment of silence, Shoto stands in front of you, hands awkwardly raised up to his sides unsure of what to do.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, and you just look at him confused.

"I have leftover soba.."

You smile at him, standing up and making your way to the kitchen. He sits next to you and you both just share the plate in silence before he speaks again.

"If you're stressed next time, you can just tell me. I'll help you."

"I have notes for our classes to help you simplify everything. It is essential that a person rests appropriately and avoid overworking themselves." He says, and you can't help but smile, chuckling a little at how punctual he is.

Who would know?:

Isn't one to loudly declare he's in a relationship, in fact people didn't know until it slipped one day.

"Shoto, do you want to go out today?" You ask him whilst passing by the common room of the dorms, he was talking- well, engaging in a one sided conversation with some of your classmates.

"Woah, first name basis huh? You two must be close then Todoroki-kun"

"Well yeah, they're my partner."

"YOUR WHAT?!"

Everyone would bombared you guys with questions after that

Shoto just answers it shortly, keeping it simple

"When did you guys start dating?"

"Three months ago."

"A few months ago?! And you didn't tell us?? Man, i thought we were friends, Todoroki.."

"I hope this doesn't cause you both to slack off during exercises, your education is still important!"

"Wow Todoroki, have you guys done it yet?? Must be nice having a partner~"

Mineta immediately got kicked by you after that

Shoto's indifferent to making your relationship public, if you wanted to or don't want to, he's fine with anything

Would prefer the relationship to only be known to people he actually knew instead of like announcing it to everyone

Example: his class, friends, your family.

Although sometimes he might let it slip because he thinks about you alot in between classes

It would take time for him to talk about his relationship to his family, especially Endevour

Fuyumi would be you guys' #1 supporter and the first one to find out

Natsuo's a little more distant to shoto than Fuyumi is, so he'd be third to find out, right after his mother

Endevour would only be told after like 6 months of dating

Who knows, maybe Shoto would be spiteful enough to not even tell him for years

Public Display of Affection:

Shoto will hold your hands under tables or stay close to you by your side and hold hands if no one's paying attention.

Doesn't like PDA as much, at most he'll hold your hands and lay his head on your shoulder when you're out in public

He just doesn't like showing that very new and vulnerable side of him being affectionate to the world

Plus, it brings his guard down because he's fully relaxed if he's affectionate with you

Thoughts of the future:

Todoroki's the type of person to just slow down and be in the moment with you but then blurt about a highly detailed future with you out of nowhere

You would go shopping and you'd spot him eyeing a plant in a store

When you ask what he's thinking about, he with a straight face say:

"You said you like these. If we get one when we move in together, do you think the two cats we'll have will be disturbing these or would it be fine considering ragdoll cats are mostly known for their relaxed nature? "

"Shoto we haven't even graduated yet!"

If you're a hero too, he trusts you fully to take care of yourself during missions or any villain attacks

Would interfere if he has to, if anything were to happen to you during missions he'd be heartbroken

Going down a spiral of the things he could've done to protect you, to make sure you were safe

He also wouldn't hold back during any training just because your his partner, he believes you both need to grow strong together to become heroes

If you weren't a hero, he'd try his best to protect you if you were ever caught up in his hero nonsense

Totally supports any career you wanted to take up, claiming that he'll be the one to take care of everything financially

I mean, better use Endevour's card for SOMETHING

Wants at least one cat in the house, ragdolls specifically

Kids are not something he has in mind, especially considering he'd like to focus on you and his career

He also doesn't want to end up like his dad

Would consider children if you both are stable in your lives and careers

And if you don't want kids, he's fine with that too

The house would be remodeled into those old Japanese ones like his dorm room, if you didn't like it he'd have at least his work office that way

[callsign-magnolia]

Undiagnosed // Ch. 19

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

A/N: Please read blog update, here.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents, smut.

Word Count: 6.0k

Chapter 18 | Masterlist

Friday night rolls around and of course, it comes with a Hard Deck invitation. After the last time I was in a room full of naval officers, I was feeling nervous. I slipped on a cream colored sundress which had little daisies dotted on it. I slid my feet into the tan platform sandals and pulled my hair up into a ponytail. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves as I made my way downstairs. “Ready, darlin’?” Jake asked, clicking off his phone as he put it in his pocket. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked, hoisting my purse onto my shoulder. “Nothing is going to happen.” He said, stepping closer and gently holding my biceps. “That’s what you said last time.” I narrowed my eyes on him. “I promise you, nothing will happen this time. If anyone tries we’ll deal with it. It won’t blow up like last time.” 

I sighed, looking up at him as his arms went around my waist. “Jake-” “I promise, darlin’. I’ll make sure you have fun tonight and it’ll all go smoothly.” I sighed, my forehead falling to rest on his chest. “Okay.” I huffed and he chuckled, leaning down to kiss my head. I pulled away, leaning up to kiss him and he met me halfway. “I love you.” I said and he just smiled at me. “I love you too.” He held my hand as he led me out of the house. He made sure the front door was locked before he led me over to the truck, opening the door for me and helping me in. He pulled my seatbelt over me, clicking it into place before he kissed my cheek and made his way over to the drivers side. He immediately grabbed my hand, kissing it before he rested our intertwined fingers on the center console. The ride was quiet, the only noise coming from the radio that played a local country station. We pulled into the sandy lot, the neons illuminating the inside of the truck. I took in a shaky breath, staring at the crowd. 

“Hey.” Jake whispered softly. I turned to see him, turned in his seat to face me. “If you don’t want to tell them. We won’t, this is all up to you, darlin’.” I gave him a small smile and crawled over the center console to perch myself in his lap. “I want to. I want everyone to know. I’m just nervous of the repercussions.” I told him as my arms wrapped around his neck. His hands held my waist tightly as he looked up at me. “What do you think the repercussions will be?” He asked and my fingers played with the hair at the base of his neck. “My dad stripping you of everything. Me somehow winding up back in that house.” As soon as the words left my lips he yanked me impossibly closer, his green eyes boring into my own. “I don’t care what he takes from me, so long as it isn’t you. If I lose my career then it is what it is, but I swear to you, Katie. You will never go back to that house. I will do whatever it takes to keep you with me, and no one, you hear me, no one will take you away from me.” My forehead dropped to his as my hands moved to cradle his neck. “I love you.” I whispered before I leaned down and kissed him. “I love you too, darlin’.” 

With that he slid me off of him and climbed out of the truck, before turning to me. “C’mon darlin’. Let’s go have some fun.” I smiled and let him help me out of the truck before he intertwined our fingers. He held my left hand as I reached my right over, my hand resting on his bicep. We walked in and immediately multiple people turned to us and greeted Jake. He flashed everyone a bright smile and introduced me to everyone as his girlfriend. It scared me but also made me feel good. Wanted, loved. Once we were left alone he led me back to the pool tables where the rest of the team was. “Hey!” He said loudly, catching everyone’s attention. They all turned to us, greeting us with big smiles. “What’s this?” Javy asked, nodding to our hands. Jake held up our intertwined fingers, kissing my knuckles. He looked at me with a questioning look and I nodded. “We’re together.” He said out loud and immediately Natasha jumped up from her spot next to Bradley and rushed over. “Oh my god!” She wrapped her arms around me in a hug. “I knew it would happen.” She said to me. “Pay up Coyote!” She turned and said, the man huffing and pulling out his wallet. “You knew?” I asked and she nodded as she let me go. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. I knew it would happen eventually.” With that Bob came over. “It’s about time.” He said, pulling me into a hug before wrapping Jake into one as well.

Everyone was happy but Bradley kept his distance. Mav and Penny even came to say congratulations but also that Jake better not fuck up, which made me laugh. I gave Bradley his space but about halfway into the night I walked out onto the back deck where he was leaning against the wooden railing. “Hey.” I said and he turned to me before facing the water. “Hey.” He muttered and I stepped closer. “Are you okay?” I asked and he sighed. “Yeah.” He sounded so annoyed it made tears well in my eyes. “Are you sure? If I did anything, I’m sorry.” I said and he chuckled. “Come here.” He opened his arm and I stepped closer, allowing him to throw his arm over my shoulder. He squeezed me to his side, staring out at the ocean. “What’s going on?” I asked and he sighed. “Are you happy?” He asked, looking down at me and I nodded. “I’m very happy, Bradley.” I told him. “What’s this about?” I asked him. “I just worry about you. You know, mom never saw anyone else after dad died. So I was always an only child, but I don’t know, I worry about you like you’re my little sister.” He said, not looking my way. “I’m an only child too. But it’s nice to have someone like an older brother looking out for me.” I said, leaning into him. He just chuckled and patted my shoulder. “I guess if you’re happy that’s all that matters.” He said and I nodded. “I’m very happy. Truth be told, I don't think I’ve ever been this happy.”

“Get tired of being inside?” I heard a voice behind me and turned to see Jake. In all honesty, it was a little overwhelming in there. “A little. Just stepped out to talk to Rooster and catch my breath.” I said and he nodded, walking closer. “Did you win?” When I first walked out here, he was in a match against Fanboy, who was secretly a pool shark. “No. You know that nobody can beat Fanboy.” He said and I giggled as he wrapped his arms around me. “Except me.” Rooster said. “One time. You beat him one time and it was because you got lucky.” They laughed together before Rooster went back inside. “You okay?” He asked and I nodded. “I got a little overwhelmed in there. Plus after we told everyone Bradley kinda disappeared.” I told him and he furrowed his brows. “Was he mad?” I could see his shoulders tensing and he stood a little straighter. “No. Calm down.” I said, placing my hands on his arms and he visibly relaxed. “He just asked if I was happy.” I said and he raised a brow. “And what did you say?” It was my turn to raise my brow at him. “Do you think I’m unhappy?” I asked and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around my waist. “No. I would know if you were unhappy.” He said, pulling me close. “Oh, you would? You think you know me so well?” I asked and he chuckled, leaning down and kissing me. “Yes. I do.” I smiled up at him, gently smacking his shoulder. “You’re so sure of yourself.” I told him with a laugh. “When it comes to you I always am.” 

He pulled me ever closer, before turning us and backing me into the railing. “So, what did you tell him?” He asked, smiling down at me. “Did you tell him you’re the happiest you’ve ever been?” He joked and I just grinned at him. “Yeah.” His eyebrows shot up. “Wait, really?” I nodded. “I told him I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.” My hands rested on his forearms, as his hands held my waist. He smiled at me before dropping his forehead to mine. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” He said before I smiled up at him. “So I guess we’re both happy.” I said and he nodded before lifting me up onto the railing. “Unbelievably happy.” He said as he stepped between my legs and kissed me. My arms went around his neck and I moaned as he tugged on my bottom lip. “This reminds me of one of our favorite positions back home.” I said as he pulled away. “You mean when I fuck you on the kitchen counter like the dirty girl you are?” He said, kissing beneath my ear and sending a shiver down my spine. “You fuck me on any surface you can get me on.” I told him, capturing his lips with mine. “Mm, you’re right.” He said. “But you know what surface you haven’t fucked me on?” I asked, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck in my fingers. “What?” He asked, nipping my neck. “Your truck.” He stopped, his eyes meeting mine. 

“Are you serious?” He asked and I nodded. “Why not?” He smirked at me. “Are you feeling needy, darlin’?” He asked, hand slowly slipping between my legs, nudging my panties and making me whine. “Yeah.” I was breathless. He pushed a little harder against my clit and I gasped, him taking the opportunity to kiss me, tongue licking into my mouth. “You’re already so wet for me.” He muttered, lips moving to my neck as he rolled my clit with his thumb. My breathing became heavier and I arched into him, one arm around his neck, the other gripping the wrist of the hand under my dress. I moaned quietly as he sucked on my neck and a shiver ran down my spine. I opened my eyes, and gasped again. “Jake.” I whispered, not taking my eyes off the guy in the corner. He hummed but didn’t stop. “Jake.” I said again and he pulled back from my neck, looking at me. “What?” He asked. “It seems we have a voyeur.” I said, nodding to the guy in the back corner. He stiffened and turned around. The guy kind of reminded me of Bob with his glasses.

“Wanna watch?” Jake smirked at the man and immediately the man became cowardly and ran back inside. I smacked his shoulder as he chuckled. “Really?” I asked and he chuckled. “Oh come on, you’re not into exhibitionism?” He asked. “Not with strangers.” I replied and he paused, staring at me. “We’ll explore that later.” He said and I giggled. “Later is good. Because right now, I need you in the back of the truck.” I whispered and he practically growled. He pulled me off the railing and smacked my ass. “Let’s go.” He said and I took off around the building. He grabbed at my waist, making me laugh as I rounded the front and ran for the very back of the parking lot. Jake unlocked the truck as we got closer and I immediately swung the back door open. “Get your ass in there.” He said, smacking my ass again as I climbed in. I tossed my purse in the front seat as he slid in next to me. As soon as the door was closed we were grabbing at each other and Jake immediately pulled me under him. I quickly worked to get his jeans off before pushing his boxers down. He was rock hard, cock slapping against his stomach as he pushed me back down in the seat. 

He pushed my dress up before yanking my thong down, tossing them to the floorboard. “Jake.” I whined, the chilly air reminding me how bare I truly was. “I know, darlin’. Just sit still for me.” My hands were up by my head when he grabbed the straps of my dress, pushing them off my shoulders before yanking it down, allowing my breasts to bounce free of their restraints. He lifted one of my legs, my foot pressing against the ceiling as one of my hands held onto the door handle while his lips latched onto my nipples. “Jake.” I gasped, fingers of my free hand weaving into his hair. I reached between us, fingers wrapping around his cock. “Need you.” I whined, guiding him closer to my entrance. I was startled when his hand wrapped around my neck. “You need me, huh?” He asked and I nodded as best I could. “Gotta give my girl what she wants, don’t I?” With that he thrust into me harshly. The pain made me yelp but it felt so good at the same time. 

Jake stilled for a moment, lips meeting mine. “You okay?” He asked. I found it sweet that he cared but at the same time, I didn’t want him to stop. “Just fuck me right.” I said and he chuckled. “Whatever you want, darlin’.” He kissed me again as he pulled out, before slamming back into me. He found a rough pace which I loved and I threw my head back as I moaned loudly. “Oh fuck, Jake!” I cried out as he hit that one spot deep inside me. “You like that?” He asked and I nodded. “Does that feel good?” He sat up, keeping me close as he fucked into me. “You’re not getting out of this truck until you cum on my cock, darlin’.” I moaned loudly. “Yes. Fuck, Jake! Don’t stop!” I begged and he didn’t, his pace became more rough and I couldn’t resist reaching up and kissing him. 

But I was startled when he pulled me into his lap, sitting back in the seat. I whined as he stilled. “Use your words, darlin’.” He said, rolling his hips and making me gasp. “So big.” I mumbled, burying my face in his chest. “So full.” I truly did feel full, like there was no space left inside me at all. Jake continued to roll his hips until I sat up, rolling my own. Our moans both filled the truck, his hands groping my breasts as my own hands rested on his shoulders. I started bouncing on him and his hands left my breasts for my hips, helping me in my movements. I felt my orgasm slowly building and I picked up my pace. “You gonna cum for me?” He asked and I nodded. His lips found my nipple and the pleasure inside me built more. “Yes, Jake!” I cried out. “I’m so close, darlin’.” So was I. “Jake. Jake! Cum inside me!” I said as I chased my high. I was a babbling mess as I met his thrusts. “You want me to?” He asked and I nodded. “Please. Fill me up!” I had never needed something so bad in my life. He gripped my neck, making me look at him as he fucked up into me. 

“I’m gonna keep your pretty little pussy so full.” His other hand wrapped around my neck as well, keeping me still as he fucked me roughly and with one lick to my nipple I was tumbling over the edge. I screamed as my orgasm had my body shaking and not long after he pulled me down onto his cock, hot ropes of cum filling me up. We were breathing heavily as he pulled me into a kiss, trying to come down from his own high. After we caught our breath I took a minute. I was so full of cum, it was dripping onto our legs. “I’m gonna need my panties back.” I said and he raised a brow. “I’d rather see my cum drip down your thighs all night.” He said and I chuckled. “I’d rather keep it inside me.” I said, nipping at his bottom lip. With that I took a deep breath, laying my head on his chest as his arms went around me. “I love you, Katie.” He whispered in my ear. “I love you too, Jake.” I said, leaning up and kissing his cheek. 

With that we got dressed and straightened ourselves out before wandering back inside. “Where’d you two go?” Phoenix asked, handing us some drinks. “They were in the back of Jake’s truck.” Coyote said, appearing next to Jake. My jaw dropped and a blush crept up my neck at his words. “Ho-how did you know?” I whispered and he laughed. Jake wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. “How could we not?” He asked and Payback walked over. “We saw the truck rocking from the front doors!” He yelled out, making the blush grow. My eyes shifted to the floor and suddenly Jake’s arm disappeared from my shoulders, making me feel vulnerable. “You don’t have to yell it out.” He said to Payback, his tone low. “Now quit laughing, both of you.” He said and they stopped. Jake turned back to me, his arm going over my shoulders again. “You okay?” He asked and I nodded. “Just ridiculously embarrassed. We hung around for a few more hours and just before we left, Coyote and Payback both came up to me when Jake walked away. Neither of them looked at me and I didn’t look at them. “Katie?” Coyote asked and I turned to him. Now they were looking at me. “We just… wanted to apologize for earlier.” Payback said. “We crossed a line, and we’re sorry.” Coyote continued. I felt awkward sitting here with both of them. “Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s okay.” I said, and they shook their heads. “But it’s not. We’re deeply sorry, Katie. Can you forgive us?” Payback asked and after a second of silence, I nodded. “Yeah, I can.” They opened their arms and I pulled them into a hug. “Everything okay over here?” Jake asked as he came back. “Great.” Coyote squeaked out as I squeezed both of them.

That weekend was spent studying, and having a lot of sex. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I decided come Sunday I would shower, alone. Much to Jake’s dismay. I took a lengthy shower, taking the time to shave my legs, exfoliate, do a hair mask, the whole nine yards. By the time I was done the water was running cold. I shut off the water and opened the curtain. I took a deep breath, feeling much better than I had before I got in. I reached for my towel but jumped back when something fell off. I looked on the ground to see a spider. It was so big it would probably barely fit into the palm of my hand. “JAKE!” I screamed, grabbing the extendable shower head and aiming at the spider. If this thing so much as moved I was ready to completely soak the house. “What?!” He sounded panicked and even looked it when he saw me. He saw where I was aiming and he paled slightly. “Holy shit. That thing is ginormous.” He said, looking down at it. “Kill it!” I demanded. “I’m not gonna kill it.” He said. 

“Then get it out of here and take it far away!” I said. He just chuckled and disappeared. “JAKE!” He just left me here?! “Calm down. I went to get this.” It was a flyswatter and he bent down, sliding it under the spider's legs. “If that thing gets near me, I’m drowning it.” I said as he stood. “It’ll be fine.” He said. But it wasn’t. The spider fell off of the fly swatter and I screamed. Jake stood still until it started towards him and as a reaction he stomped on it. Then, it was like my nightmares came to life. Thousands upon thousands of tiny black dots came out from under the crushed bug, covering the floor. A high pitched squeal escaped Jake and I both as they started up his legs. “SPRAY IT!” He squealed and I turned on the water, soaking the floor as he ran out. But not even a second later he rushed back in. “GET THEM OFF ME!” He all but dove into the shower and I soaked him from head to toe with the sprayer. It felt like an eternity before we felt like he was clean and the floor was safe. “I’m sorry Jake but we now have to burn this house to the ground.” I said and he shook his head. “No, we don’t. But we will bomb it and I’ll get an exterminator in here.” He said as we both stared at all the dead spiders on the floor. “Might wanna get someone to make sure there’s no water damage as well.”

A little while later we had the floor cleaned up, killing a few stragglers as we went. But I had changed into one of his sweatshirts and some shorts before walking downstairs. “I can’t believe that happened.” I said, a shiver running down my spine. I reached into the fridge, pulling out some chicken for dinner and setting the package in the sink. I looked up to see Jake holding a bouquet of roses. “Aw, Jake.” I said, stepping forward and taking the bouquet from him. “But what are they for?” I asked. He looked nervous, fiddling with something behind his back. “To soften the blow.” I furrowed my brows and grew nervous. “A-are you breaking up with me?” I asked, tears welling in my eyes. “What? No! Darlin, no!” He said, wrapping his arms around me. “But you said they were to ‘soften the blow’.” He quickly shook his head. “For me! The blow to me.” I furrowed my brows even more confused. “Don’t freak out. But after Friday night, we went without condoms the entire weekend. It’s completely up to you, but just in case…” He set a small box on the counter and I looked at it. “Plan B?” I asked, setting down the flowers on the counter and picking up the box. “It’s just in case. I know that we made our decision to go without the condoms. But I wanted you to have it if you wanted it. This isn’t me forcing it on you, it’s just if you want it.” I bit my lip, looking down at the box. 

“Thank you.” I told him. “I know we never discussed kids or anything, but I want you to know I support you in whatever you want.” He said and I smiled up at him. “Thank you, babe.” I said, standing on my toes and kissing his cheek. We cooked dinner together, me sitting in his lap as we ate. The night was relaxing. We watched a movie together before we finally decided to go to bed. Jake was lying in bed as I brushed my teeth and stared at the box on the counter. I was torn. Jake and I never talked about kids, but it’s not something I ever saw myself having. I could never imagine myself as a mother. Once I finished brushing my teeth I grabbed the box, opening it and popping the pill out of the blister pack and popping it in my mouth. I stuck my mouth under the stream of water from the faucet and swallowed it. Once I was done and ready for bed I crawled in next to Jake who already had the lights off. I laid down and immediately his arms went around me, pulling my side into his chest. 

“Goodnight, darlin’.” I didn’t respond. I simply laid on my back and stared up at the ceiling as he held me. “I took the pill.” I whispered. It was quiet for a second before he spoke up. “Are you okay?” He asked, shifting so he could look at me. “Yeah. I just felt like you should know.” I told him and he smiled at me. “Like I told you, I’m following your lead here.” I turned to him. “So you’re not upset?” I asked and he shook his head. “I could never be upset at you for doing what you think is best.” He said and I stared at him for a minute before leaning in and kissing him softly. “I love you.” I told him. “I love you too, darlin’.” 

That week we managed to get an exterminator in there and someone to check for water damage. Everything in the house was fine and there were no more baby spiders, so Jake and I could finally breathe. It was early October and I was knee deep in studying for midterms. “Hey, darlin’.” I looked up to see Jake walking towards me. He was only in a pair of shorts, deciding to forgo a shirt which was very, very distracting. “Hi.” I said, going back to focus on my notes. Just after midterms we’ll start our clinicals and that has me on edge. “Can I have a moment of your time?” He asked. “Only a moment.” I said, grinning at him. “I wanted to talk to you about Halloween.” He said, sitting down across from me. I raised a brow at him as I copied another note. “Okay. What about it?” In truth, I haven’t thought about Halloween once. I got to trick or treat a few times as a kid but by the time I was nine, it stopped. We didn’t even hand out candy. My parents just pretended the holiday didn’t exist. “Do you have any preference on costumes?” He asked. “Um no. I didn’t think we were dressing up.” I said and he looked at me, shocked. 

“Not dressing up? We have Mav’s halloween party to go to! Then we have to hand out candy on Halloween! We have to dress up to give the kids candy!” He said. “Okay,” I said, a little surprised. “I don’t really have any ideas or preferences on costumes.” I told him, setting my pencil down. “Okay good, because I think we should go classic. Cowboy and Cowgirl.” He said, using his hands to make me see the ‘picture’. “I’m at a little disadvantage here. You have everything you need for that costume. I don’t.” I said and he shook his head. “That’s why we are going shopping after your midterms. Jeans and a shirt should be easy to find, boots and a hat will take a little longer.” I smiled at him. “I may already have a shirt. But we can go shopping for everything else.” I said and he seemed excited. “Great! We’re gonna be the best looking couple there!” He said, standing and kissing my cheek before he disappeared upstairs. 

Soon midterms came and I was shaking the morning of. Thankfully, we can fit all of our tests into one day but it was overwhelming. I got dressed and did my hair and makeup before going downstairs. “What are you still doing here?” I asked, shocked to see Jake in the kitchen. He’s supposed to be on base by six, which is when I get up. “I told Mav I would be a little late today.” I furrowed my brows, confused. “Why?” I asked just as the oven timer went off. “Because you have midterms today.” He said, pulling what smelled like egg bites out of the oven. “So you need a good breakfast.” He popped a few on a plate. “Some coffee.” He also slid a mug of coffee, just how I like it towards me. “And I wanted to make your lunch.” He said. “Oh, Jake.” I said as he slid my lunchbox closer. “And you need good luck kisses.” He came around the counter, taking me in his arms and kissing me until I was dizzy. “You’re amazing.” I said, kissing him again. “No, you are. You’re going to blow that test out of the water.” He said. 

“You didn’t have to stay home to do all this for me.” I said and he shook his head, walking back towards the fridge. “No, I wanted to, so I did.” He opened the fridge and reached inside before pulling out my water bottle and setting it next to my lunchbox. “I love you, have a good day and I’ll see you back here this evening.” He said, kissing me again before heading towards the door. “Absolutely amazing.” I muttered before taking a bite of my breakfast. Once I was done, I put the dishes in the dishwasher and grabbed my stuff, heading out the door. I rode to school quietly, trying to just breathe and keep myself calm. I walked inside with plenty of time to spare and I decided to go ahead and get into my classroom to get prepared. I was being very meticulous about my setup when Annie sat next to me. “How do you feel?” She asked and I let out a shaky breath. “Like I’m going to cry and throw up.” I replied. “Me too.” Brooke said, sitting on my other side. I took a sip of my water, visibly shaking. “Good morning, everyone.” One of our professors, Dr. Drakes said as he walked in. “Your microbiology exam is the longest, so we will be starting with that.” I shook some more. Microbiology was my worst subject and now I was terrified. “Good luck.” He told us before handing out our exams. 

I cried the whole way home. As soon as I got into the driveway I put the parking brake on and got out. I took my time gathering my things and tried to stop my tears before walking inside. Once I felt like I calmed down enough I got out of my truck, slowly making my way inside. But as soon as the door closed behind me the tears started. “Katie?” I could smell food cooking as he stepped out of the kitchen. “Hey, how’d it go?” He asked and I immediately started crying again. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” He asked and I dropped everything before rushing to him. I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him as he wrapped his own arms around me. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his tone a little more serious. “I’m sorry.” I cried. “For what?” He asked, fingers running through my hair. “For failing.” I said. “You failed your tests?” He asked, holding me at arms length. “I think I did.” I said and he looked at me confused. “You think? So you haven’t gotten your results yet?” He asked and I shook my head. “No.” He chuckled, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Then you have no reason to stress.” I furrowed my brows in confusion. “You’re not mad?” I asked and he furrowed his brows. “No, why would I be?” He asked. “I think I failed Jake. That’s not good.” I said and he pulled me close again, kissing my forehead. “I don’t care if you did fail. That’s no reason for me to be mad at you, and you gave it your best shot. I could never be mad at you for doing your best.” He said. 

“Really?” I asked and he nodded, kissing my gently. “Yes, really. Now, why don’t you go shower? Dinner will be done in about an hour.” I sniffled and nodded before slowly making my way upstairs. I took my time in the shower and once I was done I slipped into one of Jake’s Longhorns shirts. I looked into the mirror, seeing my eyes were still puffy. I wet a rag and put cold water on my eyes for a moment before ringing out the rag and making my way downstairs. I was stunned at what I saw before me. The lights were off but candles were lit all over the room, there was music playing softly and Jake was setting plates on the dining room table. “You like it?” He asked, turning to me. I gave him a soft smile. “I don’t feel like I deserve it.” I said and he sighed, coming over and taking my hand. “Of course you do. You worked hard.” He said as he led me over to the table, pulling out my chair for me. I sat down, the smell of the steak wafting into my nose. “God this smells heavenly.” I said as he disappeared into the kitchen. He came back out a moment later, bottle and glasses in hand. “And champagne to celebrate.” He said. “Jake. I already said I don’t think I did well.” I told him and he smiled at me. “Well then, we’ll celebrate the fact that midterms are over.” He said, making me giggle as he filled my glass. He sat down, holding up his glass. “To peaceful days from here on out.” He said and I smiled, clinking my glass against his and taking a sip. 

“Jake, I don’t know.” I told him, looking in the mirror in the dressing room. “Come on, darlin’. It can’t be that bad.” He said and I sighed. “But I feel like it is!” I told him. “Just let me see.” I sighed before pushing open the dressing room door. Jake brought me down to a few western stores in San Diego to get me an outfit for Halloween. “Oh… my god.” He said and my cheeks grew warm. “I told you it was bad.” I said and he shook his head, standing from the chair. “No, no it’s not. You look… breathtaking.” He said. I sighed and turned to a mirror, looking at myself. The jeans were nice. They were light wash flare jeans that accentuate my curves. But the shirt was pushing my comfort zone. It was like a cropped corset, with bones in the front. It was a one shoulder top with a cut out on the chest. It looked like it just barely cupped my boobs and held them up. “I think you look gorgeous, darlin’.” He said, resting his hands on my waist before he kissed the back of my head. “You sure?” I asked. “Positive. How about this…” He said, turning me to face him. “We buy it. You try it on next week, and if you still don’t like it then we’ll get you something else.” He said and I nodded. 

I changed back into my dress and Jake carried the clothes as we looked at all of the boots. “See anything you like?” He asked. There were a bunch and they were beautiful. “I see a lot, but I don’t like this rounded toe. I like this square shape or the pointed ones.” I said and turned to find him smiling at me. “You have exquisite taste in boots.” He said. After another hour, and many boots later we found the pair I loved. The uppers were a deep brown color but the shaft was white and they were gorgeous, and surprisingly comfortable. “Alright, let’s check out.” He said and I furrowed my brows. “I thought you said I needed a hat too?” I asked and he chuckled. “You do, and I’ve got that covered.” He said, taking my hand and leading me up to the register. “So, you’ve seen my outfit. But I have no idea what yours looks like.” I said, resting my hand on my hip. “That’s because it’s a surprise, darlin’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @wkndwlff @alltimereverie @cherrycola27 @daisydaisygoose @rosiahills22 @deanoheartspie @cornishkat @high-speed-r @fogle97 @mygyn @ohgodnotagainn @emma8895eb @senjoritanana @kmc1989 @sandaltoesocks @mamachasesmayhem @dempy @itsdesiree86 @sunderland-6 @jstarr86 @brooke-stinson @rachkon @topguncultleader @bethbunnyy @topgun-imagines @clancycucumber230 @seitmai @kkrenae @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @eugene-emt-roe @hisredheadedgoddess28 @littlewhiterose @formulapierre @wade-wilsons-chew-toy @bethabear12 @halstead-severide-fan @gg-trini @memeorydotcom @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker @inthestars-underthesun @praline357 @fanboyluvr @greaser9902 @felinegrate @lemmons1998 @thegoddessc @lynnevanss @daddyslittlevillain

[steviewashere]

Make a Touchdown on My Heart

Rating: General CW: Doesn't Apply For This One! Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Neurodivergent Steve Harrington, Super Bowl XXII, Steve Harrington is a Sports Nerd, Domestic Fluff, Comfort/No Hurt, Fluff, Dialogue Heavy (Some facts in here may be inaccurate, I am not a sports enthusiast. All of these came from the internet, so blame it if I'm wrong.) For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is being seen and known."

💕—————💕

It’s January, 1988. Their apartment is warm and lit by amber bulbs. Four in the afternoon in Chicago, work days over, dinner slow cooking in the crockpot on the counter. Eddie’s already dressed down in pajamas, grabbing a couple beers from their fridge, waiting for Steve to arrive home. Domestic. He’s been domesticated. He’s warm with contentment.

The plan is that Steve is going to get home, change out of his Family Video get up (because, yes, the video store has followed him to Illinois), get into his sweats and a Denver Bronco’s t-shirt, rush to get his sneakers back on, and hurry over to the local sports bar to yell over the Super Bowl. It’s been discussed. Marked on the calendar. Steve’s been excited for the last several months, practically bubbling with passion at the mere thought that one of his favorite teams made it to the “big game” as he described it to Eddie.

Now, Eddie’s no sports guy. He really, really, really isn’t. But he’d grown up with Wayne watching football. Tuning the television to ABC, right at the top of six, Miller in hand, bowl of chips in the other. Eddie usually resigned himself to a night of sitting on the couch, clueless to the sports world around him, probably nose deep in campaign notes. But he’s not in Indiana. He’s not listening to Wayne’s gruff commentary as he prepares for a night in with football. He’s in Illinois with his boyfriend, Steve Harrington—sports extraordinaire, quite literally.

Steve does this wonderfully adorable thing where he pulls out his new copy of Sports Illustrated or tunes in on their little kitchen radio or flips to whatever game is on, he rattles on about statistics and new players and his predictions—what team he thinks will make it to playoffs, which players will retire that year, how many touchdowns a team will get. It’s his favorite thing to talk about. Well, it could be any sport. He knows quite a bit about literally any sport. 

“Who had the most strikeouts in 1984?” Eddie had asked one evening. 

Without any preamble, Steve had shot him with, “Dwight Gooden, New York Mets.”

So, yeah, Steve knows his shit. At least in Eddie’s humble opinion.

Which is why, even though Eddie will probably get super bored, he’s got the TV remote ready. Just waiting on Steve’s quick arrival.

And, not too long later, keys are jingling outside of their apartment’s front door, impatient steps marching in place on the porch. “Just come in, babe! It’s unlocked!” Eddie shouts, chuckling under his breath. 

In comes Steve, a whirlwind of energy. He sheds his coat by the front door, snowflakes falling from his shoulders and the top of his beanie. The coat doesn’t even make it over a chair, is just chucked down to the hardwood. Ripping the hat off his head reveals the most glorious and awful hedgehog style Eddie’s ever seen. But that doesn’t even seem to phase Steve. He just runs a hand through his hair, knocking his glasses askew (yes, glasses, Eddie’s wet dream), quickly wetting his lips with his tongue. He’s already talking a mile a minute.

“Happy hour got moved up an hour at the bar! There’s a whole block taken up by cars.” His voice gets farther and farther away the more he retreats to their bedroom. There’s some rustling around as he looks for his sweatpants. “Bunch of Redskins fans all meeting there, feels like! Gonna be the only one with a Broncos shirt. It’s insane, Eds! They’re all talking about how Doug Williams is gonna lead the Redskins to victory. Which, I’ll give it to them, he’s awesome! He’s one of the best quarterbacks I’ve seen in a long time. Honestly, he’ll probably make history with this game.”

Steve reenters the living space, still chatting up a storm, eyes wandering for his yet to be obtained sweats. Eddie’s got a hand over his mouth, chuckling lowly into his cupped palm. He’s such a dork, he can’t help but think.

He continues on, oblivious to Eddie's adoration snickering. “I’m really excited to see how this goes. Y’know how there was a players strike this season?” He’s asking rhetorically because he usually doesn’t get a response from Eddie, but he nods anyway, because he does know. It’s all Steve’s talked about. “Season was shortened, but…Considering how the Redskins are doing? This might be a crazy game. And also—Wait.” Steve stops short in front of Eddie in the entryway of their small kitchen. He sniffs the air.

“It’s bean dip, babe,” Eddie answers already knowing. “I—uh—I made it for you, for tonight.”

“But I’m not gonna be home? I’ll be up the street?”

Eddie shrugs. “Or…you could be here? With me?” He enters Steve’s space, wiggling the TV remote in his grip. “I put the dip in this morning after you left for work. Went out to the store and picked up a case of Millers. Your sweatpants are in the dryer, I’m warming them up. Just in case the cold creeps under the door, you know how it gets.”

And that makes Steve shut up really fast. His mouth hangs open in silent awe. Hands limp at his sides. Then, all at once, his eyes light up and a smile stretches over his face. “You wanna watch the Super Bowl with me?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, baby. You’ve been talking about it for a while and…I don’t know, you’re so excited, I knew that I couldn’t take that from you. Make you leave the house and not bear witness to your whole—“ He waves a hand over Steve’s bouncing in place body. His flapping hands, the jump to his feet as he quite literally bounces on the tips of his toes. “—Look at you right now! You’re like a dog waiting for me to throw the ball. How could I not watch it with you?” He grabs Steve by his left elbow and drags them over to the couch.

Finally, he turns the television on, flips it over to ABC, and plops the remote in Steve’s lap. He’s still jittering out of his skin.

“You want to watch the game with me,” he states, once more in awe. “Because I get excited? But—You don’t like football? You’re gonna get bored.”

Once again, Eddie shrugs. “So what if I get bored? I don’t need to watch the game, I just need to watch you. I’ll know how to react based on how you do. So far, it sounds like the Redskins are gonna be a pain in the ass for you, right?”

“You remembered the name of the team?”

Eddie scoffs. “Of course I do! I listen to you when you talk about your sports stuff. You’ve been moaning and groaning about the Redskins’ new star quarterback for a while now. You think I don’t enjoy sitting next to you on the couch when you read off the stats in your magazines? Baby, it’s the highlight of my day.”

Steve’s eyes soften, they glisten, surprisingly. “Really? You don’t mind when I talk about my sports things? Even when…Even when it isn’t that interesting to you?”

“Loving you means loving what you love,” Eddie simply states. “Just like when you let me ramble about campaign notes and how infuriating it’s been to find a new Dungeons & Dragons group.” He wraps an arm over Steve’s shoulders, drawing him in close. His free hand cradles Steve’s right cheek, it’s wet under his palm. “Why you cryin’ sweet thing?” He murmurs.

It’s Steve’s turn to shrug. He sniffs back a gross wad of snot. “Nobody ever liked listening to me talk about it, I don’t know. Used to watch the games alone. Hated that.”

Leaning in, Eddie pecks Steve’s forehead. “Well, that changes starting tonight, alright? So, go grab your sweats from the dryer, slip into your Broncos shirt, settle in on the couch. I’ll get us some food, crack open our beers, and you can shout and slap my chest all you want about your game. How’s that sound?”

“Like you know me really well,” Steve answers.

“Good, baby,” he whispers. “Love knowing you. Love loving you.”

💕—————💕

[ahfrickenfrick]

tim grew up being shoved into a box, and being a people pleaser

so he will genuinely sit and be uncomfortable if he thinks it’s what’s supposed to happen

and no one ever really notices, as this was how he’s always been, until dick takes tim to batburger and they get milkshakes

—-

Tim frowns at the cup, full of a freshly made milkshake, whipped cream, and a cherry. The teen takes the cherry and gingerly eats it, clearly making a face of disgust.

“You know you don’t have to eat that if you don’t want to.” Dick says with a sideways grin. Tim cocked his head.

“No? But wouldn’t it be a waste? You just spent money and took me out after a rough night. And I know you used your own cash and not B’s. I can’t waste this.”

The older vigilante let his smile drop into a small frown, looking out to the skyline. “I know, but a little waste won’t hurt. Especially if it’s bringing you discomfort. Tossing a cherry isn’t going to hurt my feelings or my wallet. You deserve a space to feel safe and comfortable to have an opinion and a say, even over something as minuscule as a cherry.”

Tim frowned and took a sip of his milkshake. “I’ll…. I’ll keep that in mind.”

———

It takes a lot to break Tim out of the cycle of everyone else’s comfort. Soon he’s picking at his food and not forcing everything down.

He’s putting in his opinion for movie nights, and suggesting recipes to Alfred.

Tim’s also now giving his input to Bruce, and taking initiative on patrol and cases, even solving a few old cases the dark knight couldn’t crack.

He’s grown a lot, shoving and pushing at the sides of the box that was hand crafted around him until it collapses.

[podcastenthusiast]

I read an article about Geralt's chronic pain in book canon, then I remembered Dr. Joachim von Gratz in Witcher 3 saying he could tell Geralt broke his leg at some point. So I took all that and ran with it for this.

---

Geralt is in pain.

It's an odd phrase, he thinks as he trudges up the stairs to their room. Like pain is a physical place he could escape if he only knew how.

Vesemir had taught them long ago that pain is simply information. Its message should be acknowledged and the rest discarded as useless sensation. A witcher who can't handle pain is a dead witcher, after all; they were forged in agony.

Geralt can never figure out what all of the pain wants him to know, if anything. Why it flares up like this. It's just outdated information.

They're staying at an inn tonight. What used to be a rare luxury on the Path has become commonplace, at least in Jaskier's company. Good thing, too; an unrelenting spring rainstorm is raging outside. Thunder rumbles a mile away and he can taste electricity in the air, not unlike the pain that zaps through his leg with each step.

Jaskier had called for the tub in their room to be filled, thankfully. Geralt casts Igni on the water until it's almost too hot even for a witcher, and sinks into the bath with a relieved sigh. Warmth dulls the pain somewhat, like a blunted blade beneath his skin, but it's still there.

He eventually must leave the bath, however. Getting himself dressed somehow saps away the last of his energy, and Geralt deposits his aching body onto the bed after, letting his mind drift as much as it can. Jaskier is hovering in his periphery. He's talking, as ever, envigorated by an adoring audience, eyes a little wine-bright. Try as he might, Geralt can't focus on his words. There's a cacophony of sounds around him—rain and Jaskier's heartbeat and drunken revelry downstairs and animals in the forest just beyond the village. But eclipsing it all is the pain.

Years of experience and witcher training allows him to bear it without letting the weakness show. He can live with pain, like he lives with the foul taste of potions and their aftereffects, with teleportation sickness and wearing scratchy doublets to formal occasions. With human cruelty. The blood on his hands.

"Geralt, have you been listening at all?"

"Hm."

"Right. You're not even here right now, I see."

"Hmm."

He isn't here. He's not in this room or even this country; he is in pain.

"Move over, then. You're taking up the entire bed and I'm knackered."

Geralt does move. It nearly steals the breath from his lungs. He curls in on himself, instinctively, as if the pain weren't coming from within.

"Something is wrong. What is it?"

Jaskier sounds serious now. Geralt doesn't want to ruin his evening.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Geralt—"

"I said I'm fine. Leave it, Jaskier!"

He stands up then as if to prove it, but his treacherous knee refuses to cooperate with the simplest command and buckles under his weight. The pain, which had briefly lodged itself near his hip, suddenly radiates sharply down his leg in nauseating waves. He curses.

"You're hurt, aren't you. I thought I saw you favoring one leg earlier. Was it the griffin? Geralt, you have to tell me these things—"

"No," he grits out. "I'm not injured."

"And I'm not stupid, you know. You can barely walk! Clearly—"

"Old wounds. Just...still troubles me sometimes. All right? Nothing to worry about."

There is a long, uncharacteristic silence following his confession. Geralt fears he may have finally broken him.

"Well," the bard says at last, "You're a fool if you think that will stop me worrying about you."

"I can manage." His arm doesn't hurt much tonight, at least, and he gets to sleep in a real bed. Small mercies.

"Oh, I've no doubt of that, certainly. You're the most stubborn man I've ever known. I also know you rarely permit yourself even the slightest modicum of comfort."

"Jaskier..."

"Does anything help when it gets bad?"

"Potions. Meditation." Jaskier looks hopeful at this, and he feels a little guilty for having to crush those hopes so soon when he adds, "But not this time. I don't have enough potions to waste them like that."

"Meditation, then? I can be as quiet as you need, contrary to popular belief."

"Hurts too much," Geralt admits. Then, maybe to ease Jaskier's concern, he says, "The bath helped a little."

"Good, that's a start. Now, I know what works for me might not work for you, but I've a few remedies. Will you let me try to help?"

"Didn't know you were a priestess of Melitele," he grumbles.

"Sadly the temple refused to accept me for study, can't imagine why, so I had to become a bard instead," he quips.

"I thought you were tired."

Jaskier ignores this comment. He can hear the bard rummaging around in his bag.

"Where is it. This salve saved my life when I was a student at Oxenfurt. They had us practicing the lute for hours and hours; I thought my hands would fall off. My wrists still hurt sometimes. Then there was the— Ah! There. Geralt? Still with me?"

"Yes. What?"

"Normally I prefer to say this under much more pleasant circumstances, but: trousers off, if you please."

He groans. Doesn't Jaskier understand how much work it was to get them on?

It's a slow process, mostly because he refuses any help with it.

"Oh, Geralt," he says softly. The bard touches his knee, gentle as a summer breeze. "It does look swollen here."

In truth, he's strangely glad of that. It's much worse somehow when it hurts and yet appears perfectly normal.

"Are you allergic to any herbs? This has got, uh, let's see. Chamomile, willow bark, ginger, essential oil of—"

"I drink poison on a regular basis, Jaskier. Apply the damn salve already."

He does. Geralt closes his eyes. He isn't sure any simple salve will even be enough to touch the pain, but the way Jaskier massages his leg seems to ease a bit of the tension coiled in his muscles, if nothing else. After a while he starts to relax. He listens to the rain. He breathes.

"'M sorry I snapped at you earlier," Geralt murmurs into the pillow. "Wasn't fair."

"It wasn't. But you're already forgiven. Feeling any better?"

Geralt shrugs, because while it is becoming background noise again, he's still in pain. Pretty much always is. No amount of soft touches or herbs or magic can fix that completely.

Being here in pain with Jaskier, though, is better than being alone.

[thefrogdalorian]

All The Nice Things in Life

Din Djarin x Neurodivergent GN!Reader

Word Count: 2569 Rating: General Summary: During your usual weekly trip to your favourite Market on Nevarro, you get a little overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. Fortunately, you have an exceptionally caring and attentive Mandalorian for a partner, who manages to calm you down and make you see that you are not a burden to him, despite your worries. Content Warnings: Mentions of anxiety/panic attacks and description of sensory overload. Author's Note: Finally got round to moving this fic to tumblr! It's the first I wrote in my Din Djarin x Neurodivergent Reader series and I really hope it brings you some comfort should you ever need it.

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

Despite your best efforts to keep the panic that had been threatening to overwhelm you since you had set out that morning inside you, and not let Din see… things had gotten too much for you to handle and you had finally lost your composure. Fortunately, you were back in the sanctuary of the Cabin on Nevarro you shared with Din and Grogu before you fully lost control of yourself. You had tried your best not to give the impression that you were struggling, you hadn’t wanted to worry Din – the man was too attentive to your every need. You hadn’t wanted to ruin your day out but you had just about managed to make it back to the cabin before you exploded.

It had started off just like any other way you spent this particular day – heading into Nevarro’s town centre to explore the weekly Market. Since Din had asked you to move in, it was part of the routine you had enjoyed together. You hadn’t slept particularly well the previous night, nightmares had plagued you, so you already felt slightly on edge. But you hadn’t wanted to let Din down, you knew it was something that he always looked forward to each week. On this particular day, a variety of vendors came to the planet to show off their latest wares that they had accumulated throughout the galaxy. You weren’t always sure how legitimate some of the characters were, given the astonishingly cheap prices, but you had experienced enough in this life to know better than to ask questions. Grogu enjoyed going almost as much as his father did, the little womp rat loved nothing more than running you and Din ragged between stalls, begging for food with his big pleading brown eyes. The number of times you had scolded him for using the Force to try to steal things behind your back was bordering on ridiculous. But you loved the mischievous little boy and you couldn’t help but find a way each week to convince Din to give him a treat of some description.

You hadn’t wanted to give any hint that you felt off that morning when you woke up. 

Due to your nightmares, you were awake and out of bed before Din. You had used the fresher first, when you came out you had gone straight to Grogu’s room, not having the heart to face him – fearing that he would sense that something was off. You had heard Din pottering around the cabin, having a shower in the fresher and eventually padding to the kitchen to brew the caf - as was your daily routine. You brought Grogu in and as the three of you sat down at the table to eat a simple breakfast, it almost felt normal. An idyllic family scene against the chaos and discomfort that raged inside of you.

After breakfast, as Din packed some bags up of things he wanted to bargain with or sell to vendors at the Market and carefully polished his beskar’gam, you knew you didn’t have the heart to tell Din that you weren’t feeling well. You knew that if you gave even the slightest hint of discomfort, that he would have soon forgotten about his own desire to go to the Market and put everything into worrying about your well being instead. It was amazing how caring he was, but you felt like a burden to have someone care for you that deeply. The guilt of feeling like you were somehow ruining his life was too much sometimes. You wondered if he ever yearned for the simpler life he had when it had just been himself and Grogu here.

But you had successfully managed to push those feelings down somewhere deep inside of you and put on a brave face. Things had been going well and you had managed to get over your initial apprehension about going to the Market. A ride on the back of Din’s speeder – with Grogu perched in his little bag – had certainly helped. Any time you got to hold the man you loved so much around the waist and feel the warmth from his body beneath the beskar was bound to settle your nerves.

You had arrived at the Market just before the afternoon rush and when the heat was at its highest. Things had been fine, your earlier apprehension seemed to have been forgotten. Grogu had been a little mischievous, whining for food and looking admiringly at a Loth-cat plush that you had eventually managed to persuade Din to give into his reservations and buy for him. The kid had enough toys, but truly the thought of seeing Grogu cuddling a little Loth-cat was doing wonders for your mental state. The way his little face lit up as you placed it into his chubby green claws and he squeezed it – like Din had once told you he had squeezed and Anzellan droidsmith – did, in fact, soothe your nerves. The sight was one of the cutest things you had ever seen.

You had spent a comfortable hour or so walking up and down the various Market stalls, Din by your side. Occasionally, when you got to more crowded areas, he would place a protective hand on the small of your back. It always made you feel so loved, feeling what good care he took of you and how unashamed he was to show his affection for you in public. You knew how many heads Din always turned, curious glances that were sent the way of you and your shiny Mandalorian. 

But at a certain point – without much warning – things began to feel too much for you to bear. Suddenly, everything felt overwhelming and you wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Not being able to see Din’s face wasn’t helping – those kind, gentle brown eyes that you loved so much. Perhaps it was the heat and brightness of the sun; or the overpowering noise of the conversations of hundreds of people fighting against the yells from the vendors; or the crowds that did not seem to thin no matter which way you turned, making you feel as though you were trapped; or the way everyone seemed to be staring at Din. Your rational brain knew that they were just intrigued seeing a Mandalorian back on Nevarro, but the more irrational parts of yourself felt paranoid that everyone was staring at you – judging you. You felt your head beginning to buzz loudly; every noise felt agonising and every step you took felt heavier and heavier until you could not take another. You had to get out of here.

“Din, I need to get back to the speeder.” You mumbled shakily, before running off back through the crowds towards where you had come from. Your body felt as though it was on autopilot and you were back in a flash. Somehow you had managed to part the crowds and fight your way back.

Mercifully, Din had quickly found his way back to the speeder and you did not have to wait long until you saw him. You noticed how his chest was heaving, he must have sprinted after you. He immediately noticed the way you were trembling and moved to place his arm around your shoulder.

“Is there anything I can do here to make you feel better?” Din asked, his modulated voice full of concern.

You shook your head.

“Do you want to go home?”

You nodded slowly, grateful that he was asking questions that could be answered with a nod or shake of the head. He was so attentive in that way.

“Okay, it’s fine, cyare.” Din soothed. “Get your goggles on and let’s go.”

You clung so tightly that you feared you might suffocate him, but of course you were a trembling mess; even at your strongest you would be no match for the tough mandalorian warrior that you loved so much.

When you made it back to the cabin – mercifully it was a relatively short ride – Din took Grogu to his room for a nap, while you paced in the living area, wringing your hands. Finally, when Grogu was settled, Din made his way into the room. Mercifully, he had removed his helmet and changed into some more comfortable clothes. You respected he had to wear his helmet and armour when you were out and about, but you appreciated just being able to see the man beneath the armour when it was just the two of you here.

“Do you want to discuss what caused it? Din asked, seeing that you were clearly still distressed.

You just shook your head and quickly headed towards the comfortable couch in the main living area. You plopped down there, covering your eyes with your hands.

“Can I hold you?” Din asked, his deep voice never failing to surprise you in how soft it could be.

You nodded, feeling the tears you had been holding in being suddenly violently ripped out of you as Din’s arms snaked their way around your body. With him you always felt safe, you felt a certainty that things were going to be alright that you had been chasing for so long.

“Hey, hey… please take a deep breath.” Din asked, “Match my breathing.”

Din placed your hand on his chest between the two of you, so you could feel the deep breaths he was taking and try your best to match your own to them. But it was hopeless, though you had tried your best to fight it since the moment you had woken up, your anxiety had won the day.

“This is so stupid, I'm so stupid.” You choked out as you sobbed inconsolably.

Din’s heart ached to see you this upset, he wished you could see yourself the way he saw you. The love he held for you and Grogu was more than he had ever hoped to find in his life. Din had spent so much of his life alone and now having experienced the honour of loving another made him wonder how he had ever dealt with life alone.

“You are not stupid.” Din whispered. “You are the furthest thing from stupid.”

“I’m so weak and pathetic, Din. I ruined your day… I know how much you wanted to look at the stalls with the plants for the garden here and we couldn’t even make it that far before I ruined everything, just like I always do!” You said as you shook violently.

“Look at me.” Din said, releasing his strong hold on you but keeping a protective arm around the small of your back as he tilted up your chin to meet his kind brown eyes that were filled with so much concern for you. “You are one of the strongest people I know.”

His words brought your tears out in fresh floods, but they were no longer the violently distressed sobs that had wracked your entire body. You were moved by his emotions towards you.

“You’ve been through so much and yet you’re still here.” Din soothed. “I admire your strength. I wish you weren’t so hard on yourself, cyar’ika. If someone spoke about you the way you spoke about yourself… I would hunt them down and make them pay for daring to speak about the person who holds my heart like that. But it’s you… so I can’t. It breaks my heart to hear you talk about yourself in this way.”

Din released your chin – not before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead – and pulled you back into a tight hug.

“Please tell me what I can do for you.” Din said into your hair, softly.

“Just hold me, Din.” You asked.

Din stroked his thumbs against your shoulders gently and you felt yourself relaxing into his touch. Sometimes when you got overwhelmed, the thought of being held was disgusting to you… but with Din, he always seemed to know exactly what you needed. You knew if things ever felt too overwhelming, though, that Din would take no offence to you asking him not to touch you.

Once you had calmed down enough, you were filled with an overwhelming need to apologise again:

“I’m so sorry.” You said quietly, struggling to meet Din’s gaze. “We were supposed to have a good time at the Market. I wanted to get an ice cream with Grogu at the end.”

“Will you stop apologising please?” Din said calmly. “Grogu had a wonderful time, we spoiled him with that Loth-cat plush, which he’s currently cuddling as he naps. He had more than enough to eat!”

“I’m sorry… dank ferrik! I’m sorry for saying sorry again!” you laughed

“What am I going to do with you?” Din rolled his eyes lovingly and pulled you back towards him, planting a soft kiss on your forehead again. “Apart from spending the rest of my life loving you?”

“I don’t deserve you, Din.” You said, blushing.

“Of course you do… I would be lost without you. I was lost until you and Grogu came into my life.” Din said solemnly, brown eyes momentarily flickering with the pain that life as a solitary bounty hunter had caused him. “But now you’re here… I’m not letting you go without a fight. Even if I have to fight you for being mean to yourself sometimes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You replied, his words were exactly what your frayed nerves needed to hear.

“We’ll get through this.” Din reassured you. “We always do… you always do.”

Later on – after you had woken up from the nap that Din insisted you take after the exhausting toll getting into such a state had taken on your body – you smiled as you the smell of your favourite dish drifted down the hall and into the bedroom from the kitchen. Din was still learning how to cook properly but he always made an effort for you, despite his inexperience and general clumsiness in the kitchen. 

You walked towards the kitchen, thanking the Force for the day it made you cross paths with Din Djarin, wondering what you would do without him. Din’s face immediately lit up when he saw you walk through the door and – as you sat down to eat with your boys – your heart felt lighter already as you looked at the pair of them. The meal was delicious and clearly prepared with a lot of love, even if it did not look all that appetising… you knew that Din had tried his best. 

After you had finished eating – complimenting Din’s efforts throughout – your favourite Mandalorian insisted that he had a surprise for you. As he pulled the treat out of the freezer section of the conservator, you realised exactly what it was – the ice cream from your favourite Vendor at the market. Somehow he had gotten hold of it; it must have been when you were taking your nap.

As you sat there at the table, indulging in your favourite sweet, creamy treat that the man you loved so much had gone to such trouble to source for you – after realising how upset you had been to miss out on it at the Market before – you realised that this was exactly what you deserved in life. 

You were not a burden, you knew Din would never view you as a burden. You deserved all the nice things in life. 

[henneseyhoe]

Me after sprinkling autism traits into my characters just so I can relate to them 💀

[chronicially-parker]

spencer reid x gn!reader on christmas 🎄

authors note: hello my loves!! it is finally christmas eve where i am and i am SO excited!! ive been really inactive lately and i am soooo sorry bout that so consider this post a make-up-christmas-gift <;33

spencer just seems like the guy to either love christmas or just mark it out of his calender

SILLY. CHRISTMAS. SOCKS

this man owns so many god damn sweater vests so you know that at least 15% of them are purely for christmas time

THIS

i can just see him getting so flustered when you 2 are under the mistletoe together

"spence, baby youre almost as red as my socks!"

is an absolute sucker for matching pyjamas

i feel like his favourite christmas movie would definitely be one of the classics like the grinch (2000's ofc), home alone and jack frost

he just seems like the kind of guy to buy presents throughout the year

he is not afraid to spend a pretty penny on your christmas or just you in general

if he catches you looking in a shop window for a little too long he will 100% buy whatever you were looking at in a heartbeat

he looooves spoiling you during christmas time

CHRISTMAS MOVIE HOT CHOCOLATE MARATHONS

cuddling up on the couch together with fluffy blankets, hot chocolate and warm ass matching socks and pyjamas

TREE DECORATING 😭🩷

the holiday party at quantico would be absolutely wild prove me wrong

i can literally just see spencer rambling about how much he loves you and how he cant wait to get home and see you (youre right next to him)

BLACK OUT DRUNK JJ, HOTCH, GARCIA AND MORGAN KARAOKE

MARRY HIM 💍

[talesfrommedinastation]

Need some Tech whump?

Oh Maker, this can not be happening. It can not. Can not. I am going crazy. 

Please tell me this is a nightmare, and I will wake up in Kamino. That Crosshair is with us, that Echo did not leave. This is a terrible dream, and I will be awake in our barracks, and life will be normal.

Tech, 'Good Enough'

Quick sketch I did this morning in between bouts of grant writing.

I sat on this fic for a while. I wanted to write Tech's perspective from the first part of Far Past the Ring, where he finds out massive news, and a world-ending betrayal happens.

I wanted to get into Tech's head, deeper, and this was it. But oh wee, it's a roller coaster. There's hope, fear, anger, joy, rage, and sheer, unbridled grief.

Content warnings are at the top of the link.

Strongly recommend listening to this while reading, I did while editing:

Tagging those who might want to take a look:

@amalthiaph @askwenjing @shadestepping @wwheeljack @warsamongthestars @eyecandyeoz @eelfuneral @eclec-tech @that-salmonberry-punk @ilikemymendarkandfictional @insertmeaningfulusername @isthereanechoinhere96 @perfectlywingedcrusade @autistic-artistech @auntie-venom @dukeoftheblackstar @deezlees @freesia-writes @just-shower-thoughts @littlefeatherr @constant-brain-fog @nahoney22 @notavalidusername @nika6q @marymunchkiin @merkitty49 @sued134 @supremechancellorrex @stripeverse @thecoffeelorian

[moonsporemoth]

Autism is so strong. Like I used to be afraid of spiders and bugs, but suddenly out of nowhere, I seemed to unlock a repressed special interest in them? And now every time I see one I'm like: "I want it!" Like Autism be damned, this boy can play with bugs now!

[astranite]

Limp

John and Virgil!!! The whole range of hurt/comfort, angsting and fluff though leaning rather towards comforty. Scott also sneaks in for a good bit at the end. And there are hugs. Also there is autistic John and Virgil which it isnt about but its very there :)

This started off from the first line from a tumblr prompt from @aliceinwhumperland and the idea from @katblu42 to have John being the one limping then it grew from there!!! Minor warning for injury and medical stuff. Also that this reached 6k words!!

---

"You think you're hiding it, but I can see that limp from space."

Virgil leaned closer to his comm, giving John a prime view of dark, angular done-with-this-shit eyebrows.

John definitely didn’t panic. He just didn’t want the totally needless scrutiny of a medic brother all up in his business. Or asking questions like, ‘What did you do to yourself this time?’

“What limp?” he replied. He could play it off as obtuse and then no one had to ever to find out. 

Virgil gave a Scott-worthy facepalm. “Do I have to worry about a concussion too?”

Okay maybe that was too obtuse. But he was running on few hours of sleep, back to back rescues and no bloody breakfast so who could blame him. 

“I’m fine, Virgil.” John rolled his eyes. 

Virgil didn’t dignify that with a response. 

Well then, John could prove it. Ignoring the ache in his left foot and that the last time he tried this was probably what had gotten Virgil’s suspicions on him in the first place, he twisted through the central hub of Five to the entry to the gravity ring. 

Lowering himself carefully in what was usually a thoughtlessly graceful manoeuvre, he landed on his feet in the grav ring, a triumphant, “See, I’m perfectly fine,” already on his lips. Except as soon as his left foot touched the ground with his weight on it, a sharp stab shot through it.

He couldn’t hold back the painfully obvious wince. Or the sudden gasp. 

Virgil’s disappointment was another blow. “And here I thought I had one sensible brother. How did it happen?”

Mechanism of injury, a completely ordinary question for a medic to ask. One he’d compliantly answered for many accidents, even ridiculous earthside ones such as, ‘Fell over again and it’s all gravity’s fault.’ But up here he was meant to be in his element. 

John crossed his arms stubbornly, wobbling on one foot. 

“Couldn’t say.”

“Johnny.” Virgil was exasperated by now. 

“Definitely not telling you anything if you call me that.”

“Johnathan Glenn Tracy.”

“Nope. That’s not even my name.”

“John.”

“Congratulations, you figured it out,” John spat. 

Virgil looked taken aback. 

A lump rose in John’s throat. 

“I’m sorry. It’s been a shit day.” 

He could feel his face growing as red as his hair with shame. It would definitely be visible over holograms. To make it worse, Virgil was probably as exhausted as he was. The last rescue had been nasty, earthquakes so often were, and Thunderbird Two had been on several more before that. He didn’t deserve to have to deal with John’s sarcastic, bitchy attitude as well. 

John admitted defeat and hopped over to the wall to hold onto a grab bar to keep his balance and take the weight off his foot. And resisted the urge to bang his head against it because that sort of thing had gotten him into this mess in the first place. 

His foot was throbbing, Virgil’s expression was soft because he’d already forgiven him and John was just over it all. 

“Please promise you won’t laugh.” He couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else, no matter how unlikely it was that Virgil would. 

“Alright, I promise. I’m not going to judge you, John.”

“I kicked a wall,” John mumbled, “On purpose, because I got mad that the bagel dispenser wasn’t working and a call came in so there was no time to fix it and I couldn’t sleep last night and I’m stressed about literally everything and just wanted a fucking bagel but clearly that was too much to ask of the universe!”

John shut his mouth with a clack. The words had come out in a torrent rising in volume that he couldn’t hold back. Over such a stupid thing too. 

When John could finally  bring himself to glance up from the stars beneath the floor outside, Virgil’s gaze held nothing but empathy. 

“You’re right, it has been a pretty shit day.”

John nodded quietly. 

Virgil continued, “Just— John, you know you don’t have to hide stuff like that from us, from me, right?  We’ve all done stupid things in anger before and probably will do so again. That big, blue splodge of paint on my studio wall? Yeah, I chucked a paintbrush at it because a painting wasn’t working out and I was frustrated and it was three am after a string of bad rescues and I lost it a bit.”

Huh. John hadn’t known that. Virgil was usually least likely to blow up as far as it went. 

“Point is, you’re not alone in this. Tracy temper, remember? We’ve all got it and we are all working out how to work with it. But it isn’t an excuse to conceal an injury that might need treatment even if it seems like it, ‘Should be fine,’ or ‘Isn’t that bad,’ or you think it’s caused by something stupid and you’re worried about us judging you. Because we won’t.”

John took a deep breath and let it out through his teeth. 

He wasn’t even getting lectured at for being an idiot, or having it brushed off as nothing because, ‘Red heads and their tempers, y’know,’ or plain old being yelled at because, ‘John, you’re meant to be better than this.’

Virgil cared about him. That was simple fact. 

So John cooperatively answered Virgil’s questions about pain, the range of motion he had and when exactly had the injury occurred this morning. That he couldn’t bear weight on it was pretty telling something was wrong. And it really did hurt. 

“You’re going to need to come down here so I can get x-rays of that foot,” Virgil said apologetically. 

John bit back the wave of disappointment, along with the accompanying urge to snap and snarl. 

“I know.”

He really didn’t want to go back to earth and deal with everyone’s concern and fussing when he just wanted to ignore them and go to bed. Up here on Five no one was close enough to be affected by his moods unless they put in a comm call which he could, as above, ignore. 

But John dutifully transferred control over to Eos and the island, packed his bag because he’d probably be there for a while but he wasn’t going to think about that and loaded himself into the space elevator. He knew how dangerous untreated injuries were in space better than anyone. 

The descent was slower than usual, as was protocol for an injury where speed was not of the essence and a less turbulent descent outweighed the need for timeliness. It gave John plenty of opportunity to stare at the rounded edge of the space elevator’s inner ceiling. Frustration over near guaranteed being grounded bubbled up until he had to screw his eyes shut and force himself to focus on the way the g-forces felt against his body so he didn’t utterly lose it. 

Landing on earth came with a jolt that managed to catch John by surprise. He flinched, then checked the systems read outs and undid his restraints. Remaining lying on the launch couch was one third to demonstrate he could be sensible and wait instead of trying to walk off a potentially serious injury, another third because he didn’t want to tangle with gravity on his own, and also so that he could childishly pretend he was still up on Five and far away for a little longer. 

Virgil knocked on the space elevator doors and a second later they slid open. John gave him a weak smile. 

The journey through the hangars to the infirmary was made with Virgil’s supportive arm around his waist and John’s arm draped across his brother’s broad shoulders as John stubbornly limped along. He did take a moment as his feet first touched the concrete floor and gravity really took hold to lean into Virgil’s half hug and just breathe. 

The infirmary was the same as it always was, with its sterile smell overloaded with the sharpness of antiseptic that made it different from the atmosphere on Five, and thankfully quiet. 

John manoeuvred himself up onto the closest bed, sinking into the stiff foam mattress as much as was physically possible. Stars, he was tired. 

Virgil was exceedingly gentle as he eased John’s foot out of his space boot. He stripped the sock off too, propping the foot up to rest in his lap to examine it. John grimaced as Virgil necessarily poked and prodded at where it was sorest.  Though the bruises and swelling were not particularly hard to spot from where contact had been made with the solid bulkhead. 

John anxiously chewed his lips waiting for Virgil to get the portable x-ray, zap him and be done with it. 

Moving his sore foot around at all the required angles for the shots was… a process. 

He did his best to be patient as Virgil took the x-rays off to Grandma for a second opinion on how they would most effectively treat him, but ended up curled in a ball on the slightly plasticky hospital sheets, stubbornly facing the wall with his foot carefully positioned in a way that it least hurt.

He wasn’t asleep, it was not late enough for that and he was far too wired but he was knocked out of his reverie nonetheless by Grandma stroking his hair. 

“Definitely broken, kiddo. No getting around that.”

Even John could see it when they showed him the x-rays. He could only be grateful the fracture was neatly aligned and wouldn’t need surgery, he’d seen plenty of worse breaks in the field. It still meant weeks of being grounded, away from Five and unable to go home to his stars. 

Virgil applied the cast under Grandma’s supervision. John shuddered at the sensations even as he tried to keep still. He was proud of how far Virgil had come in his medical education and he made sure his brother knew that. 

The usual checks after coming down from space wore on his nerves. He took the painkillers for his stupid broken foot, the anti-nausea meds as his stomach wasn’t settling from the change from microgravity and the tall lidded cup of the least disgusting flavour of electrolyte drink as directed. 

He fidgeted with his baldric, tracing over the lines of his suit; everything was a lot today. For all of them; John didn’t miss the dark circles beneath Virgil’s eyes or the way he slumped as he sat on the bed next to John once Grandma had left and the cast was setting. 

Virgil had briefly crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself, hands rubbing the flannel of his sleeves. Then he uncrossed them, hunching his shoulders to appear smaller, less intimidating, fingertips still going over the soft, worn fuzzy material of the cuffs of his flannel.

John placed his hand, palm up on Virgil’s leg. Virgil took it and John squeezed his fingers once as they sat in silence for a while. 

Changing out of his space suit for the loose pyjama shorts and t-shirt Virgil brought was difficult and awkward with his foot. And how clumsy he was here in general. 

Trying to walk on crutches was, to put it in far politer words than John vehemently used, a disaster. 

One second he was standing with the crutches around his arms, adjusted to the correct height, his casted foot off the ground, everything done properly, about to take a step. The next he was a tangled pile of limbs on the ground. 

John’s cheeks were burning red yet again. Stupid, fucking gravity and his miraculous ability to trip over nothing. 

He shoved the useless hunks of metal away from him as the room blurred, swiping at the angry tears as they formed. 

Virgil crouched in from of him, checking him over for injury. Well, further injury. 

There wasn’t any, apart from his rather dented pride. John didn’t count the damp tears trickling down his face as he studiously attempted to ignore them. 

Virgil made a soft noise as John let himself be pulled into a hug. Warm flannel absorbed his tears as John hugged Virgil tighter. Somehow it felt like he hadn’t seen him for months even though it couldn’t’ve been that long, could it? Unless they counted for quality time rather than John being periodically dragged down to earth… He missed his quietest and closest brother in age even if they’d been talking mission only this morning. 

Maybe John tried to hide from the world for a little while, and Virgil let him. They both needed this; Virgil’s face was also buried in John’s hair. 

After a while, sitting sprawled on the hard infirmary floor caught up to them with all the aches of too long days of heavy work. And broken bones. John shifted with a grimace.

Now he had to get back up off the ground when the crutches were clearly not a help, when he was pretty near useless down here, unable to resist the inevitable pull of gravity to the centre of the earth and the unforgiving ground. 

…He was probably being far too dramatic about it. Should just get it together like everyone else seemed able to do. 

But it was still a problem that he didn’t want to deal with because fundamentally, he wished he was back on Five. 

He had been going to tell someone about the injury, of course. Just as soon as he’d thought up a watertight excuse slash explanation. As soon as got himself under control and stopped being so sensitive over everything that he’d snap at anyone who got near him. So he would not end up like this, a too-emotional mess on the floor. 

Virgil once again checked his cast and his broken foot were undamaged by his fall. John wondered whether it was as much for Virgil’s sake of making sure idiot big brothers weren’t going to suddenly keel over as for John’s. John rubbed a hand roughly over his face. It was because Virgil cared. And maybe time had proven he had a right to worry.

John protested as Virgil went to pick him up, on the grounds Virgil had already been doing plenty of heavy lifting on rescues today and he had to be exhausted already, and John really didn’t want him to throw his back out or his knees or whatever other worst case scenarios John could come up with. 

He also knew he’d look utterly ridiculous in Virgil’s hold, all gangly, lanky limbs out of proportion with Virgil’s shorter, stockier build. And John was more likely to accidentally elbow someone in the nose, which had demonstrably happened before and the guilt still chewed at him, than even Scott fighting tooth and nail against being slung over someone’s shoulder when he there was no way he could even physically stand, let alone walk any distance. He warned Virgil away sharply.

“John. I know my limits, and you aren’t any worse than Scott.” Virgil sounded done with it all. “And I’d rather carry you than have to pick up the pieces or reset that cast, which I have also had to do before, because one of my brothers is injured and deserves help but they are too damn stubborn to let me.”

The fight in John left him as a hissing exhale, like a hole in a space ship venting atmosphere. 

Virgil scooped him up off the ground, promising to figure the rest out later as John avoided flailing too much. 

His brother’s arms were secure around his knees and under his shoulders, holding him close so there was no danger of him hitting the ground, of the falling that some part of John secretly feared, even with the rocking movement of Virgil’s strides. John’s cheek stayed mushed against Virgil’s flannel-clad chest. 

The walls of the house passed him in a tired blur. He really didn’t want to be left to sit around in his room where no matter how tired he was he wouldn’t sleep yet. Lying there staring at the ceiling all afternoon with nothing better to occupy him than his turbulent thoughts was frankly not a good idea. 

He said as much to Virgil, probably far too bluntly. The usual multi-stage filter he sorted his words through before he ever said them had met its untimely demise in face of his exhaustion several hours ago. 

It wasn’t like he wanted to hang around amidst the noise and movement and peopleing of the lounge with everyone else either. John being difficult again, as usual, the voice in the back of his head snarked.

Virgil had mercy on John and took the back route through the house instead of past the comms room where everyone would see him, even if it was only his family who he should know wouldn’t judge him. Everyone had been in the position of being carried about when they’d fallen asleep somewhere or were injured or were about to be chucked into the pool, so except in the last situation, John shouldn’t’ve been embarrassed or really cared, except that he did. 

They passed by John’s bedroom. John curled a little closer to Virgil in something that could’ve been called relief. He really wasn’t sure he wanted to be completely alone right now; he trusted Virgil.

A booted foot nudged open the door before Virgil placed John down on one of the big, squishy beanbags in the corner of his studio. 

John melted into it. He didn’t think he had bones anymore. Or any outside of the ones he’d just broken which had plenty of painful evidence of their existence. But no bones. He could even forgive gravity just this once when it was letting him sink into the soft surface. 

He looked up at Virgil’s low chuckle. 

“They’re good, aren’t they? Gordon found them online and I chose the colours.” Virgil smiled fondly. 

They hadn’t been here the last time John had hung out in Virgil’s studio with him. A spike of sorrow stabbed at his chest. 

New beanbags were a tiny change. It shouldn’t even matter. Except they demonstrated precisely how he was missing out on the details of his brothers’ lives while he was away. 

The beanbag covers were greens and yellows, soft, earthen shades exactly what John would expect Virgil to pick. Colourful, but not in your face. Soothing and restful but not dull. 

Observations probably not as important to anyone else as John found them. 

Virgil ducked out and came back with John’s tablet, the one he used earth-side with its bulky, lilac shatter-proof case. 

John took it carefully from Virgil’s hands, not because it was breakable even dropped from quite a height, but because of the consideration Virgil gave him, to bring him it to read on when he couldn’t go get something himself. 

In space, alone, it wasn’t like there anyone to do that kind of thing for him. Even with the gifts snuck into monthly supply crates by his family, he’d sort of forgotten how it felt.

He shoved away the ever so familiar feeling of being torn in two. He loved the stars, loved being up on Five, he really did. In spite of this, missing his family while up there was a constant wound he packed with the duty of constantly being called upon, of constantly needing to be the Voice Who Answers, in hopes of staunching his bleeding emotions. It contrasted with how he never wanted to outstay his welcome on Earth. 

Why was it that no matter where he was, he still wanted to go home?

Why did anger seethe and rise only to leave him all hollow and empty?

John gulped, running his hands over his face. He tucked one into his hair, tugging at the strands in an effort to distract himself. Why the fuck was he like this?

Virgil had turned away to get something off his desk, so at least he didn’t have to see John freaking out over nothing.

John forced a smile when Virgil looked back at him in concern. It wasn't like he could do anything about it. 

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Virgil said.

He was wearing his set of large, over-ear noise-cancelling headphones, covered in green stickers, his chin nodding along to a beat John couldn’t hear. Virgil wasn’t smiling but the creases around his eyebrow scar were shallower. Today had been getting to him too. 

Left alone, John examined the art studio more thoroughly, letting himself become absorbed in the details, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

The whole place was very Virgil, in the best possible way. Storage for art materials was arranged with an engineer’s precision for putting and keeping things in their proper order, cupboards with closed doors painted olive green and neatly labeled in Virgil’s blocky handwriting. Only the pencils Virgil was currently using were left on his desk, in their tray reordered into an exactingly coloured gradient. John couldn’t deny that it also clicked in his brain with that urge to line stuff up. 

An electric keyboard lived along a side wall by a bookshelf containing folders of sheet music and art theory books. John knew from Virgil that the music was arranged by each song’s dominant colour palette according to folder, when he asked as at first he couldn't make sense of the system when of course Virgil would have a system. 

There were speakers in a few places around the room for the frequent times Virgil listened to music while creating. Good quality ones because Virgil said certain staticky types gave him the same sensation as putting gritty sand in his mouth.

It was Virgil’s space for making art and just being, so he’d adapted it to him. Virgil got overwhelmed when there was too much visual stimulation, with constant busy, bright colours and clutter of the world he couldn't put away, so here was an escape from that. 

The walls and ceiling were light, giving an airy feeling. A large landscape window joined inside and outside seamlessly, looked over what John privately thought was the best view on the island, except for the observatory. You could see right out past Mateo, over pokey trees and ocean. Late afternoon sunlight poured in, and there were shades if it got too much.

Greenery was introduced into the room itself by the massive monstera plant in the corner, its umbrella-like leaves forming pleasing shadows on the floor, contrasting with the near liquid golden light. More smaller plants were scattered about. John brushed his fingers over the monstera, to reach out and touch the tangible connection with life and the earth. 

Occasionally a piece of art was hung up for a while as it was finished before being moved to its intended display area in an other part of the house, like the watercolour sketch of playful dolphins amongst their reef obviously intended for Gordon. But mostly there wasn't anything to distract from the artwork, on canvas or as music, that Virgil was bringing to life. 

John found the studio calming too, even when he usually tended towards wanting all his bright stars, books, open screens and telescopes in his space at once. There was something about the soothing surroundings, how the faint smell of paints and real paper lingered, mixing with engine bio-oil and coffee, that meant safety and home. His brother’s mark on it was undeniable. 

John couldn’t help but search for the splatter of paint Virgil had mentioned earlier. It was blue and on a wall in this room, so it shouldn’t be hard to miss but in spite of all of his skills at searching, it was nowhere to be found. Eventually he resigned himself to the fact that Virgil must have painted over it, destroying the tangible proof that he’d acted out in anger.

The beanbags squished beneath him when he flopped back, long legs stretched out and foot smarting when he moved it, picking up his tablet for something to do. His substantial library of books wasn’t holding anything that could keep his attention right now as he flicked between them, opening and shutting pages. He tipped his head back, looking upwards, letting his tablet fall face down onto his chest.

And there it was. On the wall above him, the blue splodge of paint exactly from Virgil’s story. 

Except it wasn't just a splodge because a rainbow of lines had been added around it, faithfully following the original shape and expanding upon it, forming a bird with wings outstretched, flying freely across the wall. Something utterly beautiful from from what had begun as only painful.

John’s breath caught. He didn't know how Virgil did that. He wrung out hope from anger, forming all the emotion into art where John just flailed because he didn’t want to touch his feelings with a thousand kilometre stick.

But here, in Virgil’s studio surrounded by the calm quiet where he could finally breathe, he could try.

So he picked up his tablet. Opened up the word programme. And began to write.

He had no idea where he was going. No plot, no plan, no outline. When he usually did this, for reports, for academic works, he always had his ideas and arguments all laid out in his head and he simply had to put them on the page in front of him.

His fingers found the keyboard and he let them, doing his best not to second-guess and delete every word he put down. To think too much and bail out as it got too big and too scary even when this was just typing on his tablet sitting in a beanbag in the corner of the room, not doing anything at all that could be thought of as dangerous or would mess up his broken foot. 

It wasn't really much. In subject or in word count or in technical finesse. He hadn’t been doing this writing thing for very long, not since university and stories scrawled in his near illegible handwriting hidden in paper notebooks beneath his bed. Not for himself. 

He saved the document and slammed the window closed before he could look at it and convince himself it was all completely stupid and he never should’ve even tried in the first place.

But it was cathartic and it gave him somewhere to put the irrational seething anger, outlined by the sorrow that seeped through in the lines between, to bleed out on paper, in words that were his first language and first love. In the beginnings of stories that didn’t have to be perfect or real and contained far too much of himself to even think about showing anybody yet, but that maybe one day he would. 

When Virgil knocked on the door and opened it, John jumped like he’d been caught out. Then he glanced up and saw the blue paint splodge turned flying bird from the corner of his eye, and he could smile at Virgil with all the love in the world and more understanding of how his brother worked. Of why after hard rescues and bad days his first instinct was to turn to piano or canvas.

Seeing what Virgil was carrying on the tray in his hands had John wishing he hadn’t ever broken his foot so he could throw himself at Virgil to hug him this very second. Though if he hadn’t been injured, he never would’ve come down from Five today.

A blueberry bagel, toasted, with the special strawberry cream cheese that was his favourite but never lasted long in space. Or on Earth, unless his brothers saved it for him on purpose. 

There was a cup of tea too, next to Virgil’s customarily massive mug of coffee.

John just stared up at him, until he found his voice to whisper all his thanks over and over. He took the plate and the cup in slightly trembling hands, then placed them on the floor next to him. 

He raised his arms so that Virgil would crouch down and John could squish him into a hug. 

John clung to red flannel for a few seconds longer than he usually would. Virgil returned it in kind, smiling at him with soft, brown eyes. 

Then he was fussing over John’s foot again, propping it up on pillows and wrapping an icepack around it. John took it in because this was Virgil’s way of showing he cared. As well, it would mean he could get back on his feet sooner by not ignoring the injury. Plus it hurt less.

Before Virgil returned to his desk and pencils, John bumped their foreheads together in show of affection not as frequently done between them with the distance. It was often Scott and Virgil’s thing.  Virgil hummed happily at him even when John wobbled as he leaned forward, making the collision slightly more forceful than he intended. Instead they laughed together over Tracy hard heads. 

Enjoying each other’s company with no pressure to talk or interact was nice and exactly what they both needed. They could do their own things in parallel, Virgil with his art, a sketch forming beneath steady hands, and John with… whatever he was doing at this point.

Gathering up his courage, he cautiously reopened his word document from earlier and read over what he’d written. It was… okay actually. The typos and errors he grimaced at were numerous, but those were fixable problems.

It was a story, he’d written something. John found himself smiling down at his tablet with the urge to add more so he did.

The time passed in the light from the windows transforming from light gold to a fiery orange, stretching across their room and their island alike. As dusk grew closer, the bird calls and insect songs changed, and there were so many wonderful things about space that John could never give up loving but it didn't have this.

So maybe that was what was wrong with him. Instead of a flaw in his very humanity, it was more not enough food and too much stress, not sleeping right or talking to anyone. Those simple things he sort of… forgot about, ignored. John needed to be around family too, with the sunlight streaming in, plants in touching distance and the quiet company of Virgil and some care to feel better. 

Maybe while he was down here, he’d even go stargazing outside tomorrow, lying on a picnic blanket on the grass like he used to. Monitor work could be taken care of at dad’s desk, there’d be time to help Allie with his school work then play video games together and once his cast was off, swim in Gordon’s ocean. To hang out with Scott too and help pull his beloved biggest brother out of his own overwork spiral. He hadn’t had a chance to catch up with Grandma or Kayo or Brains in a while either. 

Only then would he return to Five, to his stars and space, his research and monitor duty proper. His little room up there, the gravity ring and central floating hub, with Eos as his companion, they were home too. Not in replacement of the island and his family but in addition. And he knew he could come down to Earth when he needed to even if, especially when it was just because he wanted a hug.

Right now, the soft patter of his fingertips on the glass screen blended with the scratchings of Virgil’s coloured pencils on artist’s paper. 

He munched on his bagel and sipped his tea contentedly. Virgil had been cupping his warm mug of coffee in his hands, happily sighing as John fought the urge to giggle.

It was with a cheerier and more relaxed Virgil that they ended up squished together on the beanbag pile once the sun was fully set. John snuggled into his brother’s side, it really had been too long but he was here now. 

Virgil’s fingers tapped contentedly against the knee of his jeans like he was playing a melody on the piano, other arm tucked around John, meaning John could feel the vibrations as Virgil hummed along. John went from messing with the case of his tablet to happily flickering his hands at his sides.

Also, how were the beanbags this comfortable? These ones didn’t even rustle and squeak like he remembered the ones they’d had as kids did. 

Those had met a horrific end with their guts all over the house when Gordon had wanted to know what was inside them and out of scientific curiosity John had helped find the answers, utilising his ability to read and follow the instructions on the tag of how to open the pull-less zipper with an ancient paperclip. 

He retold the story to Virgil whose eyes widened in surprise.

“So it was you!” he laughed. “I’d wondered how Gords did it, but I hadn't put anything past the fish.”

John lost his battle with holding in his own giggles and decided to let Virgil in on the secrets of a few other John-and-Gordon specials.

There was a knock before Scott ducked his head around the corner of the doorway, just as John glanced up.

Scott leant against the frame, intense blue eyes looking him over. John couldn’t tell whether they were sharper in person than over hologram or softer. They stuck on John’s cast, flicking to Virgil before scanning carefully over his body, same as if any of the others were injured in the field. 

“Scott,” John stated. An acknowledgment that his big brother was here. The tight, tangled  barbed wire ball that had been living in his stomach for days loosened further. 

“You okay?”

How was he supposed to answer that? In this moment, laughing aloud with Virgil, yeah he was. But all the rest of the day, the week beforehand? John gave a noncommittal shrug that didn’t give much either way. 

Of course that became cause for Scott to come closer. He knelt in front of John, ever so mindful of his broken foot. 

Telegraphing his movements, Scott reached out and brushed John’s hair out of his face before silently kissing his forehead, all gentle big brother who was here for him no matter what.

He repeated the motion with Virgil. 

John froze for precious seconds then threw himself at Scott. 

It hurt. He’d forgotten about his foot in its awful cast for a moment, knocking it painfully against the floor with a broken yelp. But Scott caught him anyway. Virgil’s arms went back around him too and he was still humming but in a steadier pitch. 

John was sniffling against Scott’s chest, soaking up his brothers’ warmth and all the love in the room, even as he wasn’t sure whether he was crying again from sorrow or pain or because they both cared about him so, so much and the happy-overwhelmed feeling got stuck as a lump in his throat.

Maybe together they could fix this mess John had somehow made. But right now John let them hold him close, let Scott rock them until the calm of the room could creep back in.

A cuddle pile formed on the beanbags once again, this time with Scott too. John leant back on Scott’s chest, still hiccuping occasionally from the tears. Both sets of their long legs alongside each other were tossed over Virgil’s lap, who’d very fairly called them a lanky, boney weighted blanket, while snuggling in with no suggestion they move. He could feel Scott’s chin resting on top of his head, breaths lightly tickling his hair.

Virgil had had to check again, with the medscanner he kept in his studio first aid kit, that John hadn’t screwed up his foot in its bright orange cast. Yet he hadn’t and even though John could still feel the pain of the impact, Virgil had given him another dose of ibuprofen which would take the edge off soon.

John’s eyes slid half shut with exhaustion. Scott let him fidget with his hands as he gripped them. Virgil was tapping out piano pieces again, a more relaxed melody now against the top John’s bare shin, the sensation grounding and reminding him Virgil was close.He had his brothers. All of them. All of his family. They loved him and they’d help him figure this out and that was more that enough, it was everything.

[callsign-magnolia]

Undiagnosed // Ch. 8

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents.

Word Count: 6.9k

Chapter 7 | Masterlist

“Katie.” I rolled over in bed, burying my face in the pillow as whoever was in my room was trying to wake me up. “Katie.” Their tone was a little more harsh, but I still ignored them. “Katie Scarlett.” The voice hissed and my eyes flew open. “Mom?” I asked, fear lacing my voice. “Get up.” She hissed and I sat up, backing away from her to the other side of the bed. “Wha-what are you doing here? How’d you get in?” I asked just as I backed into something or someone. I looked up, terrified of what I might see, and I had every right to be scared. My dad grinned down at me, evil seeping out of his crooked smile. I gasped, attempting to dive off the end of the bed, but his hand wrapped around my long hair. A scream escaped me, one that sent a shiver up my own spine. “GET BACK HERE!” My dad screamed, dragging me off the bed. “LET ME GO!” I screamed and he dragged me out into the hallway. 

“JAKE!” I screamed, watching as he sprinted out of his room. He ran and ran, but never got any closer. I screamed again as my father tossed me over his shoulder. He started down the staircase and I grabbed the banister. My mother immediately rushed over and pried my hands off of it. “JAKE PLEASE!” My father stormed towards the entry way as Jake came down the stairs. I could see the look of fear on his face but he wouldn’t run any faster, he couldn’t. He was sprinting as fast as possible but the pace he was going was like he was in slow motion. I grabbed onto the corner of the wall hoping to pull myself away, but my fathers strength beat mine. He yanked me from the wall, a few of my nails ripping off in the process. He swung the door open and threw me off his shoulder. I fully expected to hit the concrete, but I never did. I fell and fell and fell. Until I shot up in bed, a scream escaping my throat. Hands gripped my arms, holding me close. “LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” The arms encircled me and the familiar cologne hit me. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” Jake whispered the soothing words to me. “Don’t let them take me. Jake, please.” I cried as he pulled me into his lap. “I won’t darlin’. I’ll never let them take you away.” I cried into his shoulder as he held me close, one hand rubbing my back and the other keeping my legs in his lap. “Who was it?”

“My parents.” I sobbed and he held me tighter. “You’re safe, darlin’. I promise.” He held me,  whispering soothing words into my ear as he rocked side to side and eventually I calmed down. “What was the nightmare about?” He asked. “They pulled me out of this bed and dragged me out of the house.” He sighed, still holding me. “They won’t come in here, I won’t let them.” Soon I crawled out of his lap and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. “I’m sorry for waking you.” He shook his head. “No. No, it’s okay.” He moved to sit next to me, leaned against the headboard as well. “I’ve never had a nightmare like that.” I admitted, pulling my knees up to my chest and squeezing. “Well, you just got out of a terrifying situation. So it’s understandable.” I hummed and we sat in silence for a minute. “Maybe you should see a therapist. It might help.” My head whipped around to him, anger in my eyes. “I’m not fucking crazy! I don’t need some therapist rooting around in my head!” He furrowed his eyebrows at my words. “I never said you were crazy.” I scoffed. “Really? I know good and well only insane people see therapists and psychiatrists.” He still looked genuinely confused. “Who told you that?” He asked. 

“My mother.” I deadpanned. “Oh geez.” He huffed before sitting up and turning to face me. “Darlin’, a lot of people see therapists. I’ve done it after a few deployments.” He said. “You have?” He nodded. “My nightmares got pretty bad at one point and I went to see a therapist, and she made things a hell of a lot easier.” I pursed my lips, my eyes meeting his green ones. “What’s it like?” I asked. “It’s a lot of talking shit out and getting a new perspective. Every time I go, it’s work related. But maybe Rooster can help you a little more. I know his sessions are more about his personal life than work.” I nodded. “Will you talk to him?” I nodded. “I’ll talk to him, but I make no promises that I’ll go through with it.” He smiled at me. “That’s okay.” We sat in silence for a little while longer until I slowly started to get sleepy again. “Think you can go back to sleep?” I nodded. “I’m getting sleepy but I can’t guarantee that I won’t wake up again.” He nodded, patting my leg. “That’s okay. I’m just down the hall if you need me.” He got up as I crawled under the covers again. He started to close the door and panic rose in my chest. “Hey, Jake?” He stopped, opening the door back up. “Will you leave it open?” I felt like a child asking. But I had this fear that I’ll wake up in the morning and it’ll be locked from the outside. 

“Whatever you want, darlin’.” He pulled the door to, leaving it cracked pretty wildly and I heard him go back to his bedroom. I laid in the bed, staring out the door. Every noise sounded like someone coming up the stairs, I thought I saw shadows, I even swore I heard my dads truck outside. My heart pounded in my chest and I got up, padding over to the window and looking out of it. I looked outside but I could only see the end of the driveway. I walked over to the door, opening it and peeking my head out. The hallway was dark, eerily so but I could tell there was no one there. So I stepped out of the safety of my room and out into the hallway. I descended the stairs cautiously waiting for someone to come around the corner at any moment. As I stepped on the bottom step, it squeaked and I tensed. I didn’t want Jake to know I was up, I didn’t need to bother him any more. Once I was off the stairs I made my way over to the front window, looking out. I saw nothing but Jake’s truck in the driveway and I let out a sigh of relief. But what if the door was unlocked? I’m sure Jake locked it, but what if? I walked over to the door, staring at the lock. It was in the locked position and I turned around and immediately forgot if it was locked or not. I furrowed my brows and looked at it again, still locked. But there was an itch in the back of my brain. What if it’s not really locked and you’re just imagining it? I shook my head, opting to touch the lock. Once I felt that it was lock relief washed over me. I turned around and a scream escaped me. 

“Were you leaving again?” Jake asked. “No! No, Jake I swear! I just…” I felt like a petulant child explaining this to him. “I got… I got scared. What if my dream came true? I was hearing things and I thought I heard a car out front. So I came down here to check and of course, there was nothing. But for my own piece of mind I wanted to make sure the door was locked.” He looked down at me and I looked down at my bare feet on the floor. “I’m sorry if I upset you.” I apologized. “No, I’m sorry I assumed you were leaving. Just, after last time-” “You have every right to worry about that. But that was the biggest mistake of my life, and I won’t do it again.” He smiled at me. “Come on, let’s go back to bed.” I nodded as he led me up the stairs and I went back into my room. “Hey Jake?” I asked and he peeked in the doorway. “Yeah?” I bit my lip. Thinking about the question I was about to ask. “Nevermind.” I said, looking away from him. “Katie.”  I looked back to him to see him leaned on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not going to judge you for anything you wanna ask or say to me.” I sighed, hugging my knees to my chest. “Can you sit here for a while? Just until I fall asleep?” It was barely a whisper, but I spoke it nonetheless. 

He gave me a small smile, nodding and walking over to the bed. I got under the covers and slid down, laying on my back, which was something I didn’t normally do. He laid down next to me on top of the covers, resting his hands on his stomach. We laid there in the silence, and it was the most comfortable I had been in so long. “Thank you.” I whispered as tears fell down my cheeks and onto my neck. “What for?” He replied, his voice as quiet as mine. “Everything.” His hand brushed mine before slowly he intertwined our fingers. I relaxed into the pillows and the softness of the mattress. Jake’s thumb rubbed my own, sending me into a deep undisturbed sleep. When I awoke the next morning I was alone in bed, and that was okay. The blinds were open and the sun beamed in on my face, blinding me. I heard footsteps climbing the stairs and a soft knock on the door. I looked over to see Jake smiling at me. “Morning.” I smiled and the urge to stretch came over me. “Morning.” I said as I stretched my arms above my head, arching my back and stretching my legs so hard my toes practically pointed downwards. A high pitched whine escaped me at the pleasurable feeling of my muscles stretching from their stagnant state. 

When I opened my eyes I saw Jake staring at me and I couldn’t help but giggle. “Sorry. Sometimes I wish I could just take my body apart like legos or snap it like a glow stick.” He laughed at my words as I sat up. “Well if you want, I have breakfast ready downstairs.” I nodded, tossing the covers off my legs as he walked downstairs. I stood, stretching once more before grabbing the hair tie that Kelly loaned me and walking to the bathroom. There, I wiped my face down and pulled my hair into a bun, getting the weight off my neck before going downstairs. “Need help?” I asked just as the oven went off. “Can you pull those biscuits out before they burn?” I nodded, grabbing the oven mit and pulling them out. “Sorry they’re from a can, I just didn’t have the energy to do homemade.” I shook my head. “I don’t care about that. I wouldn't have cared if you didn’t make anything at all.” He laughed. “Well my mom would have my hide if she found out I used canned biscuits. It’s also a Sunday tradition to cook. Kelly should be here any minute.” Just as he said it the front door opened. “Honey! I’m home!” He grinned widely at the sound of her voice. She entered the kitchen just as he moved the pot off the stove. “Hi baby.” She said, kissing him quickly. “Hi, honey.” It was sickly sweet the way they are with each other. 

“And you.” My eyes widened and I looked at her. “I have brought you a flat iron and some makeup, just in case you wanted it. We don’t have the same skin tone but I brought some eyeliner and mascara.” I smiled at her. “You didn’t have to do that.” She laughed. “No, but it’s a flat iron I don’t use anymore and I needed it out of my apartment.” I nodded. “Food’s ready if you’re hungry.” Jake said, coming back into the kitchen from the dining room. “Of course I’m hungry! Do you know who you’re talking to?” Kelly asked, joining him at the table. I grabbed the bowl of biscuits, bringing it out to the table to join them. We sat down and started plating our food. “What is this?” I asked, holding up the spoon on what appeared to be a thick white soup. I made a look of disgust as Jake took the spoon from me, dumping it on top of his biscuits. “It’s sausage gravy. Have you never had it?” I shook my head. “Mom never made it.” He chuckled. “Try it. It’s to die for! I never had it till I met Jake and I force him to make it every Sunday now.” Kelly said and I shrugged. If I didn’t like it, I just wouldn’t eat it. No harm in trying it. So, I put a small spoonful on my plate, swiping part of the biscuit through it and taking a bite. “Holy shit.” I moaned.��

“She had the same reaction to the huge burrito last night.” Kelly laughed as I sat up. “I didn’t know men could cook that well!” I said, taking another bite. “I take offense to that.” Jake said, making us all laugh. Once breakfast was over Jake and I went upstairs to get ready. I slipped on a light blue dress with little white daisies on it. It was one of my favorites and in my rush to pack, clothes flying from hangers, I didn’t even realize I put it in the bag. I stepped out of my room, going for the bathroom. “Hey. Here’s that flat iron and the makeup.” Kelly said as she came out of Jake’s room. “Oh, thanks.” I plugged it in, mentally preparing myself for the task that is doing my hair. While I waited on that to heat up, I lined my eyes with the eyeliner and swiped the mascara along my eyes. I blinked a few times, wishing I at least grabbed my contacts before I left. They may give me migraines and headaches but at least I could see properly. I shook the thoughts from my head, pulling most of my hair on top of my head. I started at the bottom sections, dragging the hot plates along my hair. 

“How long until you’re ready?” Jake asked as he walked by, putting his watch on. When he looked at me I saw him glance over my dress before his eyes met mine. “Oh, uh…” I was halfway through my hair at this point. I pulled it all from the bun, parting it. “I’m ready now.” I said. You always make everyone late. That’s why dad was always angry. “Katie, if you’re not ready that’s okay.” I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to make us late.” He chuckled. “We’re not meeting Rooster and Phoenix till ten and nothing opens till then anyway. Besides it’s… only nine ten.” He said as he glanced at his watch. “You can finish getting ready. We have plenty of time. I just wanted to know.” I nodded, pulling my hair back up. “Twenty minutes?” I asked and he nodded with a smile. “You got it.” With that he disappeared and I quickly finished my hair, parting it how I liked. I unplugged the hair tool and rushed back to my room, slipping on the same nude heels as yesterday, seeing as heels were the only thing I owned anymore. I walked downstairs and saw Jake and Kelly on the couch. “Ready!” I called, going and grabbing my purse from by the door. Kelly stood and raised a brow at me. “Heels? Are you really gonna be comfortable walking around in those?” She asked and I looked down at my feet feeling a little ridiculous now. “They’re the only ones I have.” Realization seemed to cross her features and her face fell. “But I’m used to it anyway! It doesn’t hurt anymore!”

Jake opened the door and we walked out, getting into Kelly’s car. I sat in the back while Jake drove. “God I hate this thing.” Jake said, starting the car. “Don’t hate on my car. She’s my baby.” Kelly said and Jake laughed. “We’re getting you a new car.” She scoffed. “I will get myself a new car when I am ready.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest. Jake backed out of the driveway and reached over, taking Kelly’s hand in his, kissing it before resting them on the center console. My eyes glanced out the window, watching the world fly by. Part of me wishes I could have someone who cares for me like that, I’ve wanted that for a while. But after all my dating experiences, I’m starting to wonder if that will ever happen. Every man I’ve ‘dated’ has been rude, self-centered and outright awful. I’ve always questioned if all men are like that, but then I met Bradley and the real Jake, the person he is when he’s not around Coop and I think, ‘maybe not’. Maybe I’m meant to be alone. The thought made my chest ache. No one wants to spend their life alone, but I can’t live with Jake for the rest of my life. What if him and Kelly get married? With the way he looks at her it wouldn’t be a surprise. I can’t live with them if they get married, it would be intruding and I couldn’t do that. I need a job. I need life experience. I have to learn how to be a functioning adult. I can’t expect people to take care of me for the rest of my life.

“Katie!” I jumped, turning and looking at Jake. “You okay?” I nodded, looking around and realized we were parked at the mall. “How long were you saying my name?” I asked. “About thirty seconds.” He replied. “Sorry.” I whispered, stepping out of the small SUV. Kelly took his hand as he stepped around and they walked ahead of me as I followed behind. We walked into the Barnes & Noble, and I glanced around, looking at all the books. I saw many I had been eyeing for a while, ones I knew my parents wouldn’t buy for me. If only I had some money, I would get some. I stopped, seeing a few Colleen Hoover books. I knew she was popular, but I hadn’t looked into any of her books. I picked up one called ‘Verity’ reading the reviews on the back. “Katie!” Jake called and I practically tossed the book down before rushing over. “Sorry!” I said, walking up to the Starbucks line they were in. “What were you looking at?” He asked. “Oh nothing. Just a book.” I said as I waved him off. “Do you read a lot?” Bradley asked as he walked over, coffee in hand. I nodded. “I love reading. We didn’t have tv’s in the house so I spent a lot of time reading. Of course, my parents decided what I could and could not read.” I said and he rolled his eyes. 

The line moved and I realized I was blocking people. “I don’t even know why I’m in this line.” I muttered, stepping out and standing next to Bradley. “Are you not getting coffee?” He asked and I shook my head. “I have no money.” I said blatantly. “What do you want? I got it.” He said, reaching for his wallet. I held my hand up, shaking my head. “Bradley no-” Seriously, I got it.” I huffed, looking at the menu. “I don’t even know what I would get.” I said. “Try this.” He said, holding out his cup. I furrowed my brows but he motioned for me to take it. After a moment, I did. I took a sip and the flavor washed over my tongue. “That’s good. What is that?” I asked. “Iced white mocha. Phoenix got me hooked.” I nodded. “Want one?” I sighed, knowing he wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed. “A small one.” I said and he grinned at me, hauling me into the line. Once we approached the counter he ordered for me. “Can I also get a shot of raspberry in it?” The barista nodded and Bradley grinned at me. I just ignored him, grabbing my coffee at the end. “Any good?” He asked as I took a sip. “Really good. Wanna try it?” I held it up and he raised his brows, taking a sip. “Damn, raspberry in coffee? I never would’ve guessed.” I giggled. “I just thought why not! And I’m glad I did.” We met up with everyone else outside of the store and Natasha pulled me into a hug. “How was last night?” She asked. “Rough. But I made it.” I said as she looped her arm through mine. 

“Okay, so what do you need?” Jake asked. “Um… I really don’t know.” Everything in here was clothing stores and I had clothes. “Well she needs different shoes, I know that.” Kelly spoke up. “You probably need bras.” Natasha said. I shook my head as a blush flooded my cheeks. “No,” I whispered. “I have two.” I said and she laughed. “You’ll need more than that.” She said. “Probably wouldn’t hurt to get some jeans and shirts. Can’t wear dresses everywhere.” Kelly said and I furrowed my brows. “I always have.” I said. “Yeah, but if you get a job you may not want to wear dresses or you may not be allowed.” “Let’s not worry about that now. Let’s just get things you’re comfortable with.” Jake said, laying a hand on Kelly’s shoulder. “Yeah! Now come on!” Natasha said, pulling me with her as Kelly grabbed my other arm. They dragged me into a store called ‘Adore Me’ and Natasha immediately held up a deep blue bra, grinning at me. “Is this not adorable?” She asked and I bit my lip looking back to see Kelly and Jake looking at lingerie and Bradley making his way over. “Um, yeah.” I said and she furrowed her brows. “What’s wrong?” She asked. “I just… I’ve never had anything other than black, white and tan bras.” I said and she nodded, smiling at me. “We are about to change that.” She said. 

“Ma’am? We need her bra size.” Natasha stopped an associate who came over, and measured me. She told me my bra size and we were off. She held up the blue one again and raised a brow. “That’s nice.” Bradley said, grinning at us. “Fine. I’ll try it.”

With that we went around and I grabbed a couple of bras, as well as Natasha. “Ready?” Kelly asked, walking over, her arms full of lingerie and Jake even carrying a few pieces for her. “Yes!” Natasha said excitedly and soon we all got to the dressing rooms. “You two stay here.” Kelly said and Jake pouted. “But-” “Stay!” She commanded and they both took a seat on the small couch. We each got a room next to each other and started trying everything on. The bad thing is, I was in love with all of them. “These all look so good.” I whispered. “Can I get your opinion?” Kelly asked as she stood right outside my door. “Um, yeah. Hang on.” I quickly tossed my dress back on and stepped out. I was a little startled to see her in a black corset, black thong and matching garters. “Think Jake will like it?” She asked, spinning around. “Oh yeah! He’ll love it!” Natasha said excitedly, in a sheer bodysuit of her own. “Katie?” She asked and I cleared my throat, nodding. “It looks good.” Her face fell. “What’s wrong with it?” She asked and I rapidly shook my head. “Nothing! Nothing at all!” I said. “Then why does your face look like there’s something wrong?” She asked. “You just caught me off guard. I’m not used to all this.” I said and realization seemed to cross their faces. “Oh, Katie, we're so sorry. We’re just so comfortable with each other and we didn’t think about it making you uncomfortable.” Natasha said. “Don’t feel bad. It’s okay!” I said and Kelly stopped me. “No it’s not.” 

“Kelly. It’s fine. I’ve just never had anyone to shop with except my mom. I wish I was as comfortable with it as you two are.” They smiled at me. “After spending time with us, you will be.” Kelly said with a wink and we all stepped back inside our respective dressing rooms. I stared at all the bras, finally narrowing it down to two and I was about to step out when there was a knock on my door. I opened it and it was Kelly and Natasha. “Try this on.” I furrowed my brows in confusion at the sheer dress. “It’s a babydoll and g-string set.” Kelly said. “Why?” I asked. “Because sometimes it just makes you feel sexy.” She replied. “It’s not like I have anyone to wear it for.” I said, and Kelly huffed. “Wear it for yourself!” She said, placing the hanger in my hand and pushing me back into the dressing room. She shut the door and I stood still for a moment. Did I make her mad? I looked down at the lingerie in hand and decided I might as well try it on. So I did, and she was right. I did feel sexy, something I’ve never felt before. “So?” She asked from outside. She sounded annoyed and I rushed to get it off. “It fits great.” I said before getting dressed and grabbing everything. I opened the door and Natasha was still standing outside the door. “Where’d she go?” I asked. 

“She went ahead to check out. What’d you think of everything?” I held them all up, my arms full of bras and the one piece of white lingerie. “They were all great, I really love them all! But I managed to narrow it down to two.” I said proudly and she raised a brow at me. “Just two?” I nodded. “Why not all of them?” I shrugged. “Bras are expensive and I don’t want anyone spending too much money on me.” She sighed. “Come on.” She walked away and I stood there. Did I make her mad too? You probably did, you’re good at that. I took a deep breath, holding back the tears that were forming before making my way out. She was talking to Jake who was nodding and listening to her intently. “Find anything good?” Bradley asked, walking up with my coffee. “Uh, yeah.” I said. “You okay?” I furrowed my brows, nodding. “Oh yeah. I’m great.” I said as I sipped on my coffee. Natasha went to pay and Jake came over. “Find what you need?” I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll put the others up real quick.” I went to walk away when Jake got an associate's attention. “She’ll take all of these.” Everything was immediately swept out of my arms and I gawked at him. “Jake! I don’t need all those!” I said and he just smirked, walking away to pay. Bradley walked over to Natasha and Kelly and I stood there. One store in, not even eleven thirty and I already feel overwhelmed. I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves before I walked over to Jake. 

“Here you go.” The associate said, handing me the bag. “Thank you.” Jake said, guiding me over to everyone else. “Where to next?” He asked. “The shoe store.” Kelly said and Jake took her hand as we walked out, Bradley and Natasha behind them and me at the back of everyone. It shouldn’t bother me so much, I’m used to it, but for some reason I felt ignored. We walked into a shoe store and I looked around. It wasn’t anything I had really worn before. I’ve been in heels daily since I was fifteen. I had to wear sneakers in school sometimes but it’s been years since I’ve owned a pair of flat shoes. “See anything you like?” Kelly asked, coming over. “Oh uh… to be honest I don’t know where to start.” She hummed. “Well, a good pair of sneakers is a good place to start.” I nodded and she pulled down a light gray pair. “These are cute, and it’s a good brand.” She handed it to me and I saw it said ‘Brooks’ on the side. “Yeah.” I said and she looked through the boxes. “What size are you?” She asked. “Um, these shoes are a nine.” She nodded, grabbing an eight and a half. “Try these and we’ll go down in size if we have to.” I nodded, taking the box and going to sit before stopping. “Hey, Kelly?” She hummed, walking over. “Did…” I took a deep breath, preparing myself for her answer. “Did I make you mad in the last store?” She raised a brow at me. “No, why would you think that?” She asked. “You just sounded annoyed when you handed me that lingerie set.” 

“Oh, no! No! I wasn’t mad. My mom sent me some ridiculous text and then started blowing up my phone. She tends to do that.” I nodded, relief washing over me. “Okay, good. I thought I pissed you off and I felt really bad so I just wanted to ask.” She smiled at me. “You’re good! Oh, there’s some cute sandals over here! I’ll grab you a pair.” She said before running off. I grinned and tried on the shoes, feeling a little better. As the day wore on I had more and more fun, eventually the boys walked behind us as we walked arm in arm with each other. Kelly glanced behind us before turning back. “Ooh! Bath and Body Works!” She yelled before dragging me in. “But I don’t need anything from here!” I said and she scoffed. “You can always use cheap perfume. It smells good and it means that you aren’t wasting your expensive perfume.” I chuckled. “I don’t have any expensive perfume. At least, not anymore.” I said as she started making me small things. Soon we left with a few perfumes and even a few candles that Natasha swore I needed. As we walked I saw a hair salon and slowed down, looking inside. A few women were getting their hair dried and styled and a few were getting up after having their hair done. “Wanna cut your hair?” Natasha asked, walking over. I touched my own hair, playing with the ends. “I don’t know. I’ve always had long hair ever since I can remember.” She nodded. “How about a trim then? You seem to have a lot of split ends and it’ll make you feel better.” 

“Okay.” I said, smiling at her. “Come on.” She dragged me in, Kelly and Bradley following. “How can I help you?” The girl asked. I opened my mouth to answer but stopped, getting nervous. “She needs a trim.” Natasha said and the girl nodded. After a moment she took me back as Bradley took my bags. She talked to me as she washed my hair and then she sat me down. “Just a trim?” She asked and I nodded. “Yes, please.” I whispered. With that she got to work. I calmed myself as she cut my split ends, reminding myself there will be next to no change in the length. “That good?” She asked once she finished. Long hair is what makes you a woman. My mother’s voice echoed in my brain. “Actually, can we cut some of it off?” I asked. “You sure?” She asked and I nodded. “Positive. Maybe the middle of my back?” She agreed and got to work as Natasha, Kelly, and Bradley walked over. “You’re cutting it?” Bradley asked and I hummed. “Decided since my life was changing so drastically, my hair should too.” Once she was done she asked again and excitement ran through me. “I’m sorry. Can we cut more? Maybe to my shoulders?” 

“That’s a big change, Katie.” Kelly said and I nodded. “I know. Ooh, maybe some curtain bangs?” I was asked if I was sure a few times but I insisted. “It’s hair. If I want it long again, it’ll grow back.” I said and she got to work. The weight was so different once she finished and now I was nervous, but once she blow dried and straightened it, I fell in love. “So this is what it’s like to not have your neck weighed down by your hair?” I asked, stretching my neck out and they laughed. “It looks great.” Kelly said. Natasha went up to pay, and I made a mental note to pay her back. As we walked out, Jake rounded the corner. “Where have you been?” I asked, walking over to him. He looked up from the box in his hand and stopped, stumbling back slightly. “Holy shit.” He muttered and my heart rate picked up. “Is it bad? Everyone else said it looked good but-” “No. No you look beautiful I just-” He cleared his throat. “Here,” He said, holding out the box. “I got you this.” He said and I looked down. “No. Take it back.” I said, shoving the box back towards him. “Katie-” “I told you no last night, Jake. Now take it back.” I demanded and he chuckled. “Nope. It’s yours one way or another.” He said, dropping it into one of my bags. “No, Jake! An iPhone is too expensive!” I said, taking it out and placing it back in his hand. “Katie. You need a phone. I got this for you, it’s a gift, now take it.” He said, grabbing my hand and placing the box in it. We stared each other down for a few minutes before I gave in. “Fine. But this is it. We’re done shopping for the day.” I said and he nodded. “You have everything you need so I can agree to that.” I nodded, placing the box in one of my bags. “This was free with it.” He said as he tossed a slim, longer box into the bag as well. “What?” I pulled it out as he walked past me, seeing it was a gold series 8 apple watch. “JACOB SERESIN!” I yelled, storming after him. 

Once Jake and Bradley calmed me down, we went out for an early dinner. “Are you sure?” I asked, staring at the sushi in front of me. “It’s a dragon roll. I promise it’s good.” Bradley said, holding the sushi up to my face. I’m usually down to try anything but this was a little intimidating. “Come on.” He pushed and I just decided to go for it. I took the sushi roll from his chopsticks and was very surprised by it. “Holy shit.” Jake laughed. “Is that what you’re gonna say anytime you try new foods?” I immediately nodded. “That is good! Can I get one?” I asked and Bradley nodded, getting our waiters attention. The rest of dinner flew by and eventually we all parted ways. Once Jake, Kelly and I got home I unloaded all my bags and slipped my shoes off, the feeling returning in them as I did so. I put all my clothes away in the closet and dresser drawers, even unloading my suitcase and duffel bag. I made the bed since I didn’t this morning. Crawling into a messy bed stresses me out and I can’t sleep for some reason. I made my way downstairs, but stopped as I caught sight of Jake and Kelly in a heated make out session. I blushed, rushing back upstairs and into the bathroom. I decided to kill time and take off my makeup and wash my face, using the skincare Jake bought for me earlier. 

Once I was done I looked at my hair again, realizing how freeing it was to have it all gone. “Katie!” Kelly yelled up the stairs and I came out. “Yeah?” I asked as I walked down into the living room. “I’m leaving. Just wanted to say bye.” She said, tossing her arms around my shoulders. I hugged her back as she squeezed me. “Thank you.” I whispered and she pulled back. “I had fun today. We are so doing that again.” She said before making her way back to Jake. “Let me get a job first.” I said and she laughed before kissing him quickly and  waving as she walked out the door. “Why don’t you go grab your phone and we’ll set it up and I’ll get everyone’s numbers in it.” I nodded, bounding up the stairs and grabbing the phone before coming back down. I sat next to him on the couch, pulling it out of the box and turning it on. We spent some time setting it up to how I like. After that we sat on the couch as Jake turned on a movie. “I’m gonna start looking for jobs tomorrow.” I said and he looked at me. “Really?” He asked and I nodded. “I’ll pay you back Jake, I swear. I’ll even pay you rent once I start having regular income.” I said and he laughed. “You sure?” He asked and I furrowed my brows. “Do you think I can’t do it?” I sa tup, glaring at him. “Wouldn’t you rather go to nursing school?” I reeled back at the question. “What?” 

“Oh, come on Katie. You’re free from your parents and you can do what you want! Why don’t you go to nursing school like you said you wanted?” He asked. “I can’t afford that.” I said. “Look, you can take out student loans. I know it’s not ideal, and you’ll have to pay them back but you can stay here while you go. Free rent, free food. You just keep your stuff clean and help me around the house, I don’t see why you can’t go.” I was caught off guard by his words. “I would need my dad’s approval for the loans and-” “What?” He asked, confused. “Yeah, my dad always said I would need his signature for any loans and he refused so I could never get one for school. That’s why he always bitched about paying.” He scoffed, anger taking over his features. “Your parents are real pieces of… work, you know that?” I laughed. “Pieces of shit. You can say it, Jake.” He chuckled. “Good to know. But you don’t need anyone's approval for the loans. Not even your dad’s.” My face fell and my chest ached. “So I don’t need his signature for glasses either?” His face fell like mine. “Fuck. I knew there was something else we needed to do.” He said as he leaned his head back on the couch. “No, you don’t and tomorrow afternoon we’ll work on finding you an eye doctor. I don’t want to take you to your usual one, they may rat you out to your parents.” I nodded, never thinking about the fact that someone off base could tell my parents who I was with. 

“Okay. But can I think about the school thing? That’s a big decision.” He nodded, smiling at me. “Of course. So, what movie you wanna watch?” He asked and I shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen many movies.” He scoffed. “We will change that.” He said before cutting on some comedy. We watched two movies before bed that night and I slept a little better. I woke up twice from nightmares but I didn’t scream. I woke up around five a.m. when I heard Jake’s shower cut off. I laid there as he walked by, but I couldn’t go back to sleep so I decided to get up. I walked downstairs, rubbing my eyes in hopes my vision would clear up. “Why are you awake?” He asked and I shrugged, noticing he was in his flight suit. “Can’t go back to sleep.” I replied and he chuckled. “Well I’m about to leave. You can text me whenever today, if I’m in the air I obviously won’t respond. Help yourself to any food or drinks in the fridge, help yourself to anything really.” He said as he walked by me. “Rent a few movies if you want, I don't care. I should be home around four.” He said as he walked to the door and I followed him. “Just relax today and we’ll try to find you an eye doctor when I get home.” I nodded as he grabbed his duffel bag. “Have a nice day.” I said and he kissed my head before he walked out the door. “Bye darlin'.” I was caught off guard by his actions and stood in the entry way for a second. Once my body caught up with my thoughts I made sure the door was locked before going over to the couch. I sat down, pulling my legs into my chest. I realized how quiet it was when I was alone, and I didn’t like it.

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[septic-skele]

UT - It's Illegible Chicken Scratch

Summary: Papyrus' classmates think he's a tryhard. His teacher thinks he's not trying hard enough. Sans thinks he may need to do some research on dysgraphia.

A/N: In which I take that one line about Papyrus' puzzle notes (see title) and ruuuun with it

~

Papyrus had a…complicated relationship with his words.

Complicated: c-o-m-p-l-i-c-a-t-e-d. See, he knew how to spell it, unlike some of the other third grade students; he could recite the letters aloud without stumbling and recognize them when they were in a book with ease—so why couldn’t he put those very same letters down neatly on this expectant piece of paper?

His vocabulary (v-o-c-a-b-u-l-a-r-y) was supposed to be a point of pride. He and his brother were font-based by design; words were their specialty. Sans put his practice toward making even the smallest, most casual words more effective but Papyrus had always wanted to aim higher. Maybe it was the upper-caser in him; he devoured the puzzle of sounding out larger, longer syllables, echoing them over and over (even a little uncontrollably sometimes) until they settled just right in his mouth.

When he piped up to contribute to older monsters’ conversations, they would often exclaim that he was “so well spoken for his age!” Sans would look at him with such a fond warmth in his eyelights and reply, “Yep, that’s my bro. He’s the coolest.”

The other kids in his class didn’t seem to share the sentiment, not even after he offered to help them with the words of the day. He had hoped studying together would be the start to a friendship (or at the very least what Sans called a give-and-take relationship.) Maybe if they were friends, they would in turn help him in the areas of study where they all excelled and he might, theoretically, ever so slightly fall short.

Instead they accused him of thinking they were stupid, insulting them just because he knew they wouldn’t understand. They complained to the teacher that he was being a showoff, using all these fancy words to act like he was better than them.

Perhaps it had reminded his teacher of the bad mood she was in last week when Papyrus told her the spelling flash cards were too easy. Whatever the case may be, she had issued a challenge: “Well, if you’re so confident in using your words, you can practice your cursive with the fourth grade word list.”

It wasn’t the more advanced list that dropped Papyrus’ soul into the pit of his metaphorical stomach. It was that one particular word: cursive.

Reading and recitation were doable, give-and-take; he was given letters, words, phrases and took them with him for future use. Writing, however, was…not that. It was the far less fun kind of puzzle, too much giving with too much room for mistakes—and he made many, many mistakes.

The margins of the designated writing zone never moved yet somehow he always managed to over- or underestimate how much room he had on the paper, sentences skidding sideways. The level of concentration he needed to make letters fit between the lines was ridiculous and it usually led to him missing some crucial punctuation. The joints in his fingers ached with every painstaking swirl of the pencil, and that was when he put his all into typical uppercase.

Cursive was, true to the name, a curse, and his teacher was well aware. She couldn’t not be, considering the number of exasperated conversations she and Sans had about it after class. After just such an occasion this afternoon, Sans even put on the serious tone when they got home, cajoling Papyrus to explain what was wrong, to just be honest with him. If he had hurt his hand at some point and decided to hide it from him, if it had healed wrong and it was affecting his line work—

Some of their frustration must have rubbed off on him because Papyrus’ honesty was a little louder than necessary. “It didn’t heal wrong because I didn’t hurt it! Whenever I try to write, it hurts without being hurt! I can see—” That didn’t sit quite right in his mouth for the context. Hissing a sharp breath through his teeth, he adjusted. “I can vis-u-al-ize the words I want but my head can’t make my hand write them! Either hand. I’ve tried both!” When his brother’s eye sockets narrowed, his irritation gave way to pleading, his offending hands flailing at the equally offending worksheet. “Just look at it, Sans! I know those words and you know I know them! I can read them, I can say them, I just can’t make them!”

“You can’t,” Sans repeated, and though his tone was unreadable, it still stung. “Can’t”, however small it may be, was a word Papyrus rarely ever liked using, especially in regards to himself. He preferred to think with enough optimism and time, he could do anything! But this? Detailing every one of those curling, spiraling lines with no slips, no misjudging the size, no smudges or streaks?

“No, I…can’t.” Resisting the urge to hunch his shoulders, he lowered his gaze, took another sharp breath and tried to pretend it didn’t catch in his throat. “But…I can try harder. I can try really, really hard if it means my teachers will stop yelling at the both of us. And I apologize for yelling at you just now too.” That was rather hypocritical: h-y-p-o—

“Hey.”

Sans lightly nudged his mandible, coaxing him to peek back up. His sockets were still narrowed, still serious, but thankfully not disbelieving or angry.

“Just because you can’t do it doesn’t mean you aren’t trying. I’m an expert at not trying, remember? I think I’d know if you weren’t. And just because you’re trying real hard doesn’t mean you can’t have help. But if I wanna help, I need to know when something is hurting you. Cause your homework shouldn’t be doing that. Do your hands hurt every single time you write?”

“Not as much if it’s something short but…even then, the pencil doesn’t make the letters small enough to suit the smaller words. They sit right in my thoughts but not on the paper.”

“Huh. And your teacher, how often is she getting mad at you for this? As often as she gets mad at me?”

That sounded suspiciously like Sans using his casual words to achieve an effect Papyrus might not agree with (or even be privy to.) Why did it feel like he might get someone in trouble? “Only as often as I do it wrong…”

“Huh,” Sans exhaled again, and there was a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of anger, just as Papyrus happened to blink. “Well, seeing as she couldn’t be bothered to ask nicely, I don’t see why you should have to bother with this.”

“What? Why not? What does that mean?”

Sans shrugged, folding the paper with surprising neatness before tucking it into his jacket. “I’ll take care of it. I’ve slept through my third and fourth grade classes already; it ought to be a breeze.”

“Sans, you can’t just do my homework for me!” Papyrus sputtered incredulously. “That’s cheating! And it wouldn’t even be clever cheating, considering our very different, very well-known fonts!”

“Who said I was gonna do it for you? I’m just gonna supervise like Teach told me—heh, ‘like a real, proper guardian would’—while Papyrus does it.”

For a moment Papyrus had to uncharacteristically wonder if Sans had gotten enough sleep last night. “Right. Yes. Papyrus…which is me…who, as we just discussed, can’t do it.”

Sans’ only response to that was one of his annoyingly cryptic winks before he padded toward the stairs. “Our fonts are pretty recognizable, aren’t they?” he mused offhanded after three or four steps. “Couldn’t mistake ’em for anything but Comic Sans and Papyrus. We fonts are so recognizable, the computer’s got a database chalk full of ’em. In fact, I think I saw one under the P’s that looks juuust like you and it doesn’t even hurt. The wonders of technology!”

“Wha—Sans!” As soon as his brother took a shortcut out of sight, Papyrus was bounding toward the stairs, hollering after him. “That sounds like a lot of effort to not try while helping me, in the worst possible way!”

“Sorry, can’t hear you! Me and Papyrus are too busy studying real hard up here where it’s quiet,” Sans called down the hall. “And actually, we’re making so much progress and I’m so proud, I might just make a fancy printout of his work when he’s done to show your teacher!”

“Sans!”

Forgery: f-o-r-g-e-r-y.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

STEVE LOOKS AT HIS BIG EMPTY HOUSE AND THINKS FUCK IT

(ft. baby Steve and Hopper accidentally teaching El the word 'orgasm')

cw: child neglect, underage drinking, sexism, brief fatphobia, Italian (like 2 words)

plugging my steve playlist

At first, eating fast food every day sounds like a dream come true. His parents don't allow him to eat pizza - we don't want you to become fat, Stephen, what would the people think? - but when he finally breaks the double digits and they deem him old enough to stay home alone, the freezer is filled with frozen pizza. "You know how to get takeout, right?" his mother asks. Steve doesn't mention that he needs to get on his tippy-toes to reach the tall table with the phone and nods. And then he is alone.

Tommy Hagan says that he loves it when his parents aren't home. His brother wants to be left alone, and so he is sent upstairs and can watch as much tv as he wants, even the horror movies he isn't allowed to yet. Sometimes, when his brother invites friends over, he can even sneak a bit of alcohol. He loudly proclaims that alcohol is cool and fun and awesome, but one time, when Steve and Tommy are alone, he whispers that beer actually tastes really bad and makes him sleepy and that sometimes it gives him a tummy ache.

And it is somewhat exciting, at first. Having the entire house for himself. He can watch as much TV as he wants, even the scary movies his mom hates. (But at night, when he dreams of monsters and demons and blood, there is nobody there to reassure him that it isn't real). He can eat whatever he wants whenever he wants. (One night he puts all the pizza in the oven and plays a game against himself: eat as many slices as possible. The next day the teacher sends him home with a bellyache and he barely makes it into the bathroom before he is throwing up. He can't even look at pizza after that without feeling nauseous)

After that disaster he discovers the wonder that is takeout. (The table is so incredibly tall and every time he reaches for the phone there is a split second when his heart stops and he is sure that the phone will fall on the floor and break into a hundred pieces and he won't be able to hear it when his parents finally decide to call (they haven't had time yet, his father is a very busy man) and they will find out and they will hate him forever. But he always manages to catch it, so it's fine.)

Hawkins is a small town, which means that Steve's options are severely limited. His parents left him three pamphlets from different restaurants he can call. The first is Italian. Steve remembers heaving on the toilet and throws that one away. The second is a Diner. His stomach is already growling and reading has never come easy to him, so he calls without even reading the last one.

By the time his parents return, he knows the number of the diner by heart and is already on first-name basis with most of the staff. His favorite is Daisy. She always asks him how he is doing and sometimes she sneaks in sweets he didn't order.

He misses Daisy when his mother starts cooking again, and then he feels bad for missing her because his parents are finally home! He never really appreciated his mother's cooking until he had to go without. He has vague memories of refusing to eat his vegetables when he was small, but the feeling of eating something not greasy is so good he even takes seconds. His parents smile and he feels his heart fluttering in his chest. "See, he is already growing up", his father says, and Steve beams.

He wants to help in the kitchen, but his parents don't allow it. ("Only women belong in the kitchen", his father thunders. "You're just making a mess! For gods sake Stephen, leave me alone! Aren't you too old to keep running after your mummy?!", his mother complains.)

--

Steve isn't sure when exactly he decided that he didn't care. Maybe it was when he went to Carol's house and realized how empty his fridge is in comparison to hers. Maybe it was when he started exchanging his readymade supermarket sweets for other people's lunches, so he could at least have something that isn't prepackaged. Maybe it was when Daisy suddenly stopped going on the phone when he called the diner and the new worker (he doesn't know her name) got really annoyed with him when he wanted to talk about his day. (He is scared that he is the reason she is gone. That all the secret sweets and fries she would add to his order got her fired. But he doesn't know how to contact her, or even her last name, so he can never find out for sure)

All he knows is that one day he looks at the kitchen and knows he can't do frozen or canned meals anymore.

--

Steve goes to the living room and searches the huge bookshelf with narrowed eyes. (He once asked his father why they had so many books if neither he nor his parents like to read. He said that he should stop asking stupid questions.)

He chooses to see it as a good sign when he finds a cook book in the lowest shelf. The bookshelf is even taller than the telephone table, and if all the recipes were too high up he wouldn't be able to reach them even with a chair.

He makes for a noticeable picture, a tiny boy dragging around a huge book and an even bigger bag. (He had never gone to the supermarket before. When his parents go on a business trip they always leave him with enough food to last until their return, and when they are home food always seems to magically appear in the kitchen - or he assumes it is in the kitchen, he isn't allowed in there when mother is home. He thought grown-ups just magically knew what they needed to buy, but he took one look at the ingredients list and knew he would never be able to remember everything. When he sees a woman taking a shopping list out of her bag, his tiny mind is blown.)

Sometimes he can't reach a shelf. Then he stretches and glares until an adult notices and takes pity on him. They offer to help him with the book or with the bag but he refuses. Father says he is already a big boy, and big boys don't need help. It doesn't count when people just do it without asking. He would've been able to reach the flour all by himself if no one had interrupted him. Probably.

His first attempts in the kitchen are disastrous to say the least, and his respect for his mother only grows. One time his neighbors even call the firefighters. He was terrified when he heard the sirens nearing his house - was sure that his parents found out that he was messing in the kitchen even though they explicitly forbade it and that he was going to prison and that he would never walk free again. Luckily that didn't happen. He doesn't mention that part when he recounts it to Tommy and Carol the next day. And if he exaggerates the fire a bit, there is nobody there to dispute him (it's okay if it makes him look cool.)

(The firefighter asked where his parents were. He said they were on a business trip. Another one asked when they would be back. He answered in a week. The first said he should call his parents, and Steve explained that they didn't like to be bothered. The second one frowned, and Steve asked if he was in trouble, but he assured him that he wasn't. The first one said he should call them anyway, that they would want to know this, and so he did.

His father answers the third time he calls. He sounds annoyed - Steve can perfectly picture his angry frown - and so he explains that he didn't want to call him, he promises, but the firefighter said he should.

"What happened?" his father asked, still annoyed.

And Steve hesitates. His teacher says that lying is wrong, but when he was honest and told his mother he wishes they were home more often she said that he should stop being so selfish, that it's not a good look, that it's ugly. So he doesn't say that he accidentally charred another chicken (the book said that if it is even a little bit raw it can make you sick and being sick isn't fun when you don't have anyone to take care of you) and forgot to turn off the oven. He knows his parents don't want him in the kitchen. They will probably feel like they should come home early, and of course they won't because father's work is important, but they will feel bad while they are gone and Steve doesn't want his parents to feel bad. So he starts talking about his day, hoping to be able to come up with something by the time he gets to the part where he has to explain the fire. Luckily his father doesn't have time to listen to his ramblings and hangs up before that.)

The next day Steve goes to the supermarket, the trip already a part of his daily routine (this time with a list, like a real grown-up), and tries again. He learns what fancy words like "bardare" or "irrorare" mean and that you need to preheat the oven before you use it. He still messes up, but it's okay.

After all, he's got a lot of time to learn.

--

Steve is glad that he wasn't the only one.

And he feels horrible when he thinks that. These fucking monsters are terrifying, he was sure he was going to die more than once. (He still can't believe that he didn't).

But if he had to go through all of this alone, he wouldn't be having a We All Survived An Attack By Monsters From Another Dimension/Will Byers Is Back/The Weird Supergirl Needs Friends/Isn't The Sheer Amount Of NDAs We Needed To Sign Literally Insane/Just Like What The Fuck In General-Dinner right now. He feels a bit like an outsider - which is ridiculous considering his literal girlfriend is also a part of it (or at least he hopes she still considers him her significant other). But he has nothing better to do and he doesn't want to worry Nancy, so he compromises with himself and brings food as a sort of apology.

(he isn't sure what he is apologizing for)

He arrives early to help set up the table, and Joyce places his dish right in the center.

The first one to taste it is Hopper. Steve doesn't blink when Hopper guides the fork to his mouth and he doesn't breathe when he starts chewing. For a moment it seems like time stopped flowing (he is eerily reminded of the first time he saw that monster, the demo-monster-whatever. The realization that the world is so much scarier than he originally thought). Then, Hopper's eyes widen. He makes a sound that would not be out of place in a bedroom. The kids (and isn't it awful that they are so fucking young they are like half his age they shouldn't have to deal with this) stare at him in varying degrees of disgust.

"Holy fuck Joyce, I think I just had an orgasm. I would literally sell my fucking kidney for this lasagna."

The kids look as if Hopper had stripped down and started pole dancing on the table. Nancy's little brother makes an unimpressed "ew." Supergirl imitates him, although she doesn't look too sure about why she is doing that. Steve can't help the small smile forcing itself on his face.

"Oh no", Joyce says, "it's Steve who brought the lasagna". The entire rest of the table stares at him (as if he was the one who has fucking mind powers and okay maybe he isn't over everything like he tried to convince himself he is) and he can feel his cheeks reddening.

--

(Later, the kids give him a self-made "I survived a Demogorgon and all I got was this stupid apron"-apron. He wears it every time he goes into the kitchen)

Unexpected talent #1: cooking