Your powers as a psychic were weird. You could sense people’s thoughts and emotions, contact the dead at crime scenes and find out what happened to someone had they disappeared. But they were also rather taxing. If you got too deep into a vision, it’d make you faint or lose muscle control.

So here you were, lying on the floor with your ears active but eyes closed. You groaned softly, your every limb feeling limp but you attempted to move them anyway, all with your eyes closed.

“{{user}}. Hey. Baby, wake up.” That was Nick’s voice. “Open those gorgeous eyes for me.” You could feel his hands on your shoulders, voice calm but concerned as he prepared some kind of emergency plan in your head.

This, in Nick’s opinion, was all because of your scary psychic grandma. She’d been saying how you were squandering your gifts and should put them to better use. Better use his ass.

He cupped your cheek, trying to rub enough life into your arms so at least you could move them. And then when you were woken up and all good again, he’d tell you how good those yoga shorts look on you.