#scrubs season 7

[aflawedfashion]

Scrubs 7x09 | My Dumb Luck

[columboscreens]

[ismellpestilence]

Honestly, it's for the best that the show ends with season 6. They couldn't keep it up forever. They couldn't drag out the Nandermo plot forever, nor is there much worldbuilding left to explore. Now the cast can move on to other projects, especially with how Harvey's career is taking off. Matt said before that he's getting too old for the stunts

And six seasons is actually really good! With the way that things have been lately, it's a bit of a miracle that they made it past two. And with the way things usually go for shows like this, it's better than it going on well past falling off. This way they can end how they want to, and it will still be remembered well.

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fem sidekick!reader, semi-public, angry smut, names calling, unprotected p in v, creampie, pro hero Dynamight being himself, mentions of fwb & work affair

Synopsis: after catching another villain and dealing with pesky reporters, Bakugo needs to blow off some steam

A/N: I wrote this one shot to celebrate the airing of MHA Season 7 :) Enjoy!

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

Pro hero Dynamight stood victorious after a grueling battle with a dangerous criminal. His muscles were tense, his body still buzzing with adrenaline.

As the media swarmed the battleground, arriving even before the emergency services, Dynamight stood amidst the chaos of the battleground, his expression grim as reporters swarmed around him like vultures. Their incessant questions grated on his nerves, and he couldn't help but scoff at their foolishness.

"What's it like being a hero, Dynamight?" one reporter shouted, nearly thrusting a microphone in Bakugo's face.

Bakugo scowled, his voice gruff as he replied, "It's not a fucking game, you idiot. It's about putting your life on the line to protect these morons." He gestured to the injured civilians nearby, his gaze flickering to where you were assisting the paramedics.

"Can you tell us more about your strategy during the battle?" another reporter asked.

"Strategy? I blasted the shit outta that villain. End of story."

"Is it true that you single-handedly took down the villain?"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. "I don't need a fucking team to handle a scrub like that."

"Are you worried about the safety of the civilians?"

"What kind of dumbass question is that? Of course, I'm worried. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

Another reporter piped up, "Do you ever fear for your own safety, Bakugo?"

Bakugo's lip curled in disdain. "Of course I fucking do. But I don't let fear hold me back from doing what needs to be done, you idiot."

As the questions continued, Bakugo's impatience grew, and he didn't hesitate to show his displeasure towards the reporters. Despite his gruff demeanor towards them, Bakugo's focus remained fixed on you as you moved with purpose, assisting the paramedics in providing aid to the injured. Later, as you assisted the police in securing the villain, his gaze never wavered from your form.

Finally, as the barrage of questions from the reporters finally ceased, Bakugo's patience wore thin. With a curt dismissal, he declared, "I've got more important shit to deal with than your stupid questions. You're nothing but scandal and drama-thirsty extras."

Turning away from the reporters, Bakugo made his way over to you, his expression softening slightly as he approached. "Hey, Y/N," he said gruffly, his voice laced with concern. "You holding up okay?"

You nodded, grateful for his concern, even though you knew you had moments of struggle during the battle. It wasn't that you lacked skills; you were simply inexperienced.

But Bakugo didn't seem to mind. In fact, he saw your potential, and that was all that mattered to him. "Alright," Bakugo said, his tone firm but reassuring. "Our job here is done. The police and paramedics will take over from here. Let's head back to the agency."

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and exhaustion wash over you. It had been a long and intense battle, but knowing that the situation was now under control eased some of the tension that had been building inside you.

Together, you and Bakugo made your way back to the agency.

Bakugo led the way through narrow, secluded alleyways, determined to escape the relentless pursuit of the paparazzi.

The evening was settling in, and the soft glow of street lamps cast a dim, gentle light on the sidewalks.

Bakugo's fists were clenched, and he could feel the tension building up inside of him. He needed a release. "Damn it, they were fucking annoying," Bakugo growled, his voice tinged with adrenaline and frustration as he leaned against the cold brick wall, stopping to catch breath. "These reporters, goddammit!"

You nodded in agreement, feeling the tension radiating off him. "You did it, though, Bakugo-sama," you replied, trying to offer some reassurance. "And you handled them very…. Well."

Without saying a word, Bakugo stepped closer, his gaze intense, his breath hot against your lips as he crushed his mouth against yours n a bruising kiss. The kiss was rough, urgent, a release of pent-up tension. His tongue pushed past your lips, tangling with yours in a heated dance.

You were caught off guard when Bakugo suddenly kissed you without warning. The truth was, it wasn't the first time he had been that close with you. You two had been hooking up from time to time, with a reciprocal agreement between you. Now you could taste the sweat and grit of battle on him, and it only served to heighten your arousal. Your tongues danced together as you explored each other's mouths.

Bakugo could feel his cock growing hard in his unform pants, and he knew well you could feel it too.

His hands roamed your body, squeezing your ass, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples through the fabric of your costume.

You moaned into his mouth, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You could feel his cock hardening against your stomach, and you reached down to stroke him through his pants.

"Shit," he cursed softly between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. "I fucking need ya, dollface." His hands tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss by yanking your head back.

Bakugo broke the kiss, his breath coming in harsh pants. He started to kiss your neck, nibbling on your earlobes and licking your skin. He licked a stripe with his tongue from your ear down to your neck, following the pulse point. A grin tugged at his lips as he felt the rapid beat of your heart beneath the tip of his flexed tongue. With a fast motion, Dynamight spun you around, pushing you against the cold brick wall. You gasped as he yanked your pants down, exposing your ass to the cool night air. He licked his fingers, then reached around to rub your clit, making you wet and ready for him.

You were utterly shocked when he suddenly acted hat bold in the middle of the alleyway. It wasn't that he was shy about sex, not at all. In fact, he had a history of taking you on his desk in his agency, reveling in the thrill of the possibility of getting caught. But this was a whole new level of brazenness. You moaned, grinding your slick pussy against the rough heel of his hand. "Holy Might…"

He pulled his pants and black boxer briefs down under the curve of his ass, revealing his rock-hard cock. Bakugo chuckled, a low, dark sound when he spotted you looking up at him above your shoulder, then positioned his cock at your entrance. He thrust into you from behind, hard and deep, making you cry out. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the alley as he began to fuck you, his hips slamming against your plump ass. "It's fucking Holy Dynamight for ya, little cock slut," he grunted through gritted teeth. "Goddamn, you're so fucking tight," he added, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, fuck, yes," you panted, your fingers clawing at the brick wall. You could feel every inch of his veiny cock inside you, stretching you open and hitting all the right spots, the mushroom tip of his dick kissing your firm cervix.

Bakugo grabbed your hair, pulling your head back, making you arch your back under an odd angle as he continued to pound into you. The slight pain only served to heighten your pleasure, and you found yourself begging for more. "Harder, harder, Bakugo-sama," you panted, your words nothing but a breathless whispers, your body shaking with each powerful thrust of his.

Bakugo obliged, his hips moving faster, his cock going deeper.

You could feel a coil of heat forming low in your belly. You found yourself digging your nails into the rough brick wall as Bakugo took you from behind, his movements relentless and powerful.

He didn't hold back, occasionally delivering sharp spanks to your ass. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice husky with desire. "You're taking me so damn well, little newbie."

His praise only spurred you on, your body responding eagerly to his every touch and thrust.

Bakugo slid his hand down your stomach and reached between your legs, finding your clit. He began to rub it in slow circles, and you moaned as the pleasure built. He continued to tease you, his fingers working their magic until you were panting with need.

You reached down, placing your hand on top of his one, still nestled between your thighs. "Rub my clit," you urged, your voice dripping with desire.

But instead of complying, Bakugo pushed your hand away and delivered a few sharp spanks to your slick pussy. "Shut the fuck up, slut," he growled into your ear, his voice low and commanding. "I'll decide if you deserve to have your clit touched or not." Bakugo's grip on your hair tightened, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, "Now, cum for me, little slut." Dynamight graciously accepted your plea, withdrawing his hand from between your thighs. He spat on his digits, and with a thick glob of saliva coating his fingers, he slid his hand back where it belonged, rubbing your clit with a fierce intensity.

And with a few more hard thrusts, you came. Your body shook, your pussy clenching around his cock as waves of pleasure washed over you. "Bakugo-sama!"

Bakugo followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as your boss emptied himself inside you. He pulled out slowly, watching his pearly, thick cum dripping down your thighs.

You turned to face him, a satisfied yet a little hesitant smirk on your face. "My, my, boss," you whispered, "I still can't believe this rookie is your favorite," you gave him a look, pointing to yourself.

Bakugo returned the smirk, then leaned in to kiss you again, a slower, gentler kiss this time. He pulled his pants back up and adjusted them, ensuring he looked presentable once more.

You, too, adjusted your hero costume and approached him. Climbing onto your tiptoes, you reached up to fix his bangs, which were still damp with sweat. "Maybe you'd like to come over to my place to freshen up?" you offered, a sultry smirk playing on your lips.

"Sounds like a damn good idea," Bakugo growled, his voice husky. Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed the meat of your ass, pulling you closer to him. "Lead the way, dollface," he added, his eyes smoldering with lust.

[iristhechocolatier]

Worst show you've seen?

Oh, there are so many, don't get me started. I only finish them because I feel obligated to, not because I enjoy the 'plot' anymore. Yet Netflix keeps cancelling the good ones.

[witchthewriter]

𝐆𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!   

a/n: I watched the new season of The Witcher and somehow Geralt got even hotter??? Anyway, he has dilf energy and I'm in love

Warnings: family abuse, curse previously put on reader

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ        

・He had saved you, and yet, your family still did not want you.

・Geralt found out that it was your own father who cursed you

・A noble family that saw you as less than. And they banished you from their land, not wanting you anywhere near them.

・And when Geralt spoke on your behalf, asking what you were supposed to do, your father shrugged his shoulders and ignored the Witcher.

"You won't even keep y/n on as ... as anything?" The Witcher was disgusted when your father kept on ignoring him. It got to the point where Geralt threw a golden plate just above your father's head and his attention snapped to the white-haired man.

"I could have your head for that." Your father's voice was cold, it was always cold.

"And I could have yours," snarled Geralt, whose eyes were ablaze. But he knew he couldn't do anything about your family. Only about you.

・So, Geralt couldn't leave you to fend for yourself. And he didn't.

・Besides, you had no idea how to look after yourself. You had been a monster, trapped inside a form that was not yours for 7 years

・You were filthy, tired, and utterly defenseless.

・And even though Witcher's weren't known for their grace nor kindness, Geralt was different.

・He took you with him, damning your family for casting you out. Promising that you would rise above what they had done to you.

・But for now, he had to clean you up and ... catch you up on life.

- ✦ -

・Geralt sat you in front of him, Roach slightly grumpy with the extra weight. But once you reached Geralt's destination, he rewarded the steed with extra food

"Thank you, old friend," he whispered into the horses' ear.

・Helping you inside, he had arranged a room that had a bathing chamber

・The water ran hot as Geralt added in oils and different kinds of herbs

・It was an odd situation, yes, helping a stranger clean themselves.

・But Geralt couldn't live with the knowledge of you being left on your own. The possibility of so much danger. Of being taken advantage of.

・Helping you undress was slightly embarrassing, for the both of you. Your body was still getting used to its original form. Your balance was off, and your posture wasn’t very good. Geralt had to keep on correcting it.

・Easing you into the bath, he grabbed a cloth and started gently rubbing the grime from your body. The dirt, sweat and mud that caked your body

・Even when you transformed back into your normal form, the dirt still remained, as did the torn clothes that you had worn before being cursed into a great beast

・Speaking was difficult as well, but it was becoming easier with time. Even though not much had passed.

・The bath was the best thing you had felt in 7 whole goddamn years.

・Hot; like it was ridding you of all the hurt that built over time

・You swished your fingers through the water, delighting in the ripples they made. Such a small happiness. Yet you found glee in small things now. Grateful for a second chance.

・Geralt kept on scrubbing at your skin, using a bristled brush on some areas, careful not to be too rough or stay in one spot for too long

・Next he used this delicious smelling soap. Your knowledge of herbs was next to nothing, due to a lack in education, but you thought it smelt homely, earthly and calming. Lathering it in his hands and massaging it onto your own, you both worked the soap into different areas of your skin

“I’m going to wash your hair now,” he said. Voice soft yet still rough, like he wasn’t used to being kind to others. If that were true, you wondered why he was doing this for you.

“But first we need to brush it,” his eyes squinted at the tangled mess but started on it nonetheless.

・It hurt at first, but you knew Geralt was being as gentle as he could be, but there were so many knots.

“What do you think about cutting it?” You shook your head. Your hair was one of the only things that made you feel … beautiful.

“Ugh, fine. But this is going to take a while.”

・You shrugged your shoulders and happily kept on sitting in the tub, taking over some of the scrubbing, especially your feet, which felt so sensitive.

・Once they were large and clawed, now … they were human

・Your eyes stilled as the water reflected the glow of the candles around the room

・And you sighed. Not in sadness, or pain, or grief. But with the knowledge that you no longer had to be someone that you were not. Whether that was a beast or playing a role in your family that you didn’t want to have to play.

“You alright?” Geralt had made significant process, practically finished with your hair. And he grabbed a bucket and told you to lean back as he poured the water onto your hair.

・Geralt grabbed a different kind of soap and placed it in your hair, massaging and rubbing it, making sure there wasn’t a spot unwashed.

・You weren’t used to the sensation and let out a laugh. It tickled a tiny bit, especially when he rubbed behind your ears

・Unbeknownst to you, Geralt was slightly smiling. He enjoyed seeing you experience some happiness.

・After he had washed your hair a total of three times, he stood back satisfied with your appearance and held out a towel for you to wrap yourself in.

・Helping you out of the bath, he set down a pair of clean clothes on your bed and said he would be back in a few minutes.

・He wanted to give your privacy, while also wanting to check on Roach.

・The clothes were a big pair of brown pants and a long white shirt. They were a fresh pair from the Innkeeper's husband, who had recently passed away. Geralt had paid extra for them.

・After twenty minutes, Geralt came back into the room to find you asleep on the floor. The usual place you slept.

・A place you had slept for 7 years.

・7 years without a bed. Without a blanket or pillows. Nor were you given any sort of comfort.

・A rage so hot spread through Geralt that it practically radiated off of him.

・In that moment he swore you would have a better life, the best he could find … or give you.

[nanamiya3]

Hello! As an SA survivor, I really appreciated your story with Naoya. My comfort character is Nanami and I was wondering if you could write something similar? Where reader has an anxiety attack bc of her trauma and finally tells nanami about it? She’s worried that he won’t accept her and nanami reminds her he’ll never do that. It’s a heavy topic so I completely understand if you want to pass on this! I appreciate your writing regardless so thank you for taking the time to write & post these stories :)

hii! i'm sorry it's taken me so long to respond (can you believe my last post was almost half a year ago :0) but thank you for the ask! i made this absurdly long because i love backstories but i hope you like it :)

-

nanami x fem reader (she/her pronouns used) - fluff & comfort - pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby) - wc. 7.7k

-

please note that there are mentions of SA (nothing explicit/graphic) after the little "exhibit" sections are over. if you aren't comfortable with mentions of past SA (ex: nanami asking if someone has "hurt" reader) please don't read past the little "exhibit" scenarios or don't read/expand the post at all :) again, it's pure fluff in the "exhibit a, b, c" parts, after that SA is discussed/alluded to

-

Nanami Kento is an exceedingly patient man.

Exhibit A: The time you were an hour late to your first date.

—

“Come on, just trust me on this one!” Shoko exclaims as she pelts you with blueberries—your blueberries.

“Hey!” You glare at your best friend, snatching the bowl of fruit away before any more berries end up on the floor. “Do you know how much blueberries cost these days? They’re not in season right now and—”

“Blah blah,” Shoko sticks her tongue out at you. “I’m not saying you have to marry him.. It’s just one date!” She pauses, tone becoming uncharacteristically serious. “I’ve been friends with him since high school… He’s a really nice guy, very respectful.”

“Oh?” You quirk an eyebrow at your roommate, laughter bubbling over your lips. “Very respectful,” you’re giggling now, “I’m sure he’s veryy respectful.”

Shoko groans, hands scrubbing at her face. “You’re unbelievable—I need a cigarette,” she mutters.

“You’re unbelievable! You’re a med student who smokes!” you cry out, flinging an accusatory finger at her.

Shoko just snorts, waving a dismissive hand in your direction as she pats at her pockets for her lighter. “I’m serious though, I think he would be good for you.”

“Sure, he’s exactly what I need,” you reply dryly. “What was his name again? Nanami something—”

“Kento,” Shoko chimes in.

“—Nanami Kento,” you finish, twirling a blueberry between your thumb and index finger. “I’m sure he’s a great person. But you know there’s a reason why I’m never home when your guy friends are over…” You trail off, shrugging as if you’re unbothered, but Shoko sees the way your brows furrow and lips tremble. “Plus, I’m too busy with my dissertation and research to try to have a life,” you huff, easing the tension with some lighthearted humor, popping the berry into your mouth.

Shoko rolls her eyes at you good-naturedly, waggling her brows as she tries to lift your spirits. “What if I showed you a picture of him?”

-

Two photos, a not-so-slick mention of Nanami’s height by Shoko, and a sworn testament to his upstanding character later, you fold.

-

You, 6:47 PM

hey! i’m running late right now, there was an emergency at the lab. can we push the date from 7 to 8? i’m really sorry :(

Nanami Kento, 6:50 PM

Yes, of course. I hope everything is okay, take as long as you need.

You, 6:51 PM

thank you so much! again, i’m really sorry. i should be there by 8 :)

-

Nanami reads your text, slipping his phone into his pocket as he sighs. He had already arrived at the restaurant by the time he saw your first message—it’s too late to leave and come back now. He takes a seat in the waiting area, glancing at the bouquet in his lap. Shoko had threatened to break both his legs if he so much as breathed at you wrong tonight—he hopes you won’t find the flowers too much for a first date.

Nanami thinks back to what he knows about you. He remembers the first time he was at Shoko’s place: you were nowhere in sight (much to the dismay of Gojo, who kept asking Shoko to play matchmaker for him), but Shoko just explained that you were studying late at the library. Every time after that, it was another excuse: Shoko’s roommate can’t come because she’s busy in the lab, busy at the library, busy writing her dissertation, busy running simulations, busy reading papers, busy being a TA, busy meeting with her advisor. He’s only seen you once while at your apartment, and that was because he accidentally walked into your room thinking it was the bathroom: You’d been hunched over your desk, back to the door, and Nanami had immediately walked right back out into the hallway upon his realization that bathrooms didn’t usually contain beds and desks, shutting the door as quickly as possible so as to not disturb you. You hadn’t even turned around by the time he was gone.

That was the first and last time Nanami Kento ever saw you. At least until last week, when he received a text from Shoko detailing your contact info and a winky face, phone lighting up with a call from your roommate moments later.

“Hello?”

“Kentoooo!!! Guess what??” Shoko’s voice is all high pitched and giggly, barely containing her excitement.

Nanami thinks he knows exactly what she’s up to. “What is it?” he ventures.

“My roommate just agreed to go on a date! With you!!” Shoko’s glee is apparent, even through the tinny speaker on Nanami’s phone. “I just sent—”

“I never asked her out,” Nanami cuts in. He’s frowning slightly: not entirely opposed to the idea, just hoping Shoko hasn’t gone and planned your marriage without his knowledge.

Shoko’s sigh echoes loudly over the line, and Nanami winces at the earful he’s sure to be in for. “I know,” she’s rolling her eyes now. “That’s why—if you would just let me finish my sentence—I sent you her number so you could ask her yourself.”

Nanami’s quiet for a moment, thinking it over before he asks, “Why are you doing this?”

Shoko doesn’t miss a beat. “Because you’re both losers with no lives,” she laughs a little at her own joke, then slowly considers her next words. “And… I think you would treat her well—I know you would be good to her, and she deserves that.”

Nanami can tell how much Shoko cares about you, from the way she spoke about you to the way she threatened to buy 51% of his start up’s shares and tank the company if he ever hurt you. Yeah, he really hopes you don’t think he’s coming on too strong with the flowers.

So, Nanami sits in the restaurant patiently, checking his phone ever so often to make sure he hasn’t missed any messages from you, smiling and telling the hostess he’d like to wait a while longer to be seated. And when you do show up—17 minutes earlier than expected—he’s all smiles and reassurances. You’re feeling (and looking) frazzled, apologies spilling out from your mouth like a dam let loose as you follow him and the hostess to your table. But Nanami’s the quintessential gentleman: waving away your guilt and apologetic expression, pulling your chair out for you, handing you the beautiful arrangement of flowers, pouring you a glass of water to help calm you down, insisting you call him Kento.

And though most people wince and attempt to change the topic when you talk research, Kento’s patient as he listens to your ramblings on the roadblocks you face, the students you have to teach, the lack of common sense in the lab. He makes a point to ask questions about your research, finding it interesting because you find it interesting, loving the way your face lights up when you get to describe the implications of your findings.

You hate to admit it, already hearing Shoko’s “I told you so!” in your head as you think to yourself, but Nanami Kento might just be exactly what you need.

—

Exhibit B: The time you spent 4 consecutive days with your head in a toilet bowl.

—

Shoko Ieri, 1:58 PM

dude, what the hell are you doing right now???

Nanami Kento, 2:01 PM

What do you mean? I’m working.

Shoko Ieri, 2:01 PM

what could possibly be so important with your company that you’d be working right now??

Nanami Kento, 2:02 PM

It’s 2 PM on a Monday… Am I not supposed to be working right now?

Shoko Ieri, 2:02 PM

you’re so fucking dense you would sink in the dead sea. your girlfriend has been throwing up all day and you’re WORKING?

Nanami Kento, 2:02 PM

Throwing up? What do you mean??

**Incoming call from Nanami Kento**

“Hey assho—”

“What do you mean she’s been throwing up all day?” Kento’s voice is tinged with urgency and worry. “Is she okay? Are you there with her? Can you check her temperature? I’ll be there in—”

“Dude,” Shoko cuts in, “Don’t act like you didn’t know. There��s no way you didn’t know—I mean she’s been hurling like crazy since this morning, and you’re an asshole for not checking up on her.”

Kento’s shocked, and still extremely worried, trying to just get Shoko to focus so he can make sure you’re okay. “I really didn’t know, Ieri, she hasn’t texted me at all today.” His voice is strained, concern evident in his tone. “Please tell me you’re at home with her—is she okay?”

“Well…” Shoko considers how to best put your condition so as to not cause Kento a heart attack, a little confused on why you didn’t tell him anything. “She’s been throwing up pretty steadily throughout the day and she’s got a pretty bad fever.”

“How bad are we talking? I’m driving over right now.”

“104 degrees… 104.6 last I checked,” Shoko winces as she says it, knowing how bad it sounds.

“Oh my god.” The absolute terror in Kento’s voice makes Shoko wince even harder. “Ieri, we need to get her to a hospital—this is serious.”

Shoko shakes her head, reporting dejectedly, “She won’t go. I tried a couple hours ago but she said she doesn’t get paid enough by the school to afford an emergency visit.”

Kento’s at a loss for words.

“She said she’ll be fine since I’m ‘basically a doctor,’” Shoko finishes bitterly.

“T-that’s not… You’re not… Y-you’re just a med student—that’s not the same thing—” Kento thinks he might have a heart attack.

“I know, I know,” Shoko sighs. “But, I don’t think it’s anything too bad. She isn’t throwing up blood, her breath and heart rate are both pretty stable, and she was conscious enough to talk back to me when I tried to get her to the hospital.”

“Okay,” Kento says as he takes deep breaths, trying to not think about you dying or suffering or—“Okay. Okay. Okay. I’ll be there soon, then. We can talk later.”

“Alright. Drive safe—I don’t need another patient to look after,” Shoko jokes before hanging up.

5 minutes later, a stressed Nanami Kento is on your doorstep, rushing in as soon as Shoko answers the door, barely listening to what she’s saying as he moves towards your room. And then he’s inside, kneeling before your bed as his eyes dart over your figure, murmuring a gentle, “Hi baby, how are you feeling?”

You blink your eyes open, trying to pull yourself out of that feverish fog blanketing your mind as you slowly register who’s in your line of sight. No… It can’t be. How did he find out? He’s not supposed to be here—you didn’t tell him for a reason.

“Ken?…” You rub at your eyes, sitting up with a whimper as a wave of nausea hits you square in the stomach. “W-why are you here?”

“Because somebody told me you have a 104 fever, and it wasn’t you,” Kento tuts, tone disapproving but eyes gentle.

“Ieri…” you mumble, shaking your head slightly.

“Ieri,” he confirms, shaking his own head—this time at you. “We’ll talk more about that later… Right now, I need to make sure my darling is feeling okay.”

Your mind is still foggy, but your lips quirk up into a small smile as you tease in a small voice, “Your darling is feeling superb.” You give him a weak thumbs up and cheesy grin. “I feel great.”

“Really? Because there’s a bit of vomit on your chin right now,” Kento deadpans, secretly relieved you’re feeling well enough to joke.

And then you cry out in mock outrage, regretting it almost immediately as you clutch at your middle, the outburst costing you a fit of spasms and pain in your stomach. Kento’s mood sobers instantly as he gently rubs at your back, asks if there’s anything he can do for you, adjusting the pillows behind you to help ease you into a more comfortable position.

“You should go,” you whisper as you reach up to grip his hand.

“Now why would I do that?” Kento asks, smiling softly as he feels your hold on his hand tighten.

You turn your face into the pillows, mumbling out a muffled, “I’m sick… and gross. I can’t let you see me like this.” You groan, turning your head back to look at your boyfriend as you caution, “And you’re going to get sick.”

Kento just smiles as he cups your hand between his own. “You never look gross, and I won’t get sick because I don’t overwork myself.”

You huff out a tired sigh, weakly swatting at the hands wrapped around your own as you slur, “It’s rude to torment the sick and dying,” and turn on your side to face the wall—away from your amused caretaker.

-

For the next three days, Kento—with the help of Shoko, (not quite) M.D.—looks after you as you miraculously manage to regurgitate every bit of sustenance you consume. He’s cleaned that metal “throw-up” bowl on your nightstand—meant to be used in case you couldn’t get to the bathroom in time—more times that he can count. He’s changed your sheets, helped you to the bathroom, and dutifully cooked light soups and stews, spooning them into your mouth before inevitably patting your back reassuringly as you throw it up into the toilet. Most of all, he’s poked and prodded you with that goddamn thermometer: if you had the strength to, you’d steal it right out of his hands and tell him to quit being a mother hen.

But Kento just can’t help his worrying. To take care of you, he’s been staying the night over, sleeping on that couch in the living room he’s definitely too large for. Even Shoko feels a little bad for him, watching him dutifully set alarms for every other hour so he can check up on you throughout the night. The two of them work in tandem to make sure you’re okay, combining the power of Shoko’s education with Kento’s sheer stress to maximize your care.

And when you finally come to—when the haze clouding your thoughts finally clears—he’s just as patient and gentle as he has been over the past few days.

“You’ve gotta stop overworking yourself, sweetheart,” Kento murmurs into the top of your head.

“I can rest when I’m dead,” you protest, twisting from your position on his chest to make a show out of the dramatic wink you send his way.

Kento groans. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he says with a sigh, helping you curl back up on top of him.

You giggle, breath fanning out against his collarbone, amused by Kento’s exasperation. “Thanks for taking care of me though, Ken. You’re the best,” you whisper softly, turning to pressing a kiss against his neck.

“Of course, darling,” he replies quietly, voice full of love. Then, louder, feigning nonchalance, Kento announces, “But if you don’t start taking better care of yourself, you’ll be on your own, and I’ll just watch from a distance and say ‘I told you so’ when you get sick.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me!” you pout, frowning at the thought of him purposely ignoring you.

Kento sighs, pretending to be upset, “You’re right. I wouldn’t do that.” He reports dejectedly, “I just love you too much,” practically able to feel your smile at his words against his skin. “But—” he leans down and tilts your head up to look at him, thumb and forefinger holding your chin in place to maintain steady eye contact. “—the next time you’re sick or in need of help, you’ll tell me directly.” His voice is serious, as firm as his grip on your chin and it makes you nervous, like you’re in trouble, eyes darting around to avoid his gaze. “No trying to hide it, no making me worry. I shouldn’t have found out about your fever from Ieri—you should have told me yourself. I don’t want you hiding things from me, especially if it’s about your health and well-being. Got it?”

You’ve tensed up against Kento, heart hammering in your throat as you feel a wave of guilt wash over you. His free hand moves to soothe your back—trying to show that he’s not angry with you—as he drops his hand from your chin, eyes tracking the way you hang your head to avoid looking at him.

And then, after a bout of anxiousness, you nod, stealing a glance up at Kento to gauge his mood as you start, “I’m sorry, Ken, I didn’t mean to worry you.” You take a deep breath before you continue, “I just didn’t want to bother you. I knew you’d drop everything if you heard I was sick and it wouldn’t have been fair for me to take advantage of you like that.” You pick at a piece of lint on his shirt, avoiding catching his eye and aiming for humor as you add, “And nobody wants to watch their partner throw up, it’s gross. I couldn’t let you fall out of love with me like that.”

Kento cracks a smile. “Darling, if you think throwing up in front of me is going to make me stop loving you, I need to do a much better job of showing you how much you mean to me.”

You huff out a laugh at that, but he’s not done, cupping your hands with his own as he looks down at you. “And you’re never a bother, baby, ever. I’m never going to be upset with you for letting me know you’re not feeling well—and you won’t be ‘taking advantage’ of me by letting me know. It’s my own choice to take care of you and it makes me happy to do it.”

You’re looking down at where Kento’s hands are wrapped around your own, but you nod, letting his words sink in as you duck your head back down into the crook of his neck. “Thanks, Ken,” you whisper, trying to hide how relieved and emotional him saying that makes you feel. “That means… a lot to me. I’ll promise I won’t hide things from you anymore.”

Your boyfriend smiles, replying with a soft “good girl” as he runs his thumb along the back of your hand. He’s glad you’re opening up, and as you doze off on him, exhausted from your past couple of days and lulled to sleep by the comfortable silence and gentle caresses, he feels a surge of affection settle over his heart.

—

Exhibit C: The time you he won a stuffed lion at the fair.

—

Today is a special day. There are no papers to grade, no students to teach, no presentations or talks to prepare, and your research has reached a point where you can confidently take a few days off to rest. Naturally, you decide to optimize this golden opportunity by doing only the essentials: Scheduling a long overdue doctor’s appointment, deep cleaning your apartment, spending as much time with Kento as possible, going to the fair…. Just the essentials!

So—essentially—you’re at the fair with Kento, ignoring your ever growing list of responsibilities in favor of overpriced food and rigged carnival games. Kento’s already sporting a large tote on one shoulder, ready to collect all the prizes you’re eager to win.

Three hours, six stuffed animals, a pizza, two churros, a basket of fries, five rides, and a petting zoo later, you find yourself surveying the prizes on display in front of the cursed ring toss.

“Awww, Ken look at that one!” You’re pointing to a stuffed lion sitting amongst the prizes. “It kinda looks like you, don’t you think?”

The face Kento’s making right now can only be described as… distaste. “No… Love, I don’t see the resemblance.”

“No, no, no, look at the color! It looks just like your hair,” you exclaim, gasping and pointing once more as you realize, “Hey! It even has a little frown on its face! Do you see it Ken?”

“I don’t frown that often,” Kento says with a frown. “I’m quite happy when I’m with you.”

You burst into a fit of laughter, wishing he could have watched himself say that. “Sure, Ken,” you drawl, patting him on the shoulder as you get in line for the game, set on winning his lion-lookalike.

However, after 4 tries and an absurd amount of money, you decide to call for backup.

"Kennn," you singsong as you turn to look at him with big, pleading eyes. "Can you help me win this game?"

Kento's heart sinks, feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he'd do anything to make you happy. On the other hand, if he helps you win the lion, he'll spend the rest of his days hearing "Awww.. Isn't he just so cute?? He looks just like you, baby!" about a stuffed, over-evolved house cat.

But, in the end, the little angel on his shoulder (with a voice that sounds suspiciously similar to yours) wins. As Kento steps up for his try, he half considers putting no effort in and losing the game just so you won’t be able to correlate his good looks to a stuffed animal. Then, he (or maybe the little angel up there) decides he can’t do that to you—it would just be too cruel.

So, Kento gets ready for his turn: rolling his sleeves up, passing you the bag on his shoulder, and sighing without meaning to.

His first try is a failure. Each of the 5 rings supplied magically bounced off the bottlenecks, frustrating him to no end. “This game is rigged, sweetheart. We should find something else to play,” Kento grumbles, turning away from the booth with an irritated expression.

You shake your head, insisting, “But this is the only game we’ve seen that has that stuffed lion!” Then, you bring out the big guns, clasping your hands together and widening your eyes, begging, “Please, Ken..”

Aaaand…. He’s a goner, always so soft and willing when it comes to you.

Reinvigorated by your pleading and determined to make you happy, your boyfriend sets out on a mission to win you that stuffed lion.

After his first try, Kento sighs so hard you think you might physically feel the wind from it tickling at your forehead.

After his second try, Kento turns to you and drops a sweet little kiss on your nose to remind himself why he’s subjecting himself to this frustrating torture.

After his third try, Kento runs a hand through his hair, readjusting his sleeves with more force than necessary as he squints menacingly at the table of glass bottles.

After his fourth try, you tug at his wrist, telling him, “You don’t have to keep trying, Ken. It’s okay.” You feel guilty watching him get more and more frustrated, but he smiles, patting the back of your hand as he tells you it’s okay.

After his fifth try, Kento looks up at the stuffed lion as he takes a deep, calming breath, trying to stay focused on winning the prize and not how annoying this blatantly rigged game is.

After his sixth try, you’re seriously impressed by Kento’s ability to remain calm. You practically had steam coming out of your ears with each of your missed throws, but he’s taking this like a champ—maybe you’ll read some of his self help books to learn his ways.

After his seventh try, Kento curses under his breath, beginning to lose his cool.

After his eighth try, Kento thinks it might be time to start believing in a deity: Maybe he would have won on his first or second try with divine intervention on his side.

And then! After returning to purchase almost ten consecutive attempts and officially creeping out the worker managing the booth, Kento’s fourth ring finally finds its place around the neck of a bottle!!

You jump up and down and clap in celebration, elated by Kento’s victory. He immediately turns toward you, excitement written across his features as he wraps you up in a hug. You’re giggling and pressing kisses onto his cheek, murmuring thank you’s against his skin as you both grin ear to ear—both entirely too old to be so elated over a win at the carnival.

And even as you tease him, holding the stuffed toy up next to his face in comparison, he thinks his patience may have just paid off.

—

Nanami Kento is an exceedingly patient man.

That’s why, as you break down in front of him, he’s patient.

Just minutes ago, you’d been okay—you’d been more than okay. Seated on Kento’s lap, breath heavy as he scattered kisses across your face—moving from cheek to nose to lips to forehead—you’d been beyond okay.

Nothing had been too out of the ordinary: though Kento wasn’t a voracious and demanding lover, the two of you had shared more than a fair amount of kisses and “makeout sessions.” And you enjoyed these kisses, these “sessions,” but you also enjoyed keeping it at that, never progressing further than a few wandering touches and a lost shirt or two. Kento, always happy to follow your lead, to respect your boundaries, would never press further when you’d break away and ask to go to bed, to watch the movie, to cook dinner together.

Tonight, you planned on spending the night together at Kento’s apartment. Falling asleep and waking up next to Kento might be one of your favorite things in the world: his hair is always perfectly mussed, voice deep and raspy, and touch gentle and loving. You always wake up happy and warm all over when you feel his arm around your middle, breath hot on your ear as he murmurs a low “Good morning, darling.”

So, you show up at Kento’s place at around 6, a bag of groceries on your arm, just like usual. The two of you work together in the kitchen, each spoon feeding the other small taste-tests, just like usual. Dinner is a quiet, romantic affair, intimate and sweet, just like usual. After the wining and dining, you two curl up in bed and watch an episode of that show you’re slowly making your way through together, just like usual.

And when you end up straddling him, TV already shut off, fingers gently twisting in his soft, golden hair, Kento thinks he can get used to this being added to your usual. His hands are splayed out across your back, keeping you close to his chest as he smiles into your swollen, kiss-bitten lips. And when he starts dropping sweet little kisses—like a saint delivering small blessings—all over your face, who are you to hold back that little whimper in the back of your throat? Who is Kento to deny the surge of desire flaring low in his stomach at your reactions? His hands slip underneath your shirt, playing with the band of your bra as you squirm against him and tilt your head up to kiss him again. He moves further—further than he’s ever gone with you—and runs a finger along the underside of the waistband of your pants, brushing a knuckle against the soft skin of your pelvis.

That’s when everything changes.

The second you feel Kento touch you lower than your stomach you freeze up, jerking away from the soft kiss you’d been caught up in. Your eyes go wide and you scramble off of his lap, breath frantic as you try to calm the spike of panic blurring your senses. You’re trying to keep an eye on Kento—on his movements and expressions and demeanor—but it’s hard with how suddenly you’ve become overwhelmed and it makes you feel scared, the way you don’t know what exactly he’s going to do next.

It was just one touch, it’s okay. He doesn’t know, he didn’t mean it, he wasn’t trying to... It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s—

“Sweetheart? Are you okay? I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay,” Kento tries to soothe you, but you look at him like you’re… scared of him and he hates himself for frightening you so bad.

What happened?

He thinks he might have an idea of what may have set you off, and as your breathing becomes more and more erratic, he begins to worry.

“Baby,” Kento starts, tone gentle. “Has someone ever… hurt you like this? By touching you?”

The way you flinch at his words is enough to confirm his suspicions, but Kento stays quiet, waiting for you to respond.

You don’t want to tell him. Your eyes keep darting around, nervous gaze cast down onto the blanket as you think about how you should lie—

But, wait. You promised Kento that you wouldn’t hide things from him, that you’d tell him things about your health and well-being. You really shouldn’t lie to him, not about this, but you really don’t want to tell him.

You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to say that it was your fault, that maybe you deserved it. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to start treating you like you’re dirty or shameful, like an embarrassing secret. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to get angry at you for not telling him sooner, because maybe he wouldn’t have loved you all this time—wasted all this time—if he knew. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to tell you that it isn’t a big deal, that you don’t have a right to be so upset over something like this, that you’re overreacting. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want to ruin this peaceful little thing between you and him with your own issues and nightmares. You don’t want to tell him because—

Crap. You’ve been stuck in your own head for too long. The air feels thick with an awkwardly long silence as you scramble to mash together an appropriate response, but Kento’s patient and he waits without judgement, kind eyes filled with worry.

And you really don’t want to tell him, eyes welling up with tears because you’re stressed and anxious and not sure about what you’re supposed to do.

Finally, you decide to just lie, choking out a pained, “No—” as hot tears spill over your cheeks. You feel horrible and guilty for lying, knowing that Kento has never been anything but upfront and honest with you, but you’ve never been as good and brave as him so you let the lie spread its wings and shield you.

Your breath is coming out in short, stuttered pants as you try to fight the wave of anxiety attempting to drown you, hands coming up to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle your choked sobs.

You feel horrible.

You feel horrible for lying.

You feel horrible because you ruined the moment of fun you were having with Kento.

You feel horrible for this breakdown, even if you know you can’t help it, because Kento doesn’t deserve to have to deal with this baggage he didn’t ask for.

You feel horrible because being with Kento has helped you come so far out of your shell, but now it feels like it’s all been ruined, like no matter how much progress you make, you’ll never be able to fully heal, fully escape.

You feel horrible because you can’t get those memories out of your head.

You feel horrible because you keep thinking about the last time someone touched you where Kento did.

You feel horrible for ever correlating Kento and his goodness to that person, even if it’s just in your head, even if you can’t help it, even if it’s involuntary because you’re scared.

You just feel horrible. You feel horrible about everything. And when Kento reaches for you, moving to try and gently tug at your wrist, worried about your frantic breathing and the way you seem to be trying to stop your breathing altogether with your shaking hands, you feel even worse.

When you see Kento’s hand move toward your face, you flinch so hard you choke, gasping behind your palm as you squeeze your eyes shut, shoulders tightening up with fear. You’re so on edge right now and your vision is too blurry with tears to properly gauge if he’s angry at you or not, so you just figure he is. You figure he’s seen through your lie and he’s upset with you, upset for a multitude of reasons that just overwhelm you further. You figure that if your tears dried you’d look up and find an angry Kento looming above you, brows pulled low and lips stretched into a disgusted sneer.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kento gently murmurs, pulling his hand back, interrupting your self-destructive thoughts. “I need you to take a few deep breaths with me—think you can do that for me baby?”

Numbly, through all the noise in your mind, you follow Kento’s voice like a lifeline, nodding with an uncoordinated jerk of your neck.

“Good girl,” he praises you kindly. “Now I’m gonna need you to move your hands away from your mouth,” Kento instructs, adding softly, “Gotta stop holding your breath sweetheart, gotta let yourself breathe, even if your breathing isn’t quite right yet.”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod again, dropping your hands from your mouth. But, once your hands drop, you stop trying to control your gasping breathing and begin to panic at the heavy heaving of your chest. Now, you’re breathing too irregularly and awkwardly: inhaling when you need to exhale and exhaling over your exhales and struggling to just take a solid breath in because your lungs won’t listen.

Because you’re breathing too rapidly, you’re simultaneously suffocating and breathing too much, escalating your panic. You’re scared and getting lightheaded and it’s too much—one hand comes up to muffle your mouth again almost immediately.

However, this time Kento is prepared, and his voice pulls you back to reality as he murmurs, “Ohhh, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay.” His voice is low and sweet and it makes you pause, instinctively wanting to listen. “I know it’s scary, but you have to keep your hand away from your mouth. Don’t try to restrict your breathing—there you go, there’s my good girl.”

You’ve tugged your hand away again, placing it in your lap as you blink up at Kento through watery lashes.

“Alright, sweetheart, now I want you to focus on your breathing. I’m going to take a few deep breaths and I want you to try to match your breathing with mine,” he says gently. “Does that sound okay?”

You nod shakily, panic ebbing slightly as you listen to his familiar voice and begin to follow the slow rhythm he sets.

“Inhale…. Exhale…”

“Inhale…” Exhale.

Inhale… Exhale….

“Good girl, that was perfect. You’re doing amazing, love,” he praises. You know he’s just being kind—your breath is stuttering and you’re involuntarily mixing up the inhales and exhales—but Kento’s reassurance makes you feel safe and calm regardless.

After a few more cycles of breath, the dizziness fades and oxygen begins steadily flowing through your lungs as you follow Kento’s lead.

Inhale… “Exhale…”

“Inhale… Exhale…”

Inhale… Exhale….

As you continue to try to control your breathing, you reach out to pick up his hand, trying to silently bridge the gap between you two, making the small first move to show him that you’re slowly becoming more comfortable and grounded. He lets you lace your hand in his, thumb comfortingly brushing against the skin of your hand, the touch gently reassuring you that you’re safe.

Soon, you feel confident enough to wordlessly move towards Kento, letting him wrap you up in a comforting embrace. Being in his arms always makes you feel better, and now that you’ve calmed down enough to realize that he’s not going to hurt you, you press yourself into his chest, searching for his steady patience and gentle manner. Your breathing has evened out, and your mind has cleared enough for you to begin flipping back on what just happened. Kento stays quiet, letting you sort through the cascade of emotions you just experienced, but the silence doesn’t feel hostile—it’s welcoming and patient.

You were kissing Kento, and then he.. he touched you and it freaked you out, and then he was talking to you and… And then he asked you a question. He asked if… He wanted to know if—

Oh my god. You lied to him.

Oh god. You need to apologize—own up to what you did and tell him the truth. But as you think about what to do, your breath begins to stumble over itself again and your heart rate picks up, anxiety taking over your senses.

Your eyes fill up with tears and you look up at Kento, saying in a small voice, “Ken? I… I lied to you… earlier.” Your words are continually interrupted by an emerging pattern of involuntary breaths and hiccups, but you continue on, “I… When y-you asked… S-someone has hurt—hurt me.. before… I lied to—to you.”

You’re fully crying now, and Kento tries calming you down, rubbing your back carefully, heart sinking at your tears and the way your breathing begins to turn into struggling gasps again.

“Oh, darling. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into the top of your head, continuing to gently soothe your back. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Thank you for telling me—my brave, brave girl.”

Kento’s heart hurts. It hurts knowing that you’ve been hurt in the past, that you’re sobbing in his arms because someone hurt you. It hurts knowing that you felt too scared to tell him the truth, and it hurts even more knowing that you feel scared to admit that you lied. He wants you to feel comfortable with him—to know that you should never be scared of him.

“I-Im,” you choke out through gasping breaths, “‘m sorry—I’m sorry, so—sorry. I’m sorry, K-Ken.”

You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for, you just know that you need to be apologizing for something. Maybe you’re apologizing for lying. Maybe you’re apologizing for having been assaulted. Maybe you’re apologizing to try to appease Kento so he won’t be as angry with you for your betrayal—for not being the person he thought you were. Maybe you’re apologizing for not letting him continue to touch you—for stopping before you’re hurt again.

But Kento just shakes his head kindly, patting your back good-naturedly in response. “It’s okay sweetheart. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Shhhh, shhhhhh, you’re okay, it’s okay, shhhhh,” he coaxes gently.

“I’m sorry—sorry, ‘m really sorry f-for lying to you.” You keep apologizing, barely registering his words to you. All of your guilt from everything has cumulated, and though you’re apologizing for lying, deep down you’re apologizing for much, much more.

“It’s okay, darling,” Kento tells you quietly, ever so patient as you choke on sob after sob. “I’m not upset with you, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m not angry, baby.”

His voice is so achingly gentle, and the way he rubs circles into your back makes your heart break and shatter. How can a person be filled with so much good? You expected anger and rejection, but Kento is being so accepting and sweet it makes you break down into tears. After being mistreated for so long, it feels odd to be embraced so wholly and kindly, and you feel like you don’t deserve to be treated with so much care.

Kento, however, is on a mission to make you feel better. He gracefully waves off your apologies, insisting that it’s okay, that you have nothing to be sorry for. Instead, he apologizes, bowing his head as he begs your forgiveness for overstepping your boundaries. When you shake your head vehemently, insisting he didn’t do anything wrong, he just scolds you gently, “You don’t need to take the blame for everything—it’s okay to give yourself a break. I know I hurt you, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I want you to know that I’m deeply sorry. I pushed you past what you were comfortable with and it’s not your fault, it’s mine.”

That makes you go quiet, the silence split only by your uneven and choppy breathing—remnants of the tears still sporadically tumbling from your lashes. Kento’s apology is earnest, and his insistence that you not blame yourself makes you see the situation in a new light.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s okay for you to give yourself a break once in a while. Maybe you didn’t do anything wrong and you’re just so used to being told it was your fault that you’ve come to believe it. Maybe, even if he didn’t mean you any harm, he still hurt you, and you deserved his apology for the way it scared you.

You’re silent for a little while longer, but then you reach up and pat him on the head, fluffy strands of hair ruffled by the act of affection.

“Thank you, Ken,” you tell him with a sweet, forgiving smile. “Thank you for apologizing, but I don’t blame you for what happened. You didn’t know my exact boundaries and you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’s okay, really.”

However, there’s still one more thing in the back of your mind bothering you.

“But… Do you still.. want to be with me? I mean, does it bother you that—that—” You break off, unable to finish your sentence.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, love.” Kento pulls back slightly, one arm cradling your back as the other moves to wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “This doesn’t change anything, okay? You’re still the same person I fell in love with, and I’m not ‘bothered’ by anything about you. Nothing about this is your fault, and I would never treat it as such.”

You nod, relief written all over your face as you breathe out, “Okay, okay.”

“Seriously,” he huffs. “Where are you getting these silly ideas from? I would never leave you, especially not over this.”

Kento seems almost offended that you think he’d stoop so low, tapping your nose as he clucks his tongue in disapproval. You just shrug self-consciously, a little flustered by how sincere he’s being.

“Okay, then,” you sigh dramatically, scrubbing away at the last of your tears. “I guess I’ll have to just take one for the team and stay with you forever—since you’re obviously so obsessed with me.”

“Oh yeah?” he murmurs, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “You’re quite generous, entertaining this obsession.”

“Yup,” you confirm, waving a dismissive hand as you continue in a conspiratorial whisper, “It’s your lucky day. I’m running a one-night special where I grant the favors of my fans.” A grin is slowly making its way onto your face, and your smile bleeds into your tone when you tease, “Don’t get too excited though—I know it’s big news.”

Kento has the most lovesick look on his face as he looks down at you, shaking his head in amusement. “Well, I’m certainly one lucky fan.”

And you giggle at that, wrapping your arms around his middle as you snuggle into his hold. “You’re my favorite fan,” you mumble into his shirt, pressing your cheek against his chest to listen to his steady heartbeat.

“Hey, does that mean you have other fans you like?”

—

bonus:

“What are you watching?” You ask, poking your head over Kento’s shoulder to peek at the video he’s watching on his phone.

He jumps up, shutting off the screen immediately, stuttering, “N-nothing, darling.”

You’re unconvinced, reaching for his phone as you squint at him. “Really? You seem awfully jumpy for someone doing ‘nothing,’” you deadpan. Then, you narrow your eyes, accusing, “You better not be watching extra episodes of that kdrama you said you hated without me. I know you secretly love it—it’s okay, you can admit it!”

You’ve got a smug grin on your face and Kento doesn’t even try to fight it as you enter the passcode to his phone (your birthday, of course), accepting defeat and rubbing at his temples as the screen unlocks to the Youtube video he’d been watching. He’d rather endure the teasing than try to wrestle the device away from you and accidentally hurt or scare you in the process.

“‘Helping Someone Who Is Having A Panic Attack,’” you read out loud, glancing up at your boyfriend as your eyes widen, grin slowly fading. You click on his watch history, jaw dropping as you see his recently played videos.

What Is A Panic Attack?

How To Help Your Friend During A Panic Attack

Signs Of Hyperventilation And How To Stop Hyperventilating

Best Breathing Technique To Calm Panic Attacks And Anxiety

What NOT To Say To Someone Who Is Having An Anxiety Attack

“Oh my.. Oh my god. Oh my god, Ken.” Your eyes have welled up with tears. You can’t believe he’s been researching how to help you—you don’t even have words to describe how emotional this makes you feel.

Kento has a sheepish look on his face, a little embarrassed you caught him binging those videos. “Yeah… I uh..” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Just wanted to… yknow…” He shrugs, and it’s pathetic and lame and it makes you love him that much more. “Wanted to make sure I was doing the right thing… Just in case you ever get… scared.. again.” He coughs a little, looking self-conscious. “Not—not that I think it’ll happen again but—”

You cut him off before he can get another word in, practically suffocating him as you wrap him up in a tight hug. Your arms around his neck are squeezing, but Kento doesn’t make any moves to stop you. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head to press a kiss to your cheek as you whisper, “Thank you,” voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

—

if you've made it this far: thank you for reading :) please take care of yourself, and for all of my survivors out there, please know that it's not your fault, never will be your fault, and never has been your fault!! i love you all and i hope everybody has a great rest of their summer :D

[ceeplays]

Favorite Default Replacements & Game Override Mods (Part 1 - Object Overrides)

A compiled list of my favorite default replacement and override mods from the past year, plus a few classics that I just couldn't leave out. This is Part 1/3 of a collection of cc finds.

(More info and download links below the cut). ♥

𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒴𝑒𝒶𝓇! ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

I hope you all had a lovely, restful holiday, and that the bugs in For Rent haven't made you rage quit just yet. •ᴗ• I don't know about you guys, but lately I've been feeling extra grateful for all the stunning creations our modding community has been releasing. So, I figured I'm long overdue for another mod rec list and voila! - here we are.

This time, I'll be linking my favorite default replacement and override mods! While I mostly focused on newer releases, I also tried to add some overrides I don't frequently see mentioned on YT or in rec lists.

The original post got quite lengthy, so Tumblr forced me to divide this list into three (3) separate parts (sorry for the inconvenience!). - Part 2: Food & Kitchen, and World Overrides (here) - Part 3: Electronics & Font Replacements (here)

As always, I hope you find this useful, happy holidays to all who celebrate, & happy simming! ♥

------------------₊˚⊹♡

Object Overrides:

@kirsicca : (1) The Modern Loveseat, (2) The Amaranth Sink, (3) Barely-Used BG Toilets

@surely-sims : (1) Growing Together Treehouse (becomes seasonal), (2) Vanity Make-Up Props, (3) Fire Alarm, (4) No Footprint Sleeping Bags, (5) Invisible Bassinet, (6) Basinet, (7) Booboo Billy Toy, (8) Nesting Blocks

@depthofpixels-cc : (1) Growing Together Treehouse Slide

@cowplant-snacks : (1) Seasons Holiday Tree

@lonvely : (1) Magnolia Promenade Trolley, (2) Toothbrush

@symphonysim : (1) Horse Grooming Tools

@dscombobulate : (1) Boxing Gloves, (2) Toothbrush

@superflare : (1) Infant & Toddler Sippy Cup

@simder-talia-blog (original creator unknown) : (1) Ice Skates

@elflike : (1) Ice Skates

@duplica-imite : (1) Ice Skates

@vroshii : (1) Ping Pong Paddle (becomes tennis racket)

@myxdollyt : (1) Fenty Make-Up Override, (2) Bratz Make-Up Override

@simmerwellpupper : (1) Game Controller (PS5 DualSense Controller)

@largetaytertots : (1) Default Replacement Haul (Lipstick, Pet Carrier, Mop, Pet Leash, Rake, Snow Shovel, Infant Toy, & more!), (2) Laundry Pile, (3) Folded Laundry, (4) Razor, (5) Cleaning Overrides (Sponge & Cleaning Spray)

@vixonspixels : (1) Female Roller Blades, (2) Folded Laundry, (3) Infant Bath Sponge, (4) High School Bus, (5) Restaurant Menu, (6) High School Homework, (7) High School Textbook, (8) University Homework, (9) Pencil, (10) Dog Leash

@bbygyal123 : (1) Infant Carrier

@apricotrush : (1) Scrub Daddy Sponge, (2) Presents, (3) Cleaning Spray

@serkisyan : (1) Playing Cards, (2) Make-Up, (3) Mail Envelopes/Bills, (4) Paint Brush/Easel Pencil, (5) Electric Toothbrush, (6) Charcoal Toothbrush, (7) Infant Bottle, (8) Cleaning Spray #1, (9) Cleaning Spray #2

@channel4sims-cc : (1) Aquarium Fish, (2) Kitchen Sponge, (3) Infant Bath Seat, (4) Infant Rubber Duck

@sims41ife : (1) Totoro Watering Can, (2) Laundry Bag & Pile, (3) Public Phone Booth (includes simlish swatches), (4) Game Controller, (5) Coffee Cup

@awingedllama : (1) Infant Crib, (2) Game Controller, (3) Bassinet

@cecesimsxo : (1) Infant Bottle

@ellcrze : (1) Infant Bottle, (2) Sponge

@bellassims : (1) Mysims Trophies (become squishmallows), (2) Mysims tTophies (become tsum tsum plushies), (3) Mysims Trophies (become disney tsum tsums)

@cocoelleansims : (1) Infant Bottle, (2) Grocery Bag, (3) Plopsy (becomes etsy)

@imfromsixam : (1) Infant Bottle, (2) Infant Rug, (3) Stand Mixer, (4) Invisible Bassinet

@hydrangeachainsaw : (1) Game Controller #1, (2) Game Controller #2, (3) Infant Bath Seat, (4) Infant Bottle (warning - paywalled)

@pixelvibes : (1) Elephant Watering Can (warning - paywalled), (2) Infant Bath Seat (warning - paywalled)

------------------₊˚⊹♡

the end! ♥

[janeyseymour]

Abbott Elementary Masterlist

Melissa:

At Arm's Length: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

Fire In My Heart: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

What Happens At PECSA...: Part 1. Part 2.

Bridge Over Troubled Water: Part 1. Part 2.

Too Late Now

Weeds - Pt 2 of Too Late Now

Good Days, Bad Days

Horsing Around

Warmth: Part 1. Part 2

Enchanted: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Tough Philly Girl: Part 1. Part 2.

Insomniac's Lullaby

Family Dynamics

Camera Shy

Personal and Professional: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Secrets

When There is Love, There is Life: Part 1. Part 2.

Love in the Library

Love Thy Neighbor (FINISHED): Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.

Love Thy Neighbor Oneshots: Ousted. Title Change.

Two Families Become One: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Wont You Be... My Neighbor?: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

Intervention

Sing Me a Melody

Dancing On My Own: Part 1. Part 2.

Lean On Me

Fix This Mess Before You Lose Me

She

Mamma Mia

My Irish Girl

Your Song

Press You (Up Against a Wall)

Relatively Related

Unexpected: Part 1. Part 2.

The Color Green

Just Sex

Stick Season

Landslide

Bruises

Panera's Box

Scrubs

Bare Knuckle Fist Fight

I Wouldn't Tell Anyone

Leaving On a Jetplane

A Lifetime Full of Firsts

[red-flagging]

💛 seb/lewis :-)

(kiss fic prompts!)

a little epilogue to rabbits are chasing :)

Lewis's flight lands at 8:02PM, which means that by 7:31PM, Seb is parked outside the airport arrivals door, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and scanning the sky for approaching planes.

It's quite silly, getting here so early, but it's not as if there's much left to do at home. There's roast vegetables waiting in the oven, the cauliflower steaks that he started marinating earlier this morning chilling in the fridge. Mina and Ellie are safely ensconced in their duck coop with the heater turned on for the night. The sheets on the guest bed are freshly washed.

The car parked behind him starts up. Its headlights illuminate Seb's cabin. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of himself, harried and too-bright, in the rearview mirror. He scrubs his hands down his face. Christ. Get it together, Sebastian. He is a full 39 years old. Far too old to be getting the same jitters that he did the first time he invited a girl over at age 17, agonizing about what album to have playing when they came back to his room. Lewis is far too old for Seb to be doing all this. Lewis might not even be gay.

His phone buzzes. Seb nearly jumps out of his seat.

Lewis

just landed

getting my luggage now

hows it so freaking cold here

The inside of the car is already fogging up. When he'd asked Lewis to send dates he could come visit and Lewis had said just so you know the next few months are kind of crazy for me, Seb had expected late fall, maybe the holidays. Not the middle of slush season, when all the roads up the mountain have a 50/50 chance of being so muddy that they're undriveable.

Sebastian

I'm outside, in the blue Infiniti :)

He glances back up at himself in the mirror. The scab from where a wood chip caught the corner of his eyebrow while he was sanding the new planter box is almost healed over. His hair looks as good as it's ever going to. If Lewis asks whether he's been using conditioner, he's fucked.

It shouldn't feel like this. Seb beat Lewis to Senna's record, and Lewis still laughed at all his jokes the next season. Lewis watched Seb DNF twice in five races and still said in the media pen that he was waiting for the day Seb would be back up on the podium with him. When they inevitably auction off Lewis's Le Mans racesuit, it'll have to be with Seb's snot all over the front of it, because Lewis let Seb sob all over him and then laughed as he wiped sweat off of Seb's cheek with the sleeve. After all that – the fact that he's about to be in Seb's house for the next week shouldn't make Seb feel like he's standing in front of Lewis naked, without even the promise of a fast car or a good competition to distract Lewis from looking right at him.

His phone buzzes again.

Lewis

outside i think

Seb peers through the windscreen. Lewis – or rather, the blurry figure lugging a giant suitcase behind him that he assumes is Lewis – waves at him from the sidewalk. Seb flashes his lights at him twice.

The back door opens and Lewis's head, along with a burst of cold night air, pops in. "Hey," he says, a little breathlessly. "I don't think this is going to fit in the back."

It does, eventually, but not without a fight that involves Seb having to climb into the trunk alongside Lewis's suitcase and physically wrestle it into place while Lewis shoves from behind. They're both out of breath by the time they finally climb back in the front and slam the doors shut.

"You know, there are beds at the farm," Seb points out. "You didn't have to pack your own."

Lewis shakes his head, tugging off his gloves. His coat collar is turned up around his neck. He's wearing an an ear warmer headband, held in place by two butterfly pins. Every other bit of uncovered skin is pink, even with the heat in the car up at full blast. Lewis shoves his fingers in front of the vents and sighs with relief, closing his eyes. "Ugh, thank God," he says. He sounds exhausted. "Listen, you're lucky I fit everything into one." It sounds far less like a joke than Seb would hope. The fact that the fondness in Seb's chest still manages to outweigh the exasperation is probably a sign that Seb's beyond salvation.

"Next time I'll bring a trailer so you can fit your bathtub and toilet, too," he says, reaching for the keys. The engine purrs to life as he flicks the lights back on, then leans forward to scrub the worst of the fog off the windscreen. The thermometer on the dash says it's still 3 degrees outside. They might still be able to make it back before the slush freezes over. "Okay," he says, sitting back down and twisting around to reach for his seatbelt. "Ready to go?"

Lewis doesn't say anything. When Seb looks over, he's staring out the front window, playing with one of his rings.

"Lewis?" Seb asks.

Lewis's head jerks around. "Hm?" he says. "Oh. Yeah." He doesn't move to put on his seatbelt.

Seb frowns. Kills the engine so he can properly turn in his seat. "Lewis," he says. "Is everything –"

Lewis leans across the console and kisses him.

It's barely half a second. Seb still hasn't moved by the time Lewis sits back down on his side of the car.

"Uh," Lewis says, after a second. He clears his throat. "Sorry. I just – Shit. Sorry. The whole way over, all I could think about was – I had to get it over with before I chickened out."

He's fiddling with his rings again, but his eyes stay fixed on Seb's. His jaw is set. He still looks half-ready to bolt through the door behind him, out into the night.

"Well, you don't have to make it sound like taking your medicine, Christ," Seb says hoarsely, and drags Lewis back across the console to kiss him properly.

Lewis's lips are still cold. When Seb opens his mouth, Lewis sighs, pressing in closer with a soft sound that makes Seb want to go twenty years back in time and kick himself for not figuring out how to make Lewis make that noise sooner. His hands settle on Seb's wrists, holding him in place. Seb slides his own hands up, cradling the back of Lewis's head, to return the favor.

When he finally pulls away just far enough to catch his breath, Lewis follows him, close enough that their noses bump. His eyes are wide. This close up, Seb can see the dark circles under them more clearly.

He closes his eyes. Lewis is still there when he opens them.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks.

Lewis blinks. "What," he says. "Are you talking about."

"Sleep deprivation," Seb says. His heart is pounding hard enough that he feels it in his throat. "People start to get delirious when they're tired enough –"

"I was awake for 24 hours and I didn't kiss you at the end," Lewis interrupts, his eyes sharp and bright. "I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Seb opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He tries again. Still nothing.

"Fuck," he says, closing his eyes. "Okay. Okay." He drags himself back upright and reaches for the keys. "We can – tomorrow. But we should – you need to shower. And sleep." Lewis's hand settles on his leg. Seb rests his own on top of it; after a second, he squeezes Lewis's fingers gently. Lewis flips his hand over and laces their fingers together.

"Yeah," Lewis says. His thumb traces over Seb's knuckles. "That – tomorrow sounds good."

The slush crackles under the tires when Seb starts to move. Ahead of them, the headlights carve a path through the darkness. Lewis's hand is a solid, steady weight against his leg. "Okay," Seb says, to himself, to both of them, to no one. Lewis hums softly from his side of the car. He squeezes Seb's knee gently.

Seb closes his eyes for a second. "Okay," he says quietly. "Yeah. Let's go home."

[nyikondlovu]

Chefs Kiss (Sydcarmy) fans stay with me, Chefs!

I’m not taking anything Ayo, Jeremy and Christopher say against sydcarmy, aka Chefs Kiss, seriously.

They purposefully kept Carmen and Sydney as separate as possible this season, which is a big mistake in my opinion.

The show is about the characters and their relationships with each other. Food is a part of it, but it’s mostly the relationship each character has with one another that makes the show.

The writers trying to dispel the rumours by keeping what I would call our male and female leads apart is nuts because Jeremy and Ayo play so well off of each other but by separating them Jeremy gave his weakest acting (which is still very good) during Carmy/Claire scenes?

They keep saying The Bear doesn’t need romance then give Carmen a whole relationship that was so boring to watch for like 7 episodes and felt like watching paint dry because Claire isn’t engaging.

I’m expected to care about her, what she supposedly means to Carmen and hear about how great she is but don’t get to see it? She’s an ER resident for gods sake and she’s running around town giggling every 5 minutes without a semblance of the hard work and exhaustion that comes with being a doctor.

And for the reason stated above, I believe she’s a manic pixie dream girl. She’s there to change Carmen’s view on life, be different and quirky and the one who got away when in reality Carmy forgot who she was and had to be reminded which took him a whole 5 seconds to remember the supposed love of his life, purposefully gives her the wrong number and she says “You’re the Bear, of course I remember.”

No one was gonna take her seriously as the person to keep up with Carmy and help keep him sane.

Meanwhile Sydney does. She anchors him, she keeps up with him and she calls him out on his shit. Sydney isn’t perfect. She’s terrible at stating what she needs at that moment, she slightly short tempered and she is passive aggressive.

She also is working on her impatience and passive aggression. She eventually tells Carmy she needs his attention as her partner. She speaks up for herself to her dad and she’s not letting her ambition be treated like a bad thing anymore.

Carmen and Sydney would make sense because they are flawed. Carmy stops going to group therapy as soon as he starts dating Claire because she’s ‘fixed’ him and they don’t work because of that.

Sydney has ‘levelled up’ in her professional life, she’s more assertive and willing to listen and has just grown as a person and that type of continuous strive for self growth is what Carmen needs to see in order to do the same HIMSELF.

Sydney isn’t there to fix Carmy, she’s someone who he can grow alongside.

Claire was used as a kids bandaid to a gaping wound; the wound being Michael. Claire represents a life where Mikey was alive and Carm’s fucked up family was as whole and happy as it’s gonna be. She represents the past and everyone PUSHED him to want to date her in the past.

There is too much between our two chefs for simply business partners:

S1 shows Carmen scrubbing the floor of the restaurant when in turmoil while Sydney does the same in S2;

She’s spliced into the montage of Carmy and Claire as though she’s a silent part of their relationship;

She has the three dagger heart tattoo which typically represents romantic heartbreak and turbulence;

Carmen remembers her interest in his whites from three months prior even though she didn’t say anything and gets her her own custom whites;

The imagery from their conversation under the table? Him asking her to screw the other side and “say more, please” as he holds up the table (and Sydney) while she finally shares her fears;

“You’re not alone.” “Neither are you.”;

The memories of Sydney being what calms him from his panic attack;

During said panic attack, the song that was Claire and Carmen’s plays in reverse and any flashes of her are accompanied by memories of his dysfunctional family while the moment he thinks of Sydney? The song starts playing correctly. He calms and flashes of his family (and Claire) disappear;

Them constantly cooling an argument with the ‘I’m sorry’ gesture;

Him constantly being in tune with her emotions and body language.

Sydney represents a new beginning. The chance to build a healthy family with the staff of The Bear, Sydney, Natalie and Richie. She represents a future. She represents good change.

I’m fully convinced Ayo and Jeremy are just doing what all actors do with a ship that’s not yet canon: downplaying or dismissing it.

C’mon if you’ve been in The High School Musical The Musical The Series fandom and shipped Rina from the beginning, you know how it feels to be persecuted and gaslit by other fans and the actors for seasons.

TL:DR, Chefs Kiss is literally a super slow burn and no one of the team will confirm it until it actually happens.

Also, never let your girlfriend (Claire) stop you (Carmen) from opening a restaurant with the love of your life (Sydney)

And if you think they should “stay platonic”, ask yourself WHY every swirl ship with a white male lead and black female is hated by fandoms and the argument is “they’re best friends” or “they’re like siblings”. WHY can’t black women be desired? Because you can’t self insert? Check yourself before claiming a character who was so underwhelming I skipped so many scenes is a better match than the character who has seen him at his worst and told him he cannot and will not talk to her like that. The first person he thought to open a restaurant, that means so much to him, with

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3707 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

The water ran hot against your skin as you lathered your body in soap. The bubbles formed quickly from how fast you scrubbed yourself. You didn't like taking showers. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Showers were both simultaneously the best and worst part of your day since returning home from the hospital.

Your fingers barely brushed across your skin, swiping the soap over and back a few times before you washed it off. You didn't like the feel of fingers lingering too long on your skin. Objectively, you were much better than you were before. The first time the nurses tried showering you, you almost screamed the hospital down as flashbacks and phantom touches invaded your brain.

You turned the shower off and stepped out of it. You didn't look in your mirror, immediately reaching for a towel to cover yourself up with. The towel helped you feel less... vulnerable, even if you were all alone.

Only then did you look in the mirror. It had already been one month since you'd left the hospital after being cooped up in there for two weeks. Today actually marked the day you were told you had to leave for the mission - exactly one a year ago. You were now back in your old apartment in DC - Hotch had pulled in a favour from the FBI to keep paying your rent until you came back, and you had almost choked him to death with the strong hug you'd given him when the team had brought you home.

Home.

The word brought a smile to your face. Well, it wasn't so much the word as it was the images that came to mind with it. Your apartment, the BAU, the team, the Italian restaurant downstairs you always used to visit before you left. A certain genius with unruly hair and the brightest smile in the world...

After this weekend, I'll be seeing that smile everyday, you thought as you quickly dried off and rushed to pull some casual shorts and an over-sized gym t-shirt on. Just the thought of being exposed for too long freaked you out.

You walked out to your lounge room where you were greeted with the afternoon light that would no doubt be setting soon. For a moment, you just allowed yourself to take in your street, standing so close to your floor-to-ceiling window that if you leaned forward you would bump your nose against it. The golden light of the setting sun reflected in fragments off the windows of other apartments; people were already home from work and walking the streets with their loved ones or dogs. The hardware store across the road was closing up, but the lights for the Italian restaurant downstairs flickered on, telling the world they were ready for business.

It had been killing you to stay away from work - Hotch and Penelope had made it very clear they didn't want you anywhere near the office until you had taken your month off to recover and readjust back into life. But, in hindsight, you were glad they had. You'd found a new appreciation of where you lived, reacquainted yourself with what you liked to do and liked to eat and liked to go watch at the movies.

This past month had almost wiped Serena Vanderguff from existence... and you couldn't tell if you liked that yet or not.

A sudden knock at your door knitted confusion in your eyebrows as you looked curiously at the entrance to your home. You spared a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. What's someone doing here at quarter-to six on a Friday afternoon?

You softly padded over to the door and peeped through the spyglass that allowed you to see whoever it was that knocked at the door. You couldn't stop your wide smile of delight at who greeted you outside. Without wasting another second, you unlocked the multiple locks on your door and swung the blasted thing open to welcome the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Spence!' you exclaimed. 'What a lovely surprise!'

'Hey!' he replied just as enthusiastically. 'I was on my way home from the office and thought I'd stop by.'

It was only then you noticed he was holding a big and beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers. 'Goodness, Spence, you didn't have to bring me flowers again.' He'd been bringing you flowers once a week every week since you'd been found. Even when you were still in the hospital, those two weeks he had brought you the same flowers, the ones you loved.

He just smiled that adorable smile of his before responding. 'I read somewhere that florals can produce a high level of endorphins and serotonin,' he explained as he offered them out to you, lips still upturned in a crooked, adorable smile. 'And ever since that sewerage pipe break in your building, there's always been a lingering smell that I thought you could use help covering up.'

'That was over a year ago, though!' you argued weakly, but took the flowers from his hands anyways. Your fingers briefly brushed, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. It was gone as quickly as it came.

You gestured for him to come inside and he did. From your front door the kitchen was easily accessible, which is where he walked to and leant against the counter. You quickly closed the door and followed after him, heading straight for your flowers from last week sitting wilted in their vase.

'And in all that time, they still haven't managed to fix it,' Spencer added jokingly, but the upward pull of his lips wasn't as high now.

You heard what he really meant as you pulled out the dead flowers, filled the vase with fresh water, and placed the new flowers in. All that time...

A lot has happened in that time. Upon your release from the hospital, Khan had been put in jail alongside many of his goons. Madame Lacroix and the other New York club managers were found guilty of human trafficking and dealing in illicit drugs and contraband, and were all thrown in jail and their clubs were shut down. Turned out it was a national operation that Khan was running, and other units of the FBI in other states were currently hunting them all down.

What made you happy though was that the girls you saved were going home, and for those that didn't have homes, they were being found homes of their own. The older girls that worked at the clubs were a different story. Some packed up and left town, wanting to travel or find new work elsewhere. The rest bought up the clubs and were rebranding themselves, taking ownership of their lives. Now they were the ones in charge.

You looked at Spencer, leaning casually against your counter, the light of sunset haloing him as it reflected off the opposite building into your apartment.

And a lot still hasn't happened.

'So, what's the occasion?' you asked, turning to face Spencer, finally finished with the flowers. You crossed your arms and couldn't help the soft smile that pulled at you lips. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of the great Dr. Spencer Reid in my apartment this evening?'

He chuckled at my posh delivery, and the loose curls dangling across his forehead bounced with the sound. It had grown in the time since he'd found you, but he'd cut it once or twice since then to keep it at that perfect length of long-short - long enough to style gorgeously but short enough to be considered clean-cut and suitable for work.

The urge to rake your fingers through the curls itched at your fingertips, and you were so glad your hands were crossed under your armpits.

'I was meant to come in earlier this week like I usually do,' he started, pushing off the counter to wander past the kitchen and into the lounge, ultimately ending up looking out the window as you had been just before. 'But the amount of paperwork we've had piling up this month has been ridiculous, even I was starting to hate looking at endless towers of paper to read then sign.'

'Oh no,' I drawled out, following him to the window with a teasing smirk on my lips. 'Has the great Dr. Reid finally met his match?'

'Not quite,' he replied, still staring out the window.

It was hard not to look at him as the sunlight lit up his amber eyes,. He was simply... ethereal.

'I finished it all, finally,' he continued, 'and thought I'd pay you a visit. Seeing as it's Friday and there are no new cases, I'm not expected in the office tomorrow.'

I blew out a low whistle. 'Wow. A whole weekend to yourself? That's unheard of.'

'Yeah.' His voice was breathy, and you noticed the emotion in his gaze shift as he turned away from watching the world to look at you. A sad smile appeared on his lips, eyes glazing over with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. 'I've missed you.'

'You saw me last week,' you countered, like a mother placating a child. 'And we text and call like everyday.'

'I know. It's just like old times again, but...'

He paused, as if gathering his next words carefully. Spencer always thought about his words so that people understood him the best possible way. It was one of the things you positively adored about him.

'The office is, I don't know, empty somehow,' he said finally, slowly. 'I know that's a silly thing to say when Morgan and JJ and Penelope and everyone else is there, but... Your desk still sits there, waiting for you to come back. And I kept it clean for over a year, almost willing you to come back any of those days.'

You smiled softly at him. 'Well, you don't have to wait much longer. Monday morning, bright and early, I'll be at my desk ready to go.'

Your eyes met and you could tell he was holding back tears. Your words came out quiet but true. 'I've missed you too, Spence.'

You had always been attuned to each other, the team sometimes joking that you both shared the same brain cells (even though, as Spencer claimed continuously, that was not anatomically possible). The sentiment remained true as you and him reached out to one another and wrapped your arms tight around each other.

Reflexively, your breath caught in your throat, and you were thrown back to that night where Khan defiled you in the most brutal of ways.

Spencer noticed you tense, and he pulled back slightly. 'Is this okay?" he asked gently. He had been there when you had your meltdown at the nurses; he knew what Khan had done to you, and how you would never be same because of it.

His arms were warm and gentle around you, and that horrible memory disappeared. You were with Spencer. You were safe. You were home.

You took a moment to catch your breath, to stabilise yourself in the present once more, and pulled him in tighter. 'Yes. This is okay.'

After your permission, his arms tightened around you, and there you stayed for a while longer. Just hugging while the rest of the world passed you by. With your ear pressed to his chest, you knew both your hearts were beating in time with one another.

Synced. Linked. Two halves of a whole.

Your heart practically screamed for him when he and the team had found you, saved you. It had been screaming for over a month since that day, and you knew it would never stop screaming for him.

I would've said yes.

Neither of you had said anything about what you'd said, what you had confirmed. Everything had just happened so quickly, and then Spencer had been busy with work since the team was a man down until you returned.

You'd stolen what you could in your brief touches, the laughs you shared, the scent of the flowers that hung in your apartment for a week before he brought a new set. And despite all he had done to get you back, despite that night at the Chateau - What would you have said? - you'd just been too much of a coward to see if he still felt that way for you.

Because nothing had changed for you. It never would.

You had two days before your life would go back to semi-normal, and by then it would be too difficult, too complicated. Oh screw it, it's complicated already.

You pulled apart from Spencer, disentangling yourself from him completely. As much as you wished to hold him forever, you needed to have your space if you had any hope of finally getting the words out.

'Hey, you okay?' he asked, noticing your tensed form, your fidgety fingers.

'Yeah, I just...'

You took in a deep breath, closed your eyes, and let out that breath. Now or never, Y/N.

Opening your eyes, you spoke. 'I just don't think I've ever thanked you for checking in on me. I know how busy you can be.'

'There's no need,' he replied, a soft smile adorning his face. 'I'll always come to your aid. You're... so dear to me, Y/N.'

Hope sparked in your chest, the only driving force for you to keep speaking. 'I mean it. You literally saved my life in the Warehouse. I had resigned myself to my fate: that I would never see you or Pen or Derek or JJ or the rest of the team again. I knew you'd find me, but I had made peace with dying before that point.'

You sucked in a steadying breath as the dark memories started to claw their way back into your brain, into your heart. Phantom fingers ghosted over your skin, causing you cross your arms again in attempt to protect yourself from them.

'And then Khan... used me,' you managed to get out, words strained and voice croaky as tears formed at the rim of your eyelids.

Spencer's expression turned into one of concern. 'You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, Y/N,' he offered, amber eyes scanning me all over for signs that I would breakdown.

I shook my head. 'No. I need to tell you this. I need you to understand.'

'Understand what?'

'That this past month I have had to learn to re-love myself again, to re-love my body and what it did for me that day.' I forced my arms down beside me, opening myself up completely to Spencer. 'It hasn't been easy, and sometimes... I've hated myself, instead. And the scars run deeper than my skin shows and may last for a long time - possibly for the rest of my life.'

You tell yourself to be brave for a moment, and you look directly into Spencer's eyes, which shine with unshed tears and something else you can't quite figure out.

'But you... Dr. Spencer Reid,' you started, tears finally falling from your eyes as the brightest smile spread across your face. 'You have made me believe in hope again. Hope, that I might one day be rid of this hatred for myself and my body. Hope, that I can carry this trauma and still live a full life. Hope, that I can be more than what Walter Khan made of me that night.'

A hysterical chuckle escapes you, and you wipe some of the tears away. There was a silent voice in the back of your head saying how ridiculous you are for crying over this. But that voice was all of hatred, of jealously. It has been the voice you've let dictate your feelings for over a month.

But, today, you were done listening to it.

'Hope, that... you love you me as much as I love you, Spencer.'

There, you said it. Relief bombarded the space where the weight of those words had held a huge place in your heart for the longest time. Since before the mission, before Maeve, before you even knew you were in love with him. It was out there, now. There was no going back.

Spencer remained silent, staring at you like you had three heads. Slight panic coursed coldly through you, and suddenly your mouth was motoring, words just flying out one after the other.

'That's not me asking you to say it back or anything. I just... oh my goodness, screw it. I have been in love with you forever, Spencer, and I just wanted to let you know because you have taken up such a huge part of my heart that will never belong to anyone else, and-'

'You love me?'

You paused at Spencer's question, locking eyes with the boy genius and seeing a mixture of disbelief and that same emotion again, the one you couldn't put a finger on. Perhaps it was terror, and that one thought had your heart sinking like the Titanic.

'Yeah,' you replied quietly.

'...How long?'

'Sorry?'

'How. Long.'

You rubbed at your eyes, suddenly avoiding his gaze by looking simply anywhere else. It was all going so horribly wrong. But he'd asked a question. And you would do anything, answer anything, if he asked.

'I think I've loved you since the day I met you,' you said, and it was only when you'd spoken the words did you realise how cliche you sounded. A humourless laugh escaped you at your misery.

'I didn't realise until a few years later, though,' you continued. 'But by the time I did, I found out you had a secret girlfriend in Maeve and you were just so happy I couldn't possibly ruin what we had because of that. And I never tried after because you were grieving and I didn't want you to think I was rushing you or pushing you too soon. But then you asked me, and I was so happy, but then it all just went downhill from there. Goodness, this is all coming out horribly wrong-'

'Stop talking.'

'Wha- Mph!'

Your question was swallowed by Spencer Reid's lips as he cradled your face in his hands and pulled you to him, pressing his lips passionately against yours. He tasted like Halloween sweets and fresh air, and that just made you close your eyes and melt into him more. The kiss wasn't frantic. Rather, it was sweet and loving and you couldn't get enough of him. Even as you weaved your fingers into his luscious hair and tugged on them gently, eliciting a deep growl of approval and want from deep within him.

As he kissed you, your doubts faded away, leaving only your love for another that could not be any clearer now. As he kissed you, another mental, emotional scare healed and vanished.

You both finally pulled apart, heaving for breath as your noses brushed one another's. When you looked up at his eyes, you finally recognised the mystery emotion that had been burning ever since he'd stepped into your apartment.

A relieved, genuinely happy smile split his lips wide as tears of joy ran down his cheeks. His thumb swept over your own tears, causing you both to chuckle at your silliness.

'If you hadn't guessed already,' he said, his words only for you, 'I love you, too. I know that's an odd thing to say before you even date someone, but I do, and I have for a while even if I didn't know it before. I'm just so so sorry for making you wait, for being an ignorant, stupid coward.'

You brought your hands up to wipe away his own tears, heart immensely full for the man in front of you. 'Dr. Spencer Reid stupid? Now you're just making stuff up. I thought you didn't do that.'

That pulled a laugh from him, and he pulled you into another hug, this time more bone-crushing. As if he couldn't express how much he loved you enough. You hugged him back just as desperately though. It seemed as though you shared the same sentiment.

In another moment of bravery, you spoke over his shoulder where your chin rested. 'You know... my answer still stands. That is, if your offer still stands.'

Dr. Spencer Reid. Are you asking me out on a date right now?

Spencer pulled away from the hug, with the biggest smile on his face. 'It will always stand for you, Y/N. Always.'

What do you say, SSA Y/N L/N? Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?

It was you this time that pressed a bruising kiss on Spencer's lips, the kiss being answer enough for what you had been holding onto for exactly a year.

Sweet, sweet music wafted up from downstairs, the faint sound of a beautiful violin sparking an idea in your head. You forced yourself to pull away from Spencer and said, 'I know a great Italian restaurant that is super close, by the way.'

'Sounds perfect,' Spencer replied, kissing you quickly again before crouch and picking you up by your underarms and twirling your around in the air. Laughter echoed through your apartment as you clung to him but also rejoiced at the feeling of flying. For the first time in over a year, you were finally feeling like yourself again.

Spencer eventually put you down, saying, 'As much as I find you the most beautiful girl in the world, I don't think t-shirt and shorts are going to cut it downstairs.'

'Oh. Right.' You quickly dashed into your room and put on something more suitable.

And finally, one year after being asked out, Spencer held your hand in his and took you downstairs to have your date, where you both had the best night you'd had in a long time. It might've taken a few twists and turns to get to where you both belonged: with each other. But as you ate your pasta, drank your wine, danced with and laughed with and kissed Spencer, you realised it had only made your bond stronger, that it had been worth it.

You'd finally found your way back home.

[hopeintheashes]

My first 9-1-1 fic in over a year! Thank you, season 7. @badthingshappenbingo square: Bloodied Knuckles Read it here or on AO3. More of my BTHB fics here.

"What happened?"

Tommy shakes his head, but doesn't stop Buck from taking his hand. "Turbulence." He moves his other hand up and out, replaying whatever hit his knuckles took to the inside of the cockpit in the storm.

"Shit," Buck murmurs, assessing the damage. There's dried blood in the torn-up skin, like Tommy had washed his hands when he got back on land but all it had done was re-open the wounds.

"Evan." A pause when he doesn't look up, then two fingers under his chin to get him to meet his eyes. (A shivering thrill and a quick pull of breath; always; every time.) "I'm okay."

"If it gets infected you could lose your hand," Buck counters, already leading him over to the kitchen sink.

"That is called spiraling." Tommy lets himself be led; lets Buck turn on the water and lean against the counter to supervise.

"Yeah, I'm good at that."

Tommy hisses quietly when the soap hits the open wound. Buck leans in and kisses his shoulder, and Tommy hums and carefully scrubs until the soap is gone and the dried blood with it, and his knuckles are raw and pink but not bleeding anymore.

Buck's already holding a clean dishtowel, right out of the drawer, and he catches Tommy's hands and gently pats them dry, inspecting them like his eyes might be able to spot any remaining germs.

"Okay," he says, finally satisfied. He motions for Tommy to sit down on a bar stool and goes to get the first aid kit. Carefully wraps the gauze around his hand and tapes it into place. "There. Anywhere else?"

Tommy's other hand meets Buck's waist and draws him in, steady between his knees. "I don't think so. Unless you'd like to check."

Forehead to forehead. Buck breathes him in; closes his eyes. Feels Tommy all around him, steady and strong. "Might be a good idea," he says, and manages not to trip completely over the words.

"Can never be too careful," Tommy agrees, and then Tommy's lips are on his, like that first night but familiar, now. The brush of gauze against his cheek when Tommy brings up his fingers to trace his jaw. "Dinner first?"

An exhale of a laugh; heart beat ticking up; a smile he can't contain. He nods against Tommy and kisses him again. Yeah. "Dinner first."

[moonsharky]

comalandia ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° 911 fox + not so obvious nods to buck's memories

only the not really obvious ones, and i'm sure theres probably some i missed but oh well. image descriptions have explanations too. see the end for honourable mentions

[Image Description:

10 gifs of Evan "Buck" Buckley (and others) from 9-1-1, during his coma dream in season 6 episode 11, with older episodes too.

Gif 1: Buck - in his coma dream - sits on the couch between his brother and their father, beer in hand for all three of them. To the left of the couch is a shelf that holds a lamp, and in front of the lamp is a framed picture of the bar Buck tended in Peru. The picture contains the dark wood bar top encircled by a bunch of colourful barstools.

Gif 2: In Peru, season 4 episode 5, we see Connor talking to an off-screen Buck. Connor leans his elbows on the bar top. Next to him we can slightly see the same bright barstools as in the photo. In the background are tables and chairs that match the vibe. It's not a glaringly obvious nod, but it's definite.

Gif 3: In the lobby of the hospital within the coma dream Buck stands with Hen and Chimney as they try to figure out why it feels like Buck is dying and how he can get back to his life outside. Behind Buck walks two people in traditional South Asian attire; one in a dark blue and silver detailed sari, and the other wearing a head covering, but with an indiscernible outfit because Buck's body stands in the way of view.

Gif 4: In season 1 episode 5, a bride-to-be stands in front of a tall mirror, wearing a bright red sari with gold details, as her friend/bridesmaid helps her prepare for the wedding. We know the last gif is a nod to this specific moment (and not just people in the background) for two reasons; one, because it's an important part of Bobby's story in season 1, and two, because we have never seen Indian people in traditional clothing before or since.

Gif 5: The camera focus is mainly on Bobby, following him as his quickly rushes past Buck in the coma dream, so the background is a blink and miss it situation. A doctor tends to a patient with a high heel shoe embed in their left cheek.

Gif 6: Season 2 episode 6, has Chimney talking to one of the parents of the child beauty queens, who has a high heel shoe stabbed into the left cheek.

Gif 7: In the background of a few shots within Buck's coma journey throughout the hospital, you can see two people in khaki/beige ensembles. They stand as if they're guarding whatever is on the other side of the glass doors behind them. At first inspection, they could easily be passed off as nurses. But looking closer, it seems like no other nurses have worn this colour of scrubs before in the show. Mostly it's blue, sometimes maroon or even pink. But never khaki. This combined with the way they hold themselves, makes me think of the two prisoners that pretend to be guards.

Gif 8: In season 5 episode 6, two prisoners have taken the uniforms of guards in order to blend in and escape. They rummage through the personal belongings of said guards, seeing what they can take. The colour is the exact same as the two from the hospital in Buck's coma dream. And again, the way they stand brings me to think of these two.

Gif 9: Buck and Bobby walk through the hospital, past some open curtains where beds are. They pass a few pregnant people, all in varying degrees of athleisure wear. It appears that they may all be in labour.

Gif 10: Buck and Bobby respond to a call where pregnant parents begin to go into labour one after the other. All wearing clothing comfortable enough to do yoga in.

honourable mentions:

When Buck first awakens within his coma, he looks up at Daniel as Daniel talks, giving the rundown of what happened. In the top left corner, the television is on, a news segment playing. The headline reads "VA HOSPITAL WAIT TIMES." The second line is hard to read, but this is going on the same time that Buck has his first memory, which just so happens to be of Eddie. Eddie, who is an Army Vet. Whom in comalandia fights to keep his son, but doesn't have the right support systems. It feels like this is somehow a little hint to that storyline.

When Buck arrives home in his voma dream to his parents waiting for him, he wears a white shirt with wide spaced grey pinstripe. Much like the one he was wearing when Eddie got shot. It's not the same shirt I don't think, but hugely similar. Also there's a photo on his computer desk, but the image is too pixelated and far away for me to figure out what it is, though it may be another nod to something.

In the hospital waiting room of comalandia, another TV is turned on to the news, black smoke billowing on the footage on screen. I can't make out what the headline says. But it can definitely hint at many different things in the show, as Buck is a firefighter after all.

Christopher shows up in Buck's coma dream, and he wears a three toned horizontally striped tee under a hoodie. The stripes alternate between an almost green shade of blue, a dark blue, and white. Not sure where from, but I swear Chris has worn this shirt before, or even something similar.

/END ID]

[onboardsorasora]

Max putting on a random f1 race because Daniel loves racing and not realizing that it’s from a season Daniel raced in so like maybe end of 2011

And baby Daniel is just like “is that me??” all wide eyed and shocked

Another pair that just proves that we all share the same brain and I love that for us!!!!

De-Aged Daniel | De-Aged Daniel Pt2 | De-Aged Daniel Pt3 | De-Aged Daniel Pt 4 | De- Aged Daniel Pt 5 | De-Aged Daniel Part 6 | De-Aged Daniel Part 7 | De-Aged Daniel Part 8

“Do you want to watch a race?” Max looked over from where he was cutting bits of apples and watermelons into shapes. He remembered how much Luka and Lio enjoyed the snack. 

Little Daniel looked up from where he was colouring at the countertop– Max had worried it was too high but Little Daniel had begged to watch him and pinky promised to be still. So far he had been truthful. “Can we wash one of- of RedBull?” Little Daniel asked sweetly, his big eyes trained on Max’s.

Max bit back his smirk, satisfied that he had officially won the war against Ferrari. Little Daniel hadn’t wanted to take the race suit off and it took calling up Grace to get a promise out of him to wear other clothes. The other clothes in question ended up being versions of RedBull tshirts. Max wasn’t complaining, navy always looked good on Daniel.

“Of course we can.” Max cleaned up his workstation and lifted Little Daniel in his arms. Little Daniel clutched at his colouring supplies and giggled when Max made a show of slowly bending over to grab his fruits. 

They settled in front of the television, Little Daniel munched on his fruits and continued to colour his race car while Max chose a race for them to watch. 

Little Daniel watched rapt as the race started, before running around the living room– zooming and vrooming as he mimicked the cars going around the corners. There was a crash on the screen and Little Daniel gasped before covering his mouth.

“Oh!!!” He looked over at Max in shock, pointing to the chaos on the screen. “Maxy they cwash!”

“They did!” Max gasped exaggeratedly, watching as the marshalls pushed the cars off track. He remembered the race well, remembered how ready he was to get going again.

As Max anticipated, it was simply impossible to keep Little Daniel’s attention on the race for its entirety, so he helped him colour and gave him piggyback rides, pretending to be the RB19 flying past all the other cars on the grid.

Little Daniel giggled loudly, shrieking when Max started to spin after ‘clipping a barrier’. They played until Little Daniel yawned and fell asleep against Max’s side. Max tucked his hair behind his ears and let the commentary continue to wash over him.

Little Daniel awoke slowly, scrubbing at his eyes while he stretched.

“Would you like some water?” Max asked, looking over from his phone. He felt Little Daniel’s face brush his arm as he nodded.

“Yes pwease.” His accent was rounder while his tongue was heavy with sleep. Max made a soft noise before standing from the couch to get the requested water.

He walked back into the living room to see Little Daniel staring intently at the tv. The podium ceremony had started and Max watched as a younger version of himself and an older one of Daniel giggle with each other. He watched Little Daniel’s face to see if there was anything, any recognition.

“Maxy das you!” Little Daniel looked back at him, pointing to the screen excitedly and Young Max collected his P2 trophy. Little Daniel watched quietly as Older Daniel accepted his P1 and lifted it into the air, he bit his little palm.

“Whose that?” Max asked softly, pausing the screen on Older Daniel’s face. He knelt by the couch to be closer to Little Daniel’s eyeline.

“Das.. me?” Little Daniel asked barely looking away from the screen to look at Max who nodded. 

“That’s you.” Max confirmed. Little Daniel watched the screen a little bit longer and Max wondered what was going on in his head, he began twisting his hands together. “You won the race.”

“I won?” Little Daniel’s eyes widened impossibly, his mouth dropped open in shock.

“You were the fastest.” Max nodded, Little Daniel looked over at him in awe.

���I was da fastest.” His lips pulled backwards in a wide grin. “I WAS DA FASTESTS!” Little Daniel started zooming around the room, screaming his vrooming revs. Max grinned happily, there was no greater feeling than this.

[breelandwalker]

Worm Moon - March 7 2023

The world is thawing and spring will soon be sprung. Dust off your garden tools and get ready for the Worm Moon!

Worm Moon

The Worm Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of March in the Northern Hemisphere. The name is taken from the renewed visible presence of earthworms, which begin to bubble up in gardens and on sidewalks as the spring thaw approaches and increased temperatures and rainfall loosen the soil enough for them to emerge. And of course, this is accompanied by the presence of spring harbingers like robins and local songbirds, who are very happy to see this renewed bounty.

The March moon, if it occurs prior to the spring equinox, is also the Lenten Moon, named for the Christian holiday of Lent. Indigenous names for this moon include Goose Moon (Algonquin and Cree), Sugar Moon (Ojibwe), Sap Moon (Shawnee), and Crow Comes Back Moon (Northern Ojibwe).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

Full moons are both the beginning and end of the lunar cycle. With the Worm Moon, we can look forward to the beginning of spring and the yearly harvest cycle. So now is the perfect time for seasonal divination, plans for the coming months, and the setting of goals for the future, both short-term and long-term. You can also check in with goals you may have set back in January and record your progress. (Remember - even a little progress is still progress!)

If you're an observer of astrology, you might be interested to know that Saturn and several other planets are experiencing transitions this month, some of them for the first time in several years. For those who work in celestial spheres, this may herald a long-awaited breath of fresh air and (hopefully) positive changes to come.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

The Worm Moon heralds the imminent start of the planting season. If you've got green fingers, now is the time to begin planning your garden for the season. Prepare your sprouting trays and browse your favorite seed catalog for inspiration.

As the Spring Equinox approaches (March 20th), this is a good time to start putting together any seasonal observances you'd like to make. It's also time for that all-important spring cleaning, so open up those windows on a warm day and air out all the staleness from winter. As you scrub and dust and declutter, you can also magically cleanse your space of stagnant, disruptive, or unwanted things, replacing them with your own energy and your good wishes and goals for the upcoming season.

Consider also how you can change or begin new routines and habits to improve your life, make better choices, streamline your schedule, or just give yourself a much-needed break. If there's something hanging around that no longer serves you, now is the time to consider bidding it adieu and moving forward to a new path.

This is also an excellent time for spells focused on fertility, optimism, and new growth. It's important to remember that fertility spells don't just have to focus on procreation. They can also be geared toward planting, creating, opportunity, inspiration, motivation, prosperity, abundance, and anything that requires nurturing and productivity.

The season of growth and renewal is upon us, so it's time to Ready, Set, GROW!

Happy Worm Moon, witches! 🌕🌱

Further Reading:

Worm Moon: Full Moon for March 2023, The Old Farmer's Almanac

Worm Moon: The Stunning Full Moon of March 2023, The Peculiar Brunette

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison

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