#BUT IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN THAT TO SOMEONE WITH A NORMAL SLEEP SCHEDULE

[hella1975]

'you have insomnia so you can stay up later to let me in right?' girl. i have insomnia. which means it'll take me 2+ hours from the moment of ATTEMPTING sleep to actually achieve it. that means if i start trying to sleep at 11pm, earliest it'll happen is 1am. if i start at 1am, it'll be 3am. can you see the problem here. if you do not get your ARSE through that DOOR

[avcnturine]

(looks over slowly at the official bed art and concert trailer) rai tell me about aven’s sleep

〈　　　from　　∶　　　　𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐂　/　🇦​🇨​🇨​🇪​🇵​🇹​🇮​🇳​🇬​　　〉

I KNEW OYU'D ASK ME THIS.

ok we're gonna bullet point fun facts

from the anan interview:

his pjs and bed, sheets, etc. were recommended to him by the company he got them from. he tells us it was a tie-in marketing maneuver

when evaluating goods for himself, he prioritizes: fit, design, and brand, in that order.

he likes things that are soft and close to his body ( i'm pretty sure this explains the 83 pillows )

when he can't sleep, he tries to tire himself out physically to the point where he can instead by exercising, etc.

we ball:

MESSY sleeper. did u see that man's pose. incredible power of sprawl despite being like 5'7". rip anyone sharing his bed but also if you love urself don't share his bed bc he shamelessly takes up 80% of it and hogs all the blankets and pillows because "it's my bed. shouldn't i have that right?" smh

have you seen this man he is a TAURUS. prioritizes comfort and having top quality. healthy appreciation for those memory foam mattress pads and ergonomic cooled pillows and whatnot.

sleeps shirtless normally. had the shirt with the one button closed for the magazine's sake

off the last point above, often struggles with falling asleep because he's so busy, his brain is going 3843428 different directions at all times, there's always things demanding his attention, etc. bad at putting things down and just Going To Sleep

keeps both tablet and phone at his bedside and, as we see, checks work emails and schedules just about first thing on prying his eyes open

one of those people where once he's awake, he's awake. there's no half-asleep or buffering time for his brain to turn on. idk how he does it ( it's probably the trauma )

doesn't usually stay in bed in the morning even if he has time ( which is never ). prefers to be up and moving. this doesn't apply to night however, where he will sometimes lie in bed while doing work and whatnot ( which probably also contributes to the inability to fall asleep )

never naps ever. even if he had the time he wouldn't.

tosses and turns like crazy. once again if you love yourself don't share a bed with him. he'll karate kick you off it in the middle of the night. not uncommon for him to wake up in a totally different position from how he fell asleep, with sheets and pillows tossed every which way

only snores if he's sleeping really fucking hard, at which point you should probably just be grateful that he's actually sleeping well

hard to rouse by someone else, but wakes up easily enough on his own schedule. tends to wake up early by habit and demand anyway. usually up by 6am. as said before, generally won't fall back asleep once he's awake. if he does, he's probably sick.

[virtualbunny]

tbh, I meant like sleeping sleeping, but I'm not at all disappointed with what you wrote. i probably shouldn't clarified, sorry about that.

i should've trusted my gut feeling lol but hope you like this instead 🫶

Miller's squad: Sleeping with them - SFW

John Miller: don't know how to explain but like normally... no but seriously I think he's the type to either want to hold you or be three meters apart. It depends on his sleep schedule.

Mike Horvath: does not want to cuddle during the whole sleeping process (idk what to call it lol) but rather before like cuddling a bit before and then when ya'll are actually sleping you're just facing eachother a couple of centimeters apart.

Daniel Jackson: Loves to cuddle with you, before, during and after. Definitely the bigger spoon but on some occasions he's the little spoon. If you fall asleep first you'll have your head either on his chest or the crook of his neck while he's stroking your head while most likely reading the bible for the 1000th time or something like that.

Richard Reiben: also a cuddle guy. ALWAYS the biggest spoon. Probably accidentally takes all the cover in his sleep. I feel like he likes to have you on top of him while sleeping... like literally on top...

Irwin Wade: a switch with being the bigger or smaller spoon but either way I think he likes to have you close while sleeping, either you two facing eachother or have eachother in your arms etc.

Stanley Mellish: tbh I feel like he gets pissed when someones too close to him when he's about to sleep. Maybe you two have your fingers linked or legs over legs for a bit before he kinda kicks you away in your sleep. Apolgizes after though.

Timothy Upham: Little spoon. I'm 80% sure on that. Likes that you stroke his head before or while he's asleep. If you really want him to be the bigger spoon he'll try his best.

Adrian Caparzo: another cuddle guy. Has you in his arms the whole time, it's obvious that he's the bigger spoon. Is the person to snore so you have to pinch him or something like that to make him stop.

Hope this is better and sorry for the misunderstanding, have a great day/night xx

[firjii]

I think some people forget or overlook that discrimination against neurodivergency isn't a binary of acceptance or hostility.

There are people who understand the sensory challenges but not the social ones. I once met an actual certified/licensed occupational therapist who was so focused on drilling through activities with profoundly autistic kids that she was borderline inhumane about it, insisting "they can do everything I tell them to, they're just choosing to be willful and lazy."

There are people who bend over backwards to accommodate social difficulties but have zero sympathy for the sensory side and are oblivious that the two are commonly interrelated in some way.

There are people who are understanding of all aspects except executive dysfunction, which tends to eventually lead to bullying or abuse on their part (even and especially when they realize there's a pattern to it, not just the occasional off day).

There are people who acknowledge and accommodate all areas but at the cost of treating you like a toddler or someone with severe brain damage. These are frequently also the type who don't pressure you to try romantic relationships but are so controlling that they question your judgment down to the level of your clothing color preferences.

And then there are also those who acknowledge all aspects except sleep schedule discrepancies, which they're all too eager to guarantee would be eliminated by frequent vigorous exercise (idk about you, but this tends to activate my brain for longer in the day, not shorter) or forcing yourself to wake up earlier so you'll eventually go to bed earlier, insisting that insomnia is almost always a lifestyle choice rather than a health condition with sometimes extremely complex causes.

This is all still discrimination in some sense and potentially still quite destructive.

I'm not saying that some neurotypicals don't try to do better. I'm not saying you should criticize the things they're doing right. I'm not saying it's OK to savagely attack someone over a genuine one-off mistake. I'm mainly talking here about people who persistently cling to contradictions or counterproductive behaviors, even after being politely and plainly educated about it. I've met folks who legitimately hadn't encountered someone like me before but did respect my needs once I explained them. I have little to no quarrel with innocent misunderstandings - as long as that's what they really are.

But I just think it's staggering how myopic, contradictory, and unwieldy "normals" can be sometimes when some of them accuse us of those very things.

[sneezefiction]

of night owls & early birds

Kuroo x Reader

desc: Kuroo, your roommate and longtime best friend, likes you but he really dislikes your sleep schedule. alternatively, your crush gets up way too early and you “suffer the consequences.”

a/n: the irony of working on this fic at 5 am doesn’t escape me… but it also hasn’t assuaged my awful sleep patterns. i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: school/general anxiety, crass/offbeat humor (jokes about planning your own funeral), idk if you’re scared of love don’t read this - it’s very fluffy.

wc: 3.6k

--- You’re screwed, you think, as a light flickers on just outside of your room. It illuminates the carpet underneath your doorway with a warm orange tint.

And though it shouldn’t make your heart jump into your throat, it does.

You’d promised, swore to Kuroo, that you’d be asleep by 2 am - and to him, even that was a stretch. But he should count himself lucky that you’d even agreed to his demands at all. 

After all, he is well-versed in the world of night owls.

Kenma, though maybe not your kindred spirit, shares at least a couple of qualities with you. Kuroo likes refer to these “qualities” as crimes.

One of these crimes (and quite possibly Kuroo’s least favorite) is your god-awful sleep schedule. And you’re a repeated offender.

There was only so much nagging and bickering you could take before you’d cracked and told exactly him what he wanted to hear. In a flurry of words, you’d agreed to turn off your laptop, close up your textbooks and actually put your head to a pillow.

You also may have been bribed.

To sweeten this deal, Kuroo had promised to buy you pizza this upcoming Friday, given that you actually did get some rest.

But as you reluctantly lift your phone, the glass screen glowing a little too brightly, you realize that it’s already 5:30 am.

You grimace.

It’s Tuesday morning. Meaning that the repetitive beeping across the hall is Kuroo’s alarm.

Your lips press into a firm line. Most birds don’t even get up at such a godless hour.

You can’t help but wonder what it’s like to have a functional morning routine. Or a morning routine at all.

Leaning back in your plastic desk chair, you squeeze your eyes shut. 

It stings.

You probably got so caught up staring at the blob-like words on your computer screen that, somewhere in the process, your body had forgotten how to blink.

And while the tension in your neck and shoulders is painful, it’s nothing in comparison to the festering guilt of not listening to your longtime best friend and now roommate (a suspiciously well-intentioned college boy who had somehow managed to win your heart over the course of this fall semester.)

Thinking back, working on your final English assignment at midnight wasn’t the brightest of ideas. It wasn’t even due for another week. But as due dates loomed, the impending fear of a bad grade had begun to burrow deeply within you.

If you could just pump the brakes on deadline anxiety, you wouldn’t feel so pressured to type incoherent sentences at odd and empty hours of the night.

And maybe Kuroo wouldn’t feel the need to coerce you into a firmer sleep schedule. Though you do find this caring habit of his to be inexplicably endearing. 

Thus, the prickling feeling continues to infiltrate your restless mind and the brewing concoction of anxiety and guilt in your tummy makes you feel uneasy.

But before you can sneak into bed and tuck yourself inconspicuously under the covers, you hear a floorboard creak. 

As if on instinct, you hold in a breath.

Kuroo isn’t one to forget about little promises. Of course, he’d want to know if you’d made good on your side of the deal. 

Gently, you close your laptop and swivel your chair to face the door. You still your movements, keeping your body taut against the back of your chair.

More soft steps fall just outside of your room.

Your eyes can’t pick a place to land, so they choose to wander. And with a quick scan of your room, it doesn’t take you long to realize that your bedside lamp had been left on - an instant giveaway.

You begin planning for your funeral. 

However, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t go out this way. You prepare yourself for death by interrogation or shame-induced coma.

Regrettably, neither options seem very interesting to you. If you ask politely, maybe your friends will engrave a portion of an epic poem into your gravestone just to make your passing seem more sophisticated. Yeah, that sounds nice and pretentious.

Okay, you might be overdramatizing things - Kuroo would never send you to your grave. But that doesn’t change the fact that your psyche likes to play tricks on you in the wee hours of the morning and that the eerie quality of the atmosphere somehow reminds you of a cemetery.

As you sort through who-gets-what on your will, there’s a not so sudden knock on your door. The soft tap makes your heart skip for two reasons:

The first being that you still haven’t gotten used to the fluttering in your chest from him being present all the time. Developing a crush on him (and suspecting feeling on his side) had made you a little jumpier over the past few months.

And the second had to do with the fact that you were actually going to have to talk to him about this. To apologize for being a bold-faced liar. It wasn’t clear to you whether you’d be teased or reprimanded. And honestly? You’re not sure which option would feel worse.

So you take a breath and steel yourself.

“Y/n?” A gravelly voice sounds from outside your room.

It’s tainted with sleep. You shiver.

There’s a preemptive sigh, “C’mon y/n, your light is on. I know you’re awake.”

You’ve been caught, so there’s no point in prolonging it.

“...You can come in.” You reply meekly, clenching and unclenching your fists.

The door cracks open.

That soft orange hall light floods into your room and directly into your eyes. With a squint, you try to fully visualize Kuroo. He’s positioned himself so that he’s leaning in your doorway with his arms crossed.

Before coming to grips with the situation, you scan the boy up and down. Amusingly, you realize that he has to duck his head just to fit underneath the door header - he really is tall. You have to wonder if he’ll ever stop growing.

Aside from his intensified bedhead (which doesn’t shock you) and the sleepiness in his eyes, he looks normal. But you must look positively spooked, because the moment he sees you, there’s a flicker of humor in his golden eyes… and an almost invisible smirk.

At least he isn’t angry. That fact alone allows you to let out the breath you’ve been holding in. Anger isn’t really a trait you’d ascribe to him anyway.

“It’s funny…” He wonders aloud, “I thought we’d agreed to something yesterday.” Kuroo brings a mocking hand to his chin in a thinking motion.

Your body naturally begins to shrink into your seat. You want to sigh, protest, explain yourself… anything to keep him from lecturing you. But, technically, you deserve this. 

“I’m pretty sure you promised me you’d be in bed, asleep,” He emphasizes “by 2 am…”

“And” he adds, motioning evenly to your set up, “I highly doubt you’re up early just to get work done.”

You bite your lip while gripping and releasing the fabric of your sweatpants.

Kuroo isn’t a mind reader by any extent, but the body has a language of its own. Right now, your actions are murmuring signs of discomfort. And exhaustion, according to your dark circles.

Kuroo heaves out something between a sigh and a yawn before he takes another couple of steps into your room. 

The sound of mattress springs and rustled bed sheets gets you to turn your head toward him, though you hesitate to meet his gaze.

He makes himself comfortable.

This is a familiar scene, Kuroo invading your space. Well, it’s less of an invasion and more of an unspoken agreement that the both of you can ‘come and go as you please’ in regards to bedrooms, granted that the “invader” knocks first.

Essentially, if Kuroo wanted company, he would find his way to you and plop himself on the edge of your bed. You would do likewise. The interaction could last 5 minutes or 3 hours depending on your mental stamina that day.

In a way, it mimicked your childhood - going over to Kenma’s and knocking relentlessly on his bedroom door until he finally let you and Kuroo tumble through the doorway together. The only difference now is in the way that you spend time together. Conversations become deeper a lot faster. Belly-laughs after a miserable day of classes are considered sacred. Study sessions are done shoulder to shoulder and with a myriad of disgusted faces when frustrated with a particularly tricky problem.

But this is different from your usual conversations. It’s sickeningly early, you haven’t slept a wink, and a tidal wave of stress from this entire semester is finally crashing into you.

“I’m sorry,” You start softly, fiddling with your fingers, “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about this expository essay I’ve been working on and my mind is totally numb. I’m so stressed out by all of these-”

“-Classes.” He finishes for you.

You swallow, bobbing your head softly in confirmation.

 “I get it.”

And just by looking at him, you know he understands. For someone so laid back and put together, Kuroo’s eyes could speak a novel’s worth of emotion and information at any given moment.

“But you’ve already spent more than enough time on it.”

Have I really? Have I actually done enough? Because it feels like I’m failing. Like I can’t seem to finish what I’ve started. I can’t even complete this paper.

But at least Kuroo sounds resolute. 

He’s stating a fact, not an opinion.

And he’s not trying to be unempathetic. He does get it, he really does.

But Kuroo also sees how hard you work already. And he knows all too well that there’s only so much work you can get done in one night. You’ve got enough on your plate even without your classes, so having the extra academic pressure is just the cherry on top.

“Mm,” you hum, “yeah, I guess you of all people would know.” You hunch over and rest your elbows on your thighs, using your hands to prop your head up.

He’d been there at your most and least productive moments. On days when you were cranking out a few thousand words and nights when you could only jot down a few sentences. Hell, Kuroo had even volunteered to help you edit and format it when the time came. What kind of person offers to do that before they’ve even been asked to?

It’s just another feature of his charm, you suppose.

But you still feel stuck. Like you’re a boat stranded in the middle of the ocean and you just can’t seem the muster up the strength to pull up the anchor. The anxiety lingers.

“...It just doesn’t feel like it’s ever enough, y’know?” You breathe out.

There it is. Finally out in the open.

And Kuroo hums thoughtfully to himself.

He’s been there.

Not knowing if the effort he put into his work was having any actual effect. Being unsure as to when he should stop taking responsibility for something. Putting work, classes, and people before himself.

It’s draining; a swirling spin-cycle of exhaustion.

But he’s also been learning that “enough” is subjective. So he decides to say just that.

“Enough is a pretty vague word, don’t you think?”

You blink. 

Yeah, you suppose it is. 

Hopefully this isn’t another one of his bizarre epiphanies - the kind that makes you think your brain is going to implode. Sometimes Kuroo could be a little too philosophical for his and your own good. But you humor him anyway.

Shifting in your seat, you give him a stiff nod.

Satisfied with your understanding, he proceeds with his thought.

“What I mean is that we probably have totally different definitions of enough...” he drawls on, “... and different standards too.”

“Okay...”

“What I mean is that-” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “-what’s ‘enough’ to you may not be ‘enough’ to me. And vice versa.”

Kuroo tilts his head back, brows furrowing in thought. He’s grasping for the right way to put it.

“Y/n, I think you’ve done enough. You’ve worked hard,” he points out, “and I don’t think I know anyone who deserves a break more than you do.”

That makes you pause. You lift your head up to catch his gaze - his eyes are already studying your expression. Something inside of you stops functioning because never have you seen such raw sincerity. Or maybe you have, but you’re only just now noticing it.

He gives you a gentle smile. It makes your chest ache.

“You mean it?” You half-whisper.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You’ve known this for years now, but Kuroo truly has a way with words. They had the ability to pierce like a harpoon or stick sweetly to you like warm honey. Even with a few (thousand) shitty jokes littered throughout your conversations, it’s only natural to be awestruck by him. By his ability to make even the most awkward of situations a little more bearable. How he subliminally knows how to soothe and temper you. You think he would make a really great businessman - he’s quite persuasive; a real salesperson.

One part of you wants to apologize to him again. Another part wants to jump up and kiss him. To tear up and cry in his arms with relief. You chalk these potential reactions up to exhaustion and hormones… but you don’t write them off entirely.

Because suddenly being 3 feet apart feels like miles. And your bed is looking terribly comfortable.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask, but you’re already moving from your seat.

He gives you an indifferent shrug - though he feels anything but.

“It’s your bed.” 

Oh, you’re well aware of that fact. You can already feel heat rising to your face.

You stand up slowly, raising your arms to the ceiling in one final attempt to stretch. Then softly, you place a knee to the mattress and wedge yourself on the rest of the way until you’re sitting crisscrossed in front of him. He shifts his torso so that it’s facing you.

And now that you’re finally eye to eye, you can breathe.

He may be your crush, but you feel strangely comfortable in his presence. You always have. It’s part of what makes Kuroo... well, Kuroo. He embodies security while still pushing you out of your comfort zone. And for that, you’re grateful.

You break the silence.

“I really am sorry,” you echo your earlier apology.

You undoubtedly are. And you’re not sure why it feels like such a heavy thing to say over something as menial as a good night’s sleep.

“Hey, hey,” He soothes, reaching a hand over to ruffle your hair, “it’s no big deal, alright?”

You send him a half-hearted glare but it immediately breaks into a soft smile. His hand lingers for a moment longer than it should before he draws it away. You miss the teasing touch.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain eye-contact, but even as you look away, you note that his eyes remain concentrated on you. You can’t tell if it’s you who has moved closer or if he has. Either way, those few inches of distance have narrowed by a decent margin.

“I honestly just wanted you to get some rest. You’ve had it rough and by the looks of it-” He scans your face like he’s trying to diagnose you with something.

“Hey, watch it-” You warn, narrowing your eyes.

You already know you look tired. Kuroo loves reminding you of that in his own little way.

He smirks playfully, continuing anyway.

“-You could really use the sleep.” Kuroo’s raspy voice trails off.

“But apparently even pizza isn’t a convincing enough strategy.” He gives you a lopsided grin.

You shake your head, “Oh no, no, the pizza was very convincing.”

He scoffs, “Was it, now?” Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, “Because you seem very awake to me.”

“Can’t we just blame this on the paper, please?” You sigh.

He furrows his brows in contemplation, “Hmm, no. I don’t think so. This is partially your fault.” A rather underwhelming response.

“A small part.”

“I’d say it's fifty-fifty.” He reasons with a raised eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Okay, you can quit whatever-” You gesture to his expression, “this is.” He always managed to pull the strangest faces and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh.

He snorts, “Oh? I thought you liked-” Kuroo gestures to his own face, “whatever this is.”

His voice has a curious edge to it. Some might even call it flirtatious.

And you go quiet. 

You can’t help but stare at him. His messy hair, his barely parted lips. The fact that Kuroo just woken up and somehow still looks this attractive to you is so annoying. So frustrating.

And words are failing you.

It was an innocent comment. He’s just messing with you like he usually does. Maybe this has all gone a little bit too far. You should probably just say good night (or good morning) and rest your eyes.

Yet you can’t shake the feeling that this could be the perfect segway into addressing your relationship.

At literally any other time of day, you might be more rational. You could reason with yourself that this is quite literally the weirdest time to bring up your feelings for him. But something in you needs to close the literal and figurative gap between you two. And, for some indecipherable reason, it has to happen right now.

Whatever the outcome, you trust that Kuroo will always be your safe place.

So you throw caution to the wind.

“Actually, Kuroo…” You begin, staring at your hands which are placed neatly on your lap. “I really do.”

His eyes snap to yours.

This time it’s Kuroo’s turn to go silent in contemplation. Taking in a steady breath becomes an act of labor.

“You… really do what?” He asks slowly, grasping for your intended meaning.

Your heart pounds.

“I really like you.” You clarify.

It isn’t at all eloquent, but it’s sincere. You’d once heard that honesty came easier late at night, but you had no idea that it applied to early mornings as well.

But you finally make sense of the words that just escaped your lips. Panic arises. In an attempt to hide, you bury your face in your hands. You wish you could put the words right back into your mouth.

“I-” You take a deep breath, “I think I spoke without thinking.” Is all you allow yourself to mumble.

You no longer trust yourself with words. 

Your face, your whole body really, feels like it’s on fire. Humiliation begins to wash over you in red hot waves… but you startle when a pair of hands meet your wrists.

You lift your head.

His fingertips are warm and worn. Still decorated with calluses from his years of volleyball back in high school. You want to question why the world has withheld this touch from you for so long.

He lures your hands away from your face, grasping both of them gently. For a sensation so new, it was somehow strikingly familiar. A thumb is meditatively tracing small, slow circles in the middle of your palm.

You gawk in disbelief… and as you scan his face, you catch a hint of pink on his cheeks. You can’t say anything though - your own face feels like it’s just become 1000 degrees warmer.

“I kinda figured you might,” Kuroo breaks the tension rather… bluntly.

Of course he did, wait what?

“But the thing is…”

Is this some sort of rejection? Is he just letting you down gently? Is that why he’s holding your hands like they’re as fragile as fine china? Then why is he looking at you so sweetly, so tenderly-

“I wanted to be the one to say it first.”

You start planning your own funeral again. 

However, this time, emotional whiplash will be your stated cause of death. At least it’s a more unconventional way to go out.

“I- uh,” you swallow, “w- what did you just say?” It comes out as a stammer. 

You’re squeezing his hands a little too tightly. When you recognize your modest death grip around his fingers you loosen your hold.

Kuroo smiles, his eyes crinkling slightly.

It’s nothing like that cunning smirk that you find annoying, yet so adorable. It’s also not one of his full-scale grins. It’s far too simple and reassuring. You almost don’t trust it.

“Well, in short, I like you too,” He re-explains, searching your face for a reaction, “but... I’d hoped to tell you that over pizza on Friday.” Kuroo looks away.

If you weren’t already gaping over his personal confession, you would probably be laughing at this new side of Kuroo. He looks unmistakably bashful.

It takes you a second to recover, but you finally open your mouth to respond...

But you’re cut off by Kuroo, once again. His softened expression is long gone. And, much to your dismay, he’s suddenly shifting himself off of your bed.

“It’s just too bad you didn’t keep up your end of the bargain. I guess that means there’ll be no pizza… no movie… no me.” He slowly releases your hands, knitting his brows together to feign sorrow - it looks hilariously forced, but you’re too worried about the warmth leaving your fingertips to care.

He’s teasing you like you’re his best friend.

And that’s because you are.

So then why does it feel like something’s changed? Like he’s daring you to make the next move?

Before he can pull away and leave, you tug at his hand which draws his whole body toward you.

Your heartrate spikes through the roof. When’s the last time you’ve been this close to someone? To a guy? A guy who’s shown actual living, breathing interest in you.

And he’s in your face.

Close enough that his scent, his cologne, is drowning your senses. Close enough that his breath is fanning faintly against your cheek. Close enough that you know there’s only one thing left for you to do.

Before you can think to hesitate, your lips are brushing up against his.

Intuitively, he brings his hands to your face, closing any extra distance. 

Kuroo’s thumb feathers over your cheekbone, stroking it tenderly. His lips apply very little pressure and it’s unbearably delicate, but it fills you with an indescribable warmth. His lips linger just long enough for you to detect the mint from his toothpaste - he can probably taste the cinnamon tea you’ve been sipping on over the past hour. As far as kisses go, it’s reserved, but perfect for this distinct moment.

Plus, you figure, this is just the first of many longer, more eager kisses - though you can’t imagine being more breathless than you already are right now.

But you can hardly get another taste of him before those warm hands on your cheeks are prying you away. He stares. You stare back. His eyes are brimming with something warm and full. You immediately choose to label it, “affection.”

And in a much lower voice, Kuroo murmurs, “Let’s save this for later.” 

You scan his face, wondering if he’s actually serious. He gradually makes his way off of the bed and onto his feet and before you can protest, Kuroo is speaking again.

“You-” 

He leans down and gingerly lifts your chin with his fingers. The gentleness of his touch almost makes you flinch, but you somehow manage to hold it in the road. Though now you’re really at a loss for words.

“-need to get some good rest.”

He places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

You still feel it after he pulls away. After he closes the door. After you’ve laid you head down on your pillow in shock.

How does he expect you to fall asleep after all of that?

---

extra: this is dedicated to Izzy - our sleep schedules may be jacked up, but i’m pretty sure it’s a blessing in disguise if we’re taking our time zones into consideration. thanks for making me laugh & for not stealing my quarter of the braincell.

and to my precious friends and followers - thank you for being patient with me. it’s hard to post or even write at the moment, but i’m steadily pushing myself toward a better mindset. i appreciate your comments, likes, and the fact that y'all even bother to check out my works in the first place. i’m working on it.

also happy birthday, Tetsu. you’re a real star.

[sunflowergirl522]

Stuck in Westview

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Request by Anon: Okay, okay, so I had an idea and idk you'll do it but it's worth a shot. Plant mutation reader x Peter where they both get stuck in Westview? I haven't really thought about it past that, so the rest is up to you!

A/n: The more I wrote this one the less I liked how it was turning out but I didn’t want to leave you hanging so I tried my best. I hope you like it.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2689

Masterlist

You didn’t remember much when the two of you first arrived in Westview. But you were with Peter and he seemed to know where he was going so you felt fine about it. You were ecstatic when the two of you walked up to the door and Wanda answered it. You’ve always wanted to meet Peter’s sister and now that you were, you felt like you were in a dream. Actually the whole time you’ve been in Westview has felt like a dream.

“You alright baby?” Peter’s voice breaks you out of whatever trance you were in and you look at him.

“Yeah, I’m good just lost in thought I guess, sorry.”

“You’re fine dear.” Wanda speaks as Peter wraps an arm around your shoulders and Vision comes down with a blanket and some pillows. “I uh, hope the couch will be fine for the two of you. The spare room still isn’t ready; we weren’t exactly expecting company.”

“The couch will be just fine Wanda.”

“Yeah sis, just gives us an excuse to be pressed against each other all night.” Wanda scoffs at Peter before bidding the two of you a goodnight.

“She’s nice.” You tell Peter as the two of you settle down to sleep.

“Yeah. I’m glad the two of you get along.” He yawns and kisses the top of your head as he pulls you into his chest.

In the morning you wake up well before Peter like normal. Though it was more the afternoon than the morning, you may always wake up before your boyfriend but you did end up adopting his poor sleep schedule. You lay next to him relishing in his warmth for a while before getting up and making your way into the kitchen for some cereal. Tommy comes down first and heads to the kitchen before Billy comes down dressed in a costume. 

“Halloween’s a magical holiday. All about family, friends, and the thrill of getting to be someone else for a day.” You think that he’s speaking to you at first but very quickly realize it’s like he’s talking to an imaginary audience. Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as you watch him from your spot on the couch at Peter's feet. You shake your head assuming it was just a kid thing and pick up your bowl to put it in the sink. “Where’s your costume Tommy?” 

“This is my costume. I’m the cool twin.”

“Then what does that make me?”

“Hmm, a dorkasaurus rex.” You hold in the chuckle that wants to escape as the joke seems to fly over Billy’s head as he tells his twin that it's not a real dinosaur. You high five Tommy when Billy leaves the kitchen with a smile before he follows his brother. The two of them bicker about Billy being scared of Peter not realizing that they’ve woken him up. 

“Blood is thicker than water! I show you!” You laugh as you watch Peter chase the kids around from the kitchen doorway. When Wanda comes down the stairs complaining about the noise you walk over to them and take your place next to Peter, who immediately wraps an arm around you bringing you closer to him. 

“I’m a Sokovian fortune teller.”

“Wow. That is so…lame.” You elbow him in the ribs when his statement causes Tommy to change his own from rad to lame. 

“I think you look great! If you didn’t have a husband I’d leave this doof and try getting with the better twin.” Wanda blushes slightly and laughs at your words. 

While Peter and Wanda talk about old Halloween’s you follow the twins to the couch to play video games with them. When Billy starts to talk to the invisible audience once more you look at him confused again before looking to see if Tommy noticed it too but he’s either too focused on the game or doesn’t see anything weird about it. Peter makes his way over eventually chuckling at something that happened. You give him your spot on the floor and sit behind him on the couch. 

“Hey babe you wanna go get 4 sodas from the fridge and we’ll teach these rugrats how to shotgun?” You just shrug and nod before getting up. “Get out of here, get out of here.” Peters trying to slap Tommy’s controller out of his hands to distract him as you juggle the four cans to the couch. You hand them out to the three boys before taking your spot again. Peter makes the holes in the bottom of their cans so they don’t hurt themselves trying and goes to do it for you just to find yours already done. “Alright when I give the signal you bring the hole to your mouth and open the can.” He makes sure they understand before exclaiming a ‘go’. Wanda and Vision soon start to fight and Billy once again speaks to the audience and Peter and you share a look after he scrunches his eyebrows up and looks to see if Tommy’s reacting. 

You must have zoned out after that though because the next thing you know Peters scaring Wanda at the door and Visions gone. When did they talk about shaving cream in water balloons you find yourself wondering as you overhear the conversation. It must’ve just happened when you were in your head again. 

“You don’t even have a costume.” Peter scoffs and then speeds off somewhere with Tommy to return in matching costumes that go with his power perfectly. “If I see any funny business, I am going to magic you into a pickled herring.” 

“Y/n I got you a costume too!” Peter speeds in front of you and drops a bag in your lap.

“What is it?”

“Just go put it on.” He pulls you to your feet and starts to push you towards the stairs. You can’t help but laugh after you get into the bathroom and open the bag up to find a Poison Ivy costume. Once you finish putting it on you notice part of an ivy plant still in the bag with a note from Peter reading ‘To make it more realistic ;)-P’. 

“Are you boys ready?” Wanda’s voice greets your ears as you make your way back downstairs.

“Yeah mom.” The twins speak at the same time and rush up to their mom who places her hands on their shoulders. 

“Pietro, you better not be bringing any shaving cream filled water balloons!” You don’t dwell long on the fact that Wanda’s been calling him Pietro, he’s already told you that when he and his mom moved to the states she had him start going by Peter. And now only his family really calls him Pietro even though they’ve gotten into the habit of using Peter instead.

“I’m not! See empty handed.” The sound of your laughter as Peter appeared in front of the family holding his hands out as proof drew all of their attention to you. “You look great babe. I dig the crown thing you’ve got going on.” You had decided to grow the ivy around your head and then around the rest of your body randomly from there.

“Thanks.” You blush a bit at the attention as you join the four of them in front of the door. 

“Woah aunt Y/n, who are you supposed to be?” Tommy asks as he takes in all the green.

“Have you guys really never seen a Batman show or read the comics? She’s Poison Ivy also known as Mother Nature, it fits Y/n a lot considering her power.”

“Her power?” Wanda asks as Billy asks you what it is.

“I can control plants.” You shrug it off because it’s not a big deal, there were plenty of cooler mutations than yours anyway (even if Peter would yell at you for thinking that).

“That’s so rad!” Peter high fives Tommy in agreement excited that his nephew likes it as much as he does.

“How did you get it?” Before you can tell Wanda that you were born with it, Peter gives her some bogus story that’s really similar to Poison Ivy's origin story. You’re confused because it doesn’t make sense for him to lie about it but you don’t have a chance to correct him before he’s taking your hand and pulling you out of the house to ‘get this party started’.

You watch smiling as Tommy and Billy race from house to house to see who can get the most candy and tune into what Wanda and Peter were talking about in time to hear him say she’s testing him. Why would she be testing him, for what?

“Hey, it’s cool. I know I look different.”

“Why do you...look different?” Look different? You turn to really study and look at Peter to try to see what she means. The only thing that’s different is that his hair is more blonde but that’s about it, it’s not some major change or anything. When the twins come back ready to keep moving down the street Peter brings you into a side hug and places a kiss on your temple before running with them to get more candy. Though you notice that Billy holds onto Tommy and Peter doesn’t even try to hold onto the backs of their necks. What happened to whiplash? 

As everything starts to feel off to you and you try to figure things out your head starts to feel hazy and it’s like your body goes on autopilot as you strike up conversation with Wanda. It’s like an out of body experience as you basically just watch the conversation happen without knowing what’s being said. You feel so lost and empty right in this moment and it only fades a little when Wanda starts to talk to someone else. You don’t fully snap back into it until Peter laces his hand in yours again.

“Pete,” you say to him when Wanda and the kids walk ahead of you, “I feel strange.”

“What kind of strange?” He places a hand on your forehead to check if you’re warm. “You don’t have a fever. Are you queasy? Do you wanna go back to the house?”

“No, it’s not that I feel sick. I just, I don’t know how to explain it. I feel like a prisoner in my own body.”

“I think I know what you mean. It happens very suddenly right? And then something snaps you out of it and you feel better?”

“Yeah that’s it.”

“Uncle P are you coming?” Tommy’s voice pulls the two of your attention to them and Peter plasters a smile on his face.

“Sure am little dude, just had to tell your aunt how hot she looks again!” He pulls you behind him as he catches up with his family. The five of you make your way to the town square scare as it starts to become night.

“It’s so lame that you’re making them return the candy.” Peter says after a moment of silence passes from when Wanda scolded the twins for stealing it in the first place.

“I can’t believe what a bad influence you are?” You start to think about her words, you know it’s been a while since they’ve seen eachother but surely this is what Peter acted like growing up. It’s definitely how he’s acted the whole time you knew him.

“It’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

“What happened to your accent?”

“What happened to yours?” You watch as they seem to have a mini showdown challenging the other. “Details are fuzzy, man. I got shot like a chump on the street for no reason at all and next thing I know I hear you callin me. I knew you needed me.” His words don’t sit well with you, they don’t sound right but something in the back of your head makes you trust them.

“Uncle P, guess what?” The twins run up and semi break the tension in the air with their excitement.

“They’ve got full size candy bars a few blocks up. Can we go Mom?” Tommy then speeds away and comes back with some of the bars in his hand. You and Peter look at eachother shocked and you can see the excitement on his face that his nephew has the same power as him.

“Right on, little dude! Chip off the old Maximoff block. You got super speed!”

“I do?”

“Yeah!” The two of them high five with big excited smiles on their faces and you stand back with an adoring one. Peter may be a bad influence but he’s really just so good with kids. When Tommy starts to speed around whooping in joy you step closer to Peter and wrap your arms around his stomach smiling up at him.

“If you’re gonna break the sound barrier at least take your brother with you.”

“Really?” 

“Yes really. And please just remember-”

“Don’t go past Ellis Avenue. We know mom.” After the twins run off and Wanda yells after them to be careful the three of you continue on your way to the town square where kids are running rampant and hay bales have been set up.

“This is so nice.” You say as you look around.

“Isn’t it?” Wanda responds and smiles over at you.

“Damn it, if Westview, New Jersey isn’t charming as hell.”

“I know that you guys must think that I’ve gone full soccer mom. But it really is nice right?” The three of you sit down on one of the hay bales in the center of town square. You smile and agree with her as Peter brings your legs over one of his and squeezes your thigh.

“I think mom and dad would’ve loved it.” You want to speak up and ask if Wanda knew about Erik but suddenly you couldn’t speak, it was like your lips were being forced closed. You started to feel that sense of being a prisoner again and as if he could sense your panic Peter squeezes your thigh again as he and Wanda talk about the kids in Westview. “I’m impressed seriously, it’s a big upgrade from giving people nightmares and shooting red wiggly woos out of your hand.” Leave it to Peter for being impressed when his family members do something people consider wrong. “I’m not some stranger, and I’m not your husband. You can talk to me, and Y/n too. She’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t know how I did it. I only remember feeling completely alone. Empty. I just...endless nothingness.” She looks away and sniffles a bit before looking back over and gasping while covering her face.

“Are you okay?” You finally find your lips free in time to worry about Wanda and ask if she’s alright.

“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.” Peter glances over at you as he hums not believing her.

“Mom!” The twins then rush over with Billy yelling for her over and over again.

“What is it Billy?” 

“I hear dad in my head. He’s in trouble. I don’t understand. What’s happening to me?”

“I think Billy might have powers too.” You whisper to Peter as the two of you get up and walk over to the trio. 

“Where is he? Where’s your dad?”

“Hey, don’t sweat it sis. It’s not like your dead husband can die twice.” Wanda’s quick to force him into the fake graveyard after he speaks.

“Oh my god!” You run over to Peter as Wanda’s attention goes back to her kids.

“God why did I say that?” Peter’s rubbing his head when you make it to him.

“Peter, Peter I think we should go.” You see Wanda getting ready to use her power again before looking back at Peter. “Now!” He grabs onto you and runs back to Wanda’s street. The hold that was in your mind is gone now and you can remember getting pulled into this city before not remembering anything. “Shit, Peter I don’t think we belong here.”

“I think you’re right baby. Let’s find a way out of here.”

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @simpforquicksilver @loveyou3000-mcu @quickparkers @buckysbeloved @elaineygrace @practicallylivesonline @stars-of-clarke​ @b3d0fr0s3s​

[moirastuff]

So I saw the angsty Revali x reader turning into links sister being with Sidon for the original Botw timeline. Normally not one for angst cause it ya know makes me sad, but it was a good angst.

So because of that, I wanted to know what hcs you would have for Prince Sidon x Links sister reader? (kinda a continuation,but also it is still kinda just like relationship hcs. Idk how else to explain it). I think it would be really cute cause Sidon is just too damn sweet.

(Revali May be sad, but as you mentioned he still loves her so he’s probably just watching over her and making sure she’s happy. Mipha too probably knowing her brother and one of her best friends are happy. Doesn’t have to include this, but this just seems like how these two would be as they watch over their loved ones. Although, one little mistake from Shark Prince and Miphas spirit would have to hold Revali back from haunting Sidon)

This shouldn't be as funny as it sounds lmao

This is kinda cute and depressing.

I had to investigate about amnesia and how people with it live, because that's exactly how BOTW Link lives, and so (Y/N), with a bit of PTSD, sorry if it's not accurate.

Sorry for taking time on these, I'm starting to think I don't have control over my time management.

I hope you like it ✨

I had no idea how to name this one, I'm so sorry

(Y/N) dealing with amnesia and trauma with Sidon and Revali

I love this GIF....

After you and Sidon starting dating, you felt like something isn't what it should be.

Yes, you're happy with Sidon, Link doesn't mind at all and Sidon is also really happy.

But you felt like there was something missing...

Or someone

You had no idea, every memory you had before waking up was completely gone and even the stuff you get to remember, is easy to see it blurry.

You were even kinda jealous that Link had a way of finding his important memories.

But yours are gone with no clue where to find them, sometimes you have flashback's in random places.

Link and you get really good, he also feels bad for you but you tell him it doesn't matter, you don't really need your memories.

You and Link have a trauma with the guardians, with constant nightmares.

Link doesn't show it a lot but you can get easily scared with even a decayed one.

You sometimes think there's a guardian stalker near or a decayed one is still working, you see them move but there's nothing there.

Sidon is really worried for you two.

He was kinda surprised you weren't afraid of any monsters, not even of the Hinox or Lynels.

You helped each other with the nightmare's, Link doesn't say anything but he sure is scared.

He has to do check all the area where your sleeping in order to be more calmed and you help him.

When you wake up from a nightmare, you can't sleep, the slightest of sounds is going to alarm you.

It's amazing how yo two can do everything even with a very reduced sleeping schedule.

The first time you slept with Sidon was kinda problematic, Sidon didn't knew how you where after a nightmare or even if you sleep well.

You were in his room and falled asleep, it was a long day and you finally got to rest.

When Sidon entered the room he saw you sleeping so he tried to not make too much noise.

But even if he tried to not wake you up, you still wake up in cold sweat.

You grabbed your sword immediately and put yourself in defense position.

Sidon got scared and worried, he asked you if something bad happened or if he made so much noise.

You let go your sword and fall on the bed to start crying.

He immediately hugged you, trying to comfort you.

“Please answer me, I want to know if something happened, did you had an nightmare?”

You told him about your trauma but you where honest, you didn't remember or know how you got it.

All this time you where paranoid of something that you can't remember neither the moment you got that trauma.

You told him about your nightmares, it was imposible for you to sleep completely, you needed have your sword in order to be at least calm.

But the littlest of sounds made you go into fight or fly mode.

Sidon didn't get angry at you, he was really worried.

“I promise to protect you with my life for any kind of danger you fear, even from your nightmares, here in the Zora region is free form guardians and none of them will be able to hurt you anymore, and when you have a nightmare, you can hold to me tight so I can comfort you”

You were so touched that you started crying, he cuddle with you the rest of the night.

Not gonna lie, Revali was ready to haunt Sidon when he made you cry.

Also, he was jelly.

But also worried for you, at least you had someone to comfort you.

But if Sidon mades you cry once again or breaks your heart...

Ganon will be a tiny fairy compared to his gigantic hatred towards Sidon.

Mipha, please stop him.

At this point, Mipha is just holding Revali to come back from the death and beat Sidon's ass.

He doesn't hate him, he's just making sure you are completely happy.

Yes, he knows your relationship ended when he died and it's nothing of his business now.

But that'll never stopped him from loving you to the last day of his existence.

Revali can't do a lot to protect you, but he can try his best.

I think every time you have a nightmare, he's with you, checking on you and trying to make it go away.

He wish you remember him but that's not going to make him come back.

He just wants to talk to you and apologize...

Apologize for not being with you when you need him, apologize for leaving you behind in this cruel world, apologize for not saying goodbye.

But he knows you already have a lot to process and a spirit from the past it's not what you need... And he accepts his fate.

[asmo-ds]

Hi if it isn't too much trouble could I request obey me brothers headcanons for a gn suic!dal reader? If it's too much of a sensitive topic then it's totally okay! Thank you ^^

Suicidal!MC

TW: suicidal ideation

~ OK so originally i had written longer scenarios but then it all deleted and i was starting to trigger myself so imma keep it super minimal

- When MC is acting off all week he decides to confront them

- He panics when they start crying

- Holds them close and whispers sweet nothings in their ear to calm them

- He decides to get one of the best human world therapists and starts to keep a journal of their mood so he can recognize warning signs easier

- If they take meds he keeps them on him and gives them to MC only when they need it / are scheduled to take it.

- Has one of those cute lil medicine week containers that he goes through and refills every week

- He finds out when he calls MC a stupid human and they break down

- He doesn’t get it bc he’s done it so many times? why are they acting like this now?

- When they say everyone would be better off if they died he immediately has them in a tight embrace

- “Don’t go sayin’ stuff like that human. Even though I call you stupid I mean no harm by it. You’re MY stupid human.” he tries to comfort them but it comes out a little funny which makes MC laugh

- If any of his brothers start to snap at MC or threatens to kill them he’s in their face in a second in demon form saying threats in a deep harsh tone

- He often will drag MC into his stunts to keep them distracted and up and moving so they don’t have time to be idle and think about death (idk if that helps everyone it just helps me ;-;)

- Ok I feel like Levi for sure has suicidal thoughts, have you heard the things he says

- So when he recognizes MC’s behaivor he confronts them and they agree to work together to get better

- They have a lot of sleepovers as nighttime is the worst for them both

- If either of them is acting off during school they end up skipping together and agreeing to do online classes instead

- Levi enjoys holding MC and it feels like he finally has a reason to stay, because if he wasn’t there he couldn’t protect them

- He had studied human psychology many times over the years and so he recognized MC’s little movement and anything that indicated they were having some sort of episode and neeeed help

- He is the first brother to notice and the first time he sees them starting to act strange he drags them to the back corner of the library and sits with them

- He keeps a lot of books that remind of MC back there so he can show them the books and explain his favorite parts

- Thinks MC is one of the strongest people out there since they were already mentally ill and still remained alive after being dragged into hell during their sleep

- Vocalizes his admiration a lot to them to make them feel happy and cared for

- He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand why someone would hate themselves so much

- He’s only ever known narcissism so self hatred was a foreign concept

- He decides not to stress MC out and pretends he doesn’t know but starts doing small things to spoil them and remind them they are almost as beautiful as him

- He starts doing more spa nights with MC to calm them and gets less flirty and more wholesome around them in an attempt to make them happy

- But when they tell him they miss the old him his heart bursts and he coddles them how the normal him would just without making them uncomfortable

- Also looks up ways to counter the side effects of medicines they take so they don’t get bloated or acne or just pain in general

- What causes him to notice MC’s odd behavior is when they keep giving him the majority of their meals because they were too tired to eat

- He becomes his big teddy bear self and watches out for all of MC’s warning signs every second possible

- Will research foods that are meant to give the happy chemical (I literally can’t remember which one it is) and buys/bakes them for MC

- If they say one negative things about themselves they are engulfed in a big hug with their favorite snacks in front of them

- Understands that sometimes its hard for MC and doesn’t push them more than he has to

- When he can sense their tiredness growing stronger and more often he gets worried

- The final straw when he knows he needs to do something is when MC makes a joke about how they shouldn’t have traveled back in time and just allowed him to kill them

- He stays awake just to ensure they don’t sleep all day and he talks with them

- Both probably end up in the attic talking about mental illness since its obvious that he definitely has some sort of mental illness as well (probably depression and PTSD)

[belphies-wife]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do the brothers (+Undatables of you can) reacting to MC turning into a troll. Idk how or why. But a troll (like from the movie trolls). I just need a good laugh, thank you. Have a great day.

I apologize for disappearing :( I’ve been really busy with schoolwork lately and Ramadan. The school year will end in a little less than two months, so work should be calming soon after we finish wrapping up our current units and doing our exams <3. Ramadan is over now, so I do have a bit of extra time on my hands. Hopefully, I’ll become more active soon <3. I probably won’t be back on my regular posting schedule for a while, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Here’s a study help carrd if you’re struggling with school/schoolwork or just want to check it out. I love you guys <3. Take care of yourselves <3

Now, without further ado, I present to you:

The Demon Brother’s Reacting to MC turning into a troll

»»————-　♔　-————««

➼ Now, you might be wondering: How and why did you end up in this situation?

➼ Well, to put it simply, you had realized that the demon brothers hadn’t watched many human world movies and were really missing out on some classics.

➼ So, it had become a habit for you to choose a movie for them to watch every Friday night.

➼ Eventually, your movie nights had turned into sleepovers in the family room.

➼ You started incorporating games and snacks.

➼ It became more of an organized event, and everyone took turns choosing the week’s game.

➼ It had been Satan’s turn, and he had made multiple batches of a potion that would cause the first that thought popped into your head two minutes after the potion’s ingestion to come to life.

➼ Well, not come to life. Basically, something would happen to you that had to do with that thought that popped into your head.

➼ The challenge was to keep your mind completely blank for two whole minutes.

➼ And it just to happened the movie you had picked was Trolls.

➼ So, as you can imagine, you drank the potion and attempted to keep your mind blank. You managed to get through about thirty seconds before thinking of the movie you had just watched.

➼ Poof, you were a troll.

➼ Your troll form still resembled you. Your skin tone remained the same, and your hair colour and texture hadn’t changed, other than the fact that it stood straight up.

Lucifer

➼ Humans were fragile enough as is, but now you were tiny?

➼ Do you know how close this man was to strangling Satan? How long until it wears off, anyway?

➼ Once he managed to calm down, he realizes how silly the situation is.

➼ He carried you around in his breast pocket and kept you on his desk while he worked, letting you entertain yourself by watching Devilflix on his D.D.D. If you got hungry, he would sleep you a small cookie and allow you to have a few sips of his tea.

➼ Honestly, he’s probably the most mature about it. He does occasionally tease you for your tiny size, though. And how ridiculous your hair looks.

»»————-　♔　-————««

Mammon

➼ He probably panicked the most out of everyone.

➼ He was full-on yelling at Satan to change you back or figure something out.

➼ When he eventually calmed down and insisted on picking you up.

➼ He refused to let you down on the ground because he was afraid that someone would step on you.

➼ He let you sit on his shoulder and took you wherever you needed to go.

➼ Unfortunately, he tended to forget that you were there and that he had to be careful with you. Otherwise, you might fall off.

➼ He caught you every time you did fall, though, and then apologized a couple hundred times. You’re not getting hurt under his watch.

➼ He tried to cook tiny, you-sized food, but it didn’t turn out well, so he just gave you some of his food and attempted to hide his disappointment.

➼ He found a small box and put towels and tiny pillows in there so that you could sleep comfortably.

➼ Of course, he put the box in his room, so if you needed anything, he’d be right there for you.

➼ The absolute relief he felt when you turned back

➼ It took a lot of convincing to get him to let you play the game again.

➼ Protective Mammon™

»»————-　♔　-————««

Leviathan

➼ If Mammon panicked most, then Levi was in second place.

➼ He wouldn’t let anyone else touch you or pick you up. He’d get jealous if someone so much as looked at you.

➼ “This is just like this one anime I watched called ‘My Best Friend Shrunk and Now I Have to Take Care of Them Until They Turn Back to Normal!’”

➼ He just kind of kept you in his room while he played games. He let you play on his DS when you got bored of watching him.

➼ He got you whatever you asked for and make sure you’re comfy the whole time too

➼ He even shared his special Ruri-Chan snacks with you because he cares about you that much <3

»»————-　♔　-————««

Satan

➼ He thought it was  h i l a r i o u s.

➼ He probably knew how to reverse your situation, but thought it was too funny, so he decided not to tell you until it wore off.

➼ Ohohoho the  s m a c c  that he got-

➼ But seriously, if your troll issue was genuinely bothering or upsetting you, he would have turned you back in a heartbeat.

➼ He also made fun of your hair.

»»————-　♔　-————««

Asmodeus

➼ Oh, this man gets you so many tiny clothes.

➼ Where did he even get them from? No idea. What store even sells clothes in troll sizes?

➼ Anyways, you were probably the most fashionably dressed troll in the Devildom. You were also the only troll in the Devildom.

➼ He absolutely adored your hair.

➼ Also, somehow got his hands on miniature hair accessories?

➼ Seriously, where is he getting this stuff from? And on such short notice?

➼ He takes a million pictures of you and posts them. You go viral on Devilgram.

➼ When you change back, you just have all these tiny clothes and accessories and have no idea what to do with them.

»»————-　♔　-————««

Beelzebub

➼ He was pretty worried about you.

➼ How couldn’t he be? You were so tiny! What if someone squished you? He would never forgive himself if you got hurt, even if he didn’t have anything to do with it.

➼ He was terrified of holding you at first because he was scared of doing something wrong and dropping you or crushing you as a result.

➼ You had to assure him a million times that you trusted him and that you were sure that he would never harm you.

➼ Even then, he was so careful with you that you’d think you were made of thin ice.

➼ Like Mammon, Beel also refused to let you out of his sight and panicked when he lost track of you.

➼ He thought you were adorable while you were little, though.

»»————-　♔　-————««

Belphegor

➼ Does not give a crap™ 

➼ Seriously. He was asleep when it happened and had to have everything explained to him when he woke up.

➼ He also thought it was hilarious and used it as an opportunity to bother you.

➼ “Holy crap, your hair looks like a skinny pyramid.”

➼ He gave you rainbow food and played overly-cheery music, along with the Trolls soundtrack, just to bother you.

➼ He played “Can’t Stop the Feeling” so much that Lucifer threatened to hang him from the ceiling multiple times.

➼ The fact that he was bothering Lucifer just egged him on.

➼ The entire House of Lamentation had that song memorized by the time you turned back.

➼ He probably also made you a little bed because even though he’s a piece of crap, he really loves you and wants you to be comfortable.

»»————-　♔　-————««

Thank you so much for reading! <3

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[alreadyblondenow]

Patients Patience

doctor!Jaehyun x reader // FLUFF, SMUT  Summary: Who would have thought having a heart disease can make you score someone great like Jaehyun.  Word Count: 4k Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, heart disease, swearing, unprotected sex,  inferiority complex, broken engagement, doctor-patient romantic relationship Note:  -idk if a doctor and patient relationship is legal? or like allowed, if not well this is only a fic -IDK WHAT ELSE TO NOTE HEHE ENJOY?

Ever since you were a little girl, you’ve always dreamt about having a strong heart and be able to do anything and everything you want. Having a heart disease didn’t stopped you from living a beautiful and wild life, you just have to live careful and stay alive so you won’t put yourself in a serious condition. You finished studying, have a stable career, and you’re living a happily in life.

Monthly check up is normal for someone who has heart disease and growing up, you only had one doctor who takes care of you and that is Dr. Jung Hae in. He’s been your doctor for over 20 years and he never fails to take care of you. Today, he told you he will hand over you to his son because he will finally retire.

“Y/n, I’d like you to meet my son Dr. Jaehyun. From now on he will be the one taking care of you” Doctor Jaehyun offered a hand for you to shake and gave you a dimpled smile. “You’re in good hands” he said. Little did you know that your new doctor will someday change your life in a different way.

Nothing special happened during the check up, your new doctor seems to know everything about your condition from how you’re supposed to be taken care of to the future things you need to do to live a much healthier life. “If anything goes wrong, I’m the one in charge to operate you” he said as he bid you good bye and thanked you for your time.

Later that day you had plans with your friends at your favorite bar. A normal Friday night spending the whole time laughing, dancing and watching your friends get drunk. You were waiting for the bartender to notice you when a man spoke to you from behind.  

“I thought I said strictly no alcoholic beverages?” you turned your back to see who it is.

“Oh my g- Doctor Jaehyun! Sorry,” you were nervous but happy to see him, you don’t know why you feel this way. “I’m having freshly squeezed orange juice, don’t worry” you explained and invited him to sit on the stool beside you.

Ditching your friends to keep him company, doctor Jaehyun is actually fun to be with. Interesting stories just keeps piling up and no one bothers to look at the time as you two continue talking. Jaehyun is on his seventh scotch and you noticed he handles his alcohol very well, while you on the other is on your fourth glass of orange juice. He was telling you how he managed to pass some of his subjects during med school by sleeping with some of his females professors and they grade him based on his performance in bed. That story made you laughed so hard you forgot who you’re talking to.

“How about you? Tell me something I don’t know, something crazy about you” he challenged. Choosing from a bunch of crazy stuff you could tell him, you picked the most shocking one to beat his story.

“Uhm- I’m engaged…” the moment you told him that he almost choke on what he was drinking and asked the bartender for a glass of water. “Oh, Doctor are you okay?” you worriedly asked patting his back and caressing it while you watch him cough. You don’t know but your touch gave him goosebumps and tingles.

“Sorry I was just shocked- totally unexpected” he said. “Please, call me Jaehyun. I’m not your doctor right now” he said, asking for the bartender another glass of scotch and an orange juice for you.

“But aren’t doctors always on call? Like 24/7?” you asked, trying to avoid the topic of you being engaged.  

“If you collapse right now, I’ll transform as your doctor. But for now please, give me a break” you both let out a laugh because of what he said. “So are you happily engaged?” just as you thought you already avoided that topic, he’s bringing it up again.

“Uhh” you let out an awkward laugh, “I broke it off” Jaehyun apologised for prying but deep inside he’s happy he’s not flirting to someone married or at least going to be. You told him it was because your ex fiancé is emotionally unstable so you both have no other choice to break the engagement. “Johnny is a great guy, he’s just too much sometimes” you ended the story with a light note.

The night continued to be more interesting and you both talked about other stuff, knowing each other more but not like a patient-doctor kind of relationship. He was completely growing a huge crush on you and he was confident about it, telling you how much you look beautiful in that dress, how you look hot and cute at the same time whenever you smile. Hearing it from Jaehyun makes you blush like crazy.

You noticed how handsome he is while drinking his scotch and those two loose buttons from his shirt just makes him even more hotter. He noticed how you looked at him, and flashed a dimpled smile at you. To your surprise he came closer to you, his hot breath touching your exposed neck. “Stop fucking me with your eyes. Are you still a virgin?”

The question made you stare at him a little longer, completely startled by his behaviour. Normally if a guy hits on you like this you always know what to say and not to say. But when it comes to Jaehyun, you’re speechless.

“My place is not far from here”

Hesitating but you let him bring you to his place. You were not planning to fuck your doctor but you’re not immune to his incredible charms. The sexual tension was building up fast while you two were walking to his apartment, and when you’re finally alone with him his lips crashed to yours and you kissed him back without having second thoughts.  

Jaehyun was not rushing you to take off your clothes or anything, but you can feel his need by the way he kiss you passionately, how his hands were gentle when touching you and how he’s making you want just spread your legs for him. You bumped on the dinner table and sat on it, putting Jaehyun in between your legs. His lips were busy kissing you wherever he wants while your hands were busy taking off his pants and palming his hardening cock.

Now that his pants are already discarded he removed his shirt, and lifts your dress throwing it on the floor. Looking at your clothed boobs as he hooks his fingers on your panties taking it off slowly, you unclasp your bra and throw it to Jaehyun, making him giggle and admire your naked body for a minute.  

“First time having sex on a dinner table?” he whispers beside your ear before spreading your legs wider and caress your inner thighs making your pussy tingle and want for his fingers inside you. You moan and roll your head back, enjoying the way he teases you.

The moment was completely ruined when his work phone rang like crazy, “fuck” he said completely annoyed and frustrated. He answers the phone in front of you, keeping you close to him so you won’t feel cold. Seeing Jaehyun completely naked in between your legs while talking to someone on his phone will forever be engraved in your mind.

He ended the call and lowered his head. “I’m so sorry” he exhales sharply, “duty calls. I’m needed at the hospital- fuck. I’m really sorry” he embraced you and kissed you too many times on your cheeks, apologising for the unexpected call from work which perfectly ruined your night. “It’s okay, I understand. Some other time, yeah?” he nods his head and helped you go down from the dinner table.

After that fateful night you two were working your asses off at your jobs, completely missing each other but can’t make time because of the busy schedules. Jaehyun texts you everyday, sending sweet reminders that made you blush and smile out of nowhere your friends are already suspecting you have someone new. At night you feel like a horny teenager sexting someone before you go to sleep, sometimes when Jaehyun isn’t tired from hospital duty he will call you and talk to you until someone passes out.

It’s been two weeks since you last saw Jaehyun and you can’t believe work is being a bitch to the both of you. Today, you have a big wedding to take care of and Jaehyun has a doctors conference.

6:00 am Jaehyun: Good morning beautiful. 7:13 am Jaehyun: Doctors conferences are boring. Did you eat breakfast? Don’t skip breakfast, doctor’s orders. ;) 7:30 am Jaehyun: Drinking orange juice right now and thought of you. 8:30 am You: Sorry I was busy. I miss you too, now let me work. :*

5:45 PM Jaehyun: I just met a total of 64 doctors. Dad has been introducing me around, showing me off like crazy. 6:23 pm You: He’s just proud you took after him.

7:22 pm Jaehyun: I miss your lips.

7:22 pm Jaehyun: I’m done for the day, can I see you now? I can pick you up from work.

7:30 pm You: Done for the day too, just saying good bye to the guests. I’m at the La Vien Rose Hotel, be done by 8. Finally, I’m going to see your handsome face again.

7:31 pm Jaehyun: I’m standing right behind you.

Before you could even turn around, Jaehyun hugged you from behind. Good thing you’re already alone and the guests are far gone. “Hey, sexy” he whispered and twirled you to face him admiring how good you look tonight.

“This whole time you’re at the conference from the other event room?” you said as you embrace him back, feeling happy to see him.

“I have a room here- uh, you want to order room service? Have dinner with me?” he gave you a dimpled smile followed by a wink that you already knew what it’s for. He brought you to his suite that’s big enough for one person, and has the greatest view of the city.

You two sat on the carpeted floor as he reach in for your feet and removes your three inch heels and massage it. “So good” you groaned while watching him, “How’s your day?” you asked and made him stop so you can lay on his lap. Sipping from his glass of wine, he shook his head before answering you.

“Besides missing you like crazy, it felt like shit meeting all those doctors today” he exhales sharply and downs his wine drinking until the last drop. “just family pressure and social pressure from being the last Jung to finish med school since I’m the youngest. They expect so much from me”

You sat up and provided comfort immediately, caressing his arms to let him know that you’re all ears and ready to listen. “They basically dragged me to med school. That’s a family secret. Everyone from my grandfather, parents, cousins and siblings called me a disgrace when I voiced out that I wanted to pursue music”

Theres a moment of comfort silence after he told you the whole story, hearing it from Jaehyun just makes it even more heavy and quite frankly you don’t know how to make him feel better. Good thing Jaehyun knew exactly what to do, “Anyway, it’s too early for you to know this side of me. Let’s just enjoy the night, come on. Were finally together” he reached in for a kiss that you gladly gave and it completely changes the mood.

You watch the city lights flicker as Jaehyun gets another bottle of wine and pour you a glass. He turns off the lights so you could enjoy the view and stood behind you to look at the nice view together. For a moment it was cold and quiet, clearly you’re both tired from today’s events. Until his soft lips touches your exposed neck, suddenly you feel the heat around your body slowly spreading making your head light letting it fall back so Jaehyun can kiss your neck better.

“We’re finally going to have sex tonight” just the thought of it plus Jaehyun’s soft voice gives you shiver. Wine long forgotten, he slowly motions you to the side of the bed keeping you close like he normally does. Slowly unzips your dress letting it fall down leaving you in your matching sexy underwear. You unbutton his blue dress shirt smoothly and admire his perfect body for a second, taking time to digest what’s about to happen tonight.

Doctor Jung Jaehyun is going to have sex with you.

Seeing him on top of you wearing a Calvin Klein boxer briefs is something you only imagine as you masturbate at night while sexting him. And seeing him remove it in front of you can make you cum then and there. Jaehyun is finally in between your legs removing your bra and laced panties, feeling his soft finger tips brush on your thighs. “Want to pump my cock?” he asked with a smirk.

You sat up, pumped his cock until it’s hard, licked it until you’re satisfied and sucked it until you hear Jaehyun’s moans and sharp gasps. Jaehyun’s cock is thick and long, and you’re almost afraid it wouldn’t fit you. “I’m gonna cum” he warns you as you stop him from pulling away as you swallow his cum.

His knees are weak and his body is shivering, seeing him cum in front of you afor the first time makes you extra horny. Jaehyun pushed you on the mattress and grabs both of your legs, spreading them wide before he blows hot air on your cunt and kiss it. A peck that’s so soft you asked for another one. The second contact of his lips on your cunt was not a soft kiss, but a long slow lick that made your eyes close and close your legs.

“Open” he said sternly, of course you followed.

He continues to lick your cunt as you grind your pussy slowly. “Fuck Jaehyun, spit on it” and he did, seeing him spit on your pussy makes you spread your legs wider. Jaehyun stopped and kneeled in front of you as he pumps his hard cock again. Leaning down to you for a kiss as he lines his cock on your cunt, he winked at you before he pushes in. Automatically your arms swing fast around his neck as he goes in slowly, rocking his hips back and forth according to your liking.

It feels so good for Jaehyun all he can do now is continue thrusting slow, furrow his brows and let out beautiful moans. You noticed how he was biting his lip while he fucks you slow, looking so handsome. “Stop biting you lips- you look fucking hot Jae” he giggle and kissed you on your neck, his cold fingertips brushing softly on your nipples which you really love. Making you smile every time he pinch one, “Feels good?” he managed to ask while increasing his pace, you can only nod as you look directly in his eyes enjoying every thrust. You feel your heart beat faster because he looks so handsome fucking you like this.

He puts his right thumb on your clit making you moan and roll your head back. “Don’t do that” you said, trying so hard not to cum yet. “Hmm? What if I want to?” he said as he continues what he’s doing but this time your lips to lips, kissing softly while he fucks you faster and thumbs your clit. Perfect, just where you want it to be. Every moan, hard groan, curse and whine is just between your mouths and bodies, he thrusts faster you’re sure the bed is making a sound. Holding tight on his shoulders, leaving marks on it as your long nails digs deep. Long moans and sharp gasps as you cum hard while he continues fucking you and catch his own release.

While you both ride your high, he’s kissing your naked body as you shiver, still sensitive from your orgasm. Oh how his lips feels so good against your skin. “Sleep with me tonight” Jaehyun offers while he’s busy kissing your shoulders sweetly. You nod weakly as he lay beside you, covering you with the thick duvet. Arms around each other he stare at the ceiling while you listen to his heart beat.

“Can I be honest?” he said, making you turn your head to face his handsome face. His heart skipped a beat seeing your beautiful face, freshly fucked but nervous about what he’s going to say.

“Of course” you said, pushing his hair away from his face and came in closer to him.

“Since the day that I met you- or that night when we ended up naked in my apartment” you both giggled, “Since that day, I go to work feeling excited and happy and that never happened to me before” Jaehyun pinched your cheeks playfully, “you made me to be a better doctor”

Happy to hear that from Jaehyun, you can’t exactly hide your blush from him. “Is that a blush I see, hmm?” he reached for you and gave you a peck on the lips, “If you give me a chance, I’ll show you what true love really feels like. No more toxic relationships, no more broken engagement, just a happy relationship that you deserve”

“I didn’t know that having a heart disease can get me a man like you”

“I’ll make you happy” Jaehyun whispers sweetly.

“You will?” you whisper back, giggling like a little girl while you lean forward and kiss him passionately.

“Mhmm. Fuck your heart disease, you have my heart”

Your relationship with Jaehyun was too good to be true. He’s like a prince from a movie who made all of your fantasies came true, including the kinky ones. Feeling the love that even your ex fiancé and boyfriend for six years never made you feel. It almost scares you everyday that maybe you’re just dreaming and one day you’ll wake up and find out that Jaehyun is just your doctor and no one special. But everyday he proves to you that everything that’s happening right now is real and that you’re not dreaming.

Jaehyun became really strict when it comes to your health and you sometimes fight with him because he’s being too much. “Hey, I’m doing this so I can grow old with you” he always sweet talks you to make you follow everything he says, which always works. He always treats you right, whenever and however he can making you feel loved everyday in his own way. Sending you flowers at work, making you breakfast whenever you sleep over his apartment or by simply saying ‘i love you’ in the sweetest and cutest way possible.

That’s Jaehyun as your boyfriend.

Today is your first anniversary and you both decided to stay in Jaehyun’s place and enjoy quality time together. He made you cut the vegetables he needed while he works on other meals. Not stopping himself from whispering something sweet behind your ear like, “I might get used to seeing you around my kitchen” or something like, “I never thought seeing you mince garlic and onion can make me horny”

The afternoon was fun as you two eat lunch together at the kitchen counter, not bothering setting the table anymore. “Jung Jaehyun what else are you good at?” you asked, definitely amazed by his cooking skills. You knew that he’s a great doctor and that he’s incredibly great in bed, but you never knew about his cooking skills.

“Well, I can sing and play piano. That’s the last skill that you haven’t seen yet” he said, making you eat a spoonful of pasta and left a kiss on your temple and proceeds to wash the dishes.

“I’ve been loving you for a whole year and you never let me hear you sing? Do you want me to get mad?” you hugged him from behind while he’s busy washing dishes, thanking him for making a great meal for your anniversary.

Settling with a bottle of wine as you two sat in his living room to exchange anniversary gifts, you’re nervous about what he’s going to react about your gift. You hand him the box that’s decently heavy and shakes it trying to guess it before he opens it.

“A watch”

“What! How did you know it’s a watch?” you’re completely surprised he guessed it right.

“I know you” he let out a laugh and opens the box. To his surprise it’s not just any watch, it’s the Rolex watch he’s been eyeing and for some unknown reason, he’s stopping himself from buying it. So you bought if for him. “You don’t know how happy I am, to receive this. Thank you” he gave you a kiss and stood up to get his gift.

Excited and bit nervous, you wish he doesn’t propose because you’re not yet ready for that. When Jaehyun came back with a small box, it made you frown. “What’s with the frown?” Jaehyun worriedly asked.

“Jae, I hope you know that I love you and you changed my life quite literally and I’m thankful for that. We’re incredibly happy right now and don’t get me wrong, but I’m not ready to be engaged again”

“Thank you for your wonderful speech, I love you too. But baby, I’m not proposing- Well, of course someday I will, but not today” he let out a small laugh and hands you the box.

“What’s this key for?”

He’s waiting for you to figure it out on your own, “is this a key to this apartment?” you guessed, and he shook his head with a teasing smile.

“I bought us a house… that costs this watch that you gave me” that’s what stopping him from buying it, you thought. “This is not a proposal but, move in with me? So I can see you around the kitchen more, sing you to sleep, wake you up with kisses and my morning breath?” you nod your head with a big smile on your face as you came in closer to kiss him. And your answer made Jaehyun smile from ear to ear, his eyes disappearing because of his big smile.

You feel his cold fingertips creep around your neck as he puts your hair to the side so he could kiss your neck. Making you close your eyes and forget what you were thinking just three seconds ago. You kissed him on the lips and without a warning sat on his lap. Completely leaving Jaehyun speechless but wanting for more.  

“It’s only five in the afternoon” you said, still not stopping yourself from hungrily kissing Jaehyun and grinding on his lap. Removing your shirt and unclasping your bra as quick as you can, Jaehyun pulled away from the kiss making you stop everything you’re doing.

“Slow down, please. You want a visit to the emergency room?” He never fails to make you calm. Jaehyun kisses you again setting a slow pace as he carries you to his room and lay you down gently in his bed. Putting you beneath him, slowly kissing you with all the love that he feels for you.

“When can I see our house?” you said, he stopped and giggle like a little boy on top of your exposed breast. A sharp gasp escaped from your mouth the moment his lips touch the valley between your boobs, kissing your left boob like how he usually does.

“How about we finish what we started and talk after, hmm?” He intertwines his fingers with yours as you nod and start kissing him again. Diving to love never felt so good you feel like you’re going to explode any minute.

Both hands are busy getting each other naked, lips never stopped kissing. Jaehyun loves how he can kiss you while kneading your boobs. Legs automatically spread to put Jaehyun in between, slowly kissing you down to your stomach and sweetly kissing your lower abdomen. “Ready?” He asked with an airy tone that calms you. You nod with a smile as he proceeds to lick your cunt slowly, kissing it like it was your mouth, trying not to close your legs and crush Jaehyun’s head.

Jaehyun noticed your legs were already shivering from overstimulation, you try so hard not to cum again. He stopped licking your cunt and start caressing your thighs, “Okay, calm down” he giggle as he kiss your lips again, letting you taste a little bit of yourself. Pumping his cock before lining it to your cunt, he whispered “Can I kiss you while fucking you?” that sent tingles to your spine, you kissed him as your answer earning a sweet smile from Jaehyun in between kisses. You feel him push inside you slowly but you’re distracted with his soft lips that never left you.

He always kiss away the hurt from the stretch of his cock, happy to see you smile while he thrust inside you. In and out. “You look beautiful with that smile” with short breaths he tried to compliment you still. Thrusting deep inside you, you grab the sheets when his thumb plays with your clit making you catch every thrust he gives.

With all your strength you switch positions with Jaehyun so you could see him enjoy the pleasure. You made him grab your ass, and he smacks your left butt cheek the sting didn’t hurt at all but rather it made you horny even more. Hands on top of his chest, you lean down to kiss him hungrily as you move your hips up and down on his cock.

Jaehyun is a mess beneath you now, his moans are a little high, gasp sharper and quicker than ever. Hands gripping your thighs telling you how good you feel around his cock. “Hmm? Really? Kiss me when you cum” you said as you feel his cock twitch inside you, playing with his right nipples to put him on edge.

Jaehyun grab you to the neck as he switch positions again, and thrust inside you hard as he cums inside you. His thrust were not gentle at all, they were sharp and fast you almost fell from the bed. He kiss your lips with open mouth, exchanging spits and bitting your lips as he shivers on top of you.

Still thrusting inside you, his pace became slow like the rhythm of his breath. Forehead to forehead he smiled sweetly to you before removing his cock and replacing it with his middle finger. “Now it’s your time to kiss me when you cum” he whispers while kissing you neck, your hips already long for movement and friction.

In between your legs, Jaehyun kneels to see you how fucked up you are right now. Holding your legs with his free hand so you couldn’t close your legs, caressing your thighs to send you on edge. You look him in the eye as you grip both of your boobs and enjoy what he’s doing to you. Not long after you put your thumb in his mouth feeling his tongue swirl, you feel your orgasm ball up in your lower abdomen making you breath sharp and ask for Jaehyun’s lips already.

But he refused. He made you want for his lips and beg for a kiss as he watch you shiver from his touch. Fingers moving from the bottom of your cunt to your clit, pinching it again and again making you suffer as you cum. You wanted to close your legs so bad but you can’t, “Jaehyun what are you doing- please! Ah! I can’t take it anymore” he stopped and watched you catch your breath, curling yourself and closing your legs to stop them from shaking.

Jaehyun felt sorry and worried for overstimulating you like that. “I’m sorry, I’ll never do that again” you feel his hand caress your back, and covers your body with the thick sheets to help you stop shivering. He was about to leave and go to the bathroom to prepare a warm bath for you, but you stopped him.

With all your strength you hug from behind, kissed him on his chest, sat on his lap and cupped his face. “You’re selfish you know that? Not letting me kiss your soft lips while I cum, baby thats brutal” the pet name made his heart jump and kiss you oh so lovingly, laying you in bed slowly kissing you until your head touches the fluffy pillows.

The kiss lasted for a good twenty minutes, just feeling each other’s warmth without doing anything but say sweet nothings to each other, never ending compliments, and giggles in between kissing. You’re in love.

After taking a shower, Jaehyun got hungry again and made you a sandwich. Watching him cook and walk around his kitchen without a shirt and just wearing his sweatpants makes you bite your lower lip. “Stop fucking me with your eyes, eat” he said as he hands you a plate with the sandwich that he made. “Let’s visit the house tomorrow, then we can buy furnitures for a start” He added before taking a bite from his sandwich feeling excited about the new house, you can’t wait to decorate it and call it home already.

The day became more interesting when you started to suggest things you wanted to try. Like having sex on the tub, which Jaehyun enjoyed and asked you to make him cum three more times. He wanted to play with ice cream, so he ate ice cream on your naked body which made you even more sensitive when you cum. Trying different sex positions and discovering that fucking from behind is Jaehyun’s favorite and fucking you on the edge of the bed is your favorite.

You can’t believe that this man sleeping beside you can love you more and more each day making you fall in love over and over again. You can’t believe that in two weeks time, you will no longer miss his addicting warmth next to your body, and you can kiss him freely whenever you want even when he’s sleeping.

At 3am in the morning, he felt your lips touch his and he smiled when he saw you on top of him. Looking at the time, he let out a laugh because you’re being needy at an ungodly hour. “Want to have sex? Okay, just a minute” he said but you cut him off with a soft “no. I just want to kiss you in bed” and you smiled so sweetly while you watch him nod and close his eyes again.

................................................. Masterlist I’m planning to put more plot to this fic but I got tired. It’s suppose to be a sad ending, y/n dying in the hands of Jaehyun during an operation. If you get to this point, thank you for reading! Really means a lot!  #OVERSHARING this fic is inspired by a handsome doctor that I met when I was 12 years old. We have this beach out with some of the doctors that my aunt works with and sheesh he’s hot... and he brought his pretty girlfriend with him. I was watching them swim at the pool and enjoy the sunset as they were probably making out in front of me by that time. 

[whump-town]

A Cumbersome And Heavy Body

Chapter One: Tired Of This Body

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn't going to go down without a fight. It's just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count: 7,883

Author’s Note: ugh... well, here it is. Don’t be afraid to send me hate mail or leave a comment. I love it when I make you guys sad (in a loving way of course) :)) good luck you little shits and may the odds be ever in your favor (FYI, they’re not)

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird)

I've grown tired of this body Cumbersome and heavy Tired of this body Fall apart without me

“I understand you’re here with concerns of a mass you found—”

He was shaving. The mirror fogged from his shower and the room heavy with steam. Leisurely, he’d wasted time getting ready. That particular morning, he’d gotten up before his alarm and he was happy for the distraction of the near-boiling water pouring over his back while the cold tile bites into his shoulder. An easy stress-reliever before the day fully starts.

Dragging a cool rag over his face he’d caught sight of a slightly swollen place on his chest. He’d dropped the rag in the sink and gently probed the area. He’d expected the sting of a bruise, not a knot of hard lumps.

It wasn’t a bruise.

“I regret to inform you—”

He hadn’t even known there were lymph nodes in the chest.

“Can you take your shirt off for me, sir?”

There’s a whole staff of people fluttering and dodging his eyes. A blur of motion as they work around him. Of them all, Hotch has already developed a soft spot for. Dr. Fitz and the glasses that are too big for his face despite his attempts to make them fit his face. There are rubber bands wrapped around the earpieces to push them tighter around his head and a piece of tape holding one of the lenses in. It’s strangely endearing.

No matter how many times Hotch tells Dr. Fitz that Aaron works just fine, he still nervously throws in the courtesy. He’s just like Reid and it’s that thought that makes him both comfortable and so unbearably alone.

With a nod, Hotch tugs his shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants. The cold air hits his bare chest and he holds his breath for a moment, shivering slightly before he takes control once again. Foyet’s scars are on broad display for the whole room but, to their credit, none of them blink. They’re not here to dissect the scars covering his body or take stock of the weight he’s put on.

He just goes where he’s pulled. If he flinches when they touch him, no one comments. It’s for the better, mostly.

“The tattoo is going to guide the external beam radiation at your tumor,” Dr. Fitz explains once again. His hands tremble slightly as they hold the little needle in his hands. “It’s just three dots.”

Hotch nods, his mouth a little too dry. This whole process a little too much. He nods his understanding, fists clenched at his side to force himself to show no outward reaction. It doesn’t bother him as much as it should those dots are going to be with him forever. His first and last tattoo.

Forcing a steadying breath, he glues his eyes to the ceiling. It stings but it’s not unbearable. The needle digs into his chest, pushing the ink in. It’s the second and third dot that get him. His skin is getting hot, sore enough to make him gunt as the last one is placed.

“Not nearly as fun as a normal tattoo,” one of the other doctor’s observes. Hotch, blinking back tears, looks over at his other doctor. A woman whom he’d never have figured the “tattoo” type. His brain is a little preoccupied, worn down. He’ll get over not profiling her very well, he just might not forgive himself for the slip-up.

Hotch just… grunts. Not a real answer but the easiest.

He’s offered a hand up but he doesn’t take it. Shoulders sore and arms weak, he pushes himself up. Leaning to the side when his head starts to pound, his mouth really, really dry.

“Alright—” a cold gloved finds his shoulder. “You’re just panicking,” he’s reassured. “You need to breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” The hand squeezes his shoulder but he keeps his eyes squeezed shut. It feels like he’s going to pass out. But… he doesn’t. He breathes as instructed and slowly, the room calms back down.

As he peels his eyes open, chest tight and hands trembling, he finds the room still every bit as busy as it was before his little fit. The world really doesn’t stop.

“Are you sure—,” Dr. Fitz twists and worries his hands. Obviously, he’s worked himself up too. Probably blaming himself for Hotch’s reaction. He should have let him take a break or warned him a little better. “Most people find it helpful to have someone here,” Dr. Fitz observes. “Do you— Do you want to call someone?”

His eyes drop to the floor, his mind-- Haley. She would be here. Cracking jokes and poking at his side. Things used to be so much easier with her around. There was this magic about her, a drug her presence doped him up. She would light the room up and hold his hand. She’s not here, though. She’s dead and he’s having a hard time convincing himself this isn’t some sort of penance.

Snuffing out a light like her, it was bound to have its consequences.

They’ve marked him and with his advanced stage, he’s got an aggressive treatment plan, and the radiation starts tomorrow. So, no. No, he doesn't want to call anyone. He just wants to serve his time. Besides, who would he call?

JJ? With two children of her own and a painfully busy schedule.

Reid? His mother occupies his mind as is.

Morgan? He’s grappling with a relationship with Savannah, attempting to salvage all of the complex things life has thrown at him.

Dave? Hasn’t he already lost a child? The last thing he needs is to sit here for any given amount of time and watch this.

And he’d never, never put Garcia through this.

“No,” he rasps, laying back down. “I’m okay.”

He closes his eyes and when a single hot tear runs down his cheek, he doesn’t wipe it away. I’m okay.

I’m okay.

There aren't immediate side effects and he’s not sure if that’s a relief or worse. He’s anxious, nearly sick with nerves. Would it not be simpler to just get sick already? To throw up or get sore or just— anything.

The machine hurts his ears. Fifteen minutes of lying perfectly still gets hard after about two minutes. The whole process exacerbated by the way the low hum of the machine makes his head feel like someone’s digging at his skull with an icepick through his ear.

He’s assured he shouldn’t start feeling any symptoms for a few days. Likely not until the second week of treatments.

It takes five days for a stitch in his side to take his breath for a moment, doubling over as he struggles to breathe for a moment. Chest tight and head fogged. They just add another pill bottle to the other whole collection he’s accumulated on his nightstand.

It feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his chest. A hand gripping a fist full of his hair and dunking his head back under the water. Ties binding his wrist to the bed. A knife buried in his side.

It feels like the ground he’s standing on is rumbling, shifting beneath his feet and at any given moment it’s going to pitch him forward. A free fall and he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to land on his feet.

He’s staring at the ceiling. Fists gripping the sheets as his stomach twists and churns. Swallowing around the uncomfortable burn in his throat, he turns his head to the side. Watching the movements just outside his bedroom window. Jack’s outside, kicking his soccer ball, and waiting for Daddy to come to join him. Hotch, will have to join him sooner rather than later. Even with the yard fenced in, anything could happen out there.

Funny. Just a few weeks ago, anything could have been blown under the rug with “at least it’s not cancer”. Now he’s plotting his will out in his head, making sure he covers every little thing. Who will lead the team? Where will Jack go? Can Jessica handle arrangements and should he start preparing the comfort letters now?

In the face of it all, he’d thought he could accept this. Life goes on. Things happen. He doesn’t want to die. All of those poems, the books, and the lies. “Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep.” Well, that’s right shit, in his opinion. What comes next? Not light. Not hope. His body will succumb to cancer leaving behind the carnage of his actions.

Hodgkin's Lymphoma…

He’d known, in that morbid way his thoughts tend to twist, that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. That it would be silly for the doctor to smile, sympathetic to his plight, and advise him to talk to his therapist about this new progression of paranoia. For a pat on the back. Instead, he got the cold examination table under his back, and the nurse giving his trembling hand a squeeze as the needle had plunged into his chest.

It’s all been a haze since that phone call. Since the confirmation. Now he’s got more blood tests scheduled for Monday. That’s what his life is now. Radiation for fifteen minutes for four days a week. On the fifth day, he gets blood work drawn. They check for enzymes and cells. He doesn’t really care to understand.

He should. Don’t mistake the careless, numb ache thinking about all this gives him for complete inattention to detail. It’s just a little much for one person.

Hotch finds himself wondering what Reid would tell him about the whole process. Statics that would knock the wind from his lungs and odds that would make him feel just a little better. That he’s too old and too stressed out. That radiation aimed at his chest can harden his arteries and increase his already high chances of a heart attack. That he should have seen this coming-- his father died at 47. Lung cancer. A heart attack.

He should have seen it coming.

“Daddy?”

He has to lean into his nightstand as the ground warps beneath his feet. “I’m coming,” he manages, closing his eyes and blindly hoping that his door is shut and Jack can’t see him. He wishes he’d smoked more. Indulged in Dave’s cigars. Gone drinking with Derek. Danced like Penelope. Fuck, smiled more.

He didn’t even know there were lymph nodes in the chest. He’d gone to law school. Spent his early adulthood learning to read complex course material and how to cry softly in a room with another person less than five feet from him. Maybe he should have studied Biology… but then he’d just have to come to terms with the fact that this whole mess was bound to happen. Predisposed. Genetic and environmental.

His fault.

--------------------------------

Six in the morning is not a typical time to be fielding calls from concerned police officials. “He—Hello?”  Which, now that phone is tucked under his chin, and the call answered, he realizes that he should have checked the caller ID. As stated, is it six in the morning and he doubts anyone too important is calling him at this hour.

Unless, of course, his luck has finally run out and yet another political disaster has occurred. Leaving him to clean the wreck.

The other end makes a strange noise before he’s greeted with, “--finally! I was almost worried you wouldn’t answer!”

Oh.

Emily.

“Morning,” he greets, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’s a little too grumpy for this right now but she’s obviously called for a reason, her happiness seeping into tone, and he’s not going to purposely ruin that. How many hours ahead is London, again? Why is she awake?

“I was worried,” she admits. He can hear her working, the drag of her pen across paper, and the shift of the leather chair she’s sitting in. Even her keyboard clicking away as she multi-tasks. “Your last letter was nearly two weeks ago. Is everything good at home?”

Home. He smirks, she’s been overseas now for several years. Yet, she still refers to Virginia as home. The thought makes him shake his head. He’d never draw the conclusion out loud to her but he can imagine that little slip-up is one of the reasons that her on-again-off-again boyfriend Michael grows frustrated with her. It’s not her fault. It’s an understandable mistake but it certainly reflects a certain tone for her affections of London.

Her preferences.

“They’re fine,” he answers, evenly. “Jack’s doing well in school. Dave’s stopped hounding me about potential love suitors.” He pauses to splash water across his mouth, preparing to wash his face. “Garcia enjoyed last month’s tea flavor, what was it-- raspberry?”

He places his phone on speaker and sets it on the shelf above his sink. Ducking his head, he listens to her while he washes his face. Going about the habitual process of shaving. A comforting thing he’s always done. He’s got no preference when it comes to facial hair. A beard is just as easy as a clean face. It’s about shaving. It’s soothing. It’s one of the few things that’s remained constant in his life.

She’s talking-- he thinks about how the weather in London has hit a point in the season that she doesn’t particularly like. Raining and cold. That she wants to come home but she isn’t sure she should. Will she really be able to tear herself away from the Virginia weather? From them?

He’s half-way done shaving when his eyes drift to his shirtless chest.

He wonders how many times he shaved, how many mornings did he wake up before he realized-- before he saw the tumor or the lump or mass or whatever the hell the medical term is. He lowers his head, sighing in defeat but mostly anger. How’d he let it get to this?

“Anyways,” she sighs. Sounding every bit as tired as he feels. “How is home? How are you?”

He looks at himself in the mirror. His head is absent of reason. No logic or forethought.

“I have cancer.”

-------------------------------- Everything about Aaron Hotchner is traditional and simplistic. It’s not a bad thing. In the years that she's known him, she’s grown fond of that. It makes him predictable and reliable. Something that happens infrequently in people the older that she gets. A part of her does feel wrong for clinging to that, to him, but she cherishes his friendship. Through the ups and downs.

Their means of communication are letters. Once a week she can expect to find two to three pages of neatly written updates on her family across the pond. He’ll ramble about anything in those letters and that’s what she enjoys about them the most. There is no hesitation to tell her what he thinks. In those letters, she can find Aaron. Incredible soft, thoughtful Aaron.

It’s been two weeks since he’s sent a letter. Not to sound clingy but she’s kind of hurt. More so, she’s nervous to find out what’s taking up so much of his time. He’s routine with his responses. Almost every Thursday night she can curl up with his newest letter and a glass of wine and read about the BAUs newest adventure. It’s always a bonus when throws in his subtle little “I” statements. I miss you’s come rare but when they do happen it’s nice.

Sighing, she caves. It’s Friday, she hasn’t heard from him in two weeks, and she misses him. By the time she has his contact picture pulled up and the ring tone dialing-- his goofy picture from his badge grinning at her-- she realizes that her eleven am is his six am. Just as she’s starting to think he won’t answer it goes through.

“H--Hello?” he sounds like shit. Over the course of the last year, she’s managed to forget what he sounds like. His voice is startlingly deep which does surprise her just a little.

“Finally!” she mumbles. “I was worried you wouldn’t answer!”

He yawns and it makes her smile. “Morning,” he grumbles and she can hear him scratching tiredly at his face. She feels guilty for waking him up for only a moment. That is until she remembers he gets up at six. So it’s likely she called right after his alarm clock went off.

Tucking her phone between chin and shoulder, she turns her computer on. Settling in behind her desk and getting to work. “I was worried,” she tells him. Not sure if she’s meaning to sound mad at him for not sending his “everyone’s alive and well” letter or mad that she doesn’t know how he is. He’s thrown her off her routine. “Your last letter was nearly two weeks ago. Is everything good at home?”

Her worry bleeds into the statement but he’s too tired to feed it or make fun of it.

She can hear him huff softly, an almost laugh.

“They’re fine,” he answers softly. His voice is drowsy, “Jack’s doing well in school. Dave’s stopped hounding me about potential love suitors.” She hears the tap run, he pauses, and she can hear him splashing water on his face. “Garcia enjoyed last month’s tea flavor, what was it-- raspberry?”

She smirks, it was raspberry. Although, she doubts Garcia liked it as much as he says. She’s not a huge raspberry fan. Besides, Emily had sent that tea with one specific tea drinker in mind: him. The thing about Hotch is, he’s traditional, but he’s also complicated. That’s just Hotch for “I enjoyed the tea you sent”.

Really, she’d just wanted him to be introduced to more teas than his just his simple black tea. Be more creative. Have some fun.

“I’m glad Garcia liked the tea,” she says with a smirk. “She’s been texting me all week.” Pictures, texts, and a few Snapchat. Emily doesn’t entirely know how to use Snapchat yet but she’s getting the hang of it. “You guys being grounded is relaxing, I’m sure, but that woman’s got way too much time on her hands.” Emily shakes her head at the thought. Lovingly, of course.

“Anyways,” she runs a hand over her face and she lets out a sigh. “How is home? How are you?”

There’s a long pause on his end. All his busy movements coming to a halt. It makes her heart pick up its pace, her gut twisting. Suddenly, that knee-jerk thought, that stupid thought that something might be wrong feels true. She’s just about to say his name when his voice cuts through.

“I have cancer.”

Her first reaction is oh. At least she was right.

That is immediately followed by-- oh fuck.

“Are you…” she swallows thickly, work forgotten. “Have--” Where does she even begin?

He clears his throat, “Hodgkin's Lymphoma.” He answers without her actually having to ask. It feels to get it off his chest, literally. To tell someone. “I guess--” he makes a choked sound like the shock of this news is setting in again. “They have to put, uhm, ink to locate the right place. So, I… I have a tattoo of sorts now.”

She laughs a half-pained sound. “I’m sure Morgan doesn’t consider it to be a tattoo,” she manages around the tightness of her throat. She cringes at the thought, ink and a needle just digging into his flesh. Cancer invading his body.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment but when he does, she understands the silence.

“I haven’t told them.”

As much as she wants to be mad at him, she shouldn’t really expect anything different. He’s painfully shy and private. God knows if she hadn’t found him half-dead in the hospital after Foyet, he’d have gone as long as possible without telling them. He certainly wouldn’t have told them while still hospitalized.

It’s the same lack of forethought that goes through them, a moment of blindness. He’d felt the weight of restraints pulling his limbs down when the admissions had left his lips. She feels only conviction, “I’m coming home.”

It catches him entirely off guard.

She winces when he starts coughing. His first symptom since starting radiation. It’s a horrible sounding dry cough that makes her lungs ache just to hear.

The coughs fold him over, the force at which they leave his mouth is painful. What is it that makes coughing so painful? That’s never made much sense. It’s just air, right?

“Hotch?”

He rubs at his sternum, trying to externally soothe the muscles. “I’m okay,” he chokes. Shakily, his right-hand bears his weight as his left turns the faucet on. With his palm, he manages to sip a few mouthfuls of water. It just doesn’t stop the coughing. “I’m okay.”

She highly doubts that. There’s not a single thing about what she just heard that sounds “okay” by anyone standards-- certainly not his. “Are you going to work like this?” she asks. It’s hard to believe he’d allow himself to be seen in any state that isn’t tip-top shape. On that note, she also knows that way too good at putting on a show, and, for profilers, the team sucks at making that distinction.

The anger that evokes in him is undue. Admittedly, he overreacts. “I said I’m fine,” he barks. “I don’t need you checking in on me, Prentiss. I don’t need you here, too!” To watch. It’s bad enough, okay? That he’s going to have to tell his six-year-old son that he’s dying. Each morning a little more than the last and some days feel like he’s already half-lowered into the ground.

And the others. Reid and those sad eyes. The way Morgan won’t be able to look at him, just avert his gaze and storm out of the room. Dave’s crushing hug and JJ’s silent tears. Garcia… He can only imagine the raging in-betweens of what the news will do to her. Stress baking cookies he won’t be able to stomach. Knitting him hats, sweaters, and blankets with feverish vigor that he won’t be able to escape.

He could use one of Garcia’s love knitted blankets right about now.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he relaxes his tight grip on the sink. Knuckles paled and fingers aching.

“Sorry,” Emily finally manages after the long moments of silence.

Hotch hangs his head, biting his lip hard to stop the flow of emotions trying to work their way up. “No,” he rasps, thickly. He sniffles, scoffing when he rubs his eyes with the back of his wrist, finding tears. “That was… inexcusable. I’m so sorry,” he leans down, body in half as he rests his forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink.

This doesn’t even feel like his body anymore.

“Aaron?”

There are tears streaming down his face, he’s too tired to fight them off. “Hmm?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He hums in agreeance, unable to trust his voice.

“Take it easy, okay? I love you.”

The line dies before he can hasten out a reply.

--------------------------------

She’s been waiting on a reason to leave London for longer than she’s willing to admit.

Her dying friend proves to be reason enough.

Clyde has obvious mixed feelings but he can’t hold her back. He and Hotch had gotten set on the wrong foot. The rivalry between the two men is childish but endearing. Almost nothing has made her feel as loved as the proud smiles they both wear when she greets them. Clyde overwhelmingly pleased he’d won her back to London and Hotch smug she’ll travel hours to come to see him (she hadn’t done that for Clyde).

Almost nothing beats that.

“Emily!”

Her eyes are scanning the crowd before her, searching for her mismatched ragtag family. Sore thumbs, bobbing up and down in the crowd, they wave her to them. She notices he’s not there immediately.

“Princess,” Morgan sighs her name into her hair and she turns her face into his shoulder. Drawing in the strength she can feel wavering with a new wave of anxiety washing over her. It helps that they’re here. Derek’s arms wrapped around her after what feels like a lifetime away.

It’s only taken her three decades but she’s found her family and she’s not letting anything drag her away this time.

Garcia pushes at Morgan, causing a choked laugh out of them all. “Stop hogging all the Emily-lovings!”

Morgan smirks, trying to hide the relief swelling in his eyes like tears. He gets one more good look of her, eyes combing over her before parting with a sad smile. Relieved.

There’s a blur of motion. She’s pulled to each of them.

Garcia hugs like she’s trying to crush ribs and Emily lets her.

Hugging Dave brings tears to her eyes. Fuck, she’s missed them.

“Don’t make me chase you,” Emily threatens when she spots Reid near the edge. Pulling him close she rests her head against his shoulder, happy when he squeezes her back. “I’ve missed you, boy wonder.” Her genius. Just as scrawny as when she left him. She doesn’t want to do that again anytime soon.

Dave claps his hands together, grabbing one of the three bags she’d dropped. “Let’s get lunch, kiddos. We can talk about London.” He winks at Emily and she knows that this is going to spin into a conversation about potential love interests. She hasn’t had love on the brain in a while.

London… not everything she wishes it was. Cold and rainy. Relentlessly.

For the first month, she was over there, all she wanted was to come home. She just kept waiting for the rain to ease up. Then there should be that wet, hot humidity that clings to everything. She’d hated that before but now she’d just give anything to have it. For Reid to drag her out for coffee and the sun to bring out the chipper inflection in Garcia’s voice.

How the sun looked on Jack and Henry’s little head when she’d run around the park with them.

Fuck London, she’s just glad to be home.

“So,” she’s allowed them their fill of questions. Things about INTERPOL and if she’s still leaning heavily on take out food or if she’s managed even the faintest bit of finesse concerning cooking (she hasn’t). Leaning onto her elbows, she asks the question that’s been bugging her for hours. “Where’s Hotch?”

Dave leans back in his chair and JJ’s the first to crack. Of course, her poker face just isn’t that great. Her eyes move to Dave, concern written across her face. They might not know but it’s not that hard to figure out they know something isn’t right.

Reid shifts uncomfortably, averting his eyes, and focus.

“Your guess is as good as ours,” Dave informs her. He settles back in his chair, arms crossing on his chest. “He’s…” he sighs tiredly. For a moment he just shakes his head. Rubbing a hand over the coarse hair on his face and then rubbing at his eyes. “He’s Aaron,” Dave mumbles. “Complicated and… reserved.” He looks at her now, zeroed in on just her. Just them.

Her heart races at just the thought of them knowing.

JJ clears her throat. She distracts her worry with rubbing her nail at the glass. “He says he’s at meetings,” she tells Emily. “Says--” she shakes her head, flustered. Upset. Pulling in a breath, she shakes softly as it comes in. “Every day, he sends me an update email. Just a list of things he expects to get done for the day or places he might be.” JJ tucks a strand of her hair back from her face. “Our jobs circle around each other, a lot. It makes my life easier if I can find him without running all over the place.”

Morgan turns his head, away from the conversation. Wishing to be uninvolved but unable to escape.

“He’s lying,” JJ concludes. She worries her lip with her teeth. “His lists are…” her eyebrows furrow as she struggles to say exactly what she means. “Last week,” she says with a nod, having come up with her perfect example. “He said he’d be in a meeting. Didn’t tell me where, he always tells me where.” Her eyes scan over the table, looking for more. “Something’s wrong and he won’t tell us.”

Morgan huffs, shifted now so that his arms are wrapped tightly around himself. His legs crossed, even. Distant. “I don’t see why we don’t just let him be.” His tone betrays what he’s really feeling. That anger and the vulnerability. His words are reflexive. He’s always pushed away when things get tough.

Emily wants to rise to his defense or to say anything but she can’t.

“Reid went into his office yesterday--”

Reid flinches. The memory or the feeling, he draws himself in. Shielding himself from whatever is being said.

Garcia looks down at her lap.

“He was asleep at his desk,” Dave finishes, despite seeing just how uncomfortable Garcia and Reid look. “Out like a-- Asleep like he hadn’t rested in a while. It took-- I had to shake him awake. He was warm to the touch and shaking.” Dave looks down to the table. “Shaking. He was weak and I’d known,” he looks up, frowning sadly. “I’d known something was wrong before but whatever is, we’ve got to get to the bottom of it.”

The bottom of it… God, they’re going to be devastated.

Lunch brightens. It’s forced to when the conversation shifts to the children. To Henry starting fourth grade and Jack’s in middle school now. Since when did those babies grow up?

Sooner than maybe she’s ready for it, she has to leave them. She’s too tired, too jet-lagged.

And maybe… Maybe she’s ready to bother Hotch. To reacquaint herself with his grumpy, silent nature. Isn’t it silly to think she’d hated him once?

Now she knows where his house keys are hidden.

The key hits the lock and she realizes how this might not be as great of a plan as she had planned it to be. “Hotch,” she calls into the dark. She peaks around, hoping if he’s home he’s not on edge. She’s seen him hypervigilant, she knows this is an awful plan. Even calling ahead might not have been enough. So, it’s more than brave for her to just come barging in.

She puts her back near the coat rack, still hunched into herself in case he comes barreling around the corner. He doesn’t. “Aaron?” His car is out front, despite the darkness of the room suggesting the house is empty. The blinds are drawn shut, blocking all-natural light into the house. The air is cool. “Aaron if you’re here please, please don’t shoot me.”

Shutting the door behind her, she progresses into the living room. The creaking of floorboards draws her attention to the other side of the house and she spots him.

He comes around the corner of the hall, from the direction of his room. Tired eyes move up to find her, his lip quirks into half a smile. “Emily,” he greets under his breath. He’d heard the door open but the binds weighing his wrist and ankles to the bed had been too much for him to lift. Pained and slowed, he’d made his way to figure out who was home.

Certain it’s not Jack, he should have had a little more trepidation about coming out here to investigate.

She approaches him slowly, soaking in every line and angle of his body. The way he’s favoring his right side is a new thing but the crescent moons under his eyes are a comforting familiarity. Pulling in a breath, she drags her eyes all the way up to him. He’s lost some weight and it just makes his cheekbones that much more hauntingly sharp. It draws attention to the scars on his face, thin and aged.

With a smile, she shakes her head at him. “Just as ugly as when I left,” she informs him.

He smiles tiredly, sighing at her playful taunt. It makes the hug she pulls him into relieving. The aches and chills he’s felt all day lessen as she wraps her arms around him. Something about the way her hand cups the back of his neck while the other rubs his up along his spine.

She’s standing on the tips of her toes, stretching to get to him. He leans down into her, closing his eyes. She just holds him that much closer. Against her, she can feel the beating of his heart. The way his nerves had amped his heart rate up and now, as the beat slows, the way he calms under her touch.

“How are you?” she asks quietly. They pull apart and she feels the absence of his warmth immediately.

He pulls in a weak breath, one he lets out a strangled cough. Shakes his head and offers a shrug. “I’m okay,” he assures her.

She doesn’t fail to notice how his right hand shakily reaches out to steady him against the wall. They’ve never agreed on the definition of okay and, so, it’s not that surprising they wouldn’t now.

Burying a cough into the elbow of his arm, he starts to tremble. His breathing takes a heavy quality as he stands there. It takes only a moment for him to draw himself up to his full height,  swallowing down against the pain and forcing his body to bend to his will. If she didn’t know better, nothing would look wrong at all.

“Can I get you anything,” he asks, clenching his teeth to keep steady despite how exhausted he feels. “How long are you staying?” He knows she won’t actually answer that first question, so he steps by her and lets her follow him into the kitchen. Hyper-aware of the way he moves his body. Trying to look normal instead of stiff.

She follows him, watching for clues in the slips of his armor. One of the many benefits of having known him so long and knowing him well is that he can’t get much past her. “I’m staying for as long as I’m welcome,” she replies. It’s better than the truth, that she’s staying until he’s better.

He appreciates her choice of wording even if the truth is still there underneath it all. Leaving him the burden of the situation, which is considerably worse.

He sticks with a simple hum of understanding, knowing she’ll understand it as such. “Staying where,” he asks. Suspecting he already knows the answer. “Here?” He fills two glasses with water, desperate to soothe his dry mouth. Turning to her, he offers the first glass.

She accepts the glass without comment. “I didn’t think about where,” she lies, smirking over the glass rim at him. He shakes his head but doesn't comment. “Here would be good though.” She looks up at him and he shakes his head with a smile. “It would!” she defends. “I know you miss me and I could help around with Jack. If you won’t admit to it, I know he will.” Her smile twists mischievously, “besides, he’s my favorite Hotchner and I’ll make time to spend with him regardless of where I stay.”

He shakes his head but he’s already formulating how to move the guest room around to accommodate her. There’s not much in there. A bed with some regular looking sheets and two or three boxes of random things.

Putting her glass down on the counter she sighs. “We don’t need to worry about that right now.” Nodding her head back towards the hall she says, “you look miserable. Go to bed.”

He realizes that while she was talking he’s slowly started leaning more and more on the counter. Accumulating a lean to ease the aches wracking his body. She’s right. He looks miserable because he is. He’s exhausted.

“Do you need to take any medication?”

He shakes his head, not letting it bother him when she tucks herself against his side. Allowing him to lean into her. He doesn't but the warmth her body brings is pleasant enough to keep him going. 

He took everything he needed this morning. The medicine for the radiation rash he’s developed across his chest, the preventative pills for the fibrosis that might build in his lungs because of the radiation, and a whole other list of things he can’t really remember. He just has the bottles on his nightstand and knows that most require two dosages.

His bed is warm and soft, his eyes closing against his will. Logically, he knows he shouldn’t let her see him like this. This is his battle and he doesn’t want to burden anyone else with it. There’s a comfort in sharing, though. Rather it be the brush of her fingers on his forehead, pushing back his crazy or the kiss she presses to his temple before whispering “get some sleep, Hotch”.

And, honestly, he’s tired of being alone.

“Emily?”

She turns in the doorway.

“Thank you.”

Someone has to be here. She wants to be here. “You’d do the same for me.”

--------------------------------

Legs crossed, hair pulled into a half-assed knot atop her head she watches him curiously. He’s up an hour later than she’d expected. No coffee to go along with the egg he has for breakfast. Between them, they have an entire morning spent without nearly a word. Just a simple, “do you want an egg?”

He gets ready but not for work.

“What’re you doing?”

She gets ready too. For what, she’s not sure, but she’s interested none-the-less. Even if she thinks she knows the answer. It’s very interesting, she thinks, to step into the living room and find him staring dumbly back at her. No, not interesting. It’s fun.

Stepping around him, she pulls her coat off the rack. “Isn’t it obvious,” she asks, slipping her feet into the boots. “I’m coming with you.”

Flannel and jeans aren’t his typical go to but it’s a relaxed look. One she finds she doesn't hate.

He crosses his arms on his chest, eyebrows furrowed and a stern frown in place. Startlingly in control for a man she watched choke down half an egg before calling it quits. He hadn’t even had coffee. Now he shifts his weight, left to right. “Emily this isn’t--” he just stands with his mouth open. After a moment he shakes his head. “You don’t want to come.”

So it is treatment.

She pulls her jacket tight around her shoulders and without comment pulls his down too, offering it to him.

He takes it with a sigh, shaking his head, but pulling the sleeves over his flannel. With a sigh, he grabs his keys off the counter. He points a finger at her, looking every bit the father scolding a troublemaking child. “You’re not coming inside the hospital. It’ll be an hour. You’ll drive someplace else. I’ll text you when it’s done.”

She smirks, pleased she’s won this round. Placing two fingers to her temple, she gives him a mocking salute. “Aye-aye captain!” Today, she won’t push. He’s come this far, weeks into his therapy. If he needs some time, then he needs time. Just so long as he knows she’s here now.

Leaving him is harder than she anticipated.

She takes his seat, half-listening as he stands at the door.

“There an outlet about five minutes North,” he says. He watches her move the seat around. Trying to drag the seat closer to the steering wheel so she can actually reach the pedals. “It’ll give you something to do. There’s a bookshop up there too. I-- I take Jack there.” He runs a hand over his hair. “A coffee shop and a smoothie stand and--”

She catches sight of the grey through his hair. Looking away, she clenches her jaw. Worry the edge of the steering wheel. “Aaron,” she finally stops him. “I can take care of myself for an hour. I’m a big girl.”

He shakes his head, ducking to so she can’t see the blush creep up his cheek. “Right,” he manages. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

She nods, “an hour.” She waits until she can’t see him. Those doors closing behind him. Swallowing him whole. It’s just an hour.

She was gone for an entire year. More than that really. Years. What are years to a single hour?

The coffee shop is quant. She can imagine him here. Tucked away within the stacks of books. Reid would like it here. The covers are old but, she thinks with a smile, he’d find something, not to date. Seeking a classic and turning away when it’s not in its original translation. That’s where Garcia has always been his balance. She’d pull him from a rant and sit him down with a cup of tea.

How had Emily ever left them?

Her hands tremble as she runs a finger over those old book backs. Mostly, she wonders what Hotch must be thinking. Heaven or hell. If all the work they’ve put into this job will account for anything at all in the end.

If it’ll hurt.

Her phone goes off. Done. Simple enough.

“I brought you a smoothie!” She’s got his sunglasses on when she pulls up. Not even offering to get out of the driver’s side.

He’s hurting more than he cares to admit. Tired and the rash on his chest burns. Seeing her pull up, he’s glad she doesn’t do more than hook her finger into the sunglasses and peer over their edge at him. Climbing into the car he takes one look at the smoothie and shakes his head. It’s dark green and even if he were hungry he’s sure that isn’t very good. “No thank you,” he mumbles, leaning back into the seat. He tilts his head against the rest.

She’s not really in the mood for arguments. More so, he’s just gotten out of treatment and all he’s had is an egg. “You’ll drink it,” she informs him, putting the car in drive. “Maybe not now but eventually.”

He grunts. Doubt that. If he’s going to manage to stomach anything, it’s not going to be that. Besides, he’d got plans: take a nap. That slowly goes down the drain.

Emily turns up the radio, humming along to a song he doesn’t recognize.

Turning his head, he watches her drive. He hasn’t told her yet but he’s very thankful she’s come back. Even if he’s slightly tainted the return with… She’s here taking over his life. Worming her way into his spare bedroom. Force-feeding him weird green smoothies. He doubts she’ll stop there.

“Hotch?” He doesn’t wake up when she shuts the car off. From there on, she’s gentle. Careful as she extracts herself from the car. “Aaron,” she rubs his shoulder.

He pulls in a small breath, turning slowly to her. Half-lidded eyes find her, confused.

When they left the house he’d looked better. Better than now. Not so exhausted.

“You fell asleep,” she informs him, backing up as he sits up. He has to use the seat to get there but he makes it happen. She waits back for him, letting him take his time getting out of the car. All while holding that damn smoothie she’s convinced she’s going to make him drink.

He’s rubbing the sleep from his eyes when his phone goes off in his pocket. She turns at the door, waiting. He motions her on with a wave, taking the call. “Agent Hotchner speaking.”

She stops for a moment to watch him pull in the whole persona. Not Aaron who just fell asleep in the car but Hotch the rock. It’s sad, really, how quickly the one consumes the other.

She’s reading on the couch when he comes in.

He doesn’t say anything as he slips past, going back towards his room. He comes right back out. The loosely buttoned flannel is forgotten, replaced by a suit across his thin shoulders. Once, those suits had pronounced the sharpness of his body. The way his shoulders sit strong and straight. Now, that jacket doesn’t even look like it belongs to him.

“Where are you going?”

He only glances at her, ducking his head back to the task at hand-- putting on shoes.

She gets up off the couch, flipping the book text down. “Aaron,” she comes around the side. “You can’t go out there.” To work. It’s not healthy to go out there. He had fallen asleep on the ride home, not even twenty minutes ago. He won’t manage out there.

He turns to her as she steps into the room, scowl in place and a look of indifference pulled between them. All the protection he can garner for himself. “It’s not up for debate,” he replies. As if this is out of his control. He just can’t help but think it would be easier this way. It would hurt less, dying out there. A coherent death. He’d feel it. Quick and overwhelming.

But coherent. He’d know.

Not in a hospital. More machine than man. Unable to speak or too weak to think.

It would be better to die a hero.

“Aaron,” she calls, he’s just walking away. “You’re being unreasonable.” She wants to scream. To shout at him or grab him the collar of that oversized dress shirt and shake him. Force him to realize that he’s being stupid. Does he think she’s stupid? They both know this is self-destruction. Skipping treatment. Going into the field. All for this stupid image that he’s convinced himself is necessary. For who? Huh?

It’s better to suffer around people you love than to have them bury you. The only burden is the weight of your casket across their shoulders.

He turns, teeth clenched. Jaw set. “Am I?” he asks. His face has darkened, his cheekbones drawing his cheeks in. “I’m going,” he informs her, “regardless of whatever it is you have to say.”

He won’t look at her. That’s how she knows that no matter how illogical he’s being, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Back turned to her, he stops for just a moment. He knows this isn’t what he should. That this is neither his best option nor the right choice. Still, he opens the door. Stepping out he turns his head, eyes cast to the side. “I--” he shakes his head, he doesn’t know.

Before he can shut the door she calls his name out, fear overriding the anger. “Aaron,” she clenches her fists at her side. “Please be safe.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. Glancing at her, he nods his head. At least he has the decency not to lie to her. To pretend this is anything but foolish and a death wish. He shuts the door behind himself without another word.

Leaving her standing there.

Waiting.

She’ll still be waiting that night when Reid calls her. Incoherent.

“I-- I don’t know what’s wrong Emily! He won’t-- He’s bleeding and I--I… He said to call you.”

She shouldn’t have let him leave.

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan

[anxietysroomsupport]

Hypermobile anon here. First, thank you so much. It's just nice to know there's someone here for me. And to give a little more info, I have a serious problem where if I'm not currently in pain. I don't remember how bad it was. I know everybody does this, but my brain literally checked out as I was going to bed recently and I fell on the floor. I nearly forgot to tell my physical therapist.about it because it didn't really hurt. So, I can't do the pain scale very well, and I never remember (1/2)

(2/2) It just makes it sort of hard for pain relief when I don't know I'm going to need it and don't have the energy when I do. Also, on the vitamin subject, I know that I've had vitamin d issues before (bad heat exhaustion and allergy scares = going outside less), bad enough that I was close to being diagnosed with hypothyroidism. I'm not sure about the others, but I do know I'm not amazing healthy, so? I take calcium pills for the vitamin d, though. Again, thank you guys for all your help.

.

We just got a bill from my PT place that says we owe money that we can't pay. They told us up front how much it would be with our insurance, and my mom's been paying each time, but it says we owe 177 dollars. Sure, it's not a lot, but we're not rich and trying to send a sibling to college. If we can't get this sorted out. I can't just not go. 10 exercises I can do at home and 5 appointments is not enough to help a chronic disorder. I cant focus and I have practice in 30 mins. -Hypermobility anon

Same day but later when I'm feeling a little better (my director was very supportive though so that's nice), I'd seen the letter and heard my parents talking a bit, but my mom told be as we got to school for rehearsal about PT. I got upset, and I felt bad because I could tell she felt bad because she didn't expect me to be upset, and in the heat of the moment I said "chronic illness" in front of my mom for the first time. She loudly (not quite yelling) (1/?) - Hypermobility anon

said to me "That is the most self-pitying thing I've ever heard. Chronic illnesses are like cancer". Sure, I probably should've said disorder and not illness, but I'm scientifically right. Then I said "It is, it's chronic pain, I am always in pain" and she said "Well then clearly PT isn't helping anyway" - I??? When I went in after 15 minutes after another girl, since we were both there for an hour and a half, I decided to stop trying too much to hide my crying (useful masks) (2/?) -HSD anon

since the other girl was in the hall to eat, and when I managed to explain to the director, she was understanding and nice, and when I said chronic, she said that I should never have to live with that, especially at my age. And when I mentioned not being able to sing at that moment from my crying, she pointed out how I was singing an empowering song that was about standing against the bad stuff in life, and I was perfect for it. I know my mom was just mad, but it just drained me.

Sorry I keep sending asks so often, I just feel like telling someone this. I decided to put 'zebra' in my bio. It's a thing that people with EDS and HSD sometimes like to call themselves. I like it, so even though I just have my name and pronouns, plus a random joke, in my bio, I added it. It just feels like a step in the right direction to remembering that I don't need google to tell me I'm dealing with this every 5 minutes. Accepting it, I guess. :) -HSD anon

.

My sleep schedule just keeps getting worse and I think it's my ADHD combined busy days and pain but I just never want to sleep anymore. I can't, I don't want to, and it hurts physically and mentally to just lie there and see if I can fall asleep. 80% sure my circadian rhythm changed to sleep at about 2 am but I get up at 7 and have a chronic disorder that's getting worse because of this I *need sleep*. And I'm so scared I'll mess up, want to make a side blog for it but want to make one (1/2)

for something happy first because I always figured that if I had side blogs they would be ask blogs or for fandoms or whatever. But I got a little better at not caring what other people think, so I haven't really needed one for fandom. But I looked through the tag and felt so comforted by some of the stuff that I just think it would help me. Maybe I'm just extra bad tonight because I went outside but also talked about it a fair amount with a friend I hadn't seen recently who didn't know. -HSD

.

I wanna talk to my physical therapist about hip braces because I tried a knee one we have and it honestly helps, but my hips are worst so I wanna see if it would help, but they're pretty expensive. It's hard to find dual hip braces, from what I've seen in my research, and even though one more than the other, both cause me issues. Idk, I'm conflicted, because it could help but is it worth all the effort? Also, even if it's under clothing it's still physical evidence (1/2) -HSD anon

(2/2) of my "invisible" disorder. Also, stopping exercises for a few days because of not feeling well from my covid shot reminded me of just how much time I spend on them, so it's another thing to deal with this. . . Idk, sometimes I just wonder if it would be better to just deal with it. I still have pain anyway, though it might be a little better. Less often, maybe? I don't really remember. It's not stressing at the front of my mind all the time, but the back of it. I'm just conflicted. -HSD

.

HSD anon here, idk if I mentioned it in an ask already, but recently I had a small breakdown because I was watching something where a character was in a car accident, as was trying to push through having trouble walking even with a hip brace. After a minute, I registered it and just thought "That could be my future". My joints had already been acting up and then they got worse, so I don't know if it was cause and effect? But I don't exactly know what to call it other than a trigger. (1/2)

Physical and emotional effect, at least I'm assuming on physical because I've had a bad reaction to something similar before, but like, I don't have trauma, I think it's more fear of the future. And I don't want to use trigger incorrectly, it's insensitive to those who actually have triggers. I'm just so confused.

Forgot to sign the last ask with 2/2 and HSD, whoops.

.

Hfnsiwk I'm not ready to walk into PT tomorrow and say that I don't think months of PT have been helping but I have no way to be completely sure because for all I know it's the weather since this is the first year I've known/it's been noticeable. Maybe it's just change, I don't know, but it just feels like such a waste of time if it really didn't help. Plus, I'd stop, and while that'd be great, I do enjoy being stronger, even if it didn't help pain. I have 12 hours and a bad pain day idek. -HSD

.

Hi Hypermobility Anon,

I think I found all your asks and got them in the correct order.  And found your last ask!

I’m so glad you kept writing in.  I think you should go ahead and make your side blog - you definitely have enough material for it.  Wanting to make a happy side blog also is a great goal to have, but if you don’t know what it will be yet, don’t let that prevent you from doing something you know you want to do and that will probably help you.  

You are dealing with So. Much.  Your mom especially sounds like she just is not ready to accept the situation.  It’s not self-pity to state your actual conditions.  It’s just reality.  

Forgetting about pain is normal, and really all you can do is try to write it down or make some kind of note about it in the moment or immediately after, so you can refer to it later.  Maybe you can track your pain events in your phone notes.

I think your idea to add “zebra” to your bio is a good one, this is part of your life and just something you have to deal with.  It sounds like you’re finding a community for this.  

Sleep schedules are tricky, and feeling like you desperately need to sleep can make it so stressful that it starts a vicious little cycle.  Some strategies to get around this are First, remember that just resting is okay and helpful too, even if you don’t fall asleep.  Letting your body lay there to rest is good for you.  

Second, if you’ve spent several minutes laying down without falling asleep, its okay to get up and walk around, or any small light exercise that’s comfortable for you.  The goal with this one is to get out of the bed for a bit.  It will help your brain to re-learn that the bed is for sleeping only, not for laying awake.  That association can help signal to your brain to start its sleep-process when you get into bed at night.

Third, it’s really common to have a changing circadian rhythm during your teens and twenties.  That’s just a thing that happens and you can’t do much about it, so just try not to worry too much.  Sleep when it feels right and when you can, instead of trying to force yourself to sleep when you’re “supposed” to.  

If hip braces would help you, you should definitely at least mention it to your physical therapist.  You might research online for any used ones as well.  A physical sign that you have pain can have good and bad consequences, but I think the good consequence of being in less pain far outweighs any others.

The triggering event you described is not so much a trigger as it is just a genuinely really upsetting situation.  You related really strongly to the character you were watching, because they’re dealing with similar problems to you, and to problems you could have in the future.  It’s a lot to process.  But while you could potentially be in a car accident, remember that television is made to dramatize events and probably made it seem a lot more difficult and scary than it really would be.   

Since we know you sometimes forget your pain, it’s safe to say that the exercises are helping you manage it, and you say that they’ve made you stronger in general.  Those are good things, and I would recommend you continue the exercises you can do on your own even if you end of ending  your physical therapy sessions.  We don’t know yet if your pain might have gotten even worse without therapy.  You’ll have to find that out on your own if you stop exercising, and then decide whether it’s more worth it to you to continue exercising or to live with the pain.  Whichever you choose, it’s Your choice, Your body.  Take care of yourself. <3

-bun

[derireo]

may i request,,soff hugcanons for itaru,misumi,tsumugi and azuma after they havent seen reader for awhile (sorry if thats too much its fine if u wanna shorten it thank u 💕)

np!! i got everything for u right here <3

Itaru, Misumi, Tsumugi, Azuma: They Miss You

He doesn't like showing it, but he's one of the needy types when you two haven't seen each other for a long time. Either because of work or because your schedules overlap, Itaru gets quite frustrated when he doesn't see you every two or three days.

He starts cursing under his breath more and runs his fingers through his hair, and you two normally don't text because he's always playing a game on his phone and can't afford to be interrupted during it.

At times, when he feels that he's had enough of this separation, he'll text you late at night when he has nothing else to do: 'Yo. Let's meet at the convenience store or smth."

And then he'll don his usual tracksuit combo, but sub the jacket with his bomber. U know the one.

He breathes a huge sigh of relief when he sees you waiting for him at the front of the store with your hands in your pockets and your cap on low. You almost look like a sketchy stranger, but Itaru knows better

"You look creepy like that, Dummy." He'd tease you and flip your cap off your head with a cheesy grin. You'd scurry after him when he enters the store, cap on his head as he bites into a lollipop he had saved in his pocket earlier.

He buys whatever snacks you're craving for and adds an energy drink for himself. When you've got all your supplies, the both of you share a seat outside, with you curled up in his lap.

You're feeding both him and yourself as he plays a game on his phone, wrapped up in his jacket and arms as the cool night breeze rustles your hair.

This becomes the usual routine whenever you guys are stuck with a heavy schedule during the day.

Surprisingly, Misumi is someone who doesn't show he misses you until he actually bumps into you.

It's almost like he completely forgot LOL

Okay, but fr, when he bumps into you he gasps.

"Ah!!! I missed you!!!" He exclaims and launches himself at you with a laugh. It's so all of a sudden that it makes both of you nearly topple over, but he saves you with his quick reflexes.

He's been so busy looking for triangles (and sleeping) that he almost totally forgot about you. No offense, really, but his mind is so taken up with triangles, acting, and onigiri that he'll temporarily forget about anything else.

When he does see you, you take up all of the space in his head!!!! He's basically got tunnel vision on and he can only focus on you!

"Where have you been?" He'd ask curiously. I don't think he has a phone (unless it's canon) so it's pretty difficult to contact Misumi at all. Most of the time you get updates from Kazunari since he's closer in age with Misumi than the other troupe members, but they're all weird messages lol

You explain why you have been so busy lately, but Misumi waves it off since it's not really a bother. Literally he couldn't care less, he just wants to talk. Idk why he asked pft I'm writing this shit

He takes you on a walk since whenever he goes out, the weather is always super nice! Not too hot, not too cold, but just right!

He's always holding your hand; he's a bit worried he'll lose you if he doesn't.

You go eat snacks with him at some point and he babbles on and on about how he was thinking of you and was trying to figure out a way to track you down.

You cough,,, Ahem . . . Bebs u don't have a phone....

You actually offer to give him one of ur old phones so you can talk through a messaging app but he quickly makes an X with his arms to decline.

"It's fun when I talk to you with Kazu!" He beams and you don't have the heart to say anything but....

Kazunari had the same idea as you though so the very next day you actually receive a message from Misumi himself LOL

'There's triangles!!!!! ∆∆∆☆'

He gets fidgety when you're not around; doing things like fiddling with the watch on his wrist, readjusting his sleeves, or tapping a pen on his leg. He got real used to you being in his arms most of the time, and he doesn't know what to do when he's not doing it.

Tasuku ends up noticing right away and he rolls his eyes, suggests that Tsumugi make the move first and see you at whatever place you're chilling at.

Tsumugi gets flustered when he's caught thinking about you, and he shakes his head and slaps the back of his neck with an awkward smile as he claims that he doesn't want to disturb you.

"Look. I don't really know much about dating, but if you want to see them just say something."

So with what little skills he has with technology, manages to call you! And even manages to set a time and place to meet the next day!

His heart flutters when he sees you at your designated meeting place and immediately starts to walk faster to greet you!!!

He brought a couple of flowers too because he passed by a flower shop on his way to you.

You jump up when you see him come inside and both of you immediately latch onto each other for a hug. It's a warm, very tight hug that smells like vanilla and cherry blossoms and you're getting happy just because of it.

You're both giggling excitedly when you pull away, and Tsumugi cups your cheeks in his hands to give your widdle nose a kiss!

"I missed you." He pouts and you pout back at him, motioning for him to sit in the seat that was across from yours.

His energy never dissipates as you both talk about how your week has been going, and you know he's listening in earnest when he brushes his thumb along the back of your hand while staring at you with wide, sparkling eyes.

You guys definitely have the best dates when you haven't seen each other in a while.

Azuma's emotions are really difficult to pinpoint. Not many can tell when he's missing you other than Sakyo, who spends the most time with him out of all of the dorm members.

He tends to stare off into space when he's thinking about you, and it looks really poetic when he has a mug in his hand because he traces the rim with his index finger as he looks lost in thought.

The corners of his mouth will be tilted upward as his mind races with images of you laughing and smiling, and he slumps forward in his seat as he cups his mug in his palms. He really loves it when you look at him like that.

Sakyo gets a little disgusted sometimes and tells him straight away that Azuma needs to go and see you or something.

Only thing is that Azuma isn't fond of going out during the day because of the sun (it's canon don't @ me) so you two actually have a bit of trouble seeing each other considering you don't find it safe to venture outside at night.

BUT!!!!!!!! Azuma drives! :o

It'll take him some time to find the location you send him on his phone, but he . . . . . gets there

His smile is all coy when you enter the car, but the 'I've missed you.' that falls from his lips is unmistakable.

You two go out and eat at one of those nice cafes that are open late at night as bars aren't in question anymore. He used to go and drink with clients, but it wasn't something he wanted to do with you. He felt you deserved more than just a couple lousy drinks at some stinky place.

And once you guys find a nice seat at the window, he's all over you <3 He wraps his arm around your shoulders first and scoots your chairs closer so that they're touching. He waits for you to lean into his side on your own, and when you're relaxing, his other arm comes, a hand resting on your thigh as you tuck your head against the spot between his neck and shoulder.

It's very chill, and you two talk idly about what has been going on lately as you take sips from your drinks.

You two end up staying very late at the cafe... ;; Haha

[dc41896]

Save Room for Us

Hey guys☺️! So this is inspired by the songs “Save Room for Us” by Tinashe and “Should’ve Been Us” by Tori Kelly (idk if that’s a thing for an imagine to be inspired by two songs that but here we are lol). Also I feel like it’s a bit lengthy so sorry about that and hope you guys like it!

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: Tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff💕!

“Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon? Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grins? Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain? Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?,” you sing along with Pocahontas on the television screen while your 10 month old daughter, Ameera, sat in your lap as you finished securing the bow on her last puff.

Babbling as she gazes at the movie, the chime of the security alarm from the front door opening draws her attention as she crawls towards the armrest. “Looks like your favorite uncle is here,” you smile hearing her excitedly squeal seeing Chris walk into the room.

“I’m coming sweetheart just let me wash my hands first.”

Having stayed with him in his Boston home throughout the entirety of quarantine so far, Ameera had become attached to her new playmate. When he wasn’t being interviewed or working with Mark, you’d find the both of them laughing on the floor on top of one of his throws playing peek a boo or with one of her many toys.

Sometimes they’d even watch Disney movies together with Chris being the reason for her current obsession with Pocahontas. Both sat with eyes glued to the screen wrapped in a blanket eating a snack, you couldn’t help but secretly take a picture trying to hide your laughter at the adorable site.

“Hi meemo,” Chris smiles picking up the already giggling little girl and kissing her cheek before sitting on the couch beside you. “What have you been doing since I’ve been gone huh?”

“The usual. Eating, playing, fussing when she wants to watch her new favorite movie.”

“Sounds like you had a busy day,” he chuckles tickling under her chin. “And what about you? Still packing your stuff?”

“Yea I uh packed some of her toys earlier but that’s it.”

“You know, you don’t have to go. I don’t have a problem with you guys staying as long as you want. Even ma told me to tell you her place is open too,” he adds looking at you while your daughter plays with the pendant on his necklace.

Being your best friend, you knew he’d try to do whatever he could for you both, but that still didn’t take away the guilt you felt from the situation. You didn’t want to inconvenience him in any way with Ameera’s crying or her, at times, crazy sleep schedule especially since he was still working. He assured you that wouldn’t be the case though when he suggested you come stay with him during an impromptu venting session on your part.

Your parents wanted you to stay with them instead of being on your own in the apartment, but with five people living in a three bedroom house you knew things would eventually feel cramped. You were already stressed enough with everything going on and doing your best to take care of your baby. You didn’t feel like your family being on top of you would help.

And so here you were these past four months and counting living with your best friend from high school.

“I know, but my parents have been on my back talking about how they wish they could see Ameera in person and how I should be spending time with them, so I think it’s time we leave. Plus I’m sure you’re ready to get rid of us,” you laugh propping your elbow on the back of the couch.

“Never, if you guys wanted to live here forever I wouldn’t mind,” he smiles as Ameera taps his eyebrows with her small palms trying to get some words out but only releasing grunts making him laugh.

“Hey now, be gentle.”

“It’s ok, I know what she wants.” Raising his eyebrows and making a stern face, she wildly squeals showing her one tooth while grinning and bouncing up and down.

“Listen here small person, if you think you’re the most adorable one here you’re in for a rude awakening,” he speaks in a low voice further prompting her giggles.

“Why have you been doing Lucas Lee in front of my child?,” you laugh as he turns to you returning to his normal expression.

“Well she was fussy one day we were waiting for you to get out the shower so I did it making a funny face and she loved it. I guess it’s been our thing since.”

“Oh boy, I don’t think you know what you’ve created meera.”

“What? Everybody loves Lucas Lee,” he ruggedly speaks getting back into character. “That’s been proven from my numerous fan voted awards,” he winks making you lean forward in laughter and him join in soon after.

“Da-da!” Both of you snapping your heads to your daughter, you watch her giggle with hands on his chest as she presses her lips against his cheek trying to give him a kiss but leaving a slobbery mess instead.

“Da-da!”

“Meemo that’s your first word! Do it again, say da da!”

“Or how about we try uncle? Say un-cle!,” you smile playing with her hand.

“Dada,” she giggles again lying her head in the crook of his neck before letting out a soft yawn and making him aw as he gently sways her side to side.

“I can put her to sleep if you want?”

“No it’s okay I got her. Come on Ameera it’s nap time.”

Taking her from his hands, she pokes out her bottom lip as she begins to fuss not wanting to leave her uncle.

“It’s okay, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he tries to soothe only to be met with tears while you walk her to the guest room. Smiling to himself he hears you quietly sing the familiar melody over the baby monitor on the table eventually getting her to settle. Whenever he heard it, whether from your mouth or somewhere else, he was always brought back to visiting you in the hospital shortly after Ameera was born.

Tip toeing in the room behind your mom to surprise you, he found you alone with a content smile sitting in bed as you gently swaddled the tiny infant lying in front of you.

“My cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore, you're the only girl my heart beats for, how I wish that you were mine,” you sung carefully picking her up to cradle in your arms.

“I picked something up for you while I was out,” your mom smiled moving aside to reveal a slightly crouched Chris holding two large pink gift bags designed with cartoon storks.

“I thought you were away filming?!”

“Well, I heard it was someone’s birthday today so I’m here for the party!,” he answers kissing your temple as he gently hugs you with his free arm trying not to wake the currently sleeping bundle. “Welcome to the world Ameera.”

“Say thank you uncle Chris! You really didn’t have to get more gifts though, you’ve already done enough. And that especially goes for if there’s anything Patriots in there, you might as well throw it out now.”

“No there’s nothing Patriots in here now, but give it a couple years I’m gonna have her own jersey made.”

“You better not,” you both laugh startling Ameera as she begins to squirm and whine in your arms. Consoling her while you apologize, a soft smile forms on his lips as his gaze lingers on you.

Curls tied on the top of your head wearing your light blue ‘granny pajamas’, as you called them, and your glasses perched on your nose he knew you probably didn’t feel it but in this moment it was as if you were the most beautiful being he’d laid eyes on.

He always did think you were beautiful though from the first time you met, and now with the remnants of your pregnancy glow mixing with the one you already had from your natural beauty, he never wanted to look away.

“Hey, sorry about that,” you shyly speak interrupting his thoughts as you return to your seat next to him.

“About what the crying? Y/N I think I’m pretty used to that by now,” he chuckles while you shake your head.

“No, about her calling you dada. I promise we haven’t been practicing that or anything I was just as shocked as you.”

“Oh that, you don’t have to apologize,” he responds waving you off. “I mean she’s seen me everyday for four months, it’s understandable how it would happen. Plus I don’t mind if she wants to call me dad.”

“That’s very sweet, but what happens when you get a girlfriend? You don’t think that’ll seem weird to them your best friend’s kid calling you dad?”

“Well if after I explain why Ameera calls me dad they have a problem, then they’re not for me,” he shrugs.

“And what about when you have kids?”

“Then they’ll have an older sister. Like I said though Y/N if you’re not okay with it-,”

“It’s not that I’m not it’s just...,” you begin, sighing as you look down at the cushion below you trying to figure out your feelings. Of course it warmed your heart how he’d gladly fulfil that role for Ameera, but at the same time she wasn’t his responsibility. You didn’t want him to feel like he was obligated to do anything just because you were friends.

“Chris be honest, do you feel guilty because of what happened with me and Josh?”

Hearing that name instantly made him clench his jaw as he vividly remembered the night you confessed everything that was going on in your seemingly happy relationship. He just called to check on you and Ameera since it had been a while you two last spoke with him back working. You tried to stand strong saying how both of you were fine and updating him on how much she had grown, but being your friend for so long even through the phone he knew something was off.

That’s when you broke down explaining how Josh, your then fiancé, was feeling “stressed” from the pressures of marriage and fatherhood, and how he found comfort in, Kyla, one of the trainers at the gym he frequented.

He’d never consider himself a violent man, but it took every atom and particle in him not to pay a little visit to Josh to take care of him himself.

“Because if you are, you don’t need to be. Meera is mine and his responsibility and if he doesn’t want to step up then-.” Lightly shaking his head, he grabs your hands scooting closer to peer deeper into your brown eyes that were nearly on the verge of tears.

“No no no no Y/N listen to me, what I do for you and for meemo is because I care so much for both of you that I will do any and everything I can. That’s how I’ve felt since we were younger, since you told me you were pregnant, and how I’ll always feel. If anything, the thing I feel guilty about is not saving you from that heartache.”

“Chris don’t do that to yourself, how could you have saved me? You didn’t know that was gonna happen.”

“No I didn’t, but maybe if I would’ve told you earlier what I’ve always wanted to tell you then...things would be different,” he responds seemingly nervous as he releases a breath and eyes look as if he’s trying to carefully choose his next words.

“Our junior year I realized I liked you as more than a friend and I wanted to tell you before I left, but I got scared. So, I figured by the time I saw you again I’d have built up the courage to tell you how I felt but that wasn’t until your graduation where I found out you were going away for college. I didn’t want to be something that potentially added stress or held you back so again I left it alone. Missed chance after missed chance and eventually you met Josh and once you got engaged I knew that was it. I had no more chances. Looking back though I wish I would’ve said something sooner and then you wouldn’t have to had go through all of that and-and...”

Becoming silent, he sighs raking his hand through his dark brown strands looking towards the wooden beams on the ceiling.

“...and Ameera would be our daughter and not just mine,” you finish as he slowly nods with hands covering his face.

“I know, I’m a terrible person for thinking that.” Removing his hands to reveal his reddened face, a small smile rests on your lips as you lift his eyelids open so he could look at you.

“You’re not a terrible person for wondering what could have happened if you did something differently, everyone’s done it in some way. And as far as saving me goes, yea it would’ve been nice but in my opinion, sometimes the things we go through serve as lessons to help us in the future somehow. So take failed relationships for example, those are lessons we learn that help build us to be who we’re supposed to be. And when we finally find our person, yea that’ll come with its own lessons too, but again it’s part of the building process and what we’ve already learned will help us in that relationship with them.”

Light eyes staring into yours, you feel a bit insecure as you sit back turning your attention to the tv as you grab the remote. “Then again that probably made no sense and sounded dumb and naive and-,”

Before you could come up with more adjectives, you feel warm lips and prickling hair tap the corner of your mouth making you instinctively touch the same spot as you look at Chris.

“I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. It’s just what you said earlier definitely wasn’t dumb and-honestly figures I missed because I didn’t ask you first and you didn’t even say how you felt-,” he rambles before your hand covers his mouth.

“Christopher Dork Evans shut up. Would it have been nice of you to ask me first? Yes, and you’re right you shouldn’t have tried to kiss me....especially when my lips were turned in another direction.”

Looking at you slightly confused as you remove your hand, you shift your gaze to his lips as you inch closer until he meets you halfway to connect with yours. Slow and passionate, your lips move together as if they had plenty of practice doing this before. Feeling your body being shifted to his lap, your arms join around his neck as his hands keep you secured to his body holding your back and creeping down until...

“What? What happened?,” he lightly chuckles after you giggle against his lips breaking the intimate moment.

“You weren’t lying when you said that’s your preference.” Quickly removing his hands from your butt the heat returns to neck and face as he nervously laughs.

“Sorry, force of habit. I mean not that every girl I kiss I instantly grab it, and not that I make out with a lot of girls-,”

“It’s okay dork, I don’t mind,” you giggle leaning back in to return to where you left off. Centimeters apart, you both look towards the table once you hear the beginning of a light cry from the baby monitor signaling Ameera had woken up from her nap.

“She’s probably wet,” you both speak at the same time making you both laugh.

“You relax, I got her.” Quickly pecking your lips, you move over so he can stand up to make his way to her room. Face pressed against the pillow held against your chest, you couldn’t get rid of the giddy smile on your lips as his words and everything that followed really sink in.

“Hey meemo! Have a good nap?,” you hear him ask through the baby monitor.

“Da da,” she replies sounding a mix of sad and tired as she holds up her arms to be freed from her crib.

“I know you weren’t ready to wake up yet were you? The nasty wet diaper made you wake up?”

Silently giggling to yourself with their back and forth exchange as he changes her diaper, you soon hear footsteps returning as you sit up to see her lying on his shoulder while he carefully sits down.

“It’s a little weird, but I’m gonna miss seeing drool spots on my shirts when you guys leave,” he chuckles softly rubbing her back.

“Well I was just thinking that maybe staying with my parents doesn’t have to be long term. Like maybe we could be there for a week or two then come back and do that every now and then. If it’s okay with you that is.”

“Yea of course I’d be fine with that,” he smiles. “What made you change your mind?”

“Meera’s really comfortable here and I don’t want to possibly disrupt that you know? Plus I’d probably have to FaceTime you every day and night or else she’d be upset,” you laugh lightly grazing your thumb back and forth against her tiny hand.

“And it’s just Meera feeling that way?”

“Okay, maybe that’s how we both feel,” you smile leaning up to kiss his cheek.

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[unsettledink]

Gotcha Chapter 6!

(Trying something new and posting the full text here as well as AO3? It feels too long, but I’ve posted longer things here before, Idk.)

Read on AO3

Peter: sorry im on my way!

Peter: iswear im just running late

Peter: i will be there supr fast!!

Peter: sorry!

Quentin stares down at his phone and somehow, manages not to sigh. It’s a full ten minutes past when they were supposed to meet, and he doesn’t even want to be here in the first place.

Quentin: Don’t worry, it’s fine.

Peter: im sosorry

Peter: my alarm got set for tomorroow instead of today

Peter: i dont even know how

Peter: adn i just woke up and i dont even sleep this late like ever

Peter: but i willl bet there soon i promise

Peter: sorry!

Quentin: Really, it’s fine! There’s no hurry.

Quentin: We’re not exactly on a schedule or anything.

Peter: its so rude tho

Peter: for once it wast me losingt rack of time!!

Peter: im still sorry!

Quentin had given himself a little extra time this morning, just to remind himself of all the many, many reasons he is doing this, in this particular way. Had spent that time summoning up every bit of patience he could find to get through this day, because he had a feeling he was going to need it.

It feels like he’s already used half of it.

And of course he won’t be able to comment on Peter’s lateness, not even as a joke.

Peter: im like hafway there already illl just have to chagne and then ill be there!

Peter: seriously i am so sorry

Normally he’d be all for hearing Peter apologize, but it keeps happening every other word, Quentin will lose his mind.

He’s already losing his mind.

Well, he’s not going to just stand here until Peter does show up. He glances around for somewhere to sit; there’s a coffee shop just across the street. Perfect. He’s going to need that.

Quentin: Hey, don’t rush!

Quentin: I’ll just grab a coffee okay?

Quentin: I’ll be over at Kaldi’s, it’s just across the street. Can’t miss it.

Quentin: You want anything?

Peter: you dont haveto!

There’s no stopping the sigh this time. God.

Quentin: Not what I asked, kiddo.

Peter: um

Peter: suure?

Peter: someting with carmel i dont care mych

Peter: ill be there realy soon tho!!

Quentin: Then we can just sit for a bit.

Quentin: You’ll probably need it if you just woke up.

It’s a little funny how… drastically downgraded Peter’s texting is when he’s apparently still half asleep. Or maybe it’s just that he’s in a hurry. Or—

Quentin nearly stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He— surely, Peter isn’t—

Quentin: Are you texting AND webswinging?

Peter: …maybe?

No wonder he goes through phones so fast.

Quentin: You’re going to drop your phone

Peter: hey! imst icky! i wont drop it!

Quentin: Then you’re going to fall from being distracted

Quentin: And I won’t feel sorry for you.

Peter: :(

Quentin: I’ll laugh

Peter: :( :( :(

Quentin: You brought this on yourself.

He spends the time until Peter gets there reviewing Lynn’s newest plans for the miniaturized drones; they actually aren’t too bad.

Of course, they’ve probably had them sitting, waiting, for months, what with how they’ve harped on and on about how this should be a priority.

It won’t do to let them get too full of themselves, so along with the praise he sends back plenty of potential revisions. Even brings up some entirely new bits for them to consider; should keep them busy for a bit.

“Hi!” Peter says, flinging himself down across from Quentin. He’s flushed and still out of breath, his hair sticking up. “I’m here! I’m so sorry!”

Quentin allows himself a slightly amused smile. “Hi,” he says. Pushes Peter’s drink—some sort of ridiculously sweet caramel flavored thing that’s barely coffee at all—across the table to him. “Sit. Drink. Relax a bit, okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair and only making things worse. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry, though. I’m just… it’s really embarrassing to be that late when this was my idea in the first place and—”

“Peter,” Quentin says, cutting him off. “Breathe! It’s fine, I promise.”

For once, Peter listens, and takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment. Lets it out and relaxes the smallest bit, and grabs his drink. “Oh,” he says. “This is good! Thanks; you were right about me needing it.”

Quentin watches while he unwinds; Peter’s latest idea regarding ‘things they could do together’ was to show Quentin around Queens, so today they’re wandering. Quentin’s thrilled.

It could be worse. Peter had been all set up to take him to the most popular, well known, touristy spots, and Quentin had barely been able to hide his dread at the thought. It’d taken a little work, but he’d manage to convince Peter that Quentin would much rather see Peter’s favorite places. Even if they were nothing fancy or exciting, or little hole in the wall type places, or silly.

Even if they bored Quentin to tears.

Not that he can let Peter see even a hint of that. There’s a special kind of… vulnerability in sharing the smallest things you like, something different than exposing the larger, more damaged pieces of yourself. Something oddly hopeful about showing someone the unexplainable, intimate things you like and waiting for them to enjoy those things as well. Or at the very least, not reject them, in a way that suggests they’re rejecting your tastes as well.

Not rejecting you.

He’s started to prove to Peter he can handle the bigger things, the superhero stuff and the feelings nearly suffocating Peter; time to show that he can be trusted with the little things too. That Peter can come to Quentin with anything at all. Anything. Everything.

“So,” Quentin says. “What’s first?”

He was right; it is pretty boring. Not… awful, surprisingly, but not Quentin’s sort of thing at all. Peter’s apparently decided to try and cover as many miles as he can in one day, dragging Quentin from one end of Queens to the other. And then back; Quentin’s going to take tomorrow off for sure. Peter just has so much energy.

Has so much enthusiasm, Quentin thinks, as they poke through a small used record store that isn’t nearly as hipster as he expected from Astoria. So, so much enthusiasm, for the smallest things. It just bursts out of him once he gets comfortable and isn’t second guessing every single word he says.

Once Quentin has seemed interested in the first few things Peter shows him. Peter’s nervous about it, trying to explain away any shortcomings before Quentin’s even gotten in the door. He’s just desperate for approval, for acceptance. For Quentin to like him.

It’s not that hard to, actually.

It’s never been that Quentin dislikes Peter. Sure, Peter’s causing him grief and can be incredibly annoying, and sure, about half of what he feels for Peter is pity, but those can exist alongside the fact that Quentin kind of likes Peter.

Has liked him, ever since he started compiling research on him, ever since he’d met Peter as Mysterio and shook his hand and watched him get so excited over the existence of multiverse. It’s harder not to like Peter, not even a bit. He’s ridiculously smart, and stupidly good-natured, and—

He throws himself into everything he does; goes full out, with his heart on his sleeve. It’s no wonder he gets anxious as hell, if his first impulse is to practically flaunt all his soft spots, open and eager and expecting the best. It’s going to go poorly more often than not.

Must have, judging by the way Peter pulls himself in and hides, overrides that instinctual reaction so quickly it’s just a flash, a glimpse Quentin keeps catching again and again. He’s been taught to second guess himself somewhere along the way, by someone—probably a lot of someones—who saw those tender spots and couldn’t help poking them, taking advantage of them.

Just like Quentin’s doing; Peter should be better about spotting that sort of thing by now.

It’s almost a shame to fix Peter just to tear him apart completely, to have to use him like this, but… well. In the end, Peter’s nothing but another obstacle scattered in Quentin’s path. There are far more important things to worry about than the fate of one kid.

Peter grins at him when Quentin admits that this dinky little secondhand bookstore in Jamaica was worth a stop, even if it’s just for the most comfortable couch Quentin has ever sat on. Smiles when he points out a mural he loves on the way to the next attraction and admits he’d actually webbed up someone who started to tag it.

Straight up laughs at Quentin’s face when Peter shows him the most supremely creepy things in some huge thrift store, full of weird antiques and vintage crap. God, it’s disturbing that the things Quentin had as a kid, even as a teen, are considered vintage now.

“Jesus, Peter,” Quentin says after he has to look at a one hundred percent haunted taxidermied squirrel. “Why would you make me see that? I’m going to have nightmares.”

“For that exact face,” Peter says. “Oh my god, you look like you think it’s going to bite you!”

“It might,” and it’s unfair that Peter just laughs harder. He glares at Peter, but it might be slightly put on.

He’s allowed to like Peter a little, Quentin decides, watching Peter nearly double over with giggles. It’ll make having to deal with him easier, if nothing else, and it’s not as though liking someone has ever stopped him from using them—even disposing of them—in the past. It sure won’t this time.

They wander some more, Peter chattering on and easily filling the silence as long as Quentin remembers to make the appropriate listening noises occasionally. Every now and then, Peter hesitates, a nervous stumble in his words, something throwing him off, and Quentin reengages fully. He can’t afford to let Peter get too caught up in his thoughts.

But a few questions—carefully designed to make Quentin seem far more interested than he is—are enough to get Peter going again, bouncing from place to place until Quentin suggests they could use something to eat.

“Oh my god, yes,” Peter says. “I’m starving and didn’t even realize it. Ooo, last time we were down here, Ned and I found this awesome truck that does crazy good Korean barbeque, you’d love it.”

“No,” Quentin says without thinking, the sweet tart burnt smell so strong he can nearly taste it, can feel it stinging when he draws in a breath.

He twitches, shrugging it off, and tries to walk back how sharp that had come out. “Uh, I’m not big on sweet sauces and meat?” he says. “Got another recommendation?”

Peter drags him to a place that has the weirdest chimichanga combinations—and normal ones too, thankfully—and once again, attempts to pay.

“You know,” Quentin says as he pokes Peter out of the way, immensely irritated that Peter is still pushing him on this. “I didn’t realize your memory was this bad.”

“Hey!” Peter says. “It’s not! What are you talking about?” like that doesn’t prove Quentin’s point exactly.

“I seem to remember a bet I won,” he says, “relating to this exact situation.”

Peter opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it. “Um,” he says.

“Yeah,” Quentin says,raising his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Peter says, “okay, you can’t blame me for trying!”

“Hmmm,” Quentin says, passing over one of the foam trays. “You’re forgiven. This time. Just don’t do it again.” It’s always a good idea to get Peter into the habit of following Quentin’s rules, of remembering not to challenge Quentin too much.

Of remembering that Quentin will forgive him anything, easily.

“Fine,” Peter says through a mouthful, so mature.

They eat on the way to the next stop on Peter’s little tour; Quentin had been hoping they were approaching the end, but when Peter looks at him and asks, so hesitantly, if Quentin is tired and wants to call it a day—

Well he can’t say no.

Quentin finds himself dragged on to little half hidden shops, with any signage and down stairs that Quentin has to ask how Peter could have found in the first place. To statues Peter likes, to places he feeds pigeons—why he’d want to, Quentin doesn’t know—places with great views of the Hudson.

And, over and over, once Quentin catches on and starts pushing it, places to eat. Because Peter’s metabolism is a thing of wonder.

It’s interesting watching Peter banter back and forth with an older man about his sandwich; Quentin had gotten the impression Peter was uneasy around strangers, all his awkwardness amping up. But the way Peter’s interacted with people today is much more relaxed, much easier. Peter has a sharp sense of humor that Quentin has only started to see, as Peter gets comfortable around him.

Why do all these strangers get it right off the bat?

He watches Peter dart over to help get a stroller over a curb and— they’re not strangers. Not really. It’s not just that everywhere they’ve gone is somewhere Peter has been again and again, to the point where he knows people.

This is Peter’s home ground. His comfort zone, and the people in it— they’re his people. And when he’s helping them, his nerves disappear. His awkwardness becomes a tool of its own, disarming, downplaying the threat Peter could so easily be.

This is what he wants to be when he’s Spider-Man; the guy on the street, helping in a hundred tiny ways.

That’s fine with Quentin. Perfectly fine; now how does he get Peter to stay there, with EDITH looming over his head?

He can practically hear that in William’s voice, ugh. He’s working on it.

They wind up in Kissena late in the afternoon, almost early evening, really. Peter steps off the path once they get into one of the more wooded areas, and there’s a grassy spot past a few bushes, with a truly massive tree near the center, smaller ones scattered around it. It’s well hidden.

“Alright,” Quentin says, as he has with every other place, “what's the story behind this? How’d you find it?”

“So, when I got bit, when everything changed?” Peter settles down at the base of the tree, cross legged. “One of the things that was like, a huge pain, was how all of my senses got crazy amplified. Everything was turned up to eleven, you know?”

Quentin sits across from Peter, stretching his legs out as he leans back. Ugh, grass; he’d better not end up with bug bites. “Okay,” he says. “Sounds like that was pretty overwhelming.”

Peter groans. “You have no idea! It was really hard for a while, because even once I started to get used to everything being too loud and too bright and too smelly and— things tasted weird and my clothes made me feel like my skin was crawling and it was—” He stops, tipping his head back against the tree and looking upward.

“It was a lot,” he says. “Eventually I sorta started being able to deal with all that sort of… feeling stuff? I mean, physical, sensory, not like feeling feelings.”

Coherent; Quentin does not roll eyes through sheer force of will.

“But I was still really struggling with the, um,” Peter frowns, tips his head back further until Quentin can’t really see his face. “The stuff in my head. Actually doing things, thinking about things or even focusing on one thing was all so hard. It was like…”

“It was like what?” Quentin asks, after a few moments have passed.

“Everything was a distraction,” Peter says, slowly. “That’s still not right, because normally, before, I’d get distracted thinking about something else I wanted to do, or I’d be daydreaming, or, um, just, good stuff? Stuff that I’d want to focus on, just not right that second.”

“This wasn’t like this.” Peter looks down and starts to fiddle with a bit of grass, pulling up blades one by one. “This was like so much noise inside my head, like every little detail about every single thing was right there, grabbing my attention. I’d be trying to do one thing and all that would be clamoring at me nonstop.”

He closes his eyes, scrunching his whole face up. “People talk about wanting super sense a lot,” he says, “but it sucked so much at first.”

“People generally don’t think through those kinds of wishes very much,” Quentin says. Honestly, for the most part people don’t think at all.

“I’m pretty much okay now,” Peter says. “I figured out how to filter things most of the time; when there’s a bunch of stuff at once I can get so caught up in trying to ignore it that I ignore everything, and then that’s it’s own problem.”

“I noticed,” Quentin says, dryly. “Makes you pretty jumpy.”

Peter huffs, almost a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, brushing the ripped up grass off his pants. “I’m still working on getting the kinds of focus right?”

Quentin leans further back on his hands, crossing his legs. “You said something about focusing on me that one time,” he says, and Peter goes faintly pink. “That the sort of thing you’re talking about?”

“Something like that,” Peter says. “If I have one thing I can focus on, almost completely, then I can make it into… uh, white noise, I guess? Or it makes everything else into white noise. If that makes any sense at all.”

Not one bit, but whatever. He can press that later. “Sure,” Quentin says, waving his hand. “I’m following.”

It’s actually something to consider— if Peter manages to function better in difficult situations by focusing on one specific thing, what happens when that thing is taken away? Is ripped away from him, in fact. Would there be a moment of disorientation they could take advantage of? Maybe they could set Peter up to focus on what they want; he’s already using Quentin as a focal point, apparently.

He’ll have to watch Peter, Quentin thinks. This fumbling little explanation leaves a lot to be desired, but he doesn’t have much faith Peter actually could explain it better even if he tried.

“That helps,” Peter’s saying, “but it’s still really exhausting after a while. Sometimes I want to just… stop. Just not feel it at all, not have to try not to feel it.”

He glances at Quentin, and Quentin nods. Peter looks oddly shy, so he’d better pay close attention to what he’s showing.

“I’ve found a couple of places like this, but this is probably my favorite,” Peter tells him. “I can come here and actually relax. If I stop trying to block things out, or stop focusing on one thing, it doesn’t matter.” He tips his head back again, looking up at the tree.

“It's quiet here, pretty much all the time,” Peter says; the light through the leaves is diffuse, dappled on his face. “Even the noises that I get are like, soft things. Leaves and wind and things walking on grass. People talking, yeah, but that’s more distant and almost like background noise. It’s still shadowy in here when it’s super bright out, and there aren’t any super gross strong smells either. Just dirt and water and uh, green stuff.”

He darts a glance down at Quentin without moving his head. “Don’t laugh at me!” he says, and it’s right on the edge of plaintive. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I’m not,” Quentin says. He understands; it’s not something a city kid would be around that often, would probably even notice without senses like Peter’s. “I wouldn’t. I know what you mean, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter says. Looks back away from Quentin and then closes his eyes. “It’s nice. And when I have to go back to the real world, it’s not quite as hard to handle.”

Quentin watches him. Watches as he slowly, slowly unwinds. Peter doesn’t move, aside from his head tipping slightly to the side, and Quentin—

He’d thought, earlier, that it was interesting how much Peter loosened up around people he felt comfortable with, places he felt safe. He’d thought it was a large degree of relaxation—and it was—but it was nothing compared to this.

Nothing compared to the way the tension drains from him with each passing second, from every single bit of his body, until he looks calmer than Quentin has ever seen.

Happier.

If this is how he looks when truly relaxed, the level of stress Peter must carry with him every day, everywhere he goes—from the physical tension to the mental, the anxiety, the constant background level of effort that other people don’t have to think about—must be ridiculously high.

He doesn’t want to say anything, do anything, that would break the stillness that seems to have spread over the entire glade. Poor kid. He might be doing a great job at being a pain in Quentin’s ass, but he isn’t cut out for this superhero shit.

Everything Quentin sees just convinced him further that taking EDITH from Peter really is doing him a favor. He’d never intended for that to be true, but— it’s not a terrible byproduct.

Peter sighs eventually, a barely there breath of a thing, opening his eyes halfway. He looks dazed, almost half asleep.

At least, until he notices that Quentin is watching him, and then he flushes. Looks down, the moment dissipating. “Anyway,” Peter says. “It’s— it’s a nice place for me,” like he’s admitting something embarrassing.

“I can tell,” Quentin says, offering him a small smile. “You deal with a lot every day, don’t you.” He shifts against his tree, trying to get more comfortable without Peter noticing and getting all fussy about it.

“I guess,” Peter says.

He picks up a leaf, twirling it through his fingers absently. “It’s getting really frustrating,” he adds. “Because it’s been almost two years, right? So I should have a better handle on this! I shouldn’t still be getting tripped up by such little things. And—” he makes a face, shoulders starting to hunch again.

“So I have this… this sense? Uh, I call it a spidey sense— I know, it’s kind of stupid. It sort of warns me about things? Like someone poking me, or shouting that something bad is about to happen.”

“Mmm, you mentioned that once,” Quentin says. “Sort of like a limited precog?” Honestly, he’d dismissed it— not fully, it wouldn’t do to completely dismiss anything about Peter. But it hadn’t seemed like it did much for Peter in Europe.

And it hadn’t picked up anything about Quentin, so how good could it really be?

“Oh, huh,” Peter says. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that? Maybe, but it’s not very exact. Sometimes it’s super obvious, but others it takes me a while to figure out what’s wrong. And lately, especially, it’s been— it’s gone kinda nuts? I don’t feel like I can trust it anymore.”

“Like, like right now?” he adds. “Right now it’s just going off like something really big and bad is happening, but come on!” He throws his hands up, exaggerated. “We’re just sitting here talking! Nothing, literally nothing bad is happening. It’s freaking out for no reason.”

Fuck.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have dismissed it, Quentin thinks, trying to stay as relaxed as he was a moment ago. Maybe he really fucking shouldn’t have, because some part of Peter knows that Quentin’s not good news. Knows that Quentin is something dangerous, is a threat.

And apparently knows it very, very insistently. Oh, fuck, this is the last thing he needs. Why now? Why is Peter’s sense losing its shit now and not at any time in Europe? What has he done differently to set it off?

God, what if it had been going off then too? Could that be why Peter had backed off at the last second in the bar, EDITH almost in Quentin’s hand? Has Peter been feeling this the entire time?

It’s a good thing he doesn’t seem to be listening to it, but that could stop at any second. At any time, Peter could decide that maybe his stupid ‘spider sense’ isn’t wrong, and that would be— that would be bad. That would be so bad.

Quentin has got to figure out how to make sure Peter keeps dismissing what it’s telling him.

“It’s so annoying,” Peter’s saying. “I wish it would stop, would just shut up already. It’s like this constant thing lately, sort of fading in and out but almost always there, but not a single thing has happened!”

Oh, that’s really, really not great. Almost always? In and out? How long will it take before Peter starts to realize it’s linked to Quentin?

No. No, he can fix this. He can nip this in the bud, before Peter has even a hint of suspicion. Peter’s already trying to ignore it, already annoyed by it. Quentin can use that.

“Maybe it’s just confused?” Quentin brings one knee up and rests his elbow on it, letting his arm dangle oh so casually. “After all,” he adds, “I’m hardly a bad thing, am I?”

Peter smiles, all that irritation gone in a second. “No!” he says. “Of course not! You’re like, the least bad thing that’s happened in a while.”

Quentin grins back at him. Yeah, keep thinking that, kid. “Well that’s a relief!” he says. “How finely tuned is this thing anyway? Could something have… I don’t know, damaged it? Hmm, screwed up its baseline, maybe? How do you even recalibrate it?”

“I have no clue,” Peter says. “I mean, it’s not like I can’t really test it or fix it or whatever. It’s practically useless now.”

Perfect; he wants Peter distrusting this sense. Wants him not thinking about it at all, avoiding the topic entirely— ah.

If he can get Peter thinking his damaged sense has something to do with the fights he’s been in, these bigger battles, that would be ideal. Peter’s already trying hard not to think about those; tie this sense to them as well, and he’ll just have even more reason to avoid both

“Could something have overloaded it?” Quentin asks. “Just completely swamped it, and it hasn’t recovered yet? If it got used to there being danger nonstop, on all sides, maybe it can’t stand down.”

“…maybe?” Peter says. “But I don’t know what would have caused that, or even when. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

What.

Really, Quentin thinks, really? Peter can’t think of anything that would fit? Why wouldn’t he think of that? “Nothing?” he says, quietly.

Peter frowns. Takes a moment, and when he opens his mouth, Quentin is almost sure he’s made the connection; but Peter hesitates. Shrugs. “Not anything that’s like, major or a big deal or anything,” he says.

Does Peter— has he really managed to convince himself that all the fighting he’s done is nothing? Or at least, been trying to, because that hesitation says a lot.

He should have expected this, with the way Peter’s consistently downplayed himself so far. He really should have, but somehow it still annoys him. No wonder Peter isn’t willing to admit how scared and screwed up he is, if he thinks he’s completely overreacting to ‘no big deal’.

“Well,” Quentin says, and he’s watching Peter carefully. He doesn’t know quite how this will hit. “You were at war, on a battlefield. More than once, even. That can really mess you up in all kinds of ways.” Remember, Peter, he thinks. Remember that you were hurt, that there’s a good reason to be scared. To run.

“I— that—” Peter stares at him. “I wasn’t in a war,” he says. Dammit. Looks like downgrading it in his head is exactly what Peter’s been doing, and that is exactly the opposite of what Quentin wants.

“No? What would you call it?” Quentin asks, raising an eyebrow. He pushes himself more upright, uncrossing his legs. “It sounded a lot like war to me.”

Peter shakes his head, fingers crushing the leaf he’s been playing with. “It was just a fight,” he says, strained. “That’s all!”

A fight. Just a fight, like it was nothing more than a little spat, was nothing at all. Has someone been telling him this, reinforcing it? Fury, maybe, or even Tony before that?

He knows Fury wants Peter to think he can handle things, but has he also been trying to convince him that what he’s been through so far was small enough Peter should have been able to handle it? Should be able to handle the aftereffects? That he shouldn’t be upset about it, that he’s overreacting?

That’s not good; Quentin doesn’t need Peter doubting he can handle things. He needs Peter to be certain he can’t, and more, that it’s perfectly normal. Acceptable. Not something horribly selfish at all.

“Peter,” he says, “it wasn’t just a fight.”

“It was! It was just one— it wasn’t a war!”

“It wasn’t— Peter,” Quentin says, and sighs. “It was a lot more than that. You’ve been dragged from fight to fight to fight the past couple of years, without anyone helping you after; from what I hear, you really could have used some after that thing upstate.”

He huffs, too sharp to be a real laugh. “And that’s just what I know of,” he adds. “I’m not stupid enough to assume that’s everything.”

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, his hands fisted on his thighs. Blinks, and then looks at Quentin intently, his brow furrowed. “How do you even know about that? About— about other fights?”

“I spent some time talking with Fury,” Quentin says. “He wasn’t big on details, but I got enough that I can fill them in on my own. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t even know every fight you’ve been in, though I’m sure he’d like me to think so.”

He’d been talking with Janice, more like. God, she’d been such a find; seething about having had Tony himself be an ass to her, more than once, but willing to stay where she was to pass things on. She’d had access to so much confidential information, and every time SI and SHIELD decided to bury another thing, shift the blame and throw money at it until it all went away—for them, at least—she’d gotten a little more resentful.

It’s true that they might not have the finer details—it drives him nuts how sparse the info about whatever it was that crashed SI’s plane into the beach is—but he has enough to know that Peter’s been involved time and time again.

“Oh,” Peter says, looking down, losing some of his ire. “You probably didn’t hear much good, I bet. But— it doesn’t matter if it was more than one fight, cause they were all different. All like, spread out and about other stuff. It’s still not war.”

“What do you think war is, then?” Quentin asks, actually curious.

“I don’t, uh. War is… more?” Peter stumbles along, and he’s being incredibly stubborn about this. “More than that, than any of those. Worse. Way worse. You don’t— you weren’t there, you don’t know what it was really like. It wasn’t like that.”

“I think,” Quentin says dryly, “I have a pretty good idea of what war is.”

Peter looks absolutely horrified. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “God, I didn’t mean— I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I just, just meant that you were in a war. In a real, horrible, endless one and this…” He shudders. “These were just fights. It’s not the same, it’s not anywhere near as bad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says. Looks at Quentin and then drops his head into his hands, knees coming up as he curls in on himself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Quentin, I didn’t mean…”

This is really not what he was going for. Shit, he shouldn’t have said it like that; Peter’s too sensitive for him to be even a little sharp.

Quentin sighs, very softly, though he’s sure Peter still catches it. Pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to Peter, who doesn’t even look up. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Quentin says. “It’s okay, Peter.”

Peter just shakes his head a little; Quentin thinks of sighing again but—somehow—manages to restrain himself. He sits down next to Peter, his back against the tree.

“War doesn’t have to go for a long time to be real,” he says, not looking at Peter. “It doesn’t have to drag on and on for it to still be awful, for it to still affect you,” and Jesus, he’s had to hear shit along those lines so many times. Had to sit there and listen to people be told over and over that what happened to them is worth being fucked up over.

Even if it isn’t. There’s a lot of reasons he never opened his mouth at those meetings, and his disgust at everyone else was the biggest. What a waste of time.

Well. Maybe not. It did give him the material to work Peter over.

“It doesn’t have to be some huge, dramatic battle to qualify,” Quentin says. “It still counts. Pretending it doesn’t doesn’t get it out of your head.” Come on, he thinks, let it be bad, be a nightmare. Admit that there’s a good reason, a real reason, for you to be scared, and then you can back down without shame. Come on, Peter.

“It doesn’t feel like it should count,” Peter says, a bit muffled, head still in his hands. “It wasn’t— lots of people have dealt with so much worse. Something like this, it’s not— it’s not an excuse for, for…”

He doesn’t finish that thought, but Quentin doesn’t need him to. An excuse, hmm? He turns his head toward Peter, just a bit. “Why don’t you want to call it a war?”

Peter lifts his head, arms sliding down to cross across his chest. “Why does it matter to you what I call it?” he asks, and there’s a hint of sharpness in there. Maybe even anger. “Why do you even care if I admit— if I think it’s a war?”

Nice little slip there; isn’t that interesting. Peter does know it was more than a few little fights. He knows, he’s just trying as hard as he can to pretend otherwise. Trying to redirect, as usual, turning the question back on Quentin. Why does it matter, Peter wants to know, and there are so many answers Quentin could give.

It matters because you need to see yourself as badly damaged. Because you need to acknowledge that this is something huge and overwhelming and frightening. Because I need you to start accepting what I say as right, start accepting me as an authority. I need you to not question me.

So many reasons, and he can’t tell Peter any of them. Ugh.

He turns further toward Peter. “Because I think you’re doing yourself a disservice,” Quentin says, tightly, irritation rising up in him. “When you sit there and insist that it’s nothing more than a little fight, when you play it off like it’s nothing— you’re devaluing what you did, and that’s wrong.”

“Don’t act like what you went through, what you did, doesn’t count,” Quentin says, and Peter’s looking over at him, startled. “That it wasn’t brave as hell, and terrifying as hell too.”

Peter stares, his eyes very wide. “I— it’s not like I did more than anyone else there. Than, than anyone else would have.”

“It sounds like you did more than enough,” Quentin says. “And— it doesn’t matter, Peter. It still messes you up. War fucks everyone up. Maybe it didn’t go on long enough for it to really warp your thinking, your morals or empathy or capacity to even feel, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t damage you.”

Peter jerks, sitting up straighter. “I’m not damaged!”

For fuck’s sake.

Quentin has to dig deep for a bit more patience. “Sure you are. Hey, Peter— wait,” he says, watching as Peter shuts down all over again, hurt. “That’s not bad, kid. It’s not an insult. It’s just… you gotta admit that before you can get better.”

Or not, if Quentin gets his way; admitting it might lead to Peter actually getting over his fear and stepping up. But with Quentin around, guiding him along? Peter’s never going to take that admission as anything other than a personal failure.

As just another reason he can’t, and someone else should.

“I don’t know,” Peter mutters. “It doesn’t feel like it should count.”

Quentin watches him for a minute. Leans in, his shoulder bumping against Peter’s. “You’d agree that I’ve been in war, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And that I’m able to judge what is and isn’t war. Right?”

Peter can be smart, sometimes. He sees where this is going. Sighs. “Yeah,” he says.

“Will you—” Quentin pauses, waits until Peter is looking at him. “Can you trust me here, and believe that I mean it when I say what you went through was war?”

Peter blinks, his eyes dropping. He’s silent, and Quentin can feel the muscles of his arm moving as Peter fiddles with something out of sight. “I’ll think about it,” Peter says, which is not quite the response Quentin was hoping for. Still, it’s not another denial. Baby steps.

“I’ll— maybe,” Peter says. “I guess you would know, even if you weren’t there.”

“You should listen to me,” Quentin agrees, leaning a little harder against Peter. “I do know!”

You should listen to me, and only me, he thinks. We’ll get you there, kid.

Peter huffs softly, pushing back against Quentin’s shoulder. “Maybe,” but he’s smiling faintly.

Quentin smiles back; he can accept a maybe, for now.

He’ll get a yes soon enough.

[duncanxtrent]

For the prompt thingy... Duncan and Trent as camp counselors... maybe ? 👀 Like they both take care of some kiddos and they are on diffrent teams so they have a friendly rivalry but they are crushing on each other. Or something idk jfjfkfk

(OMG SOMEONE ACTUALLY ASKED AND ITS ONE OF MY FAVORITE DUNTRENT ARTISTS YBUGKGUF)

Anyways

Wawanakwa Rivalry

Duncan quietly woke up inside the counselors cabin. He looks over and sees Trent peacefully snoring away. He smiles and gets up to put on some pants. Once hes fully uniformed, he takes a look at the schedule.

Once hes sure of the schedule, he walks up and bangs on the door of the Killer Bass cabin.

“Wake up guys! Its almost breakfast!” Duncan shouts.

Taka instantly opens the door, fully dressed in uniform.

“Ready to start the day, sir!”

(Yes I made the DR kiddos the camp kids leave me alone.)

Duncan laughs and ruffles Takas hair as Taka stands near the door. Groggily, Makoto, Kyoko, Sayaka, Leon, Chihiro, And Aoi make their way out of the cabins. Duncan does a quick headcount, but then makes a strange face.

“Wheres Mondo?” He asks

“Hes still asleep” Leon groans

“Ill go get him!” Taka says stomping inside the cabin. Soon he drags out a very tired and Groggy Mondo from inside.

“Its too early for this. Just let me go the fuck to bed.” Mondo curses.

“Trust me. I also think its too early for this kid.” Duncan smiles. “But if you sleep any longer, you’ll miss todays french toast!”

That instantly seemed to get Mondos attention. Because he instantly ripped his arm from Takas hand, ran inside, stressed himself, and came back out to the other students.

“Right kids! Now whats our motto?”

Mondo gave an audible groan.

“Oh come on its funny.”

Mondo sighed but reluctantly saluted, as tre reat of the kids followed.

🎶One Two Three and Four! Killer Bass Will Get the Score!🎶

🎶Five Six Seven Eight! Gophers are trash, and Fish are Great!🎶

Duncan seemed to stifle a laugh on the last part. “Alright guys! Now stand in a straight line behind me.”

Taka instantly stood in the front with Mondo behind him as the rest of the students stood behind them.

“Alright, and MARCH!” The 9 of them marched off towards the cafeteria.

Once there, the kids returned to normal walking and headed to their cabin table. Once he was sure the kids were sat, he headed up to the cafeteria, only to encounter Trent getting the breakfast for his cabin.

“Trent! Hi…” Duncan says noticiably more nervous.

“Hey there, sup shorty!” Trent says wrapping his arm around Duncan. Duncan meeped.

“So how have the kids been?” He asks

“Well, Mondos been a bit of a hassle, but other than that the kids are great.” Duncan whispers timidly.

“Oho! Youre lucky. Celestia, Byakuya, Junko! Together those three kids are a mess of trouble! Ive mainly been able to get them under control, but What I wouldnt give to be in your cabin.”

“Same here.” Duncan mutters quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing! Anyways I should probably finish up here and get the kids breakfast.” Duncan says quickly picking up the breakfast for the cabin.

“Oh… Ok…” Trent says disappointed.

Duncan immediately stops in his tracks. “But if you want to talk more counselor stuff! We can hang out when I hand off the kiddos to Courtney!” Duncan quickly yells.

“Oh! Ok sure!” Trent quickly responds.

“Its a date!” Duncan says walking off. Trent turns beet red before walking off. Duncan immediately facepalms.

“A date? Really?! Come on you idiot! You should have done better than that!” Duncan mutters pacing back and forth.

“Um… Mr. Tarun.” Sayaka tugs at Duncans pants.

Duncan notices and realizes hes still holding the kids breakfast. “O-oh! Sorry!” Duncan nervously laughs.

He walks around the table and gives each of the kids a plate of breakfast, containing french toast, sausage, and scrambled eggs with lemonade. The kids quickly begin eating their breakfast. Duncan sits down with his plate and begins quietly eating while contemplating his life choices. However, the kids quickly got into some trouble.

“H-hey stop that!” Taka says nervously.

Duncan sat up and noticed that Junko and Byakuya were standing next to Mondo. Mondo seemed visibly upset.

“Whats wrong Diamond, cat got your tongue?” Junko taunts.

“What the hell do you to want?” Mondo asks angrily.

“Oh I just came over cause I thought youre french toast was looking plain.”

“My toast is fine.” Mondo says angrily shoving a bite of eggs into his mouth.

“Really? Cause I think this plate could use a nice slab of BUTTER!” Junko dumps a whole stick of tub of butter on Mondos French Toast. Mondo just stared at the toast, terrified.

(Context to this: I am partially referencing His execution. But in this case the reason for his trauma is that his dad was turned into a butter like substance following an experiment he was working on)

The rest of the kids at the table gasp. Leon begins laughing but Sayaka punches him in the arm.

Junko laughs. “Oh whats wrong? Did I not add enough? Do you want some syrup as well?” She taunts.

Byakuya simply stifles a laugh. “A mere peasant frozen by a tub of butter. Pathetic.”

“H-hey leave him alone!” Taka says attempting to stand up to them.

“Or what?” Junko laughs

Taka meekly backs off.

Duncan angrily stomps towarfs the two bullies.

“Hey you two! Leave Mondo Alone!” Duncan shouts.

“Oh shut up you faggot! We all know you want inside our camp counselors pants! Why dont you run along like the squealy girl you are?” Junko sneers.

Duncan becomes even more angry. “If the two of you dont leave right now, Im sending the two of you home!” Duncan threatens.

“And then what? Lose the Trust of your little boyfriend.” Byakuya laughs.

Duncan is about to knock the little shits heads off when suddenly Trent comes up behind him.

“Duncan, you may step out of the situation.” Trent says putting a hand on his shoulder.

“But-“

Trent leans into his ear. “Trust me, dude, I got this!” Trent whispers.

Duncan backs off as Trent approaches the two children.

“Junko, Byakuya, my office. NOW!” Trent shouts firmly.

Trent walks the two children to his office and eventually returns back to the cafeteria.

“Im having them clean out the toilets for the next week. Those two went way too far.” Trent explains.

“Thank you…” Duncan mumbles.

“Hey its no problem.” Trent outs a hand on Duncans shoulder. “We gotta look out for each other right bro?”

Trent leans in closer to Duncan, and without thinking about what hr was doing, Duncan leaned in and quickly pecked Trent on the lips.

Trents face went incredibly red while Duncan seemed nervous.

“Oh jeez Im sorry, I didnt mean to, I just thought thats what we were doing and-“ Hes immediately caught off by Trent taking Duncans head in his gands and bringing him in for a second kiss. The kiss becomes a loving kiss and the two of them stand there hugging while kissing eachother.

“Ewwwwwwwwww!!!! Ms Satellaaaaa!!!!! Mr.Tarun and Mr.Cooper are kissiiiiing!!!!!!” Sayaka shouts.

They both let go of the kiss and look at Sayaka as Trent begins laughing. Duncan sees this and begins laughing too.

“So Im guessing you like me too then?” Trent asks sarcastically.

“Yeah. Always kinda have.” Duncan laughs.

“Well then, maybe we could hand the kids off to Courtney and Gwen, and the two of us can spend the rest of the day hanging by the lake.” Trent says twirling Duncans hair.

“That sounds lovely.” Duncan mumbles leaning into Trents chest.

“EWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!” The kids stick their tongues out seeing their counselors kissing.

Trent and Duncan just laugh before letting go of each other and going towards their respective tables. Duncan sits and begins happily eating his breakfast.

Meanwhile Kiyotaka notices the whole event unfold, and just as Mondo finishes clearing the butter on his plate, pecks Mondo on the cheek before returning to his food.

Mondo looks at him increduously, blushing red for a second before just shaking his head and returning to his food

(END)