#so there's not a damn thing i can do except manage symptoms

[fastcardotmp3]

rockstar!robin, manager!steve, music journalist!eddie AU for funsies

On my first day shadowing her for this article, Robin Buckley tells me that her greatest fear in the world is not the massive crowds that flood arenas at every stop on her ongoing international tour, not the looming anxiety that her blooming success may be fleeting, not even a joke about how she worries this piece will make her look. No. On the day I meet Robin Buckley, she tells me the scariest thing on the planet is rabies. "By the time the symptoms set in, you're already dead," she says, walking with long strides towards her dressing room in the endless backstage of the Indianapolis Fieldhouse. "And I don't know about you, but death by raccoon is not how I want to go out."

I ask her if that's because it's not rock-and-roll enough, if such a mundane last stand doesn't match up with where she sees her life going these days, but the first thing out of her mouth in response is laughter.

She tells me maybe with a toss of her hands, asks me if I'm a music journalist or a shrink, and gets immediately pulled into a conversation about whether she's done rehearsing with her favorite guitar so it can be prepped stage left.

I try to stick around, try and get the inside scoop on how Robin Buckley prepares for a show, but I'm usurped by her fucking guard dog of a manager who fjsakdlfjaslkdfja FUCKING jesus CHRISTfsj

Eddie slams his hands down on his laptop keyboard and strains his neck back to look at the ceiling which is, quite frankly, an idiotic decision for a guy who gets motion sick on vehicles the size of, say, your average tour bus.

Don't get him wrong, he loves a good tour bus, loves the press van, loves the sweaty mess of a thing filled with people competing for clicks and desperate for the best quotes and--

Yeah, okay, maybe he doesn't love it, but if he's ever going to get enough notoriety in this business to write the sort of rock n' roll histories he grew up swallowing hole in the back room of his uncle's trailer, he has to go on a few shitty assignments.

Shitty assignments for alternative rock, one-hit wonders and their fucking hyper-protective managers who carry around lists of topics they're not allowed to bring up around Miss Buckley as if the girl herself isn't a goddamn open book.

How can the guy put a moratorium on her fucking home life if she herself sits down with the lowly press at lunch and twirls out story after story about her hippie parents teaching her how to roll a blunt when she was twelve years old?

How is Eddie supposed to write this damn article let alone his magnum opus if the advent of the internet has made managers and publicists everywhere so goddamn paranoid that Eddie has to use an anecdote about rabies as his hook?

Who is Steve Goddamn Harrington to tell Eddie how to do his job?

It's not that Eddie even wants to tear his little star apart; Eddie actually likes her contrary to the tension headache overtaking him on the ride between Indy and Columbus, but how is he supposed to prove why to readers if he's not allowed to say anything?

On his first day on this tour, Eddie had been forced to sit on this very bus and get a lecture from Steve Harrington, who has apparently been leading Robin's team from the small town get-go, and who is apparently God or whatever, and the thing is the guy's a prick.

He's downright insufferable, assumes the worst in people and expects their best behavior nonetheless, and Eddie can't stand his guts.

Except.

Except on day one of this tour, Steve Harrington gave them a terse lecture befitting a high school principal on the bus and then turned around and talked to the driver about his family for ten minutes before hopping out and going back to work.

And except, when they were in Chicago, he was screaming in some guy's face backstage and Eddie thought he'd discovered the real Steve, only to find out from a crew member later on that the guy in question was getting fired for trying (and failing) to hide a camera in Robin's dressing room.

And except, most of the time Steve Harrington is stern and bitchy and protective but the first time Eddie saw him talking to Robin before a show the two of them were laughing. Bright in ways that can't be faked.

Joyful.

Eddie looks back down at his computer and curses the man who is making this job so much more fucking difficult than it needs to be. Robin Buckley is a good story, without need for any embellishment.

Her start is interesting, where she comes from is interesting, her sound is even interesting despite its overnight popularity and worst of all Eddie likes her.

She's kind and open and smart as a whip-- apparently speaks four languages and is working on a fifth. She's got this sharp edge to her where she doesn't take an ounce of shit this industry throws at her and Eddie doesn't have to stretch to understand why her fans adore her.

God, he wants to write a good piece about this fascinating kid from Hawkins, Indiana, and he wants to write about the manager who she constantly reminds them she owes all her success to because how did that happen.

Eddie wants to be a fly on the wall when those two talk about ice cream, the weather, anything and he wants this article to be the one that gets him that goddamn book deal. Get Jonathan the high profile photog gig he deserves and Nancy the co-writing credit they've been dreaming of since college.

But there's still the guard dog in the way.

There's still Steve Harrington.

On the first day manager and good, Midwestern boy Steve Harrington introduces us to the star of the show, he tells us, "a toe out of line and I'll have your credentials stripped so far down the only paper that'll hire you has a whole page dedicated to Bible verses."

And as a good, Midwestern boy myself? I believe him.

Eddie thinks there's a story here, and he thinks he's the one savvy enough with loopholes to find it.

He's got three more hours 'til Columbus to figure out how.

#dot fic #dot post #steddie #stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things au #steddie au #have your saturday night ramble I had a thought threw it up and now it is yours peace and love <3 #i've never written quite such an AU au but i had fun with this!

[hotchlove]

Trustworthy | Reader X Aaron Hotchner

hi!!! welcome to my first one-shot fanfic :) i had a blast writing this and hope u'll have even more fun reading it.

• i take requests! plsss dm me or leave them here if u have anything fun you'd like me to write. it can be angst, anytype of trope, smut, etc. • PLZ NOTE: i ONLY do oneshots. they differ from long to short depending on the character and story. i do not write series! • trustworthy - 3.1k+ words (i got carried away D:) • desc.: - quite a bit of angst - probable inaccurate description of readers job - happy ending ♡

• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • •

it's been about five or six months since i've joined the behavioral analysis unit in the fbi. it's not like i've been counting the days...

who am i kidding? it's been exactly 191 days - whereas like 2 of those days my boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner, was actually nice to me.

those being my first two shifts.

on the third day, i had to make a spontaneous choice whilst on a case - one that, sure, was reckless and stupid and to quote hotch "unprofessional", but i managed to save many unpredictable lives with that choice.

we were on a case in miami, a state the team hasn't visited yet up until that day.

it was a 3h flight but it was a big case, so those hours flew on by as garcia briefed us. a 36 year old mother recently lost her teenage child to the hands of a drunk and supposedly has had hallucinations of her late child telling her to kill other kids, as revenge, i'm guessing - spooky, right?

i suggested manic schizophrenia - clear symptoms and obvious manic signs (the killings). that suggestion kind of cleared the foggy air on the jet. hotch gave me a nod of approval and i felt pretty damn proud of myself, it was only my third day after all.

on the third and last day, we finally cornered the woman on a traffic free highway. she had no where to run, agents were surrounded all around her - but she was holding a shotgun. the simple way out would've been having one of our federal snipers shoot her - but i couldn't let that happen. she killed the children of many, and letting her die a painless and simple death just didn't feel right.

i swatted the snipers away, the red laser that was planted on her forehead now gone. i throw my gun on the floor and pretend to surrender, hands up. "you remind me of my mother." i tell her, my arms up.

"Y/N." hotch warns me. his eyebrows furrow as he sees me now weaponless, basically staring the shotgun in it's eyes. i don't turn to him, i don't even acknowledge him. "she tried so hard to protect me." i say and walk tiny steps towards the woman, who now walks backwards to avoid me.

"stop! one more move and i-i'll shoot." no she won't. "she basically devoted her life to making sure i remain scratchless and pure." i chuckle.

"well, look how that turned out. i've got scars all over my body and a fun memory to come with all of them." i get even closer to her. "i know how you feel. i know how much you miss him." the woman cries and nods.

"i do. i really do. what did i do wrong?!" she yells and she points the shotgun at me. "i protected him like he was made out of glass, whilst other mothers - bad ones - let their kids wander everywhere alone."

hotch jumps a little seeing the woman point her hefty gun at me. "Y/N. move." he warns, his tone as stern as his expression.

i shake my head but don't look back. "other mothers - bad ones - still have their kids. and mine," her tears fall. "my baby boy got swept off his feet the only time - an exception - when he got to walk home alone from school." she cries.

"you're right. you did everything right," i reassure her and walk even closer, only 10 meters standing between me and the shotgun barrel.

"except you forgot one thing," i scoff. "teaching him to grow the fuck up."

bang.

the gun drops to the floor shortly after she shoots. morgan runs towards her, putting the metal cuffs on her wrist. he reads her rights and takes her to the sheriffs wagon that was parked just 2 minutes away.

the bullet didn't hit me - she had no idea how to take an accurate shot. god, she barely even held that shotgun - the weight of it almost holding her instead of the other way around.

"agent Y/L/N!" hotch runs towards me, i pick myself up. "we got he-" i get interrupted by him. "what is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"are you actually insane? i gave you a direct order to move. do you think of me as a fool?" he yells, his voice basically growling.

"excuse me? i just basically handed her to you." i say, offended he's yelling at me for doing my job. "and in the process you almost got your head blown off." he's even angrier as i talk back.

"head blown off?" i scoff. "hotch, the woman couldn't even hit a giant red target if she tried. it was a risk i had to ta-" he interrupts me again.

"no- no, agent. it wasn't. you put your life on the line to appear macho infront of everyone here." he puts his pistol in it's holder and crosses his arms, taking slow but sure steps towards me. "you took control of the case like you're a veteran - but actually, you're just a rookie that will probably quit in the span of 2 months because you'll realise you can't do this." he growls again. that one hurt. "badge and gun. you're flying back to quantico tonight. i'll put in a request for a two week suspension as soon as i am back." he holds out his hand, waiting for me to hand him my gun and badge. my eyebrows furrow. "what?" my mouth parts - speechless. "you can't be serious." i say, unsure if he is. he's silent for an entire minute.

so he is serious. i give in - i have to, he's my boss, so i hand him my badge and my gun. without saying anything, i walk away. leaving the crime scene, wasn't authorized to be there anymore anyway. and ever since that day, 188 days ago, aaron hotchner has got it in for me.

--

everyones sitting in the briefing room except me and garcia. i walk in 2 minutes late and excuse myself, "sorry, lost track of time." JJ nods and hotch says "you own a watch, don't you, agent?" his angry expression once again tainting his face.

god i'd pay a ridiculous amount of money to punch him just once. "yes, sir. will not happen again." i reassure.

no one calls hotch sir except me. it's kind of a unspoken rule - the others are close to him, which i am not. which i will probably never be, considering he still judges my mistake as a way to not trust me with anything.

garcia walks in just a minute after me "sorry, guys, kevin was blabbing and blabbing and i could not get him to shut up." she says and smiles awkwardly. "it's fine" hotch says. "everyone's allowed to be late - once." he raises an eyebrow and looks at me.

just one punch.

JJ briefs us on the case and tells us the local police department doesn't want us there - so she's going to have to convince them, which can take a day or two. i don't mind - i was honestly not in the mood for a flight today. everyone goes back to their every day business. files, reports, coffee and smalltalk in the kitchen - or for morgan and garcia, friendly flirting in her office.

me and spencer are both stirring a fresh cup of good ol' joe in the kitchen, talking - or well, he's talking - about some new physics crap. i just nod and pretend i understand.

the color of the beige wall behind him looks particularly interesting today. he keeps explaining and suddenly goes "BOOM!" his hands wide and i jump a little at the noise - spilling coffee all over my pink blouse. i look at him annoyed, "oh my god. i will murder you." he can't contain his laugh and bursts, "i was just demonstrating!" then goes running out of the kitchen before i can get to him. i sigh and look at my now brown blouse - this would be awfully devastating if i didn't have a go-bag. i place my almost empty mug in the kitchen sink and head towards my tabe - emily giving me a curious stare. "what happened to you?" she scoffs, "physics." i reply and take my go-bag, fishing out the only blouse i have - a white one.

emily just nods at my remark and goes back to her file as if it was the most normal thing ever. considering it's me - it probably was. i change in the ladies room and scrunch my coffee splattered blouse into a ball. standing infront of my mirror i realise how see-through this blouse is - especially with a pink bra that i wore just for the pink blouse. "you have got to be kidding me." my eyes widen. it's really not that bad, but it's noticeable. so noticeable HR might force us all into a "appropriate clothing" seminar tomorrow. i really don't have much of a choice so i walk out like that, hoping or praying no one notices. my hope is diminished when i meet garcia in the bullpen, holding her palm to her hand so she doesn't burst out laughing. "not a word, garcia." i look at her, my eyes shooting arrows. thank god for kevin, as he comes and pecks her lips, her surpressed laughter now gone like the wind. saved by the bell. or well, by a kiss. i sit down at my table and keep working on my reports - if i slouch down enough you really can't see it. i'm a great problem solver. a rough, deep voice calls my name from a distance, "agent Y/L/N, my office, please." hotch says standing in his doorway. my head drops in defeat - i really have no luck today. i grab the file i was working on and hold it on my chest, basically hugging it - it makes me look weird but not weirder than having my pink bra open for everyones eyes. i stand infront of his door, mumbling to myself about how i hate my life and knock twice. "come in" hotch says, his eyes glued to his computer. "sir. you wanted to see me?" he nods and tells me to sit down, still not looking up. and so i do, i sit down and keep hugging my file like it's gonna grow legs and walk away. he finally raises his head and looks at me. his eyebrows furrow at the sight of me holding for dear life on the file, "is that for me?" he asks. "huh?" the file. "oh, no- i just really like this file." i smile awkwardly and his mouth parts as if he wanted to say something more, but he doesn't. the embarassement i'm feeling right now could wash half the population off of the earth. "you're gonna have to be transfered to a different unit." he says and coughs, his throat sounding almost dry as he barely speaks that sentence. my eyes widen to 3x their size, "what? but i didn't do-" i take a breath. "i didn't do anything wrong? you're just gonna transfer me? just like this? wh- i don't get it." i rise from my seat not realising i let my file drop. he stares at my chest and then back to my eyes like 10 times till i realise. i heastily grab the file again, sit back down and cover my chest back up, "i spilled coffee on my other blouse." i explain. hotch sighs, "it wasn't my decision. strauss wants you gone." he coughs again. "i tried to convince her, agent." i scoff. sure he did. he was probably the first one to agree to the transfer. "you're joking, right?" i stand up once again, file still in my embrace. "i know you want me gone. i just know you were the first one to agree with strauss decision." i raise my voice slightly. "wanting me gone is one thing, so is transferring me - but lying about it? you're pathetic." hotch's eyebrows furrow. he doesn't seem angry, he just seems.. apologetic? "agent, listen to m-" this time i interrupt him, "i'm done listening," i drop the file on his table "here. it's yours now." i exit his office but notice in my peripheral vision that he stood up, as if wanting to follow me. all eyes are on me and how i storm to my desk, either that or my pink bra. but i don't care. i grab my bag and jacket, my files still scattered around my desk - but they're not mine anymore, so why should i care? "Agent Y/L/N." hotch calls and exits his office, i ignore him and just keep walking. "Y/N." he calls me by my first name now. i notice the elevator is about to leave so i ask the person in it to hold it, a hand splitting the doors as i manage to walk in just in time, aaron standing 10 feet away looking defeated. --

i took a cold shower as soon as i got home to calm my nerves. didn't help much but pretending it did helps. got myself dressed in a large shirt and some raggedy pyjama pants and poured myself a glass of red wine. then another one. i'm reliving today in my thoughts - why did i get fired from the bau? and why did aaron - sorry, hotch - lie? everyone knows he despises me and wanted me gone as soon as possible, and he did so, why lie then? i gulp down another sip of wine and hear a knock at my door. if this isn't the chinese food i ordered i'll be heavily disappointed. i open the door without checking who it is and see hotch standing infront of my apartment door, the arms of his dress shirt folded up to his elbows and his jacket held on his shoulder by his hand. he looks pissed. like always but worse. "what are you doing here? i don't need to transfer to another apartment, do i?" i mock him and cross my arms. "can i come in?" he asks with a stern expression. "why?" i look at him, awaiting an explanation. i'm not just gonna let my asshole boss into my apartment with no plausible reason. "we need to talk. please." his expression changes and my heart breaks a little. i don't know why. i hate him. he's rude and selfish and made me doubt my career. but i let him in anyways. i take a seat on a bar stool at my kitchen island, sipping on my red wine waiting for him to say what he has to say. "i didn't request your transfer. i didn't agree with strauss either." i scoff but he keeps talking before i can, "but i couldn't disagree either." i knew it. god this motherf- "you got offered a unit chief position." he says and my eyes widen. "it's gonna be great for your career. it's a better pay and everything." he walks towards me and chuckles, "you'd be in a higher department than me, and that within just 6 months of working at the fbi." my eyebrows furrow, he better not be playing with me because i'm believing every second of it. "i didn't want you gone. you're an amazing agent and we," he gulps. "i was so lucky to have you. but i can't deny you a promotion out of my own selfish reasons." my mouth parts as i inhale a small breath. this is.. unexpected, to say the least. "hotch, i'm so sorry for going off at you like that." he shakes his head, "don't apologise. i know how i've been treating you and it was unfair. and totally unprofessional." he takes small steps towards me, stopping just infront of me. he swipes a strand of hair behind my ear and my body freezes - his warm fingers slightly touching my ear, his gaze so soft. i've never seen him so vulnerable before. "i care for you. and even though i handled it poorly, i thought i'd lose you on just your third day." he exhales and his arms now cross. "i couldn't let that happen. so ever since, i thought going hard on you would cause you to be more careful, less reckless." his head drops and his eyebrows furrow. "i know it was selfish, and god did i hate seeing you on the verge of tears everytime i had to discipline you." he looks me straight in the eyes, they no longer shoot fire arrows, they shoot soft looks and quick smiles as his mouth curls a little. "i'm sorry, Y/N. and i hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me." he closes his eyes and leans forward, placing a kiss on my cheek. i stand there, still frozen. i don't manage to say anything but i notice him moving. leaving. he grabs his jacket and twists the doorknob on my door without a word. "wait -" i manage to blurt out and he turns around, surprised. i walk towards him in a very quick manner, basically sprinting. if me two hours ago was put in this position, i'd finally take swing at the punch i've been begging for. but i don't. instead, i cup his cheeks in my hands and kiss him.

he doesn't react at first, the kiss starting slow, but then he grips at my waist tightly and pulls me towards him. he grins into the kiss and it feels like he just wants to eat me whole. he's greedy, unwilling to share, like he's wanted this for a while. i break the kiss so i can take a couple of breaths, he doesn't let go of my waist and looks me in the eyes. "i'm really sorry" his thumb carressing my left cheek. "you've said that."

"not enough." his lips land on mine again, this kiss shorter, more like a peck. his strong arms embrace me and my head lays on his broad chest. "isn't this unprofessional? a boss and his subordinate?" i ask as he hugs me tightly, "you're not my subordinate anymore, though, uniet chef Y/L/N." i chuckle into his embrace and pull myself away from him, looking into his eyes. "what if i don't take the job?" his eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head, "you have to, it's an amazing offer." i shrug and look up at the ceiling. "maybe. i kinda like my current work place though, i'd be willing to go back. unless of course my snarky boss won't take me." i grin playfully and he kisses my forehead. "monday 8:00 o'clock. don't be late this time."

#aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #thomas gibson #fanfic #oneshot #criminal minds #bau team

[not-souleaterpost]

ENTP CRONA DUMP

Not going back on my word, just forgot to post a dump of "ENTP Crona" stuff I planed to just post all at once in a year, but after trying to stop doing stuff like that, I just thought I post what I had and be done with it.

, the thing even I don't really find funny, but I think I have to do it to get it out and book end it. A lot of it isn't really funny, some of it may sound a bit edgy or abrasive, but it's just in good fun, still putting it under the "keep reading thing" because of the amount and shittyness of the "content" Enjoy or yeah...sorry

ENTP Crona experiencing a soul rejection, screaming in agony because of not being able to deal with figuring out if "video games are art" or "video games aren't art" is the more contrarian oppinion at the moment

ENTP Crona reading shizophrenia symptoms on google "Wow, he is literally me"

ENTP Crona fleeing into the desert, going down a hole to cry

Ragnarok "Wait, the cow already killed Medusa a year ago, why we doing this bitch shit again?"

ENTP Crona "I posted a deliberately controversial and edgy meme into the group chat again, when they all see it, I wont be able to deal with how angry everyone will be..."

Soul: "You cant just nonstop spam shit on the internet, people will think you don't have a life"

ENTP Crona: "But I kinda don't..."

Soul: "Still writting on every single subject for 10 hours straight must be tiring and exhaustive, take a break"

ENTP Crona: "But I wrote everything in the last 5 minutes

Soul: "Heh, dont like partys either? Guess reading the room can be stressful even for somebody as cool as me sometimes-"

ENTP Crona "No, I can read it just fine, just then choose to say the thing that sets the roof on fire and regret it five seconds later.

ENTP Crona trying to figure out if Maka subscribes to the theory that Holden is a child abuser himself in "The Catcher in the Rye", only if yes, to arguee that not even the creep teacher was one and it is a misreading, and its actually about idk, read it in school so cant even come up with an explantion.

ENTP Crona trying to cheer up a crying Maka, after she got made fun of for liking bad music by Soul

"No, I like Speeding bullet 2 heaven too! Well except the Beavis and Butthead skits, even I am not that contrarian"

ENTP Crona curled up in the corner of the dark dungeon, not able to face the world, cause liking Ringo Star is to mainstream now but changing to hating him is just too painful...

ENTP Crona after everyone gets confronted with their lives just being fiction

"Well actually I prefere the anime ending"

But after mostly everyone agrees

"But, actually the manga works in a certain way afterall-"

ENTP Crona during the anime only scene where Maka and Crona talk about Maka's mom - its the same scene lol, remember those 4th wall breaking snide comments Crona barely managed to not blabber out loud lol

ENTP Crona "Marvel movies were allways bad"

Marie "Oh you aren't dumb and incompetent!"

ENTP Crona "Why did it took me 8 hours to put together the IKEA table?"

Marie "Oh dont be to hard on yourself, screwing in the table legs upside down could happen to anybody!"

Maka confronting Medusa: I'm here to save ENTP Crona and Mary!

Medusa: Nah, they both are still stuck in the maze going in circles

ENTP Crona after a tourist asks for directions in Death City: "I'll be honest, even though I am living here for years now, I myself cant deal finding my home without google maps"

ENTP Crona "I'm the Joker, baby! (Jared Leto version)"

ENTP Crona "-oh so a glorbo, or smol bean, cinamon bun is a charachter like Paulie from the Sopranos!"

ENTP Crona after trying to read "Finnegans Wake" "Damn, thats how high I still have to climb..."

ENTP Crona watching X:RA "Wow, I actually get 90 percent of the wordplay! This show is great!"

MGMT Patty : "Time to pretend..."

*ENTP Crona visualising all the different ways to take out and kill the people around*

Ragnarok "And I thought I was the psychopath! We aren't even eating souls anymore, whats guipi wrong with you?

ENTP "Grocery shopping is boring and I thought about the 3 different storys I'll never write down enough for one hour..."

ENTP Crona "-and that's why the metodology that is used to diagnose diseases by only relying on a checklist of data points that may have many different origin points is flawed

Stein "I am the doctor with 10 years experience, take your antibiotics prescription and get out!"

Stein, litting a cigarete after ENTP Crona goes out after apologising "Damn, the kid may be right, shit..."

ENTP Crona be like "Actually, I think Epstein is still alive"

ENTP Crona "Yeah Myerrs brigs and Horrorscopes are the same... Because they both actually are describing something and aren't completly wrong, if you know you know...

ENTP Crona actually getting a tatoo even though it is a stupid thing to do in general, because thats the only way to remember Maka's birthday. Cause aint nobody remembering more than 4 digits...

ENTP Crona using all experience and time to reflect, to start a dramatic uplifting speech that leads into Maka defeating the Kishin with a punch- Ah wait thats just what happened in the anime again lol

ENTP Crona: "I wore a dress for most of my life, yet that is not as embarassing as riding on an electric scooter"

ENTP Crona "Oh ofcourse I'm to scatterbrained and lazy to actually finish a webcomic, that's why I included an in universe callout by a charachter, so I will stay motivated out of spite and want of being better than those, proving the mean pixels wrong!"

ENTP Crona: -the setting being the aftermath of a nuclear testing site is a brilliant synedoche of our society pre and post world war 2, how the atomic age is nearly unrecognisable, being both so much more advanced that previous incarnations do not even look human in retrospect, while exagerating ourselfs into cartoon versions of ourselfs do to paranoia and stereotypes, shared faster and faster, that we soak up like Sponges, being the perfect worker and consumer in one - in a way thats Rock Bottom, the breakdown of communication, only restored by recognising the humanity of the other, even if they look at us with even more potent disgust than we already do.

Maka: Wait, I thought these iceberg videos were just supposed to list of fun facts and triva about Spongebob

ENTP Crona: What gave you that idea, Maka?

TERF Maka: I STILL hate J K Rowling

EC: "Borat is racist-"

M: "No the joke is that he exposes the prejudices of the common american person-"

EC "against Kazakhstanis"

M: "No no- wait... you are right..."

EC: "If MF Ghost was with the culture, it would have used Phonk instead of Eurobeat"

EC: "Where the fuck is Marioh Judah?"

*EC annoys excalibur into quitting*

EC :"Im like prince, everybody thinks In gay but actually im homophobic-"

EC: "Non-cellular phones actually had their purpose - like if somebody called them, you would either know nobody is home, or the person who answered could either inform you where the one you are calling is if you didnt reach the person or just find them - also the fact it was in the same spot ment nobody lost it and could allways find it when needed and it never ran out of battery, also-"

M: "If you don't like the phonecase I gifted you just say so...

R: "Dude, dont we still use mirrors for comunication"

EC "Think Im constrained by the limitations of canons?"

TRAD Tsubaki "Well they didn't make a sign of the cross in the church, so they kinda deserved being slayn by Ragnarok..."

M "Hey you are looking down, everything ok?

EC "Thanks for caring, but the thing is, to explain it all, all the connections and reasons and evidence would make me just look more weird and whiny, and this all, including the fact that I cant even say why I cant say without being whiny and long winged is part of it...

EC "I used trouble not descending into negative loops of self pity and disgust with myself and the world... But then I just developed a hyperfixation on not-having-hyperfixations"

???? Death: IDK

EC *reading the bible* "It even predicted people obssesing over lolcows with the whole golden calf story, damn...

EC: Rip Kissinger

EC: Slouching? No, I'm just posture-divergent

EC: I do love myself - one has to love even their biggest enemy...

EC in the future:

M: Are you really ready for children?

EC: I accidentally watched a trailer for despicable me 4, and after hearing all the pandering 80s song and repetitive family hinjix humor I just thought "Oh, how cozy would this be to watch with my Kids and Wife!"

So yeah, I CAN deal with it

#ENTP Crona #Crona #Soul Eater #Au #Soul Eater Au #worst thing I ever came up with #this is it #besides iceberg uploads and links #also by the end I abriviate entp crona to ec #includes a few bonus four letter modifiers for other charachters....

[lazydreamsublime]

Do You Pinky Promise

CH.3

Got Trust Issues, I admit it, Scar Tissue to Prevent The Pain That Waits

Summary: Things slowly return to normal, with the exception of Silco's now frequent visits. You can finally relax in your home - wait……no the hell they didn’t. 

Triggers: There is drug abuse, there is violence, different kinds of smokes and child abuse in this story. Please be mindful of the following content.

Silco x addict!f!reader

Graphic depictions of violence in this chapter!!

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter4

Another month has passed. Silco is visiting weekly now, mainly on Thursdays. He comes in, asks how you're feeling, if there's been any changes in work. Of course, he doesn't believe a word you say, so he inspects your hands and face to see any obvious signs of decline. He doesn't, and he leaves it be.

He’s actually declared that you’re fine now. Funny it only took two months to convince him. ‘You’re more capable than I give you credit for’ he said. He still visits though for some reason. Anytime you ask he just responds how it’s his facility, he’ll do as he likes. When asking the other Factory executives, they share that they rarely ever see the guy. So why you? Why Here?

Next to that, when you're working around him you can feel his eyes burning into your back. Yet when you turn around, he’s focussed on something else entirely. You swear he’s watching you. You can’t help but be paranoid around him.

Other than that, work has been steady. You have hired guns with every transport now, and none have caused trouble yet. Silco is still hesitant on your decisions, and if you're honest - so are you. Like hell you'll tell HIM that though. No, you just take extra precautions when dealing with them.

You pay them half at the beginning, and the receiving facility pays the other half when the cargo arrives. You've made sure everyone is clear on these rules, and they all agreed. It's been working surprisingly well.

Now, it's Sunday. It feels like it's been forever since you've had a break. It's also been a while since you and Sevika sparred.

Sevika has a friend who owns a gym. The equipment isn't in the best condition but it does the job. It's actually more foot traffic than you thought, judging by the crowd that was forming around you two.

Now, contrary to popular belief, you are a DAMN good fighter. Sevika may be bigger than you, but you've managed to make her lose her balance. And with that, all you had to do was make sure she stayed down. She's even tapped out a few times.

Between the two of you, it was a pretty even match. While she fights with brute strength, you fight her with her own weight. A trick your old man taught you before he up and left for topside.

By the end of it, Sevika won. You stand there, hunched over panting, as she accepts 'congratulations' from the betters in the crowd.

It was a fucking sparring match. What the hell?

You both sat down together now. Taking a smoke/water break.

You spoke up to her immediately though, "Hey Sev? Can you do me a favor in the future?"

"Depends."

"Don't give my pills to Silco anymore. If you can't show up, then I wait another day. It's not the end of the world."

She laughs at you, "It must've been pretty bad if it has you thinking of going a day without these things." She holds up a bag of what you can clearly see is two new bottles.

"Sevika, I still have the one. It's still full."

"Well, now you're ahead. No nasty withdrawal symptoms."

"People are gonna start thinking you're my dealer."

"At this point? Might as well be. Just be glad I don't charge you."

"And why don't you? This shit is a pain to get, it's all from topside."

"Hey, I make plenty of money at my current job thank you. Besides, I guess…you're supposed to go out of your way to do shit for stupid people like you."

……Was…was that?

"Was that your way of saying, you care?"

"That's my way of saying, I've seen how bitchy you are without your 'candy'. You not being that shitty is payment enough."

You laughed at that, agreeing with her. You weren't the best person when off your meds. But that was the closest you were ever getting to being called a friend by Sevika.

It was nice to know she felt that way.

Has nice as it felt, you did not like the sentimental feeling that is now looming over you. Topic change, now.

"You got any plans after this Sevika? Meet a nice girl? Get some drinks with her? Maybe spend the night at her place?"

She actually barks a laugh at that, "With my line of work? You actually thought I'd have time for that? No, unfortunately the boss is calling everyone in. We got some business to take care of."

"Wow, everyone needs to be in for that?"

"Sorry, I can't go into detail for why."

"I understand, just business."

Sevika gets up and starts getting ready to leave.

"What about you? Got any plans?"

"Mmm, thinking about taking Tammy out for a walk."

"Doesn't she just go off on her own now?"

"She does but everytime I come home she's whining and holding her leash. She misses going out together."

"God, you're such a sap."

You chuckle at her response and help her with her poncho.

"You still need to tell me what exactly happened with your arm. You haven't told me shit yet."

She looked right at you, "Just business." And walked away.

Back at the house, as you said before, your Saint Bernard, Tammy, was there holding her leash whining to spend time with you.

"I know Tamtam, let me look over these forums real quick and then we'll walk around."

Just because you weren't physically at work doesn't mean you didn't take some home. All you had to do was confirm the shimmer transport anyway. Shouldn't take long.

You were looking over the documents of the last transport when you got a gut feeling. When comparing your numbers with the neighbor factorie's everything added up correctly. So why was stockpile incorrect?

You kept looking until you got to the signature that passed everything. You knew EVERY managers signature, just so you knew if anyone screwed up.

THIS WAS FORGED.

You were beyond pissed that anyone would even try this. You grabbed your shotgun from the gun cabinet and turned to Tammy, who could sense that something was up.

"Want to play fetch instead girl?"

Silco was not a patient man. If a mistake is made he understands, but if it happens again he is not so understanding. When questioning the east side factory manager on why there was a shortage of shimmer coming from here, he was met with nothing but a confused look.

Sevika held the man down in his seat while Silco drew out a knife from his jacket.

The man started talking quickly, "I-I don't know! Everything has always been in order!"

"Mistakes are already an annoyance. Ignorance is unforgivable."

Before he could start cutting, the door to the main office is kicked down. There you standing with a double barrel shotgun and a Saint Bernard at your side, baring it's teeth.

You look at him, then at Sevika. "THIS is just business? Torturing my coworker?"

Silco jumped in before Sevika could retort, "Leave. This does not concern you."

Silco turned back around facing the manager again, only to now realize just how upset you were.

"Actually asshole, it does. More than you think. So how about you move the fuck aside while I deal with this problem."

He whipped back around facing you again after that, with a look that could kill. That doesn't even make you hesitant.

"He's not the guy you want anyway! All the more reason for me to take the reigns, since you're obviously way to impatient to follow the obvious thread that'll lead you to who you really want. So move aside asshole, before I make you."

Your dog barks at him while you walk towards the terrified and confused man.

"Sorry about all this Gary."

"Can you just tell me what's going on?" His voice was far too shaky to be taken seriously.

You threw some papers in front of him on his desk. Silco recognized them as the stockpile and cargo docs.

"Tell me who was in the inbound position and in charge of this truck."

Gary looked over the documents you tossed at him. Silco couldn't help but note how intimidated the man was of you. He can't help but wonder what else you've done.

"This - this was Dan. He was stationed there then - I didn't sign ANY of this!"

"I know." After your curt reply you start walking out, "Tammy, nāc."

The dog follows her out.

Silco follows closely after you, only for you to hop off one of the catwalks to roll onto the ground floor. When he looks down he sees four other people with you.

One was Santos, your secretary of sorts. Another was a bulky one that was holding down a man in a chair so he couldn't leave, much like Sevika was with Gary. Only difference is this poor sod had his hands bound as well. The last two you brought with looked to be paramedics. Of course they didn't have the attire, but the equipment they carried hinted at medical support. And this was taking place in the middle of the factory. In front of everyone.

Just what were you planning?

You approached the man in the chair - who he assumed was Dan - with this slow menacing walk that had even him on edge.

In a different way from everyone else, he's sure of that, but still on edge.

He saw your pet catch up with you, after taking the stairs, and take it's place at your side again. He decided to follow it's example and rush down the stairs as well.

He HAD to see what happened.

"Well would you look at that Dan! That's two against one!" He could hear your voice from the stairs, you sounded unhinged. He moved faster.

"You're really taking Gary's word over mine!? Hotshot, we've known each other for years! The fact you don't trust me on this hurts my feelings-"

"I'm giving you two chances, but you won't like it once we get to the second."

Silco had made his way through the crowd and got there just in time to see you place the barrel of the gun on top of his left leg.

“Who did you sell it to?”

Dan looked at everyone around him with a forced smile, "She isn't serious everyone! She's a jokester like that! It's just a thing of ours! Everything's fine-!"

The second a loud boom was heard, Dan's leg was nothing but chunks of flesh on the floor amongst a pink mist.

Blood splattered over five feet away into the crowd, gore dripping from people’s hair. Eyes were wide in horror at what they just witnessed. Silco’s was more shock than horror.

He looks at you again, noting the uncaring look in your eyes as you gazed at the man screaming in pain and agony. He can’t even make himself care about the noise. He was fixated on you. Covered head to toe in the blood of a traitor, how tall you made yourself stand over his squirming body.

He can’t help but admire you. You’re breathtaking like this. You’re beautiful.

You’re powerful.

The women holding Dan down had to use more force after the shot. He was squirming in all different ways screaming. She was glad you tied up his hands.

You smacked your hand over his mouth to shut him up. “I warned you, didn't I? You wouldn’t like it?” You crouch down and squat in front of him, your hand still on him.

“Let’s try this again. Answer my question, and those guys over there will patch you up.” You gesture to your ‘doctors’ standing to the side. “Otherwise we can leave you here to bleed out.”

You take your hand back and he immediately starts screaming a name, almost hysterically.

“BRENT!!! IT WAS BRENT!!”

Everyone in the room felt the air change instantly. No one knew why, no one but Silco. He remembers the spy he sent out relaying to him what happened. He remembers that name and what it means to you. You look ready to snap.

You raised your hand and snapped your fingers. Medical assistance came over and started on patching his le- eerrr, nub.

You stood up again, whispered something to Santos, walked away and out of the building. Tammy followed.

And so did Silco.

You walked down empty streets alone, until you heard your name from behind. You turned to see Silco walking towards you.

“If you came here to lecture me on my methods, save it for morning-”

“I planned on nothing of the sort.”

“....What do you want, Silco?”

He paused, he didn’t really know what he wanted right now. He just needed to speak with you. Ever since the beginning, he’s wanted something. It’s why he’s made the excuse to check on your performance, why he teased you with your addiction, and now making random visits to the factory. He wants SOMETHING, but he doesn’t know what. Just a chat? You don’t look much in the mood for that.

“You knew the colluder?”

“He at least wasn’t lying about that. Yeah, we knew each other for years. He’d always get in trouble and I’d bail him out. There were times where he’d help me too. I don’t know when or how things changed though. But now I think I have more of an idea.”

Right. Brent. He had a feeling you’d be going after him, and he won’t be able to stop you.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

He didn’t realize he’d been staring at you.

“Look, I’m really fucking tired tonight, okay? Can this wait another day?”

You start walking again and he just watches. He doesn’t know what to say to you, to at least ease the pain.

Wait.

You hear your name again and turn around once more, looking more irritable. You don’t say anything.

“You’re not the only one to feel the pain of betrayal.”

Once he said that, he could see you struggling to keep it together. He could see you brows curl up more, eyes watering - you look away so he can’t see you breaking on the inside. He understands. And yet for some reason, he puts his arms out. Not real wide, but enough for an invitation.

You look at him confused, all he says is, “No one should know such suffering. Especially alone.”

In a moment of weakness, you run into his arms. You hold on to him tightly crying your eyes out. You’re very quiet, refuse to show more than you already have. He doesn’t mind however, the feeling of want he’s had for two months now has finally subsided - at least slightly.

So here you two stand, hugging each other, in the middle of a lone empty street. With Tammy looking up at you both with her head cocked to the side

#silco arcane #silco x reader #silco my beloved #silco x oc #silco x you #silco x y/n #silco fanfic #it's midnight #I got it #silco and jinx #sevika

[incompetentmedic]

So I finished watching the last episode of Demon Slayer last night, so here are my thoughts on the entire anime as a whole

[OBVIOUSLY MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD]

God that ending. Fuck. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a show successfully get me to fucking beg for a dumb bullshit plot armor deus ex machina before. I don’t care if it made no sense I don’t care if it’s bad writing I’m just happy Nezuko survived. And the sheer amount of skill it takes to make me care about a character that much is impressive.

I’m kind of sad that we didn’t get any filler in the latter seasons. I would’ve loved to see how the relationship between the main 4 changed during and after each major arc. Also I want more yaoi moments.

Jar guy’s final form is honestly kinda hot

I could write a whole essay on how effectively the writers utilized unreliable worldbuilding to show us that demons are all evil and Nezuko is the only exception, then slowly lead us to the conclusion that nonviolent demons have always existed and purposely make themselves as invisible as possible. I cannot stress enough how good the worldbuilding in this show is

I appreciate the lengths that the series goes through to humanize it’s villains and show us how the demons are pushed into lives of violence as symptoms of larger systemic issues

That being said, the “sudden backstory montage right before the monster of the week dies” starts to feel a bit lazy after the 10th time they do it. I understand that all these character backstories couldn’t succinctly fit in the first season, but it leaves us with a lot of deaths that could’ve been a lot more impactful if we had been introduced to these characters earlier. I’ll have to read the manga and see if it’s handled better

On the topic of lazy writing, I’m really not a fan of Zenitsu’s whole “sleep transformation” thing. It feels like a gimmicky way to get out of writing character growth

Back to the good stuff now. 52 episodes and the main character does not fall in love with a single person. Aros everywhere are celebrating

When I first heard the premise of the entertainment district arc, that the 3 male main characters disguise themselves as women to infiltrate a brothel, I was completely ready to drop the series. But if I’m being honest, they handled that arc just about perfectly. I obviously can’t speak for the transgender community and maybe I’m just ignorant, but the whole arc seemed pretty supportive of the concept of changing your gender. I’d argue that Zenitsu seemed a lot more happy and fulfilled as a girl than they did as a boy. The series also has one of the best depictions of sex workers I’ve seen on television

Everything in mugen train was literally perfect. I wouldn’t change a single thing about it. I hope whoever wrote that arc gets $750,000,000 in the mail and free gourmet meals forever.

I love Inosuke’s gay ass crush on Tanjiro. King shit

I complained about Zenitsu’s character arc earlier but I must admit his writing in the spider forest mini-arc was fucking phenomenal. We love it when comic relief characters experience personal growth and start to carry serious narrative weight

The way that Nezuko speaks at the very end. She speaks slowly and abruptly. She can only manage a word or two at a time, and even then only simple ones. It takes her 3 whole attempts to say her first word. Its so god damn impactful watching her stumble through speech after spending so long being physically incapable of speaking. I love that scene so much

I really hope we get a season 5. I want to know where tanjiro and Nezuko go from here. Do they stay in the corps? Do they settle down to a peaceful life, now that Nezuko is, in most respects, functionally human? Or is Nezuko not content with her current state, leading them to continue searching for a total cure? How will the more skeptical and conservative hashira react to knowing that Nezuko, who they already consider a liability, is now powerful enough to withstand direct sunlight? How will her relationships with Inosuke and Zenitsu change? All of these questions would be answered if I read the manga but I’m too lazy to do that so I’m gonna have to wait for the next season, if they make one.

Overall this was one of, if not The Best, shonen anime ever made

#long post #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba

[saurychan]

Loving your half-spider boyfriend

Peter parker x Flash Thompson

previously posted on Ao3

The plan had gone smoothly. Well except for the part where he had had to use his powers a bit to much and now...

Peter had managed to escape into the sewers as soon as his part of the mission was over. None of the other avengers had seen him and no civilians had noticed the spider-person crawl into his Queens apartment. Now it was just the matter of waiting out the clock.

Peter felt awful. He looked awful. These clothes were uncomfortable and really really revealing. He went deep into his closet looking for a new sweater to wear. One he didn't like, so it wouldn't matter if the act of putting it on kind of shredded it. 

Unfortunately the sweater got stuck halfway on and the threads were wool. So they snagged on every point. Peter flailed trying to get the damn thing on, accidentally ramming his shoulder into the door.

Flash Thompson, Peter's former bully turned roommate and boyfriend was just getting home at 4 in the morning. He had arrived from the airport and was very tired. The study abroad trip had been cancelled early due to complicated SHIELD reasons.

He had just entered the main living room of the mid sized apartment (a stark industries apartment rented to employees like Peter) when he heard the thump followed by a muffled grunt. Flash knew two very important things: one, Peter was Spider-man. Two, being part Spider made Peter do odd things. Like the one time he had spun a cocoon because the heater wasn't working. So a random thump from Peter was both expected and still minor concerning. Flash moved as fast as he could, crutches supporting his weight as his suitcase thumped heavily on the carpet forgotten.

"Peter whats-" He didn't get the rest out as he opened the door and saw something monstrous. Peter stood there in his full mutate horror.

Peter was slightly larger, more muscle and height pushing on his enlarged frame. His hair was wild and curled ending in sharp points. His limbs seemed longer, extremities fading to black with stiletto claws on the end of each finger and toe. His arms, shoulders, and legs bristled with long sharp black spines that poked through the loose weave of the sweater. His ears were smaller and pointed, also fading to that charcoal color. Four pairs of pure black eyes sat in two rows vertically across his face and his mouth had extended and formed into hard sharp fangs.

"GET OUT!" Peter screamed pushing Flash out of the doorframe. Then he slammed the door shut and sank to the ground behind it, his face in his hands as panic set in.

Flash sat on the floor in a daze for a few seconds blinking. What had he just seen?

Getting up proved to be not possible, so he crawled until his hand was on the door. Peter felt the vibration, of course he did. He just screwed his eyes shut harder and growled. "Go away."

"Peter-"

"No."

"I just want to help with- help you."

"You can't help me."

"But I want to. Please just tell me what's going on."

Tjat plea made it thru just a bit. Peter sighed in defeat and placed his head on the door. "This is just... a part of my mutation. Most days I can hide them well enough but tonight's mission... I had to use my claws and it just started snowballing."

"Oh," Flash spoke slowly, his mind processing Peter's situation, "so its like a flare up?"

"uh- wuzzat."

"A flare up, its- I get them. Its when your symptoms spike. Like for me, my legs are never really pain free nowadays but somedays I can still walk and stuff but then the next day I need the crutches to get around." He shifted, sitting on the floor may not have been the best idea. "And you know, doing stuff in your day to day affects whether or not you will get a flare up."

Flash then made an effort to grab his crutch. Using it as a pillar, he hoisted himself back upright and slowly made his way back to the couch in the living room. "Sorry floor was getting to hard."He said just loud enough for Peter to hear.

No one spoke for a while as both men just sat. Then after maybe twenty minutes Flash decided to open his phone and social media, to let the rest of his friends (which wasn't many) know that he was back in New York. Then he just scrolled for a while.

Another thirty minutes later the bedroom door opened. Peter cautiously walked out and curled next to Flash on the couch. The spikes bent and moved so even though they were really sharp they didn't do more then lightly prickle Flash's skin. The currently taller boy nuzzled into Flash's blond hair and left a small kiss before moving to rest his head on the others shoulder.

The blond's face glowed with a blush as he turned towards peter. "Was that my thank you?" he lightly teased.

Peter hummed in agreement and looked back at him. Flash noticed that his eyes had changed. Before they had all been solid coal, but now there were two distinct kinds. The first were what were probably Peter's human eyes, now had his green irises reasserting themselves from the inky backdrop. The rest had remained solid, but he could see all the little compacts spread across the surface, catching and reflecting the light like six mirror balls.

They stayed on the couch the rest of the night. Eventually Peter and Flash dozed off, stirring when Peter returned to his regular size but not waking. Though in the stirring they did shift to actually laying on the couch, on top of each other with Flash as little spoon.

Flash was the one to wake up first, checking his phone for the time.

11:30 am.

he looked at Peter, who was now fully human again. The sweater was really distressed, to the point of having gaps and undone threads just everywhere along the arms and shoulders. Lesson learned, sweaters and spikes don't mix.

Peter groaned at the loss of his warmth as his eyes cracked open.

"Good morning handsome." Flash smiled warmly.

[frozenrose13]

feeling very pacing gnawing at the bars of our "cage" etc etc

feel so very trapped; we did acknowledge would make symptoms worse by finishing desk bins and decided to do so anyways and it *was* in fact worth it but fuck i wish it didn't have to be like this i wish we could just *do activity* without first having to make sure we'll be okay with making things worse later. and used to be would be next day impact then was hours now is *while* we are still doing the (even short!) activity and lasts way longer after. remembering that months - years conversation with dr.

cant help think, if we could change the outside factors that made existing in our spaces difficult/not doable would we feel less trapped? how much of trapped feeling is needing to do brainwork around our wheelchair and how much is reasonable response to unreasonable situations? especially when we are content with using *a* wheelchair. we can be content with using a powerchair. we have (mostly) accepted where we are at and what our limitations are. but the flip side of that is we *know* what our limitations are, with a handful manageable exceptions, and there is so much more we could be living. makes us miss our manual wheelchair makes us miss our rollator. its not the specific aids we miss its missing how we could engage with our life with the limitations. and yeah the limitations are a lot different now but, it is still possible for us to live a life we can be content with within those limitations. we've done a lot of work with "what makes us happy" "what makes life enjoyable for us" "how do we make living worth it for us" and we know a decent chunk of answers to those questions. we *could have* options.

its the. artificial. of the limitations. its the, we could probably cook with help if we could reach the stove + counters, if we could access the fridge. we could probably manage our fatigue symptoms more effectively if we didnt have to transfer any time we want/need to be in a different room. we could probably fix the sleep habit problems if we could *access our own damn bed*. i dont doubt our pain would be more manageable if our wheelchair wasn't literally causing it to be worse. hell even going out would be more doable if wasn't so potentially hazardous with driving from the joystick/console/electronics problems or getting hung up on curbs or having to throw our weight around to prevent getting our chair stuck. some of that is gov accessibility obvs but the rest is entirely about the mechanical problems with our wheelchair.

and what sucks too is, this was the correct option. at the time. we needed something light + easily transportable by car with an okay price tag. and we didn't have the information we would have needed to make a decision that would have been more able to be used by us for longer. at that point we were still being told we could recover to where was previously. we were being told we wouldn't get worse if we managed our symptoms, and powerchair was a huge part of that management. but was expecting once it started breaking down in ways we couldn't fix, we'd be able to at least go back to manual wheelchair.

to be fair though, think 4 (?) years is a pretty decent amount of time to get out of a cheap off brand powerchair (that we *are* admittedly pretty rough on).

losing train of thought whoops. trying to think in complete sentences is making brain melt faster : /

[imafoolishfragilespine]

sometimes it’s just like damn you should not be on social media you’re just gonna get your feelings hurt

it’s always like damn i know people are generally busy so one hangout posted online does not mean i’m actively being excluded or anything but it seems like every time i DO see people they’ll mention other recent hangouts and it’s like hi what i go months without seeing anyone and no one asks me anywhere? especially now when i’m like uh hi my entire life might be fucked i’d like to do normal things while that’s still a possibility not that anybody really knows that that’s where my head is at so it’s not their fault but. i’m scared and lonely lmao, wheras usually it’s just lonely

and it’s like they always seem genuinely happy when they do see me so it’s not like they don’t WANT to hang out and i know i don’t put in enough effort but it’s so hard especially now. like damn i keep telling myself to check in on my friend who just had a baby and i can’t even manage that when i think well, there’s a chance i’ll lose my normal abilities haha how can i expend energy on anything else while i’m in limbo.

bc idk last time i saw my friend he talked about the issues with another friend but he would clearly see her regularly and so it’s like....why not me. was she the one always making the plans and that’s why? bc i can’t exactly make plans when i live with my parents. of course right now with feeling more shitty than i already had since all my symptoms started, i’m a little nervous about breaking away from routine anyway bc that’s about all i can manage and i’m scared i may not be able to continue even that, i just don’t know! and he’s the only one i’ve told about what’s going on anyway, so like no one else outside of my family knows how afraid i am and even they don’t really know bc i’m not acknowledging the change in symptoms lmao

but anyway it’s just been an issue for years and you can’t just be like hey why don’t i ever get invited to anything except like. birthday or maybe other holiday parties skdfks like i know i felt this same way in high school but at least i WAS getting time in with my friends back then and even somewhat in college bc we made a point of it whenever i was in town. but since then it’s like....so very little. and i know i at least used to be inclined to say no bc of my introversion when i wasn’t in the mood but now it’s like oh my god i would go out several weekends in a row with the opportunity that’s how desperate i am. and again, of course no one knows i feel that way but it’s like...do you not think it’s weird to have hangouts however often you do and virtually NEVER ask me? and i’ve said before idk who really makes the plans, i just know i don’t get asked. i know that i spend virtually every weekend at home and sure i do need to relax and be alone but not every weekend.

my life just feels so fucking pathetic and every time my friends ask something about one of my friends i don’t know anything bc our only conversations are usually just like someone sending something funny or whatever, nothing of like substance most of the time. and of course even those conversations are few and far between with most of the people i call friends. so sometimes when i go a long time without seeing them like this i’ll be like.....can i even continue calling this person a friend. especially after what happened with reece where i had no idea anything was wrong, i just figured we hadn’t talked in a bit and that was all, and apparently she was pissed at me for not making enough effort. and like i said, i know that’s a problem, but most people don’t reach out that much either. and even then a lot of the time it’s truly just like five messages and then it’s dead and i’m just not good at holding a conversation over text, not that i’m much better in person, but STILL

i just think of how i must look to everyone around me, what my parents see with someone who can’t get her life together and never socializes, what my friends must see with someone who’s still working for her dad after all this time even though she never wanted it...and i wanted this year to change at least on that front and then my body decided to attack me and it’s already hard enough thinking of what i really want in life under normal circumstances, plus the real fear: how to get there, so i absolutely have not been able to consider working on any of that this year as i had originally planned, and the time keeps passing, but....since i think hey, my entire body might fucking fall apart, well, i may not be able to work, so why bother wasting my time thinking about it until i know what’s gonna happen to me in the next months/years

anyway like...it’s just nice to know i’m being thought of and i get those moments here and there of course, and i know everybody’s got their own stuff but i’m just like. please god just ask me to hang out and do nothing i don’t caaaare what it is i just wanna get out of the house sometimes

#personal

[angry-geese]

OSHA Non Compliance

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: nsfw/minors do not interact. shameless smut. fingering, oral (fem and masc receiving), face riding, praise kink (kinda), multiple orgasms, mutual pining. gojo slander. a little dub con due to the sex pollen stuff. afab reader

Notes: some sex pollen smut with Nanami. i have a post thats pretty similar to this thats a gojo x reader which you can read here

Word Count: 3.3k

If there's one thing you two can agree on, it's how this is all Gojo’s fault.

The job was supposed to be simple; get in, exorcise the curse, get out. It wasn't a particularly deadly one, but it was proving to be difficult for lower grade sorcerers. Anyone who had come into contact with it fell violently ill, suffering effects that lasted between hours to days. The symptoms themselves varied from person to person. Nobody seemed to give a straight answer.

In response, you two were sent out.

As odd as it was, you didn't question it. Curses are odd, things like this happen. Two grade one sorcerers should have been enough to take this thing out. One alone should have been enough, not to mention the army of sorcerers sent after it before. Gojo wanted you to take backup just in case, shrugging you off when you asked why he couldn’t do it himself. You were certain you could take this alone, but he was insistent.

Reluctantly you dragged Nanami along.

The two of you weren't officially partners, but most of your jobs were done together. It was a mutual agreement. He found you much less annoying than Gojo. That's not to say he didn't find you annoying at first, but you were more tolerable. Nanami wasn’t much older than you—only by a few years—but he acted as a mentor when you first started out. You quickly improved, nearly rivaling him in strength. It wasn't long before you became a grade one sorcerer, same as him. On that day he was there to celebrate with you.

He likes to think you’ve turned out to be a semi-functional human being. Maybe he’s gotten sentimental as he’s grown older. He hated for his work life to cross over into his home life, but he’s made an exception for you. Any time you’d call, he’d come running.

The curse had taken up residence in an abandoned school, only being discovered when the building was being surveyed for possible reuse. You’re not sure why nobody had noticed it sooner, but you’ve learned not to question a curse’s behavior.

It’s attack had a strange area of effect. You've never seen anything like it. The fact that such a non-lethal curse was considered such a high grade should have tipped you off in the first place. The curse released some strange sort of fumes. Or spores. You really weren't certain what they were. It was airborne and you knew that you needed to stay far away.

While the direct hit missed you, you were still affected. You took in a lung-full of the stuff before you managed to get away.

If it weren't for Nanami…

You barely make it back to the car. You’re not injured, so much as you’re lightheaded, and nauseous.

“I’m not going to make it back to the school.” You say.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

Slowly you shake your head. It's not wrong, per se, but it's not right either. This is a strange type of hurt.

Your apartment is closer. The drive was twenty minutes on the way there; you make it back in about eight.

You’re not sure what to do once you get inside other than contemplate your life choices. You toss your keys and bag aside. There's not much you can do aside from flop down on your couch and pray. Not that you’re the praying type normally, but what could it hurt?

The effects of the pollen seem to hit you all at once. The sickly sweet taste in your mouth makes you gag. You fall to your hands and knees and retch, but nothing comes up. If you thought you felt bad before, you definitely do now. Sweat beads on your forehead. You feel jittery, yet lethargic. Heat radiates off your skin like a furnace. Your mouth has gone dry. Your clothes feel too tight. You’d claw them off your body if your partner wasn't sitting a few feet away.

You swallow hard as heat begins to pool between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, trying to get some relief.

While you’re slowly losing it, Nanami looks fine. As calm and collected as ever.

Nanami didn't seem to get the brunt of that attack. Or maybe he's better at hiding it than you.

He is.

He’s been dealing with an aching cock since you two left that building. He was all-too aware of every corner and bump on the ride home. You were too busy trying to escape with your dignity to notice him, and the tent that grows in his pants. He covers his lap with his suit jacket. You think nothing of it.

He studies every dip and curve of your clothed body. They cling to your skin with sweat in a way that makes his cock throb. Nanami knows how wrong it is. He shouldn't feel this way. You're his damn partner! Looking at you this feels so wrong.

In an attempt to comfort you, he smooths a hand across your back, gently squeezing your shoulder. Sweat beads in your hairline. Your chest heaves.

“I don't think it’s something we can wait out,” you say, swallowing hard.

“What are we-” it’s as if he didn't realize what he was asking. His eyes go wide, before his gaze shoots straight to the ground.

“‘Ken-” You say, hoping he can't hear the way your voice trembles, “I feel like I’ll die if you don't touch me.”

It's with a sinking, horrifying feeling that he agrees. Slowly you climb into his lap. It feels wrong. But your body fits perfectly against his. He’s your partner—your friend—you shouldn't be wanting him this way. He’s pliant against your touch, moving with you, paying close attention to each and every one of your movements. Every cell of your being wants him to fuck you.

“I know.” He says. “Me too.”

He hauls you into his arms, setting you down on the couch back-first. The sudden weightlessness you feel makes you gasp. There's nothing gentle behind his touch. Your hands work to undo the buttons of his shirt, but they tremble so bad it's hard to do.

“Don't worry about that.” He coos. "Let me take care of you."

With shaky hands he undoes the buttons on your pants, sliding them down your legs. His face heats up at the way your panties are already soaked through. All this just for him?

He tries not to stare too long. If you were the only thing he looked at for the rest of his life, he'd be content.

He strokes at your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He almost seems afraid to touch you. For a moment he is, but that quickly wears off when you moan. He can't help but watch the way you squirm and writhe under his touch. How the delicate fabric clings to your skin from how wet you are. He hates how much he enjoys seeing you like this. It feels wrong.

“Please,” there’s a hazy look in your eyes.

He swallows hard. You’re not thinking straight, he thinks, this is so wrong.

He pulls down your panties, throwing them aside with your pants. You tug off your shirt, quickly tossing it aside. His hands come up to palm at your breasts through the fabric of your bra. He gently tugs the fabric down, exposing your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air. As wrong as it feels, you would be lying if you said your partner wasn't attractive. Not only is he handsome, and one of the most powerful sorcerers you have met, he was a close—if not your closest—friend.

Nanami’s touches are feather-light. It's not that he's worried about hurting you—though the fear of that is there—he doesn't want this to ruin your friendship. He doesn't want you to view him differently because of this. The two of you have gone through much together; he doesn't want this to make things awkward. He’s just wanted you for so long.

He never intended for his work life to cross over into his home life. That was until you came along. Nanami can't imagine a life without you around.

Two of his fingers press against your entrance, his thumb circling your clit. His fingers are long, and fairly thick. Only one enters you at first, but you’re wet enough he adds a second one not long after. His fingers curl, stroking against your g-spot. His touch feels like too much yet not enough. You desperately grind against his hand, chasing your own release.

If he can just get you to finish, maybe he can wait it out. You’ve clearly got it worse than him. Right?

He pulls you up into a kiss. His lips taste sweet. Your lips part, allowing his tongue into your mouth. His chest presses against yours. Your thighs tighten around his hand, though not in an attempt to stop him.

Heat pools low in your stomach, slowly building in intensity. You moan into Nanami's mouth. You're reduced to a whining, whimpering mess under his hand.

His free hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your head so your gaze meets his. A sleepy grin spreads across your face. The pad of his thumb brushes over your glossy lips. In a moment of lucidity you wrap your lips around it, swirling your tongue around the digit.

Nanami almost forgets how to breathe. Nobody can get him nearly as flustered as you can.

The coil in your stomach snaps. If you knew how much you gushed around Nanami's fingers, you'd be blushing. Your cunt clenches around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm on his hand.

Your first orgasm provides no relief. In a matter of seconds—probably less time than that if you're being honest—you're ready for another round.

You work the last few buttons of his shirt open before he gets impatient and pulls the thing over his head. You let out an audible “oh!” at the sight of his chest. It's more toned than you expected; not that you’ve given it much thought.

“Like what you see?” He says in a sudden moment of boldness that it surprises both of you.

You nod. Now really isn't the time to be shy, but you can't help it.

He's painfully hard, his erect cock leaking precum against his thigh. The tent in his pants is impressive to say the least. You get on your knees, tugging his pants down his hips. You were right to notice his bulge. He's huge. Long and thick. Uncut too. The hairs towards the base of his cock are light—a similar sandy blonde as the hair on his head—and neatly trimmed. He always takes care of himself. A prominent vein runs up the bottom. A small pang of guilt hits you when you realize how needy his cock looks. His chest, the tips of his nose and ears, and the head of his cock are all dusted with pink. He looks at you with such adoration it makes your chest flutter.

You slide off the couch, getting on your knees. Nanami parts his legs just enough for you to kneel between them.

His eyes go wide the moment your lips touch his cock. You press kitten licks to the tip, watching the way his lip twitches in frustration. Nanami’s hands bury in your hair. The feeling of his nails raking against your scalp makes goosebumps raise along your skin. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you stroke with your hands. Saliva runs down your chin in streams, tears stained black with eyeliner streaming down your cheeks.

The only sign that he’s about to orgasm is the way he tilts his head back, cursing.

When he cums, he cums a lot. It's thick, but runny, and has almost no taste to it at all. His cum spills out the corners of your mouth when you pull off of him, releasing him with a pop!

Without thinking, you swallow.

With how long he stares down at you, it almost seems like you’ve done something wrong.

You can't stop the squeak you let out as he hauls you into his lap. He lays back, guiding your hips so you’re kneeling above his face.

“What are you-”

“It’s only fair that I return the favor,” he says.

No matter how hard you try, he doesn't let you wriggle out of his grasp.

“I- I don't want to suffocate you.” You say.

The amount of his testicles Nanami would cut off just to get a taste of your cunt… He’ll give you a hint, it's more than one and less than three.

“You won't.” He said. Even if you could—which you couldn't, he’s stronger than he looks—he’d die happy.

Your thighs cradle his head in an almost perfect way. There's almost no better feeling. His tongue dips between your folds, circling your clit. You taste sweet, he notes. A kiss is pressed to your clit before long, slow strokes of a hot tongue lavish it in affection. He kneads your thighs gently all while alternating between licking and sucking on your bundle of nerves.

He wants nothing more than to take his time with you. After all, he’s got years to make up for.

You can feel and hear him panting against your dripping sex. He can do little to hide the way he grinds his bulge against the couch. He grunts when you tug his hair, guiding him to where you need him most.

There's a feeling of emptiness as you cum, your walls contracting around nothing where something should be. You ride out your orgasm with a series of short, high pitched moans, rocking your cunt against his mouth. Nanami takes all of it in stride, lewdly slurping at your sex. Your thighs shake, your cunt spasming as he continues to press kitten licks to your clit.

And god- the sight of his face; his lips wet and slick from your cunt, eyes hazy with lust, his hair a mess.

"It's no use." You say. It's in-between whimpers and moans. Even as your second orgasm approaches, you feel no sense of relief. "I need your cock."

He feels himself twitch with need. His cock barely went soft the first time he came. Nanami wants nothing more than to sink his length into your warm, wet cunt.

He doesn't bother carrying you to your room. He would have fucked you in the car if you asked. He’d fuck you on every flat surface of your apartment if you wanted him too.

His cock presses against your entrance, rubbing at your folds. He doesn't mean to tease you, he just wants to drag this out as long as he can. You're so wet you take his cock with no resistance. He groans at the feeling of your cunt as you sink onto him.

Cumming on his tongue is intoxicating, but it feels like nothing in comparison to his cock. Nothing substitutes for the hot, full sensation of his cock inside of you. You string together words in some desperate attempt to make a sentence. Being completely filled is making you woozy. Nanami fits just so well inside of you. It's like you were made for this. You're not sure if it's the pollen, or just him, but you can feel every ridge and vein on his cock.

"Can't believe-" he huffs, "can't believe you got tighter after cumming twice."

"Please Ken," you whimper.

It hurts, but it feels too nice to stop. Nanami can't tear his eyes away from the way your tits bounce as you ride him. The sounds of skin slapping on skin echo through the room, mingling with his grunts and your moans, creating a lewd cacophony.

"Fuck," he says, his seemingly calm demeanor fading, "you're so fucking pretty."

Gojo would give him shit about this for weeks if he knew…

You're starting to think he meant to do this.

"I'm going to kill him," you say, although it's hard to stay mad for long.

“Me too,” he says.

Your orgasm rolls over you like a wave, throwing you around and spitting you back out, leaving you an absolute mess. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Eyeliner runs down your face in streams, leaving black trails across your skin. It's the first time you've cum from g-spot stimulation alone. But it's also the same as the other two times you've cum: you're ready for another round instantly.

At some point in time Nanami gets on top. Your legs lock around his back, pulling him in. Maybe you blacked out. Exhaustion creeps into your limbs, leaving them sore and wobbly.

Nanami thrusts harder, trying to quell the fire that pits in his stomach. He doesn't warn you that he's coming. If he's being honest, he didn't know he was either. You just feel hot ropes of his cum fill you, spilling out, staining your couch. When he cums, his cock doesn't even go soft. If anything he’s harder. Almost instantly he’s ready for another round. He's never felt anything quite like this.

The sensation of his cum dripping out of you, running down your thighs in streams is bizarre. There's so much of it. You don't want him to stop. He brings a hand down to give your ignored clit some attention. His spare hand wipes your tears away, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek.

Even as he's made you cum for the nth time tonight he doesn't stop. The two of you can only fuck and cum until you're no longer sure where your body ends and his begins. It doesn't feel like enough. You’ve never been so full. He wants to cum in you and breed you until your womb is swollen with his child.

At some point he collapses from exhaustion—he thinks—and he's certain the two of you are going to die. No human can survive this, he thinks, that's impossible.

Neither of you died.

It could be minutes, it could be hours; by the time you wake up the sun has set completely. You're not sure what time it is, but judging by how long the sky's been dark, it must have been a while. Nanami snores softly, his drool pooling in the valley between your breasts. You card a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. One of his eyes cracks open. He can't tell if he’s dreaming or not. If he is, then this is too good to be true.

"You still with me?" You ask.

He nods.

You're cradled chest to chest, his heartbeat as steady and alive as ever. He pulls out slowly, admiring the mess between your thighs. Even in his sobering state he finds you truly beautiful. From the way your skin glints with sweat to the way you run your tongue over your parched lips. You stretch out, trying to work the stiffness out of your limbs. You’re certain you’ll be sore in the morning.

Nanami disappears into the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water. What you could really use is a shower.

If you want, he'll never mention this again. He's starstruck by your naked form, his cum dripping down your thighs. Part of him wants to see you like this every night. But that might still be the pollen talking.

He's sputtering out an apology; stringing words together in hopes of begging for your forgiveness.

"I didn't think that's how it'd happen," you say, shrugging, "but…"

You really can't complain. Everyone but Nanami seemed to realize how head over heels you were for each other.

"You… liked it?" He asks.

If you didn't like it, he would know. Nanami can't believe it.

"Minus the nearly dying part." You say. "I've spent the past year and a half trying to get in your pants. So yeah."

Instantly his face turns red. How has he not noticed? He's both mortified, and relieved that you feel the same—or at least similar to him. Then the embarrassment hits him. He didn't think he could be more embarrassed than he was standing naked in your living room.

"I'm gonna go shower." You say. He gives a nod in response, stopping dead in his tracks when you say: "join me."

#jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #jjk #nanami kento #not sfw #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #cw sex pollen #cw dub con #i know im posting this kinda early but im impatient and i just want to post this now

[kaijurakunsobs]

Hey sorry about the confusion, I did mean little y/n as in child y/n in my ask about the four lords reacting to y/n getting sick. However I read what you posted about the four lords and short y/n and I thought it was pretty good! Again I’m sorry for the confusion!

oh no, its ok my guy! you guys gave me na excuse to write some more about the lords and a kid, and for that I am grateful

take 2 everybody!

Alcina Dimitrescu

she's the only one who knows how to mom, of course she knows something is wrong with her precious child

your older sisters said they would make sure you were bundled up before going out to play out in the garden, but now here we are, you a fuzzy and crying because your throat hurts

Alcina is at her wits end when you refuse to take the medicine, "IT TASTES WEIRD, I DON'T WANT IT!!"

how many times have you managed to slap the spoon out of her hand? she lost count

the maids can hear her speaking softly as he walks around her private chambers, carrying you around with a light blanket over you

the woman might be a vampire and she has the strength to throw furniture that weight as much as her, but dear heavens, she is tired by the time you are ok, still, she smiles when you try to pull her to play with you

Donna Beneviento

y'all can pry from cold dead hands that Donna doesn't do good with kids, she's just...NO

Angie is even less excited about having to deal with this screaming human

still they both try, really really hard to help you recover

Alcina is their go to person when Donna noticed how red your tiny face looked and your soft whines, the older woman is glad to help and teach Donna whatever she might need

Angie is the only one who can get you to take your medicine, you just like the creepy ass doll and all the sounds she makes when bringing the spoon close to you

Donna is I'm charge of cooking, following the recipes that Lady D left for her, easy and light meals but well balanced, the last thing they want is for your to get an upset stomach too

this whole ordeal takes a huge toll on both and by the end of everything they will do anything to prevent you from getting sick EVER AGAIN

Salvatore Moreau

oooh this poor man, he's terrified!! it took him so long to get Mother Miranda and his siblings to let you be with him for the week and now you are sick

he has to act QUICK, he asks the duke if he could help him get the right medicament, he can't give you the adult version because it will be too strong for you, he needs the pediatric one

Sal has always been a careful man when it comes to those he loves, you are no exception, he fully throws himself into nursing you back to health

he's attentive and truly does his best when checking for any other symptoms that might indicate something worst than a simple cold

you listen to everything he says from telling me if you feel too hot or cold, to take your medicine at the right time and to eat something even if you don't want to

by the time Mother Miranda comes to pick you up, you are already back to your usual self, from then on, Sal always gets more drawings from you

Karl Heisenberg

somebody, please, help this poor man

how does he even deals with this? he rarely gets sick, but you are a small child who, arbitrarily, decided that switching between being inside where its warm and laying OUT in the SNOW was a good idea

in your defense? he wasn't looking, now he's reduced to carrying around your wailing little form

if Alcina had trouble getting you to take your medicine, Karl can't even get you to eat some soup, soup that he cooked for you and that now you wont eat

he's sleep-deprived, carrying you for so long is hurting his neck but you won't let him go and he can't bring himself to pry you off

"Tell me a story...PLEASE~"

"What do I look like, a fuuuuu...damned book?"

one pout and he's telling you a made-up story

at some point, he must have fallen asleep, cuz he wakes up to you slapping his face and asking for lunch, you look wat better than him

but now? he's sick

#karl heisenberg #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #re8 #x reader #answer stuff

[rrasado]

Hello! May request headcanons of Leona and Octavinelle students (separately) react to fem reader having Hanahaki Disease because of them, but she never tells them directly that they're the cause of it? Have a nice day!

Blood Stained Blooms

Ara? What do we have here now 🧐. I’m joking sjsjsj angst is my go to and you hit the spot. Tag some Lion and Octavinelle stans perhaps~?

⚠️ TW: Mentions of blood and vomiting.

When words are left unsaid...

Honestly, he never expected someone with so much spunk as you to just...reel over to the floor choking out bloody flora that could’ve easily been fitting with the greenery at the botanical garden he naps at.

And at the same time, Leona knew that...people with strong fronts have a tender foundation. What do you think he is? Well it wasn’t like he bothered hiding his shortcomings, it just so happened that he never gave a care for what people think of him.

That...would’ve been the usual. What is unusual however is you vomiting on the ground pathetically clutching your chest gasping for dear oxygen. Call it what you will, instinct, concern, desire, it didn’t matter to him what the hell he was truly feeling because the next thing he knew, he was already kneeling next to you brows furrowed whilst his calloused hand placed itself on your back.

He could feel it, with the way your shoulder blades tensed and relaxed at an unnatural rate under his touch while Blood continued to trickle down- The lion beastman was no fool either. Something to this degree isn’t at its early stages is it? He was no doctor but...he felt a tinge in his chest at the thought of someone just suddenly dropping dead. It was it because it’s you who knows…

The way you weakly smiled at him as you ushered him with a blood stained hand wasn’t something that would calm him down, it might’ve made him even more spurred. Gritting his teeth his ear twitched. Before standing up and grumbling to himself.

“Oi herbavour- what the hell is that-“ “A-ah..Leona..”

Leona is Leona, the lonely second prince that forgot his title whenever he was with you, but he didn’t knew how to handle this. How to handle the thought of you in a gruesome state- ah...he accidentally stepped on a flower….Ruggie would later be ordered to fetch whatever information he can manage to attain about the hellish illness.

...His mind is truly in uproar...

It was all too sudden, even for him. One minute you two were walking side by side in the corridors discussing a possible deal and the next thing he knew, eyes locked for a split second when he saw the sudden struck of immense pain on your expression before falling to your knees on the carpet and spewing out…

Azul, was truly ambushed with so many unwanted emotions, his usually calculative mind didn’t know where to focus on, your pain the blood spewing out or the cruelly beautiful flowers that landed on the stained carpet.

His sharp posture diminished shaking his head before finally making a move, a childish reaction but he took out his own cleanly pressed handkerchief and offering it to you. So what if it’d get stained with your blood? He’d rather clean out stains than to see you reeling on the ground!

Once your coughing dies down the octavinelle dorm leader would debate whether to ask or comfort. On one hand he knew that being double weighted by pain and interrogation isn’t good but on the other hand- he wanted to know what the hell you’ve been going through and he wanted to know ASAP.

Look the variety of clients he’s had to deal with never had a near death situation so he wasn’t sure if this was even within his prowess- and if he can’t help you then his vast network of connections should help, it has to help it has to. That’s what he’d be telling to himself unbeknownst to him that you’ve been weakly calling out to him- a-ah yes?

“Dear..you-“ “C’mon we’ll be late..I-I think we can grab some water on the way”

In the end he opted for the former, gently helping you back up on your feet and already concucting his next course of action, he’d later find out the cruel disease...he wasn’t the one having flowers bloom in his lungs so why did his chest wince…?

...You were far too precious for him to let go of...

It was- not part of his predictions, far from within his spectrum of deductions even.

Taking you out for a hike to admire and study the natural specimens Mother Nature has to offer in the land forms near Night Raven college was supposed to be...not bloody.

As much as of a sucker the Vice dorm leader is for the unexpected. This particular instance did not please him in the slightest. He grew and went about keeping his true feelings under an eerily serene exterior, this situation wasn’t an exception.

But he had to wonder wether his forced calmness helped you or made it worse, the way your eyes met his heterochromatic gaze just- the way the pain doubled in your gaze when you saw an eerily calm ocean in his eyes was what you recieved but why does it hurt even more..why does it feel like he doesn’t care when he-

You didn’t had time to even complain about something seemingly insignificant as that- the flowers that fell from your mouth along with spurts of blood like a crimson waterfall was taking up you train of thought. You need air- oxygen was taken for granted huh...like how the calmer eel twin took you for granted.

“J-jade...don’t think much about it..” “...as you wish..”

Honestly, just like how he handles other dire situations, he’ll calmly handle you to the bare minimum- but that isnt to say he isn’t worried, because he is...more than he’d like to admit. He’s seen how cruel life can be but when it comes to you...he never actually considered it. So expect him to frequent the library more rather than taking hikes. Because just like how he handles other situations...it’s better to find the source, and when he does...

...He’ll be even more diligent, unbeknownst to you...

Under the bleachers- hey...is that- Koebi-chan did you spill some juice? Ehehe lemme grab you an extra shir-...that smell...

What’s that in your mouth? He thought you were just snacking on something with strawberry jam but that...land dwellers don’t usually eat flowers with jam now do they? Poor Floyd...denial off the bat. But his body already began to move on its own, taking long strides towards your shuddering form as he grasped your shoulders to steady you.

He gulped down whatever lump hitched in his throat only for nothing to come out, for once floyd actually took the time to observe. The other always told him he was too reckless, he never cared since it adds to the thrill but- shrimpy choking out fully bloomed floranstained crimson isn’t thrilling at all. He doesn’t like this he doesn’t think this is fun- get youre pranking him right?..right?

What would the others do- no he doesn’t have time to think like the others he’s the only one with you now- he should carry you to the infirmary ye that’s good, good job floyd just slowly carry them and- he ran faster than for any errand he’s had to do. The infirmary was his only destination. Wether others stared at his rare expression of seriousness or the writhing person in his arms. It didn’t matter, those useless guppies don’t matter.

He demanded you to be treated, without even thinking wether whatever made shrimpy like this can even be cured in the first place. How would he even know? He’d know when the staff informs him, when they inform him how they can only keep the symptoms at bay but not fully cure the illness. This pest of a decease was making his shrimpy suffer and you’re telling him no one can do anything about it? WHAT TYPE OF A DAMNED DECEASE IS THIS-

“This ain’t fair! What the hell is-“ “F..Floyd hey...it alright.”

Suffice it to say he doesn’t take the news well, this was such an annoying thing to have, all for love? Who the hell wouldn’t love shrimpy!? Shrimpy is shrimpy and they are fun! Goodness Floyd...he only calms down when the teen in the infirmary bed ushers him close with a shaky hand...

...He despises the situation...

#Twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland angst #twst angst #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst leona #twst azul #twst jade #twst floyd #twst octavinelle #twst hanahaki #tw blood #tw vomit #twst writing #Writings from the eclipse

[alexa-crowe]

Signs

Episode: “Je Souhaite” | Rated M | @today-in-fic | Warning: if any of the symptoms of pregnancy are squicky for you, it would be best to avoid this fic. Also, a reminder that we use Fahrenheit in the U.S., so don’t freak out at the wonky temperature stuff, my Celsius loaves.

Scully feels a little guilty for sending Mulder home last night after teasing him all day about what she was going to do to him in bed, but she blames her upset stomach on being “forced” to skip lunch that day. Scully had waved him off after three hours of on and off vomiting, feeling like she sent the entirety of her pizza and soda into the toilet.

She’d sent him back to his apartment so he’d stop hovering, his incessant chatter only magnifying the headache beginning to build at the base of her skull.

Mulder had called as soon as he got home, leaving a voicemail for her to please not come in tomorrow if she’s still sick. Well, Scully had fortunately felt right as rain when she woke up, aside from the minimal gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She regrets eating two bagels with lox and her real cream cheese now. This must be her punishment for breaking the rule of saving it for the fair amount of bad mornings she encounters. Her stomach’s mutinying again at the smell of Mulder’s black coffee and she can feel another toilet session coming on.

“Oh, God,” Scully whispers, all intent to apologize and press a soft kiss to his lips going out the proverbial door as she sprints out the real one and hauls ass to the bathroom.

She must have a stomach bug, Scully reasons, trying to even out her breathing as she folds some paper towels and wets them before pressing them against her face and neck. She’s suddenly feeling strangely hot, evidence of her sick flushed away.

Mulder knocks three times on the bathroom door. “Scully?”

“Yeah?” she sends back, splashing her face with water. She groans as she feels another gag coming on.

“I brought you some ginger ale and—and some Pepto Bismol. And Tums. I know you don’t like the Pepto but, you know, I figured this called for all the stops.”

She can imagine the look on his face as he hears her vomiting again. Scully checks her watch when it’s over. It’s still only 8:27 in the fucking morning!? How the hell is she supposed to make it through the rest of the workday like this?

The door hinges creak and she looks over at Mulder. “I told you not to come in if you’re still sick, Scully.”

“I wasn’t! I felt fine this morning, and then I walked in the office and smelled your coffee and...”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms, puckering his lips as part of his exaggerated thinking face. Scully stands up straight and shoots him a look. Mulder shakes his head and puts his hands up. “Look, all I’m saying is that it looks like the same thing happened last night. As soon as we got out the ice cream, you bolted to the bathroom.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “What are you getting at, Mulder?”

“Just that you should go home and at least take a nap or something. If you stay off your feet for a few hours and relax, I’ll be happy. Nibble on some crackers, catch a soap opera...” Mulder shrugs. “You’re clearly sick, Scully. If not for yourself, do it on the chance that it’s contagious.”

Scully places the wet paper towel on the back of her neck, holding it there. “Fine. But only because it might be contagious.”

“I mean—that doesn’t make it better, but thank you nonetheless. Do you want me to drive you? What if there’s a random smell that sets you off on the ride there?”

She rolls her eyes but tells him, “Fine.”

—

Mulder’s assertion that certain smells have been setting off whatever’s going on with her stomach seem to be proven true when she comes back to the office after a few hours of rest and relaxation to the harsh sight of a man whose... whose mouth suddenly disappeared and had to be surgically recreated. Not a twinge from her stomach aside from shock butterflies.

Scully’s relieved that she’s been able to keep down her lunch. To be fair, it was crackers with a little cheese and a full two cups of water to make sure she was hydrated, but any food is good food. She proudly announces to Mulder during their ensuing flight the next day that it seems whatever illness hit is gone.

—

It’s not cold in Creve Coeur, Missouri—certainly not in Spring—but Scully’s feeling every degree of the breeze through the open windows like it’s in the thirties. She’s shivering the entire car ride to the Mark Twain Trailer Park, and noticeably enough for Mulder to glance at her with concern before putting up the windows and turning the heat up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

He frowns at that but lets it go until they hit a red light, when he leans over and presses his hand to her forehead.

Scully quirks her lips in a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your temperature,” he replies. “You don’t seem to have a fever...”

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she insists, leaning into his hand for the few seconds she gets the light turns green.

“Alright, but if you’re still sick, Scully, then you have to promise me that you’ll go back to the motel, okay? I brought the meds just in case, if you need them.”

She smiles softly and places her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“It’s what a good boyfriend does.”

—

Her stomach bug really does seem to be gone, which is a relief. However, she’s now insatiably hungry for two things: Mulder, and the bagels from the bagel place two streets over from her apartment. Well, she consoles, one is attainable, at least. And, boy, does she attain it. They’re both breathing heavily by the time Scully’s through with him, and even though they’re sticky with sweat, she curls her body around Mulder’s anyway.

Her breasts are tingly, which has never happened after sex before, but she chalks it up to Mulder’s harsh treatment of her only a minute ago as she nuzzles his chest. She inhales and sighs happily. “I love the way you smell,” she murmurs.

He laughs and she feels it against her cheek. “Coming from the woman who made me start using a different deodorant,” he jokes, squeezing his arm around her shoulders. “Your nipples are darker.”

“What?” Scully props herself up with her forearm to make proper eye contact as her brows furrow.

“Yeah. I don’t know. They’re darker. Feel a little heavier, too. You didn’t notice?”

She shakes her head and laughs. “Unlike you, Mulder, I don’t spend hours studying my boobs.”

He shrugs and rolls them over so he’s hovering over her on his forearms. “Your loss.”

—

“Fuck,” she swears, digging around in her suitcase, fresh from her shower. She’s only got one hand because the other’s holding her towel wrap together.

“What?” Mulder asks around his toothbrush, exiting the bathroom. His tie is slung behind his neck and his suit jacket is waiting for him on the bed.

“I don’t have any panty liners.”

“Do you want me to go out and get some?” he asks, heading back to the bathroom to spit.

“Yeah, that would be great.” Scully walks past him into the still-warm bathroom and lets the towel drop as she uses the one wrapped around her hair to dry the wet strands.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She drops the hair towel when he takes the singular step needed in the tiny motel bathroom to invade her space in favor of pulling him down for a kiss by the ends of his tie. “Mmm, settle down or the plan’ll be botched.”

“I was just thanking you,” Scully says, affecting innocence as she does his tie for him.

“For buying you panty liners? What would happen if I surprised you with some ice cream?”

“I would eat the ice cream.”

“Damn.” Mulder presses a kiss to the top of her head before heading out to put on his suit jacket. “Do you mind me asking why you need panty liners? Also! What brand?”

“Any with wings. And I need them because there’s been an unusual amount of vaginal discharge in my underwear and I don’t want to ruin any more of them.”

“Right.” He steps back in view of the bathroom and takes in her naked body.

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

(Their books on pregnancy are buried inside their storage closets from a time best forgotten.)

“Nothing. I just like looking at you.”

She smiles at him, drying her hair again. “Get going, hotshot.”

—

Halfway through the flight home, Scully discovers something that makes her a bit worried. She’s not supposed to get her period until next week, so the blood on the liner she quickly tosses away with shaky hands can’t be because of that. She tries to forget about it as she walks back to her seat next to Mulder, but he must see something on her face that prompts him to ask if she’s okay.

“I’m fine,” she lies, managing to give him a smile. “Just tired.”

He seems to accept that and leaves her be. It’s not even a lie; she feels exhausted after everything that happened over the past few days. Scully makes a mental note to book an emergency appointment with her Ob-Gyn when they land, and closes her eyes.

—

“Dana,” Dr. Namin starts, disrupting her patient’s thumb twiddling.

Scully abruptly stands up as her doctor moves to stand in front of the exam table, computer and several documents in hand. “You don’t look concerned,” she says, following Namin to the exam table.

“Because there’s nothing to be concerned about at this stage except plenty of rest, hydration, and eating at least three good meals a day,” Scully’s doctor replies, opening up her computer and spreading out the documents. “We’ve done all the tests you asked for, but nothing came up. However, based on the symptoms you listed, I performed one more, and that’s where we found the culprit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pregnant, Dana. Plain and simple. Congratulations.” Dr. Namin slides one of the documents towards Scully, who takes it. “You’re about three and a half weeks along. You can take all the papers. There’s suggestions for all the prenatal vitamins you’ll need to take and how much water to drink in a day. Resources for managing symptoms, too.”

Scully nods dumbly, tears gathering in her eyes as she stares at the diagnosis. “Um, when should I come back?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, I’ll have someone give you a call with that information. Just relax and enjoy the news. I remember how much you wanted this, Dana. I...I don’t know how this happened, but the baby’s doing well. Minor bleeding is completely normal and you don’t need to worry. If it gets worse or doesn’t stop soon, then come back.”

“Okay,” Scully chokes out, smiling widely as she wipes away her tears and collects the documents on the exam table.

—

She spends a few hours at her apartment trying to figure out how to tell Mulder the good news but gets nowhere. In the middle of pacing around her couch, one arm unconsciously wrapped around her abdomen, her phone starts ringing.

“Scully speaking.”

“Agent Scully,” Skinner starts, and she immediately knows that Mulder’s done something stupid again, “could you check on Agent Mulder? He snuck into my meeting and was yelling at my chair.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Scully hangs up the phone and sighs heavily. Looks like God’s giving her a sign to just get it over with. When she enters the office, however, the woman Mulder keeps insisting is a genie is there, too. She licks her lips nervously and tries to ignore her.

“Skinner called me, Mulder. Is everything alright?”

Sitting at the desk, computer on, she has to wonder what he’s doing. “You don’t remember disappearing off the face of the Earth for an hour this morning?”

She gives her head a small shake as she tells him, “No,” truly starting to get concerned.

Mulder just shrugs with a little smile and gets back to typing with a nonchalant, “Well, I guess everything’s okay.”

Get it out, just say it, she thinks, trying to psych herself up. She sighs. “Mul—” But the woman’s still there in the office. “Could you give us a minute, please?”

“Sure,” the woman—Jenn, Mulder told her on the plane—says with a nod.

Scully steps closer to the desk, butterflies in her stomach. Jenn isn’t moving, and it’s making her annoyed, quite frankly. “Like, today?” she says, turning around, but the black-haired woman is nowhere to be found, not even in the annex. Scully turns back to her partner, extremely confused. “Where the hell’d she go?”

Mulder childishly imitates a genie disappearing and she feels the sudden urge to laugh at the thought that this man is the father of her child. “No...” she says, softening the guffaw trying to escape to a scoff-laugh. “It’s gotta—” She scoffs for real this time. “It’s gotta be hypnotism, or—or mesmerism, or something.”

And thus begins the verbal sparring. As he lists all the things he wants for the world, Scully thinks, again, of how this is the father of her child. Something suspiciously soft is trying to emerge from her heart as she responds, and she’s a coward to boot, so she leaves without telling him. Driving back to her apartment, Scully feels guilty at how little effort she put into trying to break the news to Mulder. She just—she doesn’t know what to make of the news herself, let alone how to explain it to him.

An hour into The Exorcist, hugging a pillow as she wishes Mulder was watching it with her, the phone rings. “Scully, do you wanna come over and watch a movie? I’ve got your favorite popcorn...”

She grins. “Of course. I’ll bring the drinks.”

—

They’ve both changed their clothes for the movie night, and when Mulder opens the door, they’re sporting matching grins. “Oh, zero alcohol content?” he faux complains, taking the case of six drinks into the kitchen. “Is this your punishment for me, Scully?”

She elects not to respond as she follows him and takes out the package of popcorn and a pot. “Can you grab the olive oil, Mulder?”

“Yeah, of course.” He puts four of the drinks in the fridge before reaching into one of the cabinets to grab the oil and put it on the counter next to the stove, which Scully’s turning it on.

“I’ll never understand why you won’t just microwave them. It’s faster.”

“Yeah, but if you do it in the pot, it tastes better,” she shoots back, opening the package and pouring the kernels into the pot.

“That’s just because of the oil.”

“Well, you can continue to eat shitty popcorn for the rest of your life if you want, but I’m going to eat my good popcorn.”

They turn to face each other as the kernels pop and hit the lid, a staring contest beginning. Scully wins when she licks her lips and distracts Mulder enough to get him to blink.

“Ha! I got you! I win!”

“That’s cheating!”

“I won!” she says in a sing-song voice, emptying the finished popcorn into the bowl.

Mulder shakes his head with a smile. “Why don’t you take the drinks and get comfortable. I’ll finish the popcorn.”

Scully nods and does as he suggests, but as she’s crossing into the living room, she pauses and turns around. “No butter, please,” she says, and he turns around with a scoop of butter in a bowl in his right hand, the handle of the microwave in the other.

“No... butter...?” She nods. “We always put butter on the popcorn, Scully.”

“Well, I don’t want butter this time,” she says, and makes her way to the couch, sitting down and placing the drinks on the coffee table. She hears Mulder sigh heavily and put the bowl of butter in the fridge before making his way to the living room, bowl of popcorn in hand.

He shakes his head as he grabs the movie case from the table and inserts it into the player. “Can’t believe you don’t want butter on your popcorn. Eugh. It’s un-American.” He steps around the table and sits down next to Scully.

She takes the case from where he left it and makes a face. “Caddyshack, Mulder?” she questions.

“It’s a classic American movie,” he insists, grabbing his drink and propping his feet up.

“That’s what every guy says.” Scully grabs her own and untwists the cap, tossing it onto the table. Mulder does the same, but his bounces off onto the floor, and she laughs into the bottle. “So, uh... What’s the occasion?” she asks, as if they still take the justifying movie nights thing seriously.

Last week’s was I thought you might need some help feeding your fish.

“I don’t know. Just felt like the thing to do. Cheers.”

Maybe it is time to turn over a new leaf, especially considering the baby growing inside her, cell by cell. They clink their bottles—“Cheers,” she says—and drink. Tell him, tell him, tell hi—

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I, um, never made the world a happier place.”

They nod together and Scully knows that this is the moment to tell him. She takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m fairly happy. That’s something.” A smile slides onto her face and she looks at him, a lot more than fairly happy now. “Actually, I’m ecstatic.” She gives a little laugh and reaches into her pocket for the piece of paper she’d stared at for hours earlier.

“Really? Is there a specific reason, or...?”

Scully pulls the paper out and looks at the blue highlighted text on the portion of the paper that’s not folded back for a moment before handing it to Mulder. “That’s why,” she says, voice trembling a little out of happiness.

She watches his face as the words sink in. He reads it again, murmuring, “Diagnosis: pregnancy (3.5 weeks),” as he does so, a grin spreading across his lips. “Scully...”

“I know,” she says, setting her bottle on the table, and before Mulder can say anything else, she cups his cheeks and kisses him, unwilling to fight the urge.

“Scully, this is wonderful!” He laughs joyously and kisses her again, setting the paper and his drink on the table. “I’m so happy.” He brings her into his embrace and buries his face in her shoulder for a long moment, both of them starting to cry. He suddenly pulls away and puts his hand on her abdomen under her shirt, his other arm still wrapped around Scully.

“I love you,” she tells him.

“I love you, too,” he replies.

#txf #fanfiction #msr #mine #wahhhh!!!!! #i love: them #i had so much fun writing this ksdjhfkjs like an inordinate amount

[elysianslove]

could i req a hc for kita & akaashi where their crush is secretly a jujutsu sorcerer who goes to their school to undercover and to kill the curse but they didn’t know and what if one day, she saves them from the curse? what’s their reaction towards reader? thanks!

JBBSHJDJ JJK X HQ????? GOD BLESS. thank u so much for requesting this hope you like it!! <3

kita shinsuke 

kita’s not a nosy person. he always keeps to himself and stays out of people’s business, and he’s never been the type to encourage rumors or to dwell long on what if’s and theories and conspiracies 

but even he had to admit your situation was weird 

you enroll into inarizaki mid-year, and you’re a third year like him. at first he’d just assumed you’d moved from a neighboring high school last minute, but you never attempted to participate, as if you were only here for show. next, he’d assumed it had been familial issues, but he heard nothing of that, never saw you with a sibling or a parent or a guardian. it was all too. vague for his liking

of course, this amount of interest is unbecoming of kita. it’s just. there were so many questions to you and no answers. you really, really intrigued him, and okay, maybe he thought you were really pretty, and yeah maybe he did have a small crush on you, but that was besides the point! 

the main thing is that you were just. sus. 

he realized you weren’t really causing harm though, just quietly minding your business, so he did the same, and chose to ignore any nagging at the back of his mind 

until he picks up on another weird habit of yours: staying at school until the latest hours. as involved as he was with school activities, he hadn’t heard you being a part of any club, considering how late you’d enrolled in school. but here you were, without fail, every day, by the school gates as the sun sets 

the only reason so much attention was given to you from kita was because of how peculiar your case was. it frustrated him how he knew nothing, just your name after your brief introduction to the class, and the fact that there seemed so much to you. it’s not that you were simply a private, boring person. it couldn’t be, not with how secretive everything was 

one day, on accident, he lags behind in the boys’ gymnasium, cleaning every volleyball with extra care and without noticing, the sun had set. under the assumption he was the only one in the gymnasium, after ensuring every and all equipment was in its place and clean, he grabbed the keys and started to head out. the gymnasium was quiet and dark, save for the gentle stream of moonlight and —

hm 

whatever that thing was, it did not belong in the gymnasium 

okay let’s assume kita can see curses because what is there that kita can’t do 

i don’t think he’d panic outwardly, but he definitely would freeze up and just not know what to do

it didn’t look too friendly either. or sound friendly. or smell friendly 

your appearance comes all of a sudden for him, but honestly, when you come barging in through the doors and you start battling the curse, he’s? not surprised? 

like he figured you had a secret, just — who knew it would be this? 

he’s honestly a little mesmerized with how you manage to fight it off and keep him out of harm’s way simultaneously, until you finally exorcise it

you’re breathing heavily after you’re done, since the curse had put up quite the fight against you, so kita, with his captain instincts, and with mobile feet again thankfully, comes up to you and asks if you’re okay 

you look at him bewildered like??? am i okay??? are you okay???/

you’re a little concerned how unfazed he is by the curse tbh 

after the adrenaline fades away, and you’re left standing in this dark, empty gymnasium with this really handsome guy, you finally find it within yourself to introduce yourself, telling him your name, before lifting up your hand to shake it with his, continuing, “and i’m a jujutsu sorcerer.” 

kita smiles, there’s a part of him, an itch that’s been dying to get scratched, that’s finally relieved, and he takes your hand in his, shaking it firmly and saying, “kita shinsuke; pleasure to meet you.” 

“pleasure’s all mine.” 

he walks you home, and the entire time he realizes how you’re really the furthest thing from quiet, you’re just serious when you need to be, given your occupation. you explain the whole ordeal, about the manifestation of curses spiking in this area, how you’d been assigned this mission, everything. 

it is so satisfying to him finally understanding everything. it’s like finishing a puzzle that’s taken months to complete

you admit that that had been the last curse, since you’d eliminated the source, and you’d have to leave soon 

not without his number you’re not <3 

kita’s not the type to want to show off his s/o, but once you inevitably become that, he takes every opportunity he can to watch everyone’s eyes as they see you kick ass. it’s his guilty pleasure :)

akaashi keiji 

okay this one’s a little different because your arrival at fukurodani wasn’t so sudden. yeah you’d joined later than most students, but you’ve been here since the start of the year, so akaashi wasn’t suspicious of you, since you’d never given him a reason to be

he doesn’t see you outside of school often. honestly, he doesn’t even see you in school. you don’t share classes with him, so he doesn’t know if you skip classes or not, but he’s heard that you do. you’re also never like. anywhere. it’s most that he knows of you

he just assumed you were one of those careless kids that didn’t really give a shit about school, until he started seeing you. except, it was at the weirdest times, and the weirdest locations: sometimes it’d be behind the gymnasium where he practices volleyball, or it’d be in those sketchy alleyways where he was 90% sure people sold drugs there, sometimes he’d spot you on the roof of the school. it was so

odd? 

akaashi’s a very curious person. he’s not nosy, he just has a very overactive imagination (i mean, literature department akaashi keiji? obviously) 

so all this just made him unconsciously pay more attention to you. like, he didn’t want to, he just subconsciously did. any time he’d pick you out from the crowd, he’d find his eyes following you narrowly, or anytime he heard your name, his ears would perk up. he really didn’t mean it. you just kinda fascinated him, to the point of, maybe a crush? he wouldn’t really call it that, but yeah, he guesses the symptoms are of a crush

but anyways, this school was really boring! that’s why! 

not a crush >:(

so! he’d been walking home one night, let’s say bokuto was with his family and there was no training for that day. it was winter, so the sun had set pretty early, leaving him in the paleness of the moonlight and the occasional streetlight illuminating the pathway for him. there wasn’t really anybody around, and he figured at a time like this people were either already home or still at work

until he heard a low growling noise 

he didn’t really think much of it, only stiffening up a bit

but he told himself it was his mind playing tricks on him, or something he mistook for a growl, or maybe it was a growl and it was just some dog nearby. just tried to stick to rational thinking because what else would it be?? was there option for anything else? 

until, out of nowhere, you appeared from an alley he just crossed past, and curled up against him, one arm hugging him tight, before you raised a hand to your lips and silently asked him to stay quiet 

he was

very confused 

like what the fuck 

but then you shifted, spinning around him. curiously, he twisted around with you, and

damn

what the actual fuck

so it wasn’t a dog 

the curse lunged at you, or maybe it lunged at akaashi, but you quickly kicked it away, sending it spinning, before you raised your hands up above you, ready to exorcise it, until it twisted unexpectedly and aimed at akaashi 

it made you panic, and instead of focusing on exterminating the curse, you turned your focus on protecting akaashi, who was in momentary shock. or maybe it was awe. you weren’t sure. somehow, you fought with the curse, maneuvering your way around it and moving akaashi along with you. somehow, his hand was in yours, and he was letting you shift him right and left as you attempted to fight off the curse. god, what the fuck is going on

eventually, finally, akaashi ducked behind you, and you raised your hands above you again, quickly exorcising it. he watched from under his shielding arms as the curse — exploded? vanished? evaporated? 

and without even missing a beat, you were kneeling before him, hands on his shoulders, shaking him wildly, asking is he’s okay 

it kinda made him want to laugh at how panicked you seemed in comparison to how serious and scary you’d been a second before 

akaashi finally answers that yes, he’s okay, but he demands an explanation, please, because he’s never been more confused 

you continue to walk him home, with the lame excuse of “i’m your personal bodyguard now,” and explain everything to him. he’s. kinda. really amazed? like you thought he’d get thrown off at the reality of the world you and him live in but he’s actually really fascinated, and he listens to you talk the entire time, only speaking when he has a question 

when you come to school the next day, you smile at him knowingly, waving at him and when bokuto sees him wave back with a small smile on his face, he combusts. 

akaashi sorta really likes the idea of being the only one to know your little secret. something about it is so satisfyingly intimate, and the trust it conveys? he’s really honored, you know? 

as your s/o, he gets really worried whenever you’re sent out on missions, but you always remind him that what brought you two together was you saving his ass <3

and then he’s reminded of just how proud of you and amazed he is hehe

end note; i want to write a book. :D

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x jujutsu kaisen #hq x jjk #haikyuu crossover #jujutsu kaisen crossover #kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #kita headcanons #kita shinsuke headcanons #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi headcanons

[hesgunnalovethis]

Dark Circles

Summary: You’re cramming for a big exam. Until Leonard McCoy finds out you haven’t slept in 3 days.

Bones x Reader

Masterlist!  (thank you for all the love you guys are the best <3)

 TW: bit of sleep deprivation init, strong language, passing mention of death (satirically)

 Word Count: 1514

  You had been working on the Enterprise as a student medic for some time now. With a busy five year mission, an unspoken fling with the Chief Medical Officer and a crew who couldn’t seem to keep themselves in one piece, you’d began to believe you’d never make it that final step to officially become Doctor Y/L/N. So, when The Academy offered for you to take your final exams online, you jumped at the chance. 

The exam was in three days. You’d somehow managed to nab yourself a week clear of shifts. Whoever made up the rotas must have it sweet for you you’d joked to Leonard who was now working a doubly busy week. He didn’t mind, he knew how important this was to you. 

 You were ready to be free from the constant watchful eye of people only as skilled as you and you knew it. But having neglected textbook terminology for three years you panicked wondering if you’d be able to convince Starfleet the same. You’d been hitting the books hard for the last few days. Really, you’d been doing little else. So much so that the words were beginning to jumble before your eyes. 

Your comm rang. You answered to Jim’s shrill voice like you were teenagers on a landline. Jim had been a good few years above you at The Academy but you had always been close. Jim initially approached you as a night out trophy and when you’d firmly put him in his place, even through six vodka blackcurrants, he knew he’d found a good drinking buddy. 

 “Sooo how you feeling!” Jim asked as if your final medical exam was a first date. 

 “Honestly? Nauseous. Although I don’t know if that’s the nerves or the tiredness.” The first time you’d spoken in days, you remembered. 

 “Jeez how long have you been up?” 

 “Long enough to be two and half notebooks down.” You eyed the strewn pads filled with messy words and diagrams. You definitely passed the doctors handwriting stereotype. 

 “Maybe I’ll stop by with another one for you. And maybe some crushed up pills.” He wasn’t joking but you laughed anyway. 

 “And how is... the ship?” You said, head scrabbled but feeling rude not asking about him. 

 “Still in space.” 

 “That is good to hear.” 

 “For real, Y/N, are you alright? Do you need anything? Water? Food? A certain doctor?”

 “I need everyone on this ship to stand still for three days so I’m ready to sit this.” Jim was silent knowing that he couldn’t promise that and that he’d probably be first injured. “Currently skim reading the dermal regenerator chapter. If another ensign gets stabbed that’s on them.” 

 “As your Captain I can’t laugh at that.” 

 “’As your captain,’” you mimicked “shut the fuck up, Jim.”

 “Fair.” Jim said in defeat after a long silence. “I’ll get Bones up to see you in a bit” 

 “Don’t bother him, he’s working all his own shifts and all of mine, he’ll be more of a corpse than me.” 

 “I have never seen that man in any state other than grumpy. I’ll check up on you in a few.” 

 “Catch.” You said hanging up the comm.

 A few hours past and you’d filled up your third notebook throwing it on the pile and picking up a fresh one, like clockwork. 

 Another hour passed and Jim had rang your comm, again. You ignored it. Another hour. Another ring. Another comm ignored. You only had six textbooks left and you weren’t going to let anything distract you. Almost. 

 The door to your quarter opened as you finished notepad four. You didn’t fully register it until you noticed the room become significantly brighter. You’d really been sitting there for long enough for the room to assume you’d died. Interesting. 

 You looked up to silently thank the ceiling and were greeted by two cold hands against your skin planting a kiss on top of your head. You’d recognise those hands in death. Hands that didn’t need to sit this exam. You were jealous of them. 

 You felt him squat behind you hugging you from behind his cheek brushing against yours. 

 “How’s it been?” You asked instinctively about the sickbay. 

 “Y’know,” he began, spinning your chair away from the desk to face him, “It’s been-“ he stopped brief worry passing over his face. Brief but not unnoticed. 

 “What?” 

 “Darlin’ you are so pretty, you know that, but right now you have two friends I don’t know called ‘extremely dark’ and ‘evidently from sleep deprivation circles’ under your eyes.” He said it delicately, you scoffed. 

 “You’re not looking so hot yourself Mr Five O’clock Shadow.” Leonard’s mouth peaked at the corners suppressing a laugh. 

 In that moment you felt silently sorry for Jim who’d claimed never to see Leonard’s softness. ‘Jim’ you thought. 

 “Jim sent you?” You questioned spinning your chair back towards the desk but finding it halted by Leonard’s foot. He shook his head. 

 “He mentioned a few missed comms but I was already on my way here. I assumed you’d be sleeping. It is 4am.” 

 You looked at the time to verify. You swore the last time you checked it had been 5am. 

 “How long have you been awake?” Leonard asked assessing the desk space. 

 “A few nights.” 

 “Nights?” He cocked his eyebrow at you. “Nights are for sleeping.”

 “It’s the same as working a few nights.” You stated. 

 He smiled softly at you, reaching forward to knock your glasses from your hair to your eyes. You could see again. He’d actually gifted you sight. 

 “When we work a few shifts in a row, we take breaks. How many breaks have you taken?” 

 “A few.” 

 “Bullshit.” He was right so you didn’t argue. 

 “I just have a few things left to cover before I can start doing practice exams. I’ll take a break then.” 

 Leonard was already at your desk closing textbooks and tidying flashcards. You tried to interfere but he simply moved your hands and stroked your hair. 

 “You get changed, I’ll get you some water.” 

 You were suddenly thankful someone had pried you away. You didn’t realise how awful you felt. Head pounding, nauseous, eyes failing. 

 “Test me?” You asked. Leonard turned eyeballing you. His facial expressions having a silent conversation. 

 ‘Really?’ His face said. 

 ‘Please?’ Your face said back. 

 “Your patient is paralysed. First point of call?”

 “Neutral transducer.” You shouted from the bathroom not missing a beat. 

 “And how does that work?”

 “By picking up neural signals from the brain to mimic and stimulate appropriate muscles.” You were right. Leonard was silent for a few minutes allowing you to brush your teeth and change. “Keep going.” You shouted back. 

 “It’s pointless you know everything.” He stated. You walked back into the room giving him a sad face. He rolled his eyes he couldn’t say no to you. 

 “What are the symptoms of fatigue?” Leonard said handing you a glass of water. You shot him an annoyed look, his face was pure innocence. 

 “Chronic tiredness.” You said. He urged you to continue, “Dizziness, headache, impaired vision, slow reflexes, muscle weakness, appetite loss.”

 “I think you’re missing a few.” He said. You sighed at him knowing the point he was trying to make. 

 “Poor concentration, short term memory problems, impaired judgement.” 

 “Heck… sound familiar?” He said as you both climbed onto the bed. 

 Leonard pulled you towards him, taking your entire body in his kissing your under eye repeatedly. 

 “It’s been fun ‘evidently from sleep deprivation circles’ but you’ve gotta go. It’s not personal I just love your host too much to keep you around.” Leonard joked and rearranged your pillows to make you both more comfortable. 

 “One more.” You whispered almost completely asleep. Leonard sighed heavily. 

 “Where’s a Vulcans heart.” You laughed at the easiness of the question. 

 “Right side. Between ribs and pelvis.”

 “Oooo, wrong.” He said pulling you closer. 

 “What! No I’m not?!” 

 “Vulcans don’t have hearts. Have you met the one we work with?” 

 You laughed, softly elbowing him in his own ribs for being horrible. 

 “You do this every time you have something big. You work yourself into the ground. It’s not good for you darlin’. Not good for my blood pressure either.” Leonard softly said removing the glasses from your face. 

 “I’m just scared. God knows how long I’ll need to wait to resit it.” You mumbled. 

 “Y/N, you don’t have to scrounge through textbooks for these answers. You’ve lived these answers. Hell I’ve watched you take over from doctors well above your rank when they’ve started feeling the heat. You’re exceptional. Being a doctor is in your damn blood.” You could tell by his tone he was sincere. Your heart sung but your head retorted. 

 “What if I fail?”

 “Then I guess you’ll have no choice but to have me watching over you for another two years.” Leonard rested his head on top of yours allowing your own to fall onto his chest. 

 “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad.” ‘And hopefully a lot longer’ you thought as you finally drifted off to sleep.

#star trek imagines #Star Trek Fanfiction #leonard mccoy imagines #bones imagines #leonard mccoy x reader #bones x reader #mccoy x reader #mccoy imagines #dr mccoy #dr mccoy imagines #dr mccoy x reader #bones star trek #star trek fic #doctor mccoy #doctor mccoy x reader

[bosspigeon]

not if it's you

Prompt: Day One: Cooking, Day Two: Cuddling💕 Pairing: Mason/Male Detective Words: 3293 Summary: Mason is sick. Mason's not supposed to get sick, but magic tends to not give a shit if you're a big, tough vampire man with a reputation to maintain. A prompt fill for @wayhavensummer that I wasn't sure I'd finish, but I'm glad I decided to. I combined two prompts into one, along with the inclusion of the bonus challenge, "love languages!" Juni's love language is Acts of Service~ CW for emetophobia. Nothing actually happens, but it is discussed!

“I’m not a vampire, Mason,” Juni said to him when he clicked on the lamp on his dresser and Mason growled loudly in protest. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see in the dark.”

Mason's growl became a long, low groaning noise as he dragged a pillow over his face. It helped more than he cared to admit, being immediately plunged into soothing darkness and smothered in the warm, sweet scent of the detective buried in his pillow.

Still, he feels like absolute shit.

The illness should run its course in just a few days, from what Juni’s relayed to him about Nate’s research—since he won’t leave Juni’s apartment (he’s not going to say can’t, because that implies weakness, implies that he couldn’t even if he wanted to, and he could, he just won’t, and that’s all there is to it) until he’s well, and refuses to go crawling to the Agency when he just needs to wait things out.

If he went to the Agency, he’d just be “waiting things out” the same as he is there, only he’d be doing it alone in a stiflingly empty observation room, bored out of his fucking skull until someone decided to come poke at him for science. At least here, he’s got Juni fussing over him.

It’s sort of… nice, being fussed over.

And Juni would be fussing whether Mason was here or not. He’d probably be driving himself crazy with worry, making himself sick with it, if Mason were stuck at headquarters without him, and the thought of that makes Mason feel even worse than he already does. It’s really best for the both of them that the vampire is here, buried in a metric fuckton of blankets (because even if he feels like he’s going to burn alive, the second he leaves them the sweat cools on his skin and leaves him trembling) looking into the blank, beady eyes of a patchwork plush cat.

His entire body aches, throbbing dully from the top down, but he reaches out with a heavy arm and turns it around so it’s not fucking staring at him anymore.

Juni’s been gone for a while, but Mason can hear him over the low ringing in his ears, puttering around in the kitchen. His senses are weakened by the bizarre magical illness Juni’s likened to the flu after hearing the symptoms, but he hears the detective humming quietly to himself, smells some spices and herbs he’s too exhausted to bother identifying over the low thrum of something metallic and familiar.

Mason's stomach growls at the same moment it churns. Hungry, but the very thought of consuming anything, blood included, makes him feel nauseous.

He doesn't know how Juni managed to sweet-talk Adam into handing over Mason's blood rations for the few days it would take this sickness to work its way through his body, but it makes him faintly irked he'll have to disappoint the detective when he tells him he doesn't even think his traitorous stomach can handle it, no matter how hungry he is. Juni always looks so pitiful when he can't help, soft doe eyes and pouty mouth and genuine, heartfelt distress rolling off him in waves. Mason groans into the pillow and comforts himself by drawing another detective-scented breath deep into his lungs.

And then Juni knocks on the doorframe (of his own fucking bedroom, because he's ridiculous, and Mason's chest squeezes) and calls, "Still alive in here?" softly teasing, his voice carefully lowered in deference to Mason's throbbing skull.

He makes a rough noise and tosses aside the pillow, because the only thing better than being buried in Juni-perfumed sheets is taking in the scent of him right from the source.

Juni always looks so different when he's at home. He relaxes, softens, like a bird coming to roost. His shoulders aren't so tense, his eyes stop darting like he's waiting for an attack (something Mason noticed even before Juni was actually under attack every other week) and he just, he looks settled and safe. After the shit he’s been through, he deserves to feel safe.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Mason just awkwardly squirms his way out of the blankets to free his arms enough to reach out.

"C'mere," he grunts.

Juni laughs, and the way his cheeks curve, the way they make his eyes crinkle at the corners, makes Mason hate whatever magic bullshit allowed him to get sick in the first place with a burning fury that feels like it's immolating him from the inside.

Or maybe that's the fever.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Juni teases when Mason growls. It's not as fierce as he hoped it would be, which is more than obvious when Juni only smiles indulgently at him.

He perches on the edge of the bed and smooths a hand over Mason's clammy forehead, making a soft, commiserating cooing noise. Mason wants to be annoyed, wants to growl again, complain about being coddled, but the sound that comes out of him is not a growl, or a curse, but a soft moan. He pushes up into Juni’s hand and closes his eyes.

“You’re still burning up,” Juni sighs, sinking his fingers into the vampire’s hair and scratching at his scalp. He moans again, lower and rougher. A little awkwardly, he adds, “Nate said you should, y’know, drink something.”

Mason’s stomach turns, and he grits his teeth and shakes his head.

“Mason.”

He shakes his head again, turning his face into the pillow again when it starts to make him dizzy. He wants to break something. He feels so pitiful.

“Mason, you’re not gonna get better if you don’t—”

“You ever seen someone puke blood, detective?” he snaps. Juni’s hand retracts sharply, and Mason keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to see the hurt streaking across that soft, expressive face. “It’s not pretty,” he adds gruffly, and it takes all the strength in his flagging body to roll over and turn his back.

Juni’s quiet for a long moment, before soft fingers are sliding into his hair again,rubbing at the nape of his neck. “I had kind of a weird idea that might help, if you think you can stop pouting long enough to hear me out,” he says.

“You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy, huh?” Mason grumbles, but his body, an aching knot of sweaty tension, starts to slowly loosen up under the gentle petting.

Juni goes quiet again, and then, with a little laugh, he says, “Would it make you feel better if I told you you’re really cute when you’re all whiny?”

“How fucking dare you,” he snarls impotently into the pillow.

Juni laughs, and when Mason rolls over again to glower at him, he snorts trying to stifle it. “Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

“Not exactly in any position to stop you, am I?” Mason scoffs.

The detective pokes his nose. “Nope!” Mason nips at his finger, but his reflexes aren’t exactly great at the moment, and Juni just pulls it back with a smile. “I wanted to ask before I, like, ruined one of your blood rations for a weird experiment, but I’ve been doing research on different recipes that use blood—” “Why?” Mason interjects.

Juni flounders a bit, shoulders drawing up to his ears. “I… Well, I know you don’t like to eat human food, for good reasons, but sometimes I can convince Felix and Adam to try stuff I make, and Nate likes to eat sometimes, and I like… I like cooking for people? And I can’t really do that for you, because I know how overwhelming your senses can be, but you’ve said they’re kind of dull right now, so I thought maybe I could make, well… sort of a blood soup?"

Mason blinks at the detective.

Juni nervously babbles on to fill his befuddled silence. "If I thinned it out with a mild broth, I figured it would go down easier. And I know ginger is really strong on its own, but it also settles the stomach, and with the blood and the broth, it might help? I thought about adding some other things, but I tried to be picky with it, because even if your senses are dulled, I don't want to overwhelm you."

Mason chews it over, and even though he can tell his silence is making Juni nervous with every second that ticks by (fidgety, fussy, open and honest to a goddamned fault, a ball of nerves Mason wants to drag into bed and shield from the world) he can't really think of much to say, except, "Sure. Why the fuck not?"

"That's okay! I figured it was a long shot anyway, and—" Juni freezes, his knee-jerk anxious capitulation cutting off like he’s run into a brick wall. "What?"

"I'm already overwhelmed, sweetheart," Mason groans, and honestly, even talking is getting exhausting, his aching throat protesting every word he can manage to eke out. He wants Juni closer, wants to bury his face in his neck and hide like a wounded animal crawling its way home. "It honestly can't get worse at this point. If you think it'll help, I'll try it."

Juni still looks stunned, but is also clearly jangling with nervous excitement. Nate's used the term "puppyish enthusiasm" before when describing the way Juni lights up when he's actually able to help, and it's almost comically accurate.

Juni's bolted from the room before Mason's sluggish brain has a chance to even process the humor at the observation into a snort.

He's alone again, and if Juni were still here, he'd call what Mason's doing pouting, but he's scowling, damn it. Not that anyone's around to see it save for Juni's stuffed animals. He pulls the pillow to his chest, half-burying himself underneath the blankets again. He keeps his foggy focus stretched far enough to hear Juni in the kitchen again, making a game effort not to clatter around noisily and failing spectacularly. It's the thought that counts, Mason supposes.

It doesn't actually take all that long for him to come back, but it still feels like ages with how shitty Mason feels. He's painfully aware of every single ache in his body, radiating down to his bones, of the fever burning him up, the mutinous turning of his stomach even as it gnaws itself apart with hunger. He’s becoming so bogged down in the prison his ailing body has become, he almost doesn’t notice Juni pattering his way back into the room. Almost.

The second he crosses the threshold, Mason senses are honing in on everything they can about him, his smell, his warmth, the way his cozy sweater (it’s midsummer, for fuck’s sake, and sure the AC is cranked due to Mason’s fever, but it always is, because Juni’s body regulates temperature like a goddamned lizard and he hates the heat almost more than Mason does) makes him look soft and touchable. It takes him a long while to even notice the detective is carrying a tea tray with a bowl on it, as well as a glass of water, and when he does, he’s honestly not sure what to make of the smell.

Human food is overwhelming, usually. But usually, Mason’s sinuses aren’t swollen and borderline useless. Juni is walking as carefully as he can, and there is a palpable relief when he sets the tray down on his bedside table without incident. “I made the broth already, because I didn’t want it to take too long if you said yes. It actually smells, like, really good? Is that gross of me to say?”

Mason tries to push himself upright, and his muscles protest loudly enough that he can’t quite bite back a grunt of pain. Juni makes a sound like he’s been shot, and his hands are on Mason with an urgency that vibrates through his skin. Still, his touch is an instant balm to the vampire’s overwrought senses, his hands gentle as they ease him upright and fussily pile pillows behind him to support him. It fucking sucks to be so weak, but at least it’s only Juni seeing him like this. He can’t quite express why, when it feels like his head’s stuffed full of cotton, but he thinks it would suck a lot more if he were riding this out alone, or in a sterile room at HQ. He lolls his head towards Juni, his cheek smashing against one of a half-dozen goddamned pillows piled around him, and laughs weakly. “Gonna feed me too, Nurse Fenn?”

Juni blushes, and the usual rush of his blood doesn’t smack Mason in the face like usual, but it washes over him in a gentle wave of warmth, that tempting smell tickling the back of his tongue. “Do you need me to?” he asks, and it’s pretty clear he’s trying to make it sound teasing, but it comes out much more earnest than anything else.

Mason almost wants to say yes, but he also doesn’t want Juni to be in the splash zone if his stomach decides it can’t handle the detective’s little experiment. “Nah, I got it,” he grunts, reaching for the tray. It trembles dangerously when his shaking hands lift it, but Juni’s quick to steady it and guide it to his lap. He mutters a quiet thanks, and Juni mercifully doesn’t rib him for his uncharacteristic politeness. “You’d make a cute nurse, detective,” he says to cover the strangely loaded silence.

Juni laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, close but not quite touching. “I’m too squeamish,” he offers with a shrug that rubs their shoulders together.

“You just made me soup out of blood,” Mason says dully.

“I also have a borderline breakdown giving myself the same shot I’ve been giving myself every week for the last decade,” Juni retorts. “Do you really think I could do it for someone else?”

Mason snorts. “Probably not. Would kill to see you in one of those little dresses, though.”

The only thing protecting Mason from getting a hilariously ineffectual swat on the shoulder is the bowl of soup in his lap. He’s not even sure his current feeble condition would be enough to stop Juni otherwise. “Eat your soup, asshole,” Juni groans, covering his burning face with his hands. He peeks through his fingers after a moment’s hesitation, “And maybe I’ll show you the Halloween costume Tina got me as a joke a couple years ago when you’re feeling better.”

Mason’s whole body reacts to that, and he can’t be sure if the chill that rolls down his spine is due to the illness, or something else entirely. If nothing else, choking down some soup will be worth it, just for that promise.

The first spoonful goes down surprisingly easy. He doesn’t really taste much, at first, not even the coppery tang of blood. It’s thin, as Juni promised, so it doesn’t quite coat his mouth the same way fresh, raw blood would. Juni’s watching him with obvious concern, eyebrows scrunched together and plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. Either concern that Mason’s body is going to reject it fully, or he just won’t fucking like it. Probably both.

“It’s not too hot, is it?” Juni asks, touching Mason’s knee lightly through the blanket. He swallows his mouthful hard and bites down the urge to ask the human not to stop touching him.

“S’fine,” he grunts, trying to parse what exactly he makes of it at all. The warmth feels nice, soothing his raw throat. He takes another bite. He thinks he can sort of make out the individual spices underneath the taste of the blood and the broth (slightly watered down bone broth, he;d guess) but he can’t really smell them either. The ginger, at least, is obvious. He knows the smell enough to guess the taste, even with the complete lack of culinary experience. It’s, strangely enough, not horrible. It does taste mostly like thinned-out blood, which is weird, and gives him a sense of dissonance from the texture he expects blood to have. “Weird.”

Juni doesn’t seem to take offense to that. “Well, you’re not spewing it across the room like you’re possessed, at least, so weird is better than bad?” he laughs, squeezing Mason’s knee. “How’s your stomach?”

Mason takes a second to consider. “Not great, but not terrible.”

Juni almost deflates with relief. “And the taste? It’s not too much, is it? I can be kind of heavy-handed with my seasoning, so I tried to be really careful. It’s really only a pinch of salt, sage, and ginger, with a little bit of licorice root, which I know is kind of weird, but it’s good for sore throats?”

“Tastes like…” Mason screws up his face, realizing he has absolutely no context to work with. “I don’t know. I think I like it?”

Juni smiles like the goddamned sun, and it somehow makes his snarky little pet name for Mason that much funnier. “Really?”

Mason’s not sure he’d be saying the same thing if his senses weren’t dulled to near-uselessness by his traitorous body, but the way Juni looks, like he couldn’t be happier to be dealing with a sick, cranky vampire hogging his bed and sweating in his sheets, makes him bite his tongue. There’s always a brightness to the human when he brings food to the warehouse for Nate and Felix, he smiles so wide his face almost cracks when Adam crumples under the weight of those puppy eyes and takes the smallest portion of whatever concoction Juni’s brought to nibble on, and offers the most awkward compliment he can manage. Juni just likes doing things for people, providing for them any way he can. Food is his usual go-to, but if he can help at all, he’s happy.

I can’t really do that for you.

It almost makes Mason wish he could enjoy whatever the detective whips up in his cramped little kitchen, just to make him smile.

Christ, his brain must be more addled than he thought.

He manages a few more spoonfuls of soup before his stomach starts to feel uncomfortably full, but the gnawing hunger of going too long without drinking has gone away, and he doesn’t feel so much like he’s going to puke like he did earlier. He feels heavy, and tired, and honestly that’s one hell of an improvement. Juni’s quick to take the tray and spirit it off back to the kitchen, bending to press a quick kiss to Mason’s cheek before he goes, and when he returns, the vampire is slumped in his pillow nest and half-asleep, eyes shuttered to thin slits.

He feels more than he sees Juni approach, and when a gentle hand smooths over his clammy forehead, he pushes up into it with a raw, weak noise he has zero energy to be embarrassed by anymore. He reaches out blindly, tangles his fingers in the knit of his detective’s sweater, and tugs. He can’t be sure how it happens, a jumble of movement and complaining muscles, but Juni winds up in bed with him, slouched comfortably against the pillows so Mason can rest his head on the soft curve of his belly. The human plays idly, sweetly with his hair, twirling damp curls around his fingers.

“I’m sweaty,” Mason halfheartedly protests. Juni’s stomach rises and falls beneath his head. It feels like being on the ocean, like being rocked to sleep on quiet waves.

“I don’t mind,” Juni murmurs, thumb stroking the shell of his ear.

Before he can think of anything to say to that, he’s being pulled under, dozing off between one breath and the next.

#the wayhaven chronicles #wayhavensummer #specialist agent mason #specialist agent m #pidge writes #oc: juniper fenn #prompt fic #uuuuuh so here it is lmao? #i know its late #but i wasnt even sure if i wanted to finish this #im still not sure how i feel about it #but vee is a Very Good Cheerleader hfkjdhakjdgshag #idk what else to say here #uuuuh pls enjoy mason being a whiny fuckin brat #🥺🥺🥺 thanks y'all #does it make sense? #probably not #but yeehaw #also yes i could not decide on a title #so i defaulted to the evergreen 'i'll take care of you'

[spencers-renaissance]

dry me off and hold me close

Summary: Derek has finally relented and is bringing his boyfriend Spencer to meet the rest of the team. That means, though, he has to finally tell them about his boyfriend's disability. Terrified that they'll react badly, he puts it off until he can't anymore. Turns out he was worried for nothing.

Tags: so much fluff, protective derek, disabled spencer, caretaker derek, au: spencer is not in the bau, team as family, hurt/comfort, light angst, est. rel, day to day disabled life, physical disability/chronic illness

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 5.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Hello! I am nervous to share this one, I won't lie. It's incredibly personal. It was a pain in the arse to write but I love how it turned out and I hope you do, too. Just a note: this may be triggering for some people - there is description of nausea and severe chronic pain, as well as frequent references to ableism towards wheelchair users.

As soon as Rossi brings up the prospect of a fully-catered family dinner at his ‘mansion’ this weekend, Derek’s heart sinks. They’re on their way home from a pretty gruelling case and it’s well-deserved of course, but he knows what comes next, knows what question will be asked of him, and he’s dreading it. There’s only so long he can go on avoiding answering. 

“Please tell me you’ll finally let us meet Spencer, Derek,” JJ asks, levelling him with a look to rival one of Penelope’s. “At this point I’m starting to think you’ve made him up.” 

Spencer is very real. He’s a very real, very sexy, very intelligent man who Derek has no doubt would get on brilliantly with the team. But Spencer also happens to be disabled. And while his boyfriend has had decades to get to terms with broaching such a sensitive, taboo topic, Derek has not. He’s far from ashamed of Spencer — that’s not it at all — he’s just so protective of him, and the idea of others being touchy or patronising or outright rude around him is an idea he’s never been able to get used to, no matter how many times he’s witnessed it.

Derek’s laugh is strained as he rubs his face awkwardly, trying to find the words to politely decline, but the others are pouncing on him before he can speak. 

“You’ve put it off enough times now, Morgan,” Emily says, siding with JJ. “If he’s even half of what you say he is then we’ll love him. Just bring him along. Rossi doesn’t mind.”

“Oh no, I’m dying to meet the man who could finally tie Derek Morgan, ladies man extraordinaire, down,” Rossi chimes in.

“He definitely sounds like my kind of guy,” Alex agrees. “I’m impressed you managed to land such an educated man, Derek.”

He looks sort of desperately towards Hotch who raises his hands guiltily. “I would actually like to meet him, too, Morgan,” he says reluctantly, a rare smile playing across his face.

Derek groans and throws his head back against his plane seat. He can only be glad Penelope isn’t on the flight because she’d be absolutely relentless in such a conversation. 

As hesitant as he is to let his team in, maybe it is time to finally get over himself and bring Spencer to meet them. After all, none of them have ever given him actual cause to be so nervous, and he knows they’d all inevitably fall in love with him almost as quickly as Derek did, so really it’s his own fears and fierce protective instincts keeping Spencer away from his second family. 

“Fine,” he relents, anxious butterflies not easing. “He’s home this weekend, and apart from planning lectures I think he’s free, so I’ll ask him. But I can only promise to ask, I won’t promise he’ll agree.” It’s a pointless caveat; Spencer’s been bugging him to meet the team almost as long as they’ve been bugging him to meet Spencer, he’ll jump at the chance to go to dinner with them. 

“Finally,” JJ groans, pretending to collapse against Emily in relief, who giggles fondly at her antics.

“I’m sure we’ll love him, Derek,” Rossi says reassuringly, a proud fatherly look on his face that has his chest clenching painfully. 

As everyone settles down, his stomach churns anxiously as he stares back out of the jet window. He knows everyone will love Spencer; he just doesn’t know how to tell them what to expect. What if Spencer has a fainting episode or gets nauseous at dinner time? What if he can’t keep his energy up or is too photosensitive to have the lights on? What if meeting that many people at once overwhelms him? Spencer always tells him he worries too much, but he can’t help it — not when the love of his life is involved. 

He’s brought out of his nervous stewing by Hotch. “You know, Morgan, if you really don’t want to bring Spencer, you don’t have to,” he says softly, making him look up to see everyone staring at him guiltily. 

“We didn’t mean to pressure you,” JJ says hesitantly, and the others agree, all clearly having noticed his pensive expression.

He forces himself to take a calming breath and bite the damn bullet already. Spencer would be rolling his eyes at him. “Okay. There’s something I haven’t told you,” he starts carefully. He hasn’t had to introduce the concept of Spencer’s disability to anybody since he told his family. “Spencer is disabled. He has a chronic condition that impairs his mobility along with bringing a whole host of other symptoms, and while he’s had it for most of his adult life, I’m still not used to broaching the topic and I didn’t know how you would react. He already experienced enough difficulties in life, he doesn’t need my co-workers, hypothetically, being patronising or weird about it. So, I put it off.”

It feels like a weight off his chest once it’s out in the air, but the surprised looks on his team’s face make him briefly wonder whether telling them was a mistake after all. “Spencer will really look forward to coming though,” he rushes to continue. “He’s on his own a lot of the time and struggles to make it out of the house except for work if I’m not there, so he can feel quite isolated. It will be nice for him to spend time with other people, and finally meet you guys.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, everyone seems to have mostly recovered from their immediate shock, and look relaxed and intrigued again — far more appreciated expressions on Derek’s end. 

“Well,” Rossi starts, and he feels like holding his breath in anticipation, “will he need any accommodations?” Relief spreads warm and thick across Derek’s chest as he feels himself physically relax. Of course immediate support would be the response from his team; he was stupid to think otherwise. 

“His mobility fluctuates daily. Sometimes he can walk small distances okay, other times — and more frequently — he needs aids like forearm crutches or his wheelchair. Can I text you on the day and let you know?”

“Of course,” Rossi promises, a warm smile on his face, “whatever you and Spencer need.”

“There is one more thing, if Spencer’s coming it will need to be earlier in the evening… think more six rather than eight. He’ll be too exhausted later in the evening and he needs to be home early to get the amount of sleep he needs.”

“That’s fine,” Rossi agrees immediately, “six it is.”

“Sorry for pressuring you, Derek,” JJ says, tilting her head as she looks across the table at him. “But we’ll love Spencer, this won’t change anything.”

“Yeah, fuck you for thinking we’d be assholes about it,” Emily chuckles, punching him softly in the arm. 

Derek grins at her before shaking his head. “I’m just too protective of him,” he explains a little guiltily. “He thinks it’s ridiculous but I can’t help it. We’ve been together nearly five years now and I’ve seen the things he has to go through, professionally and in his day to day life. I just saw an area for potential harm, no matter how slim the chances, and immediately bricked it up in my mind. It’s hard to tear walls down like that.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Alex says in her signature gentle tone, smiling at him.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Hotch agrees and Derek gives them all another quick smile before they settle in for the rest of the flight. 

It’s late by the time Derek unlocks the door to his and Spencer’s home and he knows his boyfriend will already be in bed. It had been a weird adjustment when they’d first started dating, Spencer having to be home by 10pm so Spencer could get at least nine hours of sleep, topped up by regular naps during the day. Now though, he’s completely used to operating around Spencer’s sleep schedule; it’s just routine. 

He makes his way through the house quietly, toeing his shoes off and shedding his coat before dumping his bag in the living room and padding up the stairs. The house is dark but their room is dimly lit by Spencer’s night lamps, there to ease him off to sleep and keep him company when bouts of painful insomnia torment him. There was a time Derek used to mind, but those days seem so long ago now. He climbs carefully onto the mattress, taking off his trousers and socks but not bothering to change into anything new.

As gentle as he is with his movement, Spencer still stirs beside him. “Derek?” He blinks sleepily over at him in the soft light of the bedroom and Derek immediately scoots over and wraps him in a hug. It might be gone midnight but he misses Spencer like crazy when he’s away and physical contact is very much essential business right now.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers as he relishes the feeling of Spencer’s small frame against his own. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It’s okay. Just glad you’re home. Missed you.”

“I promise I missed you more,” Derek murmurs as the warmth of the room and comforting presence of his boyfriend wrapped around him finally break down the walls he’s been holding back the sleepiness working a 5 day case inevitably brings. 

“Make me pancakes in the morning?” 

Spencer doesn’t need to ask, it’s a tradition for Derek to make pancakes for breakfast the day he gets back from the case, but it makes him smile anyway. “Anything for you, baby boy,” he yawns. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

⭐️

Derek waits until dinner the next evening to bring up the subject of the dinner party. It’s just a simple takeaway on the sofa of the house Derek had renovated for them, but even five years into their relationship, every moment shared with Spencer feels like a date. 

“How would you feel about going to a dinner party with the team?” Derek asks when there’s a lull in their conversation. Spencer’s just finished explaining a complicated debate he’s having with one of his colleagues about kinetic particle theory and Derek has no idea how to respond. Moments like these used to make him feel stupid and inadequete when they first got together, but now he just stares fondly at his genius boyfriend and wonders how on earth he got so lucky. 

Spencer lowers his fork. They’re eating chinese but he still hasn’t mastered chopsticks, and it never fails to make Derek smile. “Are you serious?” he says, an excited grin spreading across his face.

“I am.” He quirks an amused eyebrow as he takes in Spencer’s eager expression. God, he’s so fucking in love.

“Well obviously I want to go,” he giggles, “you know that. When is it?”

“Saturday.”

Spencer just launches himself into Derek’s lap in lieu of response, not that he has far to move on their cosy sofa, slotting himself against his body as they melt into one another. “Thank you for finally getting over yourself,” he says with his face buried in Derek’s neck.

Derek’s responding laugh jostles both of them as he wraps his arms around Spencer’s small frame, loving the way he fits in the palms of his hands. “I’m sorry it took me so long, baby,” he says, tone transitioning into sincerity. “But they can’t wait to meet you, and you’re going to love them.”

“I know,” Spencer says drily, pulling back to look him in his eyes. “Why do you think I’ve been pushing to meet them for the last five years?”

Derek answers with a squeeze to Spencer’s waist and a kiss to his shoulder. “Go on,” he says, lifting him off his lap to sit on the sofa next to him. “Finish your dinner.” 

“Mm, I think I’ve had enough,” Spencer hums nonchalantly, busying himself with putting the carton on the coffee table as if Derek doesn’t know him like the back of his hands. 

“This is your favourite dish from your favourite Chinese and you’re expecting me to believe you’ve just had enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” Spencer says, but he sounds winded and Derek isn’t stupid. He levels him with a look. “Okay… I just feel a bit sick is all.”

“Floor, sofa, or bed?” He’s aware of the nausea protocol, and he moves his own dinner aside as he springs into action. 

“Floor.” He’d been surprised the first time his boyfriend had crawled onto the floor and lay curled up until the nausea passed, but it was second-nature now. Apparently, the flat, firm surface was the most comfortable when such intense sickness consumed him.

“Okay, baby, let’s go.” He gently lifts Spencer off the sofa and down onto the floor, taking care not to jostle him too much. His eyes stay closed, face screwed up as he tries to weather the waves of nausea crashing over him. It never fails to make Derek’s heart twist in pain. “Are you actually going to be sick?” The majority of nausea spells usually pass on their own with no vomit to speak of, and Spencer’s usually very good at telling which kind it is.

“No,” he whispers, reaching his hand slowly towards Derek’s and gripping it tightly. He gets the message and lays down next to him, stroking his hair softly as they wait in silence for Spencer’s body to right itself. It only takes about twenty minutes to pass, and when it does, Derek carries him to bed, bringing him his toothbrush and a flannel as they follow another of their set routines that have been established over so many years of being together. 

“I love you so much, Spencer Reid,” Derek murmurs as they lay in bed together that night, the soft light of their bedroom catching on Spencer’s cheekbones.

“I love you more, Derek Morgan,” Spencer whispers back, voice slurred as he cuddles further into the arms of his boyfriend. 

“Not possible,” Derek insists, but Spencer’s already dropping off to sleep. 

⭐️

Spencer wakes up on the day of the dinner party in what Derek can clearly see is nothing short of agony. He doesn’t try to hide it, they’re mostly past that now — although he still sometimes convinces himself he can handle smaller symptoms by himself, no matter how many times Derek insists they’re a team — but he doesn’t say much either. The morning is spent on the sofa, using numerous heated blankets and painkiller combinations until he can at least think straight. 

“How do you feel about this evening?” Derek asks as lunchtime approaches, rubbing Spencer’s good arm gently as he leans against him, legs outstretched on the chaise. 

Spencer hums. “I’m gonna take a nap after lunch,” he decides after a moment of deliberation, “and then decide. I think with meds and the wheelchair, I’ll be okay.” He pauses for a moment as he nibbles nervously on his bottom lip. “Do you think they’ll be weird about the chair?”

“No, baby,” Derek says decisively. Really, he can’t believe he ever thought anything different, but he was scared and fear easily spirals into irrationality. “They won’t even blink. Especially since I warned them about the mobility aids. I think they’d be more surprised if you walked into the Rossi mansion.”

“You sure?”

It hurts Derek’s heart to hear him so anxious and uncertain, and it’s only more painful because he knows it's rooted in experience. He’s had to fight for most of his life to be seen as a competent adult, equal to his peers despite his disability, and people can be cruel. “I’m sure. And even if for some reason they were dicks about it, I’m there, okay? Nobody��s gonna get away with being anything other than an angel towards you when I’m around.”

Spencer giggles at that, turning his head into Derek’s chest. “You turn into the hulk when you’re protecting me.” 

“I do,” he agrees, chuckling at the sound of Spencer’s adorable laugh, “and for good reason. No-one hurts my baby. You know that, and everyone else knows it, too. We’re gonna be just fine, pretty boy.”

Spencer sighs, reassured by Derek’s words. “Love you,” he whispers, twisting a bit to press a kiss to the side of Derek’s neck. 

“I love you more,” Derek promises, lifting a hand to rest on Spencer’s cheek.

“Not possible.”

The rest of the day passes slowly as Spencer takes it easy, deciding that he’s definitely up to it after a decent nap curled up against a reading Derek. They get ready together, Derek helping him shower when his arms hurt too much to wash his hair and getting him dressed in his favourite outfit before dressing himself. 

By the time six thirty rolls around, Spencer’s feeling a little bit better, his meds are hitting the spot and they’ve mastered all the wheelchair adaptations to make his life as easy as possible over the years. His cushions and heated seats connected to the wheelchair’s motor, which he uses to help self-propell at work, ease the pain as much as they can and the built in phone charger always makes him popular whenever they go out with friends. Plus, his cane and crutches connect neatly to the back of the chair, giving him more options, which is especially helpful on nights like this. 

“Comfy?” Derek asks as he pushes him out of the apartment and into the hallway, locking the door behind them. 

Spencer hums in affirmation, wiggling a little as he settles into the warm support of the chair. They have a ground floor apartment for safety reasons: Spencer needs to be able to exit the building if the lifts stop working, but it’s also convenient. They get down to the garage quickly and Derek helps him into the passenger seat before packing the wheelchair in the boot.

He spends the journey in contemplative silence and Derek can’t keep himself from shooting worried looks his way. His hand makes its way onto Spencer’s knee and he rubs his thumb gently against the skin, before stilling the digit, all too conscious of how painful repetitive stimulus can be, especially on days like these. 

“Stop worrying, baby,” he says, ten minutes into the drive when Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His bottom lip is chapped from the worried chewing it has endured for most of the day. “They’re going to love you, I promise.” 

“You really think so?” 

Derek’s about to answer quickly but he looks over and sees how absolutely dead serious Spencer is. He sighs. “Let me tell you exactly why. Alex is a fellow academic with the softest streak of anyone in the BAU field team. Emily and JJ have the ability to befriend literally anyone, and Penelope already is in love with you, just from what I’ve said about you. She’s told me so multiple times. Rossi immediately accommodated you and wasn’t at all fazed when I mentioned your disability. Hotch is a gentle fatherly type when he’s talking to good people and the rest of the team, so he’ll just be interested in you as a person. There’s no-one I’m worried about, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer whispers eventually, finally sounding like he actually believes him. 

“Besides, you’ve already got one member of this team whipped,” Derek smirks, glancing over at him again. 

He considers it a win when Spencer rolls his eyes, and his grin couldn’t be wider when he hears him mumble, “arrogant asshole” under his breath.

Derek’s grateful Rossi doesn’t have a gravel driveway as he gets Spencer out of the car and into his wheelchair, before pushing him the short way to the front door. They’d battled some tough terrain over the years, and gravel was absolutely his least favourite. As they approach the house, though, he notices that Spencer’s grip on his armrest is tight enough that his knuckles are white, and it hurts Derek’s heart that he’s only this nervous because real people and real experiences have given him genuine reason to be. 

Before he gets to knock, though, the door is thrown open by an uncontainably excited Penelope. “You’re here!” she shouts, and completely bypasses Derek to shake Spencer’s hand. He’s glad she doesn’t crouch, just leans down a little so he doesn't have to reach up so far. “You must be Spencer. I’m Penelope. It is a crime that Derek has kept us apart for so long, but none of that matters now. Would you like me to push you in through to meet the others?”

“Um, it’s nice to finally meet you, Penelope,” he says, smiling at her genuinely. “Would you mind if Derek keeps pushing me, though?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine!” Her smile doesn’t drop a bit. “Come through, everyone’s already in the living room. Oh, and hi Chocolate Thunder.” She sends him a quick wink. 

“Hi, Mama,” he says, rolling his eyes. He’s grinning, though. So far, so good. 

They follow Penelope further into the house after Derek closes the door behind them, and the girls get up first. “Spencer, oh it’s so good to meet you,” Emily says, coming up and shaking his hand. “I’m Emily, this is JJ.”

“Hi,” JJ says, shaking his hand too, giving him a conspiratorial look. “I’m glad we finally bullied Derek into bringing his oh-so-secret beau to meet us.” 

Derek just grins. “What can I say? I’m protective of my baby.” He reaches down and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

“Ignore this caveman,” Spencer laughs, and Derek is sure he rolls his eyes again. “I’ve been dying to meet you all, too.”

“Well, it’s our pleasure,” Alex says, coming up for her turn. “I’m Alex. Your paper ‘How Thinking Makes Us Write’ you published a couple of years ago is incredible; I used it in my Psychology of Writing class last year and only just realised it was written by Derek’s top-secret boyfriend! I’d love to talk to you more about that later.”

“That’s so cool, wow, yeah I’d love that.” He smiles at her, clearly feeling a little flattered by the immediate praise of his work. Derek thinks it’s the least he deserves.

“I’m Aaron, but everyone calls me Hotch,” Hotch says as he and Rossi step forward, a warm smile on his face. “Sorry to overwhelm you with all these introductions, but it’s lovely to meet you. It really is a shame Derek’s been so secretive.” 

Spencer smiles up at him. “Are we all going to dunk on Derek all night? Because if that’s the case, I’m glad I came,” he laughs, twisting around slightly to look at Derek. 

“Yeah, yeah, keep talking, pretty boy,” he says, raising a brow. “Two can play at that game.”

“You’re too whipped, I’m not worried,” Spencer dismisses him, before touching his hand lovingly, letting him know that he’s only teasing. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Rossi says. “I’m Dave, or Rossi, whichever you prefer. I actually own this house, despite being the last in line for a formal introduction. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you at the door, Penelope had been waiting on the stairs for half an hour so she could be the first to greet you.”

“That true, baby girl?” Derek chuckles, looking over at her. 

She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, but then Derek doesn’t know what else he expected. “This is on you,” she defends herself, “if you hadn’t waited so long to introduce me to baby genius here, I wouldn’t have been so desperate to meet him.” 

Spencer laughs at their interaction, turning his attention back to Rossi. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “Derek told me you were really accommodating, so thank you for that.”

He waves the thanks aside with a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. Speaking of which, though, would you rather eat in your wheelchair or transfer to one of the dining chairs.”

Derek knows what’s about to happen even before he sees Spencer tense up. “Give us one second,” he says, wheeling him out into the hallway. Decisions are really hard for Spencer to make on bad days, especially those that pertain to his health or needs, and being under the eyes of so many people was not about to make that an easy interaction.

“Derek…” Spencer says anxiously, looking at him for help as he feels his mind spiral into fogginess at the question. 

“Okay, it’s okay, baby,” he says soothingly, crouching down in front of him to be at eye level. He takes his hand and kisses it gently. “Do your hips need a break from the chair or would it be more painful to transfer?” 

Phrasing questions like Rossi’s as directly applicable choices is always more digestible for Spencer and he sees him visibly relax at his words. “Hips need a break.”

“Great,” Derek says. “Do you want to go back in or do you need a minute to yourself?”

“No, I’m fine,” Spencer says, and he believes him. He instantly relaxed at having made a decision. “Let’s go back in.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

They walk back into a room full of vibrant conversation and laughter. “Oh, Spencer, Spencer,” Emily says, immediately roping him back into the conversation without making a big deal of him having to leave the room, “we’re debating whether Derek’s really the slob Alex insists he is. You need to help us settle it.”

“I shared a room with him once, okay,” she says, “it was a state!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Spencer agrees. “At home, he’s so anal about ‘everything in it’s place’ and won’t even let a mug sit on the counter without being washed up. But whenever we go away, he can’t keep the place clean, it’s the weirdest thing. It’s like his suitcase vomits its contents all over the room.”

“Hey, I didn’t know this dinner was gonna be all about airing my dirty laundry,” Derek laughs.

“Literally,” JJ points out.

“Right,” Rossi says, interrupting the laughter filling the room. “Dinner is ready, so we should eat. Did you come to a decision about seating, Spencer?” Derek’s impressed at how much he knows about accommodating disabilities. He probably has someone close to him who’s been through something similar to Spencer.

“I’ll transfer,” he confirms.

“Great, we can just move your wheelchair to the hall once you’re settled so it’s not in the way, if that’s okay?”

At Spencer’s nod, they all file into the kitchen/dining area and choose their places. Penelope bags the seat to Spencer’s left, Derek sitting to his right, as the other girls sit opposite them. Hotch and Rossi sit at Derek's end of the table. He holds hands with Spencer under the table all through the delicious pasta primavera, helping to ground him, reminding him he’s right there. 

Conversation and laughter flows with the wine Rossi serves, and Derek doesn’t even mind his embarrassing stories being shared with the team, because it’s Spencer, and he’s so far gone for this man that he could slice him open and with his dying breath, Derek would thank him. 

“I love you, really,” Spencer grins up at him, after he’s just revealed his Nina Simone shower concerts to everyone sitting around the table, everyone cracking up as the tough exterior Derek’s built up at work over the years slowly disintegrates, his own boyfriend fuelling the fire. 

“And I love you, baby,” he says, leaning over to kiss him briefly, before pulling back. “Even when you spill my deepest darkest secrets.”

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest,” Alex says fondly. “You’re a lucky man, Derek.”

“No, I’m the lucky one,” Spencer insists. “Do you know what he said when we first met? We were at the supermarket, and I was reaching for some baby carrots. He said ‘whoa, pretty boy, don’t get those ones. They go off far too quickly. Someone as beautiful as you deserves better than that’. No mention of the wheelchair or bags under my eyes. He didn’t see Disabled Spencer, he just saw Spencer. Asked for my number then and there.”

“You were irresistible,” Derek says fondly, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “I knew right at that moment I would spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Stop,” Penelope begs, “my heart is literally a puddle on the floor. This world needs more Derek Morgans.”

“I’ll toast to that,” JJ says, her face just as soft as Penelope’s. 

“A real toast,” Hotch says, raising his glass with a happy smile on his face. Derek very rarely sees such a relaxed expression on his face, and as much as they have their disagreements, it’s a nice thing to see. “A toast to Derek and Spencer. May your happiness live long and be as contagious as it is tonight.”

Everyone toasts to his words, and Spencer buries his face in Derek’s shoulder, a little embarrassed at the attention. They sit around the table a little longer, but Spencer slowly sags against his body, finding it painful to keep himself upright. 

Noticing this, Penelope claps her hands. “Shall we move back to the living room? I bought chocolate and Rossi has wine.”

“This is true,” Rossi says as they all get up. He grabs Spencer’s wheelchair from the hall and Derek helps him back into it as they head back to the sofas.

“It’s weird using my chair inside,” Spencer laughs as Derek pulls him into his chest so he doesn’t have to keep himself steady upright, everyone else settling themselves around the room.

“Do you not need it often?” Hotch asks. 

“No, I need it quite a lot. I just don’t usually have to. Derek’s usually fairly insistent on carrying me around our apartment.”

“We’ll never live in a big house,” Derek says, chuckling along with anyone else. “I couldn’t haul this big lug around a Rossi mansion, now could I?”

“Hey!” Spencer smacks his side lightly. 

“You’re 6 foot tall, baby,” Derek defends himself. “You might be tiny but there’s still a lot of you.”

“Fair enough,” Spencer acquiesces, laying his head just under Derek’s chin. 

“Right,” Rossi says, coming back into the room, “I have more of your non-alcoholic wine, Spencer, and more of the real stuff for everyone else. Hand out the chocolates, Penelope, and we’ll have ourselves some satisfied guests.”

“I don’t live here, old man,” Penelope says, raising an eyebrow but getting up from her seat cuddled against Emily and JJ anyway. 

“Hey, you answered the door to pretty much everyone today; you’re co-hosting.”

“Can’t argue with that, Penelope,” Emily says drily, looking on amusedly as she huffs but hands out the chocolates anyway.

Derek discreetly pops two painkillers out in his pocket and hands it to Spencer, who swallows them down with a sip of his non-alcoholic wine, relaxing as they start to take effect. They all chat leisurely for a while, enjoying each other’s company in a non-pressured environment where they’re not surrounded by high profile cases and serial killers. 

Eventually, though, Spencer starts to fall asleep on his chest, clearly feeling relaxed enough in the warm room, pressed up against his boyfriend and surrounded by the reassuring conversation of people he trusts. As soon as Derek notices, though, he knows it’s time to get him home and into bed before any true crisis of pain or fatigue takes place. 

“I think we’ll need to get going, guys,” he says quietly, drawing everyone’s attention to Spencer’s dozing form. He watches as their faces soften and conversation quietens, everyone clearly enamoured with his boyfriend. It occurs to him that he feels no jealousy, only pride that he gets to call this wonderful man his, that he’ll be going home with him tonight, tucking him into bed and cuddling him until he falls asleep. 

He shakes Spencer gently, and the others start to get up, tidying or just moving through to the kitchen so as not to embarrass him when he opens his eyes. “Sorry,” he murmurs sleepily, as he looks up at Derek. “I’m tired.”

“I know, baby,” he says softly, feeling so fond his heart could burst. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Everyone’s sad to see him go, gathering at the front door to say their goodbyes. 

“You are invited to every BAU event from hereon in,” Penelope asserts confidently as she leans down for a gentle hug. She whispers, “you’re better company than Derek, anyway.”

“I heard that, Mama,” he says, poking her in the side.

“You were meant to,” she says, sending him a pointed look, before dropping the act and wrapping him in a hug as the others say goodbye to Spencer. 

“It was so nice to finally meet you, Spencer,” Hotch says warmly. “Derek had better not keep us from seeing anymore of you.”

“I’m not sure I could possibly get away with that anymore,” he sighs. “Guess I’ll have to share my baby with you assholes.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at that, stifling a yawn. “Come on, caveman,” he says, rolling his eyes again. “I need to get home.”

“Anything for you, my highness,” he chuckles, before lifting his chin with his knuckle and bending down to kiss him briefly. 

“Bye, lovebirds,” Emily calls as they make their way to their car.

“Drive safely,” JJ shouts, which makes Derek laugh fondly. He does love his team.

“See you on Monday,” he calls back as he helps Spencer into the passenger seat. They drive home in the comforting darkness of night, illuminated by the car and street lights of the city, and satisfaction pools in his stomach as he reflects on such a perfect evening as Spencer falls asleep against the passenger window. It really couldn’t have gone any better, and the relief he feels is staggering: the two most important facets of his life finally integrated after far too long.

While his whole life feels like it’s finally falling into place, all that really matters is that the man who is his entire world is happy, a small smile on his sleeping face as the shadows of the city brush their way over his cheekbones. He has to force his eyes back to the road, but he can’t resist the hand he slips into Spencer’s, or the smile that lights up his face as even in his sleep, Spencer’s fingers curl themselves around his.

Spencer's symptoms in this fic could fit any number of neurological conditions, but his unnamed condition was modelled on my own experience with fibromyalgia. I have a rather severe case, as would Spencer if he was diagnosed with this illness. The symptoms could also fit these conditions in one way or another: Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (M.E.), Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), Lupus, Rheumatoid Arthritis or Axial Spondyloarthritis, as well as others I'm sure I'm forgetting.

Everything about Spencer’s disability is true to the chronically ill/disabled experience as I know it, and to learn more please visit the end notes on AO3 where I explain in a little more detail some of the features of Spencer’s symptoms and condition.

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#my writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fluff #moreid au #criminal minds au #disabled spencer reid