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statelysapphic · 5 months

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Doctor Blake

Alex Blake x Reader

Summary: When Alex hears you've come down with the flu, she takes it upon herself to nurse you back to health. Covers the Cold & Flu Season square for @storiesofsvu's Holiday Bingo 2023!

Warnings: Mild descriptions of illness, mostly flu symptoms. Fluff.

A/N: Hi babes! I know I said I had four different holiday fics for yinz, but life has been much busier than expected. I'm hoping to finish up another soon for ya. Anyway, here's some Alex Blake fluff. Thanks for reading! <3

Ao3 Link

You felt like shit. Laid on your couch, under a mountain of blankets, yet you still felt like ice. Your muscles ached like no other, and your chest hurt from the near-constant coughing. Your throat was on fire, your head was pounding, and your mind was foggy. You really weren’t sure what time it was, or even what day it was, just that everything hurt. You knew you were dozing off now and again, but soon, you were unable to distinguish between what was real and what was a dream. (Undoubtedly caused by the fever)

Alex was immediately concerned when she heard you had come down with the flu. Doctor's offices and hospitals were inundated with patients, though she knew you wouldn’t be one of them. You were too damn stubborn to ask for help on a good day, and you definitely wouldn’t be asking for help while you were sick. She made the executive decision to take care of you, whether you liked it or not. You had given her an extra key to your place, after all. (In case of emergencies, of course.)

The older woman had spent her entire morning perfecting your favorite recipe. One she jumped through hoops to get, but she would do anything for you.

When she stepped foot into your apartment, the first thing she noticed was your soft snores from the couch. Lightly padding through the living room, Alex was met with the sight of you burrioted in at least three blankets, only your pale face showing. Cough drops, medicines, and an empty tissue box were littered across the coffee table, clear signs you were not well. Your current state only reaffirmed her decision to take care of you. She moved into the kitchen and started to unpack the dinner ingredients.

You woke up coughing and confused but feeling slightly better than you had been. As you were trying to make sense of your current situation, you heard your refrigerator door close. You knew you should have felt some sort of panic, but you didn’t. You listened closely for another moment before hearing the kitchen sink turn on. Confused, you shuffled through your living room into the kitchen.

“Alex?” You asked, rubbing your eyes, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s been a few days since anyone has heard from you and I know you don’t always take the best care of yourself, so I figured I would stop by and check in on you.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you croaked out, “I don’t want to get you sick. I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me. I’ll be back in the office by tomorrow, no doubt.”

“Sweetheart,” she started, calmly, “What day of the week is it?”

“Thursday,” you said confidently, though you really didn’t know.

“It’s Saturday.”

“No way.” She laughed at your skepticism.

“Yes, way.” You stood in place, eyes squinting, confused by the passage of time. “See, this is why you need me. Now, take this and go lay down on the couch. I’m going to get dinner started.” She handed you a glass of water and some Tylenol.

“Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner, now please go lay down.” She pressed a kiss into your burning forehead before gently pushing you towards the living room. Doing as you were told, you laid back down on the couch.

Alex, however, got to work in your kitchen. She had spent the morning in her kitchen, following your grandmother’s pierogi recipe. She figured making the dumplings would be a messy process and she didn’t want to make a mess of yours. Alex filled a pot with water, putting it on high heat. Once at a boil, she cut the temperature back until the water gently simmered. She cooked the pierogi for a few minutes, just until they floated to the top of the pot. Melting butter in a pan, she sauteed some onion and fried the pierogi until they were golden brown. She remembered to serve them with a helping of sour cream and chopped chives.

You were stunned when she set the plate on the coffee table in front of you. You were even more stunned when she began cutting the pierogi into smaller, bite-size pieces and began to feed you. When the first bite hit your tastebuds, you could tell the dumplings were homemade, and that you’ve had them before. It was your comfort food after all.

“‘Lex?” you croaked.

“Yes, sweetheart?” She replied.

“Are these my babcia’s pierogi?”

“Indeed,” she answered softly, scooping another bite into your mouth.

“How did you-” you pause, losing your train of thought.

“Get the recipe?” You nodded, “I may or may not have gone into your file looking for your emergency contact information so that I could call your parents to get it from them.” You stared at her for a few moments, a confused look on your face, so she continued. “You once said that there wasn’t anything a plate of your grandmother’s pierogi couldn’t fix. I just figured you could use a good comfort meal.” She smiled, pushing the fork towards you again. You were unsure how she could go through all of the trouble and be so blase about it.

“This is too much, Alex,” you squeaked, “You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

“I take care of my friends.” Again, blase, and a bit dismissive. She didn’t want it to be a big deal, because, to Alex, it wasn’t. She’d give you the moon and the stars if she could.

“Do you do this for all of your friends?” You asked. She hesitated to answer.

“No,” she sighed.

“Can I ask why you did this for me?” Your brain told you it was probably her motherly instincts, but you wanted to know her reasoning. Alex stared at the dinner plate; You could tell she was fighting an internal battle, unsure of what she should say next. Alex met your gaze, her eyes shone with unshed tears. Concerned, you sat forward and rested a hand on hers. Her eyes darted left to right, looking into yours. Then, briefly, her gaze drops to your lips, and right back to your eyes. It clicked.

You had assumed your chances of landing a date with Alex Blake were low, even though you two were the closest on the team. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine, often working better together than apart. You spent so much time together in the office and in the field, that being alone was, well, lonely. More so than before you had met. Days in the office turned into evenings at one of your homes, simply enjoying each other's company.

You noticed the signs quickly though. Whenever you laugh, you look her way, hoping to see her smile too. You sought her out in every room, and when you found her, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her. You learned to hide it quickly though, she was a profiler, after all. And though you were too, Alex hid her feelings better. She was also in denial. She didn’t ever think someone ten years her junior would show any romantic interest in her, let alone a woman. The doubt bubbled within her, and the fortress she built around her feelings for you started to crumble. Tears she had been fighting rolled down her cheeks. “‘Lex,” you whispered, “It’s okay. I’m falling in love with you too.” You were shocked you admitted your feelings so easily, and for a moment you panicked. But Alex simply relaxed and a soft smile formed on her face, which calmed your nerves instantly.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Alex fed you the rest of your pierogi and finished hers as well. You knew with Alex taking care of you that you would be feeling better in no time. She stuck around until Monday morning when she insisted you take the day off to recuperate, even though you felt significantly better.

“Fine,” you sighed, defeated, “I’ll take another day, but only if you let me cook for you later this week. If we don’t have a case, that is.” You found yourself lost in her eyes for a moment, just as she stared into yours. Soft hands cupped your cheeks as she swept some hair out of your face.

“I think I would enjoy that.” Alex smiled before kissing your forehead. “Now, get some rest, will you? And drink more water.”

“Yes, Doctor Blake,” you replied. As Alex left for work, and the door shut with a click, you whispered, “I love you.”

As Alex shut the door behind her, making sure the lock clicked into place, she whispered, “I love you.”

#alex blake x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #alex blake fanfiction #storiesofsvuholidaybingo2023 #wlwfic #wlw fanfic

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brightlotusmoon · 8 months

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This bothers me. They claim that there's a link between Tylenol and diagnoses of Autism and ADHD, and they're offering money.

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the-darkness-does-not-bargain · 10 months

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Rated M for Massage Therapy

Here, take this. I am hopelessly caught in my AvaLil feelings whirlpool, and the violent currents have shaken this out of me. Once again, this is set in my Twitch AU, which has two other parts here and here, one tame and and one decidedly not tame. This one is just tooth-rotting sweetness though. And I’ll probably put it up on ao3 now, so I’ll add the link here when I do. Enjoy!

//////

It wasn’t something Lilith noticed right away. How could she, really? Their first interactions at the bar were understandably shallow, and Ava was very good at hiding the signs. She danced around the bar with perfectly careless grace, mixing drinks and applying garnishes like it was what she was born to do. She danced around Lilith with the same gangly, uncoordinated charm, smiling that million watt smile and flirting with devious grins and terrible jokes. It was all remarkably guileless to the untrained eye.

Lilith would learn in the following months that subtle subterfuges were Ava’s specialty, small mistruths and lies of omission that she told to protect herself from the scrutiny of others. From their doubt, and their pity. This revelation came on slowly, as they so often do, starting with little incongruities that gradually painted a larger picture.

The first time she saw Ava drop a drink, she didn’t think anything of it. A common mistake, with nothing noteworthy about it, except perhaps the look on her face when it happened. Surprise would be expected, maybe even a flash of panic and a cringing grimace as the glass hit the floor. Yes, that would have all been very normal. But the small quiver in her lip, the way her hands shook in the seconds afterward, and the quiet despair in her eyes were very much not normal. She brushed it off quickly though, laughing loudly and apologizing with an exaggerated bow to the patron she was serving. It was concerning, but Lilith didn’t know Ava very well at that point, and the incident slipped from her mind just as quickly as it occurred.

It kept happening, though. Not frequently, or regularly, but enough to eventually raise an eyebrow. There were other little flags too, ones she only picked up on when she started watching Ava with more than friendly interest. Ava was a restless girl, incurably fidgety. She was constantly wiggling and bouncing about. She was clumsy in an endearing way, and always looking for something to occupy her hands with, be it a shaker, a pen, or once, memorably, an ice hammer. So any time she was still, any instance her movements were contained and careful, was something to pay attention to. There were days when Lilith spent hours after work just watching Ava do her job, and she found herself genuinely perturbed when the other woman seemed to be restraining herself. No playful flourishes, no thoughtless bar tricks, not even any spinning and twirling between customers. It was all very unsettling.

Bigger, more obvious signs appeared when they stopped circling each other and officially started dating. Ava’s tiny apartment was stocked with a multitude of curious items, some that Lilith expected, like silly trinkets and extremely tacky novelty mugs, and some she didn’t, like heat packs, grip strengtheners, and resistance bands. More telling still was her medicine drawer, which Lilith found by accident the morning after their first night together. Ava had gabapentin, tramadol, extra large bottles of tylenol and ibuprofen, and capsaicin cream, all strategically clustered together behind her toothpaste, moisturizers, and hair brushes.

Lilith was quick to put the pieces together after that, but she didn’t confront Ava about it. Too many times in her life, she had damaged or broken something important by pushing too hard or coming on too strong. She lost her first job prospect out of law school that way, and the fallout of that mistake was painful to think about even to this day. She refused to do that with Ava, especially when what they had was still so new and delicate. She resolved to wait until Ava was ready to bring it up herself.

But she never did. Lilith waited, keeping her discoveries to herself, but she was waiting in vain. Ava never talked about it. She kept this secret locked tightly inside herself, putting a wall around it and covering it in barbed wire and caution tape, leaving Lilith at a loss for what to do.

She thought she understood why Ava was so reticent about it. After all, she had plenty of her own difficult secrets she was struggling to share, none of which were life-altering, physical disabilities. She just wanted to let Ava know, somehow, that she didn’t think of her any differently for it. To be frank, she was already falling pathetically in love with her, and every new thing she learned about Ava just added fuel to the wildfire.

Lilith decided to keep waiting, but she didn’t do it idly. She started researching instead, reading medical journals and scrolling through websites for organizations like the Foundation for Peripheral Neuropathy. She knew there probably wasn’t much she could add that Ava didn’t already know, but she resolved to jump on anything she could find. The resources she looked at frequently highlighted the benefits of massage therapy, so she decided to start there. During her few moments of downtime at work, waiting for meetings to start or milling about the courthouse, she read guides and watched videos detailing the best techniques for hand and finger massage, practicing the motions on herself until she felt she could do them with some confidence.

It was a small gesture in the grand scheme of things, but she committed to it. She kept practicing while she waited for Ava, holding onto the skill for whenever she needed it.

The moment arrived approximately five months into their relationship. She was at Ava’s apartment to pick her up for their date, only to be left outside the door when her girlfriend didn’t answer her knock. After a minute of standing around awkwardly, Lilith pulled out the spare key Ava gave her and quietly let herself in.

Inside, she found most of the lights shut off, the space darkening rapidly with the setting sun. The only light that was on came from the skeletal kitchen. Ava was slumped at the card table that was her main sitting space, her head lying against its surface while her hands were sticking up in the air, clenching and unclenching repeatedly. Next to her were two different bottles of pain medication as well as her tube of capsaicin cream, all open. Lilith had planned for them to go to a reasonably high-end restaurant owned by her friends Mary and Shannon, but Ava was barely even dressed, wearing nothing but a pair of boyshorts and an overlarge t-shirt. Sitting there, half curled in on herself, she looked very small, in a way that triggered all of Lilith’s intense protective instincts.

She moved into the kitchen hastily, taking louder steps than she realized, and Ava jumped, lifting her head from the table and gawking at her owlishly. “Lilith?”

“Uh, hi.” Lilith stopped in her tracks just inside the threshold. “I, um…” Her mother would pinch her for stammering if she was here. “I came to pick you up.”

“Oh,” Ava said dumbly. “Right, shit.” She looked around her kitchen and then down at herself. “Shit, sorry, I guess the time really got away from me.” She started fumbling with the items on the table, grabbing the open bottles and clumsily trying to stick the lids back on as casually as possible. “I’ll be ready in a minute. I can… I’ll be ready.” Her fingers were fumbling to twist the cap back on the cream, but when she realized Lilith was watching her, she quickly turned away. “Do you want to wait outside? I just need a couple minutes to get dressed and do my make-up.”

Lilith stood there for a long moment, contemplating her options. She could let Ava hide again, let her keep all of this to herself for god knows how long. Or she could take a chance, and maybe this night would end without her fucking everything up.

“Wait!” She finally said, speaking rapidly before Ava could retreat any further.

She watched the other woman pause before slowly glancing back at her. Her shoulders were tense, but her expression was just cautious.

Lilith carefully pulled the second chair out from the table, set her purse down, and sat in it. “Sit with me?”

Like a wary animal watching out for traps, Ava slowly sat back down, putting the yet uncapped tube back on the table. She watched Lilith, waiting for her next move, and Lilith hated the uncertainty in her expression, and the vague resignation. It was a look she sometimes got when they fought, and Lilith hated it because it meant that Ava thought she had already lost.

“Can I try something?” She asked.

Ava stared at her, eyes slightly narrowed. “Try what?”

Lilith held her hand up, palm open. “Give me one of your hands.”

“Lilith…”

“Ava, please,” she pleaded softly. “Just let me try.”

Ava kept staring for several eternal seconds, glancing between Lilith’s face and her hand. Then, she finally acquiesced, carefully placing her left hand in Lilith’s right. Lilith rewarded her with a small smile, before bringing her free hand up to join its counterpart.

“I will admit, I’ve only tried this on myself,” she prefaced, trying to inject some levity. “And not very well. But I’ve studied all the tutorials I could find, so…” After taking a deep breath through her nose, she started moving her fingers along Ava’s hand.

They were both silent as she worked. Lilith focused all of her attention on the task at hand, rubbing with firm, meticulous strokes and seeking out the pressure points and special areas identified in the guides. She kept her touches fairly simple. Some of the more advanced techniques were quite involved, but she stuck mainly to effleurage, cautiously rubbing her fingers into Ava’s skin as the tutorials had instructed.

Ava watched her intently the entire time, and she was acutely aware of it. She didn’t let herself falter, however, and pressed on. After several quiet minutes, Lilith stopped and cupped Ava’s hand in both of hers. “Does it feel any better?” This was the moment of truth, the moment where she would find out if her efforts were misplaced, or if they would be worth it.

Ava licked her lips, a whirlwind of emotions on her face. “Did you know this whole time?” She asked.

How to answer… “No,” she said honestly. “At first, I had no idea. I just… noticed things over time. And I found…” She glanced meaningfully at the capsaicin cream, and Ava followed her gaze.

“You never said anything,” she said, almost too quietly to understand.

Lilith took another deep breath, all while stroking her thumbs across the back of Ava’s hand. “I didn’t want to ambush you. You didn’t exactly seem ready to talk about it.”

“But you learned how to do a hand massage in the meantime?”

Lilith nodded. “I did. I still wanted to help, so I did some research.” She leaned forward in her seat. “You didn’t answer my question though, Aves. Does your hand feel better?”

Ava blinked several times, and Lilith could see her throat move as she swallowed. “It does,” she answered roughly.

Lilith breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh good. If it didn’t, I was going to sue the guide makers.”

Ava barked out a surprised laugh. “Oh come on, Lil, you can’t take someone to court just for writing a mediocre massage guide.”

“I certainly can,” she responded archly. “It would have been false advertising. They charged a high price for the course.”

“...You paid a bunch of money just to learn massage therapy to help me with my pain?”

The humor faded from Lilith’s expression, replaced by fierce earnestness. “Of course I did,” she said. “You matter to me, silly. I hate when you’re in pain. I know you’ve been trying to keep it from me. You hid it very well, but I still noticed.”

“I wasn’t.” Ava cut herself off, inhaled sharply, and then continued. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you for a bad reason. I just…”

Lilith only shook her head. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Aves. I think I get it, actually.” She looked down at their joined hands again. “There are things I haven’t told you either. Hard things. Things I never imagined telling someone else, even you.” She sighed. “So I get it, at least a little. And, I know this happened without your consent, but I’m not going to force you to talk about it if you don’t want to. I will never do that to you.” She squeezed Ava’s hand, careful not to do it too hard. “But if you do want to talk, I’ll be here. You’ve got me.”

Ava’s lips quirked into a watery smile. “I’ve got you?”

“Mmhm, your awful puns and terrible mug collection have captivated me.”

She laughed again, and this time didn’t stop, giggling madly as she roughly wiped her eyes on her forearm. She made no attempt to reclaim her hand.

“Why was I so scared of telling you?” She asked herself. “I mean, I knew you wouldn’t think less of me. I knew it.”

Lilith scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. As if our fears cared a whit about rationality. Give me your other hand, so I can treat them both.”

Ava tilted her head like a puppy and glanced at the clock. “If we do that, we’ll be late.”

“That does not concern me.”

“But what about the reservation?”

Lilith just shook her head. “Trivial. I know the owners. They’ll fit us in when we’re ready.”

“Bougie,” Ava teased, her smile now steady and bright.

Lilith shrugged primly. “It simply pays to make connections wherever you can find them. But tonight, we’ll order in.”

“Lebanese?”

She smiled, the last bit of worry easing from her mind. “Lebanese.”

#warrior nun #ava silva #sister lilith #avalil #ava x lilith #my writing #twitch au

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iheartnimbassacity · 1 year

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i need some tylenol. these people are fucking idiots.

[An embedded link from the Nimbassa City Times, containing the followning article.]

Professor Amaryllis; Public Danger?

[A large photo takes up the top portion of the article. Bellamy Amaryllis is centered, anger on their face, one hand out over the pokemon to the left of the image. To his right stands Dave, a step back with his mask up, expression unreadable. The mareep to the left crackles with static, the bright sparks lighting up the professor from below, making quite a sight in the darkness.]

As many of our readers know, last night, April 14th, 2023, Professor Bellamy Amaryllis, known for his successful TV show, 'Wild Days' was married to a man only known as "Dave". The union has been rightfully questioned, for the 12 year age gap, for the seemingly impulsive nature of the wedding, and even the supposedly platonic union.

But, that is not why we are here today, as late last night one of our reporters gained access to exclusive information in regards to this wedding, and the relationship between the "happy" couple. Late last night, one of our reporters who wishes to remain anonymous for reasons you will soon see, went up to the couple for a interview, and snapped this photograph.

[A photo with flash, Dave and Bellamy are faceing eachother, Amy's arms around Dave's shoulders, Dave holding one arm around Amy's waist, the other grasping onto a cane. Daves pant leg is ripped, some blood can be seen on the fabric around the tear.]

This photo seems completely normal, just the happy couple in a lovers embrace, but look back at the groom's right leg, a gash! Now, a small gash like that wouldn't need a cane, so we suspect that the groom's leg had been poisoned! It is common knowledge that the Professor is a poison type specialist, so we are sure our lovely readers can connect the dots

That's right, the Professor poisoned his own boyfriend! But why? Was he planning on running? Maybe to look like he was a hero for helping the groom walk? It truly is a mystery, and a very telling one that Amaryllis never made a true comment on! When our brave reporter tried to ask she was attacked by the Professor, threatened by the violent creature he keeps by his side. Luckily our brave reporter came out unharmed.

What do you think, dear reader? Comment below!

#pkmn irl #pkmn rp #amaryllis wedding

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lifewithchronicpain · 10 months

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Shortages of opioid pain medication in the U.S. appear to be worsening, with no apparent action from the FDA or DEA to ease the suffering of patients left in uncontrolled pain or going into withdrawal.

Last week the American Society of Health-System Pharmacists (ASHP) added another widely used painkiller to its drug shortage list: oxycodone/acetaminophen tablets, which are more widely known under the brand names Percocet and Endocet. The medication is typically prescribed for moderate to severe pain.

The ASHP reports that five drug makers are either running low or have exhausted their supply of oxycodone/acetaminophen in 2.5, 5, 7.5 and 10mg tablets. Amneal, Major and Rhodes did not provide ASHP with a reason for the shortage, while Camber and KVK-Tech said they were “awaiting DEA quota approval for active ingredient.” Amneal, Camber and KVK-Tech said the tablets were on back order with no estimated resupply date. Major and Rhodes said additional supplies were expected in mid-September or early August, respectively. Limited supplies and doses of oxycodone/acetaminophen tablets are still available from other drug manufacturers...

...At PNN, we hear from readers almost daily about opioid shortages. “I am now past my usual fill date,” said Rick Martin, a retired pharmacist in Las Vegas who lives with chronic back pain. “My CVS pharmacist manager told me that she was told by their wholesaler that hydrocodone won't be available until the middle of August.” Martin said pharmacists at Walgreens, Smith’s and Sav-on have also told him they were out of oxycodone and hydrocodone tablets. “It's been spotty for 6 months but now seems entrenched. I got switched to tramadol. Not as effective, but I can just barely get by. I've heard that's what doctors are doing. Tramadol or Tylenol with codeine,” he told PNN.

Steve Keating, another Las Vegas resident, has been taking oxycodone for chronic neck pain after his vehicle was rear-ended by another driver. He had no problems getting his prescription refilled at either Walgreens or CVS, until last month. Now he is out of pain medication. “I began having withdrawal symptoms. No one seems to care,” said Keating, who turns 73 this month. “The pharmacy recommendations were to obtain tramadol, which I've tried in the past and found ineffective. I cannot take opiates with acetaminophen as it upsets my stomach.

“It seems that there is a huge gap between prescribers, pharmacies and whatever governmental agencies are involved. Do these governmental idiots not realize how important the medication we've been prescribed for months or years is to give us some degree of a better quality of life?” (Read full article at link)

None of this, absolutely none of this, stops people from dying from illicit fentanyl. It just punishes people in pain.

#disability #chronic pain #ableism #opioids #chronic illness #medical bias #opioid shortages #pain patients #article

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vbadabeep · 10 months

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twosroos · 2 years

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All Grown Up [ch. 11]

roos says ! holy SHIT college is kicking my ass, and fuck u tumblr for breaking on me so i couldn't post this on time >:(! luckily I only have two (TWO??) weeks until I'm home (thank u ten week semesters), and you can expect a lot more soon (and, the stardust rb challenge will be updated then too!)

desc ! you prep for the party, learn a bit more about bob, fight with asher, and finally greet your dad when he returns from a trip. It's the calm before the storm, a huge storm.

notable characters: robert "bob" floyd, natasha "phoenix" trace, bradley "rooster" bradshaw

tws !! MANNNYYY implications of past sex, hickeys, arguments, cursing, mentions of past drinking/underage drinking !

ao3 link ! last chapter ! next chapter !

Waking up the next day, you felt the bed lift as someone stood, and peeked over to see Bob tugging on a t-shirt. He must've pulled it out of the suitcase he had resting against your wall, and you slowly lifted your head and half-heartedly turned it as you checked the time on your alarm clock. Subconsciously, you groan at the realization you should probably be getting up. If you weren't up soon, your mom would wonder where you'd ended up. You really didn't need her finding you half-naked in bed.

Christ, where were your pajama bottoms? And when did you put Bob's shirt on? What had even happened between the barn and your bed?

"Fuck." You curse when you roll over to stand. For no clearly discernable reason, your lower half is genuinely aching and you can't tell exactly which event from the day before was causing it. Bob turns at your soft exclamation, wiping what you think is some of your lipstick off his jaw. Oh christ, you think to yourself, because the action had no reason to be as hot as it was.

"Sorry." He jokes and you sit up just enough to chuck a pillow at him from where you lay. Slyly grinning, he pretends the pillow was thrown a lot harder than you had actually thrown it and stumbles back to 'fall' against your closed bathroom door. Snorting, you eventually get off the bed and find your pajamas not far away. While you get dressed, you hear the sink in the bathroom turn on, so you take a moment to attempt to stretch out your legs. It feels a bit better, but you'll probably pop a Tylenol just to make sure you can help out today.

When you get into the bathroom behind Bob, he's spitting out his toothpaste into your sink, so you grab your essentials for getting ready in the morning. You hip-bump him aside to brush your teeth, and one hand reaches to your collar as grab your perfume to spritz a bit on your neck, and shit-- those marks were dark.

"Got a bit carried away, huh?" You tease, knowing you luckily have a decently full-coverage bathing suit you can throw on for the party that will cover most of them. Bob wraps his arms lazily around you and hides his face in the warmth of your neck.

"Sorry not sorry." he pecks kisses on your neck, grinning against you. He soaks it in, deep breaths against your skin. You can't find it in yourself to be angry, especially when you see a red line down his arm from your nails, most likely. An eye for an eye, or whatever.

"Is this going to become a constant?" You murmur as you run the toothbrush under water for the second time before lifting it to your lips, "I could get used to this."

"Don't get too comfy." Bob sighs, and though he doesn't say it you know what he means. He's leaving for the Navy soon. Regardless of if you wanted him to or not. It stings to know.

“Let’s not think of that.” you muse to him, leaning back into his skin as you keep brushing your teeth. He gently kisses your jawline, innocently wrapping you tighter in his arms. But you know it's a subconscious hope of keeping you close to him. You try not to think about it.

“Okay,” he whispers. And you both end up standing there for a while, silent breathing, staring at yourselves and each other in the mirror while he smiles contently.

"I also probably marked up your thighs." Bob says and you groan, making him snort as he finally detaches from you to grab his toiletries bag and shuffle through it, "Hey! You're equally at fault here!"

"I'm gonna steal your breakfast as revenge." You chime, spitting out your toothpaste and then rinsing your mouth as Bob rolls his eyes and grabs deodorant.

"Sure you will, Rhinestone." He smiles at you and you chuckle, grabbing a hair tie from your drawer.

You rock back and forth, tossing your hair into a low ponytail. You're gonna end up with your hat on at some point today, so doing a cute updo would be pointless, you chime after a lightbulb flicks on above your head-- metaphorically, "Do I have a callsign now?"

"Kinda." Bob shrugs, "I'm tryna figure out what I wanna call you."

"Call me anything but sugar." Your voice comes out a bit harsher than you mean, it's got a bite to it that makes Bob blink. The last time you'd bit words at him was in the barn his first day here, so you shake it off and sigh, "It's just what Mike used to call me, is all."

"I'll make something better, then." He gently wraps an arm around you, pressing your forehead to his lips as he sighs, "Fuck that guy, right?"

"Yeah," You laugh, "fuck that guy."

You lean up to plant a soft kiss on his lips, the different mints of your kinds of toothpaste colliding. Spearmint versus wintergreen. He smiles, taking you fully into his embrace and tucking your head under his. You don't question the random hug, lord knows you need it, so you relax into the scent of pine and... oil, you think, that drifts off his shirt. But then,

"Hey! Are y'all awake or do I need to shield my eyes comin' in here?" Rooster shouts, knocking on your door, "I don't really wanna see any nudity!"

"We're dressed, Bradshaw!" Bob shouts, stepping back and rolling his eyes. The door slides open and in walks, none other than Bradley Bradshaw with his classic little strut and smile as Bob pops out of your bathroom. You turn to make sure you look decent. You'll probably just throw on your jeans and a pair of boots after breakfast.

"Got back a little late last night, hm?" he teases and Bob shoves him, the two fake arguing for a bit while you snicker to yourself in the bathroom as you slide open the mirror and pop a Tylenol on your mouth. Once you get the mirror to shut, you pop out, holding the Tylenol between your teeth.

"None of your business, Bradshaw." You sing-song. Smiling, you find yourself laughing softly as you adjust Bob's shirt on your frame. amake your way around the bed to a water bottle, which you happily open and down half of to swallow the pill in your mouth.

"Savannah made us breakfast, apparently today we're cleaning out one of the garages and the closest barn to the house for the party. Get ready for some heavy lifting, Bob." Rooster grins, lips curled into a somewhat sly grin as he crosses his arms and leans against the base of your sliding door.

"Why're you smiling at me like that?" You grin, crossing your arms, knowing Rooster's doing nothing but teasing for the sake of it. Honestly, it reminds you of how Asher had been when he was in high school. It makes you miss those days

"Nothing. Just didn't know you went to Topgun at some point, Rhinestone." He shrugs as he walks out the door and you laugh. when your eyes meet Bob, he shrugs.

"It looks better on you. Now c'mon, I miss your mom's cooking."

Breakfast couldn't have gone worse, in your opinion. Your mom is stressing the whole time, asking everyone various questions you can't even keep track of as she tries to decide where everything's going to go as if she won't decide on the same exact setup from the past five years.

Once everyone's shoveled about a days worth of food into their mouths, the pilots are sent down to the basement with Jenny and Tom (Bob's mom and step-dad) to organize and move boxes, the Kazansky's and the Bradshaw's help in the kitchen while Maverick and Penny help Avalon with setting up the outdoor bar, and you trail behind Giselle and Robyn with a broom as you go to the barn that housed garden equipment to sweep it out and relocate the equipment for your mother's small garden to a barn a bit further in on the property.

You're about halfway done when Phoenix and Rooster appear, telling you that'd been sent away by Asher since he didn't need that many people in the basement. You nod and decide then that you're going take a short break while Giselle and Robyn are reorganizing the other barn to fit the tractor you sit upon. The old John Deere has been in your family since you were in elementary school, you had no idea how the old green thing still ran.

"So, while we were cleaning the basement out we found a photo album from when you were in high school," Rooster says, "You had a bunch of pictures of you and Bob doin' things and we realized, well, we know basically nothing about him."

"Really?" You ask, and both pilots in front of you nod, "he's said nothing?"

"All we really know is that he missed you like hell, you were super important to him, his dad was out of the picture, and he had a younger sister." Phoenix says, "I know a bit more, but he swore me to secrecy, so, no telling."

"So, how'd he tell you about all you guys know?"

"Well, the first two were because he'd never shut the hell up about you once we got him on the topic of friends back home." Rooster laughs softly, shaking his head, "It's still the most I've seen him talk at once. And we found out about his dad on father's day, and his sister on her birthday because apparently, she thinks Phoenix is super cool, and wanted to FaceTime her for her birthday."

"I keep hearing that he'd never shut up about me, was it that bad?" You swirl the water bottle in your hand, kicking some dirt off your boot like you were an idling character.

"For me, yes," Phoenix deadpans, but the small smile that quirks up on her lips tells you otherwise, "but honestly, it wasn't awful, he just spewed about how much he missed you and wanted to talk to you. He originally said he couldn't because of the time zone difference, but he confessed to me a lot when we crashed."

"How are you after that crash, Phoenix? I know it shook him up a lot." You ask and she shrugs.

"Well, we didn't die, so I'm grateful for that. But I don't think I'll be able to get the image of him up in that tree, literally begging me to come and find you if he died, out of my head." She sighs, "It's part of the job, you sign up knowing it could happen to you, or anyone you know, but it sucks regardless."

"I can't imagine it." You sigh. but before the conversation can lull into an awkward silence, Phoenix switches the topic back.

"But, what was Bob like in high school? any crazy stories?"

"Not really." You laugh, "he was in the marching band, and he played the saxophone. He was drum major the same year I was cheer captain. He used to bull ride, often, but not competitively. He drank quite often, sometimes we snuck it into football games for the hell of it. No one found out, and if they did, I doubt they cared. We didn't share it, half the time we didn't even drink it."

"So... and forgive me if this is kinda rude," Rooster takes a swig of his water, "if you guys were so close... why didn't you stay in touch?"

"It's really my fault." You lean on your legs, elbows pressing red marks into your skin, "I was mad at him for something he did right before he left. I didn't want to reach out because I felt... used, I guess? I became bitter, and then he became bitter in response, and we never communicated why. Plus, it wasn't like I could've called him after he left. He didn't have a cellphone in basic."

"He said something similar. He said he fucked up something right before he left, paraphrasing." Phoenix hums, adjusting the baseball cap on her head, "He told me, and Bradshaw, you do not repeat this to anyone--"

"-- Yes, Ma'am." He mocks a salute, but you could tell he was being genuine.

"He told me that he was afraid that if you talked again, he'd quit the Navy to be with you."

Your heart stops, your brain short-circuiting as you struggle to comprehend the fact that Robby would've dropped everything he loved just to be with you. Just to be with you.

"I--" You go to say something, but Giselle coming back with a declaration of a clean barn to start moving things into takes you off guard. And the conversation is lost like a flame blown out by an open window.

You end up with Asher in the basement later that day, after lunch. You've changed into a high-collar tank top of your own, with jean shorts. One outlier hickey pokes out on your thigh from under the shorts. Luckily most down there were lighter and would probably fade within a few days if you used a few tricks from your college days to help out.

Asher has been eyeing it the whole time you've been helping him dust and vacuum the room. You're getting sick of his peeking eyes, so you use the one way to shut him up that pops into your head. It's also the dumbest way for you to do this.

"It's a hickey." You turn to your brother, pausing the vacuum, "Happy?"

"Where'd you get it?"

"Where do you think?" you bite back and Asher scoffs, when you go to turn the vacuum back on, he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him. The feeling of your past injury being roughhoused makes you panic, tearing yourself back from your brother when he starts to fade into Mike in your mind.

"Are you serious? Y/n, are you fucking kidding me?"

"It's literally none of your business!" You groan, "I'm a grown adult!"

"We just talked about you doing the opposite of this!" Asher slams down the duster he's holding on the desk, and it takes everything in you to swallow the jump.

"Okay?" You say, knowing it's childish for you to have completely turned on the plan you'd made, but also, why did it matter?

"No! Not okay! You're being fucking stupid! Just like how you were with Mike! Naive, and weak!" Asher pinches his nose, and you grip the vacuum with two hands, trying to hide your trembling grip.

"What the hell are you implying here?" you snip, voice soft.

Asher turns on his heel to fully face you and narrows his eyes, "Aren't men in the military known for cheating? Do you wanna go through all this again? If you do, fine, be stupid, but don't come crying to me."

"Robby's not like that, Asher, you know that." You whisper and your brother narrows his eyes,

"They're all like that, and they take advantage of stupid people like you!" he shouts, and the dishes clinking in the kitchen stopped, but the water still runs.

"fuck you." You whisper, and Asher scoffs again, storming out of the basement before you can even find the words to try and defend yourself. You turn to the vacuum and turn it on, forcing it forward with a harsh shove as you bite back tears.

You end up skipping dinner, saying you can't sit across from Asher when your mother asks why. She brings you down a plate and you sit on the couch in the basement, shoveling mashed potatoes and whatever chicken dish she'd made into your mouth as you try and block out your brother's biting words.

You crawl into your bed, laying face first on the pillows, still in your jeans. You'd excused yourself much earlier than usual, slipping away from the bonfire Carole had helped Sarah and your mom set up. A few seconds later, you hear the sliding door to your room squeak open and shut, and Bob sits down on your bed.

"What's the matter?" He murmurs and you glance up at him.

"Got in an argument with Asher." You sigh, "and it's fuckin' eatin' at me."

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry." Bob lays down, bringing a hand to push your hair back from your face, "do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." You sigh, "though, Phoenix and I talked today about uh, about how the two of us were in high school. You and I. I told her and Rooster some stories."

"She told me she talked to you." He smiles, "didn't know you felt the same way I did when I left."

"Didn't know that 'bout you either, Robby." You sigh, scooting a bit closer so he can comfortably wrap you into his arms. The two of you lay there for a while in silence, breaths sharing the oxygen you pull from your cracked window.

"I think we were both mad about losing... this, after the kiss." he speaks softly, his eyes staring up at your poster-covered ceiling, "and that's my fault."

"Hey, don't completely blame yourself. I also didn't reach out after." You blink up at him, "we both kinda fumbled the ball there."

"Restart on that regard then?" he says, "because I don't think I can love someone more than I love you if I'm honest."

"I'm gonna agree with you there," you giggle and he smiles, bringing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. Almost like sealing the agreement. You don't mind kissing back if it means you sign your name on the agreement too.

The next day, luckily, is a lot easier. If you ignore the fact you aren't talking to Asher at all. And, luckily, it's easy to ignore, because your Dad is finally home, with your cousins, aunts, and uncles from New Jersey in tow. But even after greeting them, you find you only really care about pulling your dad into a tight hug.

"Hey, princess." He whispers, squeezing you back, "how's it been here?"

"Good. Everything's been good." You smile, and it's not exactly a lie. As the two of you talk, Bob is sitting with Phoenix at the table, when your dad finally spots him.

"Floyd!" He shouts and Bob smiles, pushing out his chair and standing to greet your father with a hug and a handshake.

"How're you, Liam?" he asks your dad and he shrugs.

"Better than I was a year ago now that I've got my stint." He smacks Bob's shoulder before leaning in, "Don't think I'm missin' the way you're looking at her. You finally grew some balls to flirt with her, eh Floyd?”

Phoenix nearly spits out her drink after that and you're smacking your Dad's arms to get him to go away as you laugh. Your father means no harm, Bob knows this, but the pilots are just gaining more and more ammo against him the longer he's here. Though it's a little funny, you'd rather not have all of the teases traced back to this party.

"Alright, alright!" Your dad laughs, walking over to his backpack that he'd set on the chair by the door. He grabs it and shuffles through it, before proudly presenting you with a box of blueberries, labeled Ocean Spray.

"You found them!" you smile, "Oh thank god!"

"Oh, are those the blueberries you got ages ago you haven't been able to find?" Bob asks and you nod excitedly.

"I'm not even huge on blueberries, but these are so fricken good and they don't sell this brand down here!" You complain, "Thank you!"

your dad happily accepts your hug, squeezing you tight, and when you step back and smile at him, you can tell he wants to ask more but your mother coming into the room takes his attention away. You share your stash of blueberries with the pilots, and when you eventually make your way outside to help set up some more decorations, you've convinced them all that Jersey blueberries are the best.

After dinner that night, you can Bob climb in your truck, tomorrow your mom's making some things that she hasn't already started, and finishing up the decorations. So, you've been tasked with getting some groceries and then going to a dollar store to hopefully find some cheap balloons for your mom. As the music plays, you let the wind blow your hair around, and Bob's hand rests on your thigh. When you turn to look at him at a red light, you realize he's already been staring at you and you chuckle as he leans across the bench seat to plant a slow, deep kiss on your lips.

you blush when you sit back and say, "If you keep kissing me like that, I'm never letting you leave."

"I wish it was that easy." He teases, squeezing your thigh, "but even with it not bein' that easy, I'll still kiss you like that every time."

"And I'll fall more and more in love with you." You smile, and he grins sloppily, bringing you into another kiss.

"God," He whispers, "please, make her fall irreversibly in love with me."

You laugh softly as he leans back when the light turns green, and as you pass through the intersection towards the closest Buc-ee's to your house, you whisper.

"I think he already heard that prayer."

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #bob top gun #top gun bob #robert floyd #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #lt. robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x y/n #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #all grown up twosroos

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miniscrew-anon · 6 months

Text

Merry Whumpmas - Day 3 "Fever"

Takes place a while after yesterdays

“Here. I got this for you.”

Shadow blinks blearily, one eye shut against the glare of the sun that streams in through the cracked window. He loosens his grip on his pocket knife and slumps back down into his bedding, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Block that light will ya? It’s killing me.”

Shadow listens as his visitor shuffles around the room, using some spare newspaper and tape to cover the window. The fresh air was nice sometimes but the summer heat wasn’t worth it. Especially not when Shadow felt like he was roasting from the inside out.

“Here.” A plastic bottle of liquid was placed in his hand. “Take this. It’ll help.”

Shadow glances down at the bubblegum-flavored liquid Tylenol. “Did you buy this?”

Link pursed his lips in a pout and averts his eyes. “No. I stole it. Just like you taught me to.”

“Yeah, right. Every store around here locks this shit up and you’re still shit at picking locks. You probably bought it.” Shadow says.

Link sighed with his whole body, throwing himself down into the cleanest corner there was in Shadow’s humble abode. “Does it matter how I got it? Just drink it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Shadow cracked it open and took a swig. Bought or not, he wasn’t going to waste something as valuable as actual medicine. This shit was gold around here. “How much was it?”

“Nothing. I stole it, remember?” Link sticks his tongue out childishly.

Shadow snorts. What a little shit. Why does he even let this kid hang out with him, anyway? “Fine, dumbass. Don’t get paid back.”

“You weren’t going to pay me back, anyway.”

Shadow twists the cap back on and shoves the bottle into his go bag. “You’re right. That’s what you deserve for buying shit you could just swipe. Live and learn, loser.”

Link, as usual, doesn’t seem to care about spending his money on Shadow. He just smiles like the cost of a bottle of medicine wasn’t the difference between eating once a day or going hungry for a week. It was as interesting as it was frustrating. What the hell was this kid doing working this job if he was able to just buy shit like this?

Once again, Shadow kind of wants to ask straight up. And once again, he swallows the urge and drops his head back into his pillow. It’s none of his business and Shadow isn’t going to make it his business. He doesn’t care if this kid wants to spend his own money or hang around with criminals. Shadow will just use this kid's naivete as long as Link lets him.

(And if he sometimes likes hanging out with someone who doesn’t want to stab him in the back? Someone who’s kind of fun to talk to and who doesn’t look down at him or see Shadow as competition? Well, that’s just a bonus.)

#hsh au #townhouse au #merry whumpmas 2023

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mto-art · 2 years

Note

HI IM REALLY SORRY TO SEND YOU THIS ASK BUT!!! In this case, Tylenol has ACTUALLY been linked to an increased chance of ASD as well as Autism in MULTIPLE peer reviewed and in at least one case, a 20 year long study of potential risks in child development!!! Autism isn't just a genetic disorder, it's a disordered that is affected by what you're exposed to during fetal development and early childhood!!

Is the lawsuit still stupid? Yeah. BUT PLEASE PLEASE DONT SPREAD MISINFORMATION ABOUT THE LINK NOT BEING TRUE!!!

This is sadly another case of medications affects on child development and ppl who arent white cis men not being properly studied!!! It's especially shitty bc Tylenol is actually one of the most recommended medications for pregnant people!!!

"The U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) is aware of and understands the concerns arising from recent reports questioning the safety of prescription and over-the-counter (OTC) pain medicines when used during pregnancy. As a result, we evaluated research studies published in the medical literature and determined they are too limited to make any recommendations based on these studies at this time. Because of this uncertainty, the use of pain medicines during pregnancy should be carefully considered. We urge pregnant women to always discuss all medicines with their health care professionals before using them." This only covers adhd but I found a study concluding there needs to be more research done on the autism part. Till I get more info from certified sources I'm gonna assume a tumblr ad is probably not trying to spread news on a possible link between using tylenol during pregnancy and autism as anything benevolent. Would love to be proven wrong in the future.

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sisitrip · 2 years

Text

Zago, The Vulnerable

.GIF by @mickeygifs

Here's the second installment on the Angie/Mickey friendship I never knew was needed. Link to the first part is here and third and final part here.

This was partially born from the scene (S3; E3) where Mickey jealously watches Ian and Ned having drinks at The Fountain. When Mickey confronts them, Ian says "Shit, Mickey. What're you doin' here?" I burned a track in my mind thinking about how Mickey might've responded if Ned hadn't creepily interrupted. For me, I settled on one Mickey response that I would've loved based on the scene below: "M'just showing up, Gallagher."

Warnings: Unbeta'd; length (y'all might need to rein me in); tiny slip into self-harm (so brief and working on it); a growing closeness between friends that is so nice to write 💛🖤

Tagging @energievie @chicanomick @jomilky @ianandmickeygallavich and @creepkinginc because you've been so encouraging. Thank you 😌.

____________________________

Mickey - 17 Years Old

Mickey helps Angie sit on the bed and wrestles with her for the brown bag of Crown Royal.

“The fuck, Mickey. Gimme my shit,” she complains, when he yanks it away. She’s not quite drunk, but is well on her way and with good reason.

He didn’t show up. Again.

That dismissive shit had rarely bothered her until him. Somehow, that asshole got her all the way fucked up.

“I’ll give you a fresh one if you don’t chill out,” Mickey says softly, lifting her chin with a gentle finger. “Just the booze or you back on that pill shit?”

She swats at his hand and grabs his wrist, holding on, needing contact.

“Told you. Been done with that shit for almost a year.”

Mickey nods and pats her face.

“I’ll get water and when I get back, be ready to open that trap and spill.” He gives her cheek a soft pinch.

She squeezes his wrist then lets go.

“Die horribly,” she says affectionately.

“You first,” Mickey laughs out. He walks away and she miserably yanks at her hair, willing the ache in her chest to go away.

She’s got to do something or this love shit is going to kill her. She needs to be lost in something other than her thoughts. Lost in someone. Even if it's for the briefest moment, she just wants to stop feeling.

There’s only one thing that helps when she needs to get out of her fucking head.

Mickey comes back and she locks her eyes on him, on a mission. Yeah, this’ll have to do.

“Ayo, I got some of that expired Tylenol from your bathroom. If you take three you-”

He chokes off as she slides to her knees and starts unbuckling his pants.

“Angie?”

He’s frozen, hands stiffly holding a glass of water and the pills. She’s got Mickey where she wants him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll use two fingers,” she says, determinedly pulling at his zipper. He’s not hard yet, but that never stopped her before.

She’s reaching into his boxers when the first stream of ice cold water hits the crown of her head. She yelps, flinching.

“What fuck are you doing?!” she snarls, gasping as the stream continues unabated. “You’re the one who asked me if I wanted to fuck!”

“You know what that's code for. Why are you acting brand new?” Mickey retorts, stepping back from her attempts to punch his dick into hamburger.

“You done?” he questions softly after she runs out of curses.

Wet, hurting and frustrated, she grabs her boobs and squeezes them hard, not knowing what else to do.

“Fuck!” she screams, miserable. She sags onto her side and curls up on the floor.

Mickey joins her, sitting against the bed and avoiding the wet spot on the rug.

He flicks the empty cup at her, spraying water droplets and laughs when she pinches him.

“Colin didn’t call, huh?” he asks gently after several beats of silence.

“Like I give shit if he calls.” Her watery sigh betrays her bravado.

“You need to cut him loose, Ang. I keep telling you. You can’t do worse, but you can do better.”

She heaves a wet snort. “You ain’t never lie.”

They laugh quietly and Mickey’s the first to sober up.

“You saw him? Ian?” he asks hesitantly. “What’d you think?”

“Barely saw him. But, you can't miss that hair. You undersold how red it is.”

Mickey shrugs. “Who knew that’d be my type.”

She sits up next to him, pushing her wet hair out of her face.

“Who knew that a coked out asshole wearing the underwear I bought him could have me so fucking strung out.” They snicker, leaning against each other.

Mickey’s phone rings and he bites his lip, a tell she’s come to recognize.

“Is that Red?”

Mickey gives her a stiff middle finger, but doesn’t answer the call.

She snatches at his phone, grateful for the distraction.

“Let's tell your little boyfriend how you love cooking.”

Mickey dives to the side protecting his phone from her grabby hands. “I gotta eat don’t I?” He’s wiggling and snorting, holding the phone out of reach.

She slaps a hand at his forearm and digs her knuckles into his ribs.

“Let me tell him how you describe, in detail, what he wears into the store everyday, and how you keep that security jacket on in ninety-degree weather because he said you look “official and shit.”

“Fuck off, Angie!” Mickey’s red-faced and laughing. “Never telling you shit again.”

In their scuffle, Mickey must have accidentally activated the call and the speakerphone because they both still when a voice speaks hesitantly.

“Mickey?”

The reaction in her friend is truly wondrous to behold. He literally uncoils, sagging into a dopey sweetness that makes her smile. He looks lit from within.

“What is it, Gallagher? Gettin’ my dick wet.”

Angie rolls off Mickey and sits back against the bed. Her friend is also ablaze with idiocy.

Mickey settles next to her, fighting a smile that seems to be completely controlled by his red-haired dick whisperer.

“Linda wants to, uh, to know if you're coming back to the store,” Ian says a touch too casually.

Even she can hear the lie as it trips out of Ian’s mouth.

“I’m on my lunch hour. Tell Linda, it’s a bodega, not a sweatshop. I’ll be back after this nut.”

She can’t help what she does next because she can feel the hurt wafting through the phone line as Ian responds, sounding resigned and confused. “I’ll tell her, Mick.”

She slaps the back of Mickey’s head hard and he scrambles to end the call.

“What the fuck’s your problem?!”

“You, Linda Blair. How fucking evil are you to fuck around with his feelings like that?”

Mickey rubs the back of his head, frowning.

“Sure you’re not projectiling or some shit?” he grumbles.

“Projecting, Einstein, and maybe! But, that’s besides the point.” She turns to him. “Stop actin’ like we’re fucking and just tell him you like him.”

Mickey looks out the window stubbornly. “Ain’t ready for that.”

“Then let him go.”

“Ain’t ready for that either,” he says softly, digging his phone into his thigh.

Another tell. Like her, Mickey hurts himself when he feels too much. They've been working on that. Together.

She pulls his hand away from the spot that’ll have a fresh bruise tomorrow.

“Whatever you decide to do, just try and show him how you feel. Give him something besides this confusing back and forth shit.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” he snarks. “Put his name in my notebook? Make him a mixtape?”

She snorts softly. “I don’t know you idiot. Maybe …,” she looks down at her wet shirt, speaking quietly. “Maybe just show up, you know? Sometimes just showing up is everything.”

Mickey’s looking at her and she can’t look at him. Not yet. Not until she does something about these stupid fucking tears that have been threatening all morning.

As always, he can feel her distress, so he quickly yanks her wet t-shirt over her head and mushes the wet fabric into her face, helping her hide her tears and her pain.

“Just show up, huh? Deep thoughts by Angie Zago,” Mickey teases as she pulls her shirt down.

“And you’re as deep as a puddle," she says lovingly. "Now get the fuck out. I got Mr. Patel coming over.”

Mickey hops up and extends a hand, helping her stand.

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking that dry cleaner asshole.”

“Nah. He’s coming for that ointment. The infection down there is almost cleared up.”

Mickey wrinkles his nose, still squeamish about her Amazon sex shop side business.

“You still getting that shit for him? Tell him to stop fuckin’ without a rubber.”

She shoves his shoulder. “And ruin my best income stream? I order shit for him at least once a month. Fuck that.”

Mickey chuckles. “Bad Bitch Angie. The neighborhood’s very own ‘down low/do dirt’ marketplace.” He reaches out and snaps her bra strap. “You should give me a cut. I started it all.”

She grabs him into a headlock, smushing his face into her wet shirt.

“You started shit, damn near literally. My fingers still smell like your ass and it’s been a year motherfucker.”

Mickey wiggles out of her hold and dodges her slap.

“You should be so lucky, bitch,” he laughs out. “See you, tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Steal me some more tampons.”

He’s stepping into the hallway when she stops him, forcing herself to do the one thing she'd been dreading for months.

“Mickey?” He turns back. “If you see him, tell that fuck I ain’t waiting no more.” Her voice is husky, but she gets it out.

Mickey’s face softens into sadness. He tilts his chin, holding his head up, waiting. With effort, she does the same, drawing her shoulders back and raising her head too.

“Good for you,” he says quietly, then leaves after winking at her.

When he’s gone, she finally lets the tears come. All losses, even if the person you’re mourning is worthless, should be acknowledged.

She changes her bra and t-shirt and by the time she’s done repacking the ointment for Mr. Patel into a Just For Men box, she’s no longer crying.

#Angie Zago #mickey milkovich #shameless us #gallavich #my fic

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thmgau · 1 year

Text

CHAPTER 1 - THE PROPHECY [wattpad link]

---

Long, long ago, a prophecy was foretold by Fate itself. A prophecy of good & evil, a prophecy of light & dark. One day, far, far into the future, 5 heroes will emerge & save the multiverse from destruction, maintaining balance between the goods & the evils of this world.

These 5 heroes, even though they may not show it or believe it, have strengths & qualities beyond their wildest dreams. Passion, hospitality, kindness, flexibility, patience... this was how Fate had described the prophesied heroes. Even though she had never met these heroes yet, she could see far into the future, & she knew these were the ones.

Now here we are: January 14th, 2023. 5 friends sat in an apartment complex, having a sleepover. They were eating snacks & talking about the logistics of whether Kirby could beat Sonic the Hedgehog in a fight.

“Sonic would just run out of the way, though!” Kalani said. “He’s, like, the fastest thing alive, right?” “But if Kirby inhaled him & got his powers, Kirby would be just as fast as Sonic is!” Juniper replied, taking a bite out of a pretzel. “Then they’d just be the exact same speed.” Cherry rolled her eyes. “It’s an unwinnable battle for both of them.” “If Kirby inhaled Sonic & spat him off of, say, a rooftop, there’s no way Sonic’s surviving that. Kirby wins.” Nora said. “Kirby’s too nice for that, though!” Leslie said, crossing their arms. “They wouldn’t even be fighting in the first place. They would be eating chili dogs together.” “Then it’s a contest to see how many chili dogs they can eat.” “Well, that’s just unfair for Sonic! Kirby would eat all of them before Sonic even had a chance to take a bite.” “Maybe Sonic just has a skill issue then.” “Sonic does NOT have a skill issue!”

Cherry yawned. “Damn, I’m tired.” “It is getting a little late. Maybe we should all conk out for the night.” Kalani said, checking the time on his phone. “Yeah,” Leslie mumbled, pulling a blanket over itself. “I’m heading to sleepies. Goodnight!” “G’night!”

The 5 of them soon fell asleep, all cozy & warm in the living room, & nothing questionable happened during that night at all.

That was a lie, by the way. Something very questionable & strange happened that night.

It was a dream. It didn’t feel like a dream, but it didn’t feel NOT like a dream, either. Not a lucid dream, & most certainly not a fever dream. They were simultaneously alone & together at the same time, standing before a shadowed figure.

The figure approached them, holding a necklace in its hands.

“Heroes of the prophecy,” the shadow’s voice echoed in their minds. “You have been chosen to maintain the balance between good & evil in this world, as decided by Fate itself.”

The figure held up the necklace. “The necklace will guide your way.” it said. “Find your way to the book. You will know what to do from there.”

As morning crawled its way into Cincinnati, Cherry, Nora, Leslie, Juniper, & Kalani awoke.

“Ugh, my head hurts..” Cherry grumbled, holding their palm up to their forehead. “Same..” Kalani yawned. “I had a really weird dream last night. There was this tall shadow thing & it handed me a necklace that looked kind of like a tie &-” “& it said to find some book?” “I- Yeah, it did.. how did you know?” “I had that dream too.” “Now that you mention it, I also had a dream like that.” “I did, as well.” “Did we all have the same dream?” “I guess so.”

Cherry sighed. “It probably means nothing. Juni, do you know where you keep your tylenol?” “Bathroom. In the mirror cabinet.” “Thanks.” She got up & headed toward the bathroom.

Leslie got up as well. “You all want some breakfast? I can make some if you want.” “That’d be awesome, Les.” “Alright, let’s see what Juni has in faer fridge.” it said, heading toward the kitchen. As it opened the refrigerator, a scream rang out from the bathroom. Everyone’s heads perked up.

“Cherry!” Nora called out. “You ok?!” “NO!!!” they yelled back.

The other 4 all rushed to the bathroom to see what the matter was. Cherry stood in front of the mirror, bottle of tylenol in her hands, & a red tie necklace around her neck.

“What’s wrong?” “The necklace!! Where did it COME FROM?” “Isn’t that the necklace we all saw in our dreams?” “Well, my necklace was green.” “Mine was yellow.” “Hey,” Leslie pointed at the mirror. “We’re all wearing necklaces too.” “Huh?”

Everyone looked at the mirror. They were, indeed, wearing almost-identical tie necklaces. Nora’s was yellow, Leslie’s was gray, Juniper’s was green, & Kalani’s was blue.

“Jesus christ. It’s like we sleep-walked our way to a jewelry store & stole these or something.” “Jewelry stores don’t sell tie-shaped necklaces.” “Well, where else would we get these?” “..maybe the dream wasn’t a dream?”

Everyone turned toward Leslie.

“What do you mean it ‘wasn’t a dream?’ We were all VERY MUCH asleep.” “You all remember that shadow figure from the dream, right? It gave us the necklaces in the dream, & now we’re all wearing the necklaces!” “That’s.. physically not possible.” “If it’s not possible, why did it happen, eh?”

“Didn’t the shadow figure mention a book?” Nora perked up. “The necklaces are supposed to guide us to some book.” “There’s tons of books in this world! That would take literally forever!” “If this so-called book is real, it would have to be relatively close to us, right? Whatever this shadow figure is wouldn’t hide a book in, like, Europe or something.” “You have a point. I guess.” “We should get some breakfast first, though, & there’s barely anything to cook with in your fridge, Juni.”

Juniper crossed her arms. “What, you can’t make a hotdog breakfast, Les?” “No.” “Well, where DO we get breakfast, then?”

The group thought about it for a moment. “Oh! I got it!” Kalani said. “There’s this new banana restaurant that opened up recently. We could go there!” “Banana restaurant?” “Yeah. Restaurant that sells bananas. & banana-themed foods.” “..doesn’t hurt to try, I guess.” “Alright! Let’s go!!”

#thmgau #the prophecy #WOOOOOO FIRST CHAPTER LETS DO THIS

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