#they raised 3 generations literally

[26dot0148829330268]

beauties of yesilcam

[llondonfog]

foams at the mouth from the thought of briar valley soldier!silver

[wolf-2099]

Has Wolf ever unexpectedly been left on Mayday babysitting duty?

Oh absolutely. And the best part is Wolf has no experience with human babies. He helped raise wolf cubs with his pack but never human children. He doesn't know what to do and children are so grabby. Wolf thinks "oh kids like dogs. I'll just let her play with my wolf form for a bit" not knowing that kids LOVE to grab and pull animals cuz they have no concept of how to play with animals. So now here's this poor dog getting his ears and tail grabbed by a toddler.

He's not BAD with kids. He likes kids. He's just bad with BABIES. Wolf is better with like. Ages 5-12. But he gets better the more Peter B. makes him babysit. Which Wolf keeps telling him to stop doing (he doesnt actually mind)

[cannibaltranssexual]

hi jason! sorry if youve answered this before, but what does aaoc stand for? i love the posts that you tag as such so im curious :]

its my tag for posts that remind me of my wip fic(s) !! i havent 100% settled on what to name the series yet but pretty early on in development i stumbled upon that passage by julian k jarboe (from the book everyone on the moon is essential personnel) that goes

Why does God create grapes and wheat, but not wine and bread? God does this because God wants us to share in the act of creation. To be how you made me, to become how God made me, though you, I can remake myself. You and I: we are already only whole, and shifting towards the divine.

and the author also has a tweet relating this concept to transsexuality and youve probably already seen one or both of these floating around on tumblr already but whatever i just wanted to center my t4t hannigram fic around these quotes cause theyre just. so good.

so yeah it stands for "an act of creation" except it should probably be "#taoc" if i wanted it to match the original quote but i cba to go and change it now which is probably not how placeholder tags are meant to work !! oh well . fic playlist <3

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

i could not give any less of a shit about fallout 4 without dissolving into dust but fallout 3 coulda been so cool so im mad about it

[icewindandboringhorror]

*screenshots the highlights of my youtube to mp3 downloads folder as if it were some fancy aesthetic spotify wrapped image or whatever* 

[oflgtfol]

i really hate to be rewatching this show just to compare it to s3 like truly i just want some wonder and whimsy in my life again as a break from being a hater, but still, rewatching s1 is really just reminding of WHY im disliking s3 so much

so a relatively minor thing about s3 that has nonetheless been irking me is how weird and unnatural and stilted the dialogue is. it just feels so flat and empty. and even the way pedro is voiceacting for din just makes him so monotone and flat - and im not even blaming pedro for like, bad acting or anything, im blaming the direction because the same thing is evident in the written dialogue itself, and obv pedro has been doing fine before this. but overall both the written dialogue and the voiceacting makes din just have like.. no personality whatsoever.

and then contrast it with s1. din really is generally a monotone, minimal words kinda guy, even back in the beginning, but he still had a personality despite that. its the way he said those minimal words that delivered that personality, like theres still the subtle emotion behind everything that really endears you to him and makes the monotone quality like, less of Oh No, Protag Has No Personality, and more of an actual TRAIT of his personality

just listen to this scene! he speaks pretty flatly but its more in a gruff detached way, and he still emotes underneath it which shows his impatience and resignation! he emphasizes words and changes his cadence to stress things, and just overall the way he says “you understand? great.” i dont get this feeling from anything in s3 so far its like din is just Saying Words to keep the show rolling and nothing else, no more subtle characterization and subtle emoting. Sighs

i dont know if im wording this right but just overall the line delivery is so different and so much better in s1 and i cannot believe s3 is so bad so far its got me marveling over the most basic ass shit, like full on writing essays about a random 40 second scene like this

[rowenabean]

Just found my diary from my first week as a doctor 😂 I kept it half as a way of processing and half as a way of remembering what it was like in the theory that I might one day want to share it - and I am deeply glad that I don't have to be brand new any more! I was on call through the first weekend after I started, and at my hospital that meant working 10 days in a row with the two weekend days being 8am-10.30pm. If anyone would like to know what it's like on your first day as a doctor - read on...

(be aware it's kinda long, apparently I had a lot to say)

Day 1:

The first ward round is a chaotic mess. We have two surgeons, one registrar, four new house officers, and one buddy. Even between the five house officers, the ward round goes at such a pace that we can barely find the notes in time to hear the bosses move on to the next patient. All of us are scrambling to find notes, work out which patients are our patients and which belong to someone else, and write down some approximation of a plan. By 8.40am this hot mess has moved through four wards and the ICU (or the approximation of an ICU that is what [redacted hospital] has to offer) and we're sitting down trying to sort out what actually needs to happen in our days. I only have two patients, so I spend most of my time doing jobs for the others, and by 11am I feel like my day is in control, I am used to the power of being a doctor and signing things, and I might have a chance of getting through everything I said I would do.

Then my pager goes off.

In all the haze of the chaotic morning, I had forgotten that we might actually get new patients – that the hospital is actually still open despite our inexperience. My patients neither know nor care that it's my first day as a doctor; they want treatment just the same. So when I get a phone call with a GP referral, I say “of course we want to see them;” and when my consultant calls with another patient coming in (opening with “are you my house officer?”) I say the same. I get to ED and discover the first rule of doctoring: you can never trust your phone call to tell you the truth about how sick people are. The possible appendicitis child is happily sitting on the bed chatting away, and the vaguely unwell adult turns out to be dangerously septic. Sorting them both out takes most of the afternoon, but come 3.45 I have time to head up to the ward to handover, thinking that I might achieve the rare miracle of leaving on time on my first day. Halfway up there I run into one of the other surgical house officers, who first tells me he's just certified the death of one of my patients (not unexpected, but I am a little miffed no one bothered to page me and let me know) and then hands me a bunch of jobs to do.

At least there is this: was mostly able to smile at my patients, to be friendly, to engage and acknowledge and thank the people who helped me, and to help others as I could. In that way I held to my values and to the ways I want to be a doctor today.

Day 2:

More on top of things, more aware, more in control today. One patient went to [redacted major hospital]; the others are mostly fine.

Day 4:

Today was a low potassium kind of day, with prescribing errors abounding. So that's fun. Just coming out feeling slightly less competent as a doctor than when I went in. I don't think anyone's going to die as a result of it, but it has shaken me a tad. Haven't been able to set things down, have definitely carried my work home today.

Surprised by new patients again today. A nurse comes up to me and asks me about Mr X, and I say “definitely not my patient” and then stop and realise that my boss is operating downstairs, and actually this person probably is mine, and although I have never heard anything about him, his problems are mine to solve. It's fairly minor, though – a missed signature on the drug chart – and it's nice to be able to solve a problem at this point.

Day 5: Remarkably stressful day - just lots of jobs. Managed to do all the things, eventually, and left the hospital at 5 - James was going to be around late, but I was shattered and given that I'm coming back tomorrow, was not up for staying late.

Discovered that the possible passionfruit vine is in fact exactly that! Hooray! There are also a couple of stonefruit trees, but I saw them out a window and couldn't figure out which bit of outside the window corresponded to. Have not figured out the hospital layout yet.

Day 6:

I've been secretly dreading this – the arrival of the weekend. About halfway through the week it occurred to me that the weekend is not only two long days in a row – a challenge in itself – but that I am also responsible for all of the jobs and reviews from both orthopaedic and general surgical patients, and any ED calls, both days. By which I mean: there are only two junior doctors covering all inpatient beds, including the 6 bed ICU/CCU, for the whole weekend. The other one's a first year too. [Redacted] Hospital? Registrars? You've got to be kidding. (In fact, two weeks after I do my weekend, they start employing medical registrars as well; but for now, it's just me.) The day starts well, with a speedy orthopaedic ward round, but the general surgery boss on call is notoriously slow at rounding and by the time we get halfway through the patients it's 1200 and I've been paged 5 times to rechart a drug chart that someone missed. He is not my favourite person today.

(Almost signed the end of my diary entry there, after signing things all day)

Day 7:

My first big problem comes at around lunchtime. I've been seeing someone in ED, and am looking forward to lunch next, when I get a call from the ward; my patient, admitted for a fracture, is apparently having a major asthma attack. I head up at speed, and when I get there try to assess him. When I enter the room, he pulls off his nebuliser and starts insulting me and accusing me of not caring; it culminates in him refusing to be treated by me, and me leaving the room almost in tears and fortunately running into the second-year doctor rostered on to help out. He takes over the situation, handling it much more competently than I would have, but fortunately it means there is someone else who can take over with this patient. Most weekends there wouldn't be.

The orthopaedic surgeon has been and gone, but the general surgeon only starts the day at 11.30, for reasons of his own.The cafe at [redacted hospital] closes at 2pm on a weekend, for both lunch and dinner, and by 1.30pm – still on ward round, and anticipating going to theatre afterwards – I admit that that is my main concern. Fortunately, as we review yet another ICU patient (the whole unit belongs to me today) someone volunteers to run off and save me some food. At the same time I get a text from the other first-year on call that he's seeing my child who has been sitting in ED for 2 hours. I call both of them absolute gems, stars, my favourite human beings, and keep rounding. By the end of the round I have an unmanageable list of jobs (including finishing ward round notes on some of the patients – how is the round simultaneously so slow I accumulate 20 calls on my pager, and so fast I can't write notes for some patients? Why does my consultant stop to gossip with ICU nurses while I have jobs waiting? Why is the world against me?) and another patient waiting in ED, and an acute surgery that I'm supposed to be scrubbing in for. The consultant looks at me, and says he will find someone else to do it. I am simultaneously utterly relieved and rather embarrassed that my stress is so obvious to the outside world.

At 1730 my sick patient on the ward is finally stable, just in time for me to get called to theatre for an emergency caesarean. The one good thing about taking this time out of my day is that I get to give my pager to someone else and pretend I'm a student again for an hour. I arrive just as the consultant starts scrubbing, demonstrate my terrible slowness at scrubbing and gowning, but get to the table before the baby comes out. My assistance is the absolute minimum length of time necessary, and as soon as the consultant starts closing up I get to unscrub and hunt down Steve with my pager, and the beautiful man tells me he will go solve my problems while I go get some dinner. I pretend I'm not hiding from the nurses while I eat. I definitely am.

Day 10:

I can feel my compassion trickling out of my ears. The nurse wants me to review my patient's pain. I do not want to review my patient's pain. I would rather sit in the back room and finish abandoned discharge summaries from the weekend. On day 1, all I wanted was reasons to go and have a chat to my patients; it's depressing to realise how much fatigue changes that.

(on day 11, I flew down to my university city for graduation - that's right, there was a small enough gap between medical school and starting as a doctor that I had not even formally graduated yet)

[a-sky-of-diamonds]

This was originally a reblog, but I’m putting it into post form instead so people can see it and any likes don’t go on the original post.

Re Scott ‘cheating’:

...No. Guys, please no. I don't usually engage in discourse, but seriously. Consider the importance and context of the events you're talking about.

Firstly, Scott didn’t try to hide Owen, or pass the Ace Race run off as his own. How is that cheating? And, more importantly terrible consequences will happen if someone else comes second in a single game on his account? Apart from, hey, raising another hundred pounds for charity, like others have already discussed (there was a bet between Scott and Owen that if Owen managed to get top 5, Scott would donate another hundred dollars to the Trevor Project).

Because even if this is about making things 'fair', this MCC is NON-CANON, so the scores will NOT COUNT. It's a charity event, so if anything was the case, raising more money would be more important than winning, right? And it's not even like that got Yellow into Dodgebolt or anything, in which case I'd potentially -- potentially -- be more sympathetic to people who think he shouldn't have done this. But, even if the MCC was canon, MCC is just... a block game tournament. For fun. With no prizes or unlocked opportunities or drastic, life-altering consequences.

I do wonder if these people have actually watched Yellow's POV, or if they just heard something about that, and subconsciously jumping onto the Scott hate train because 1) Owen got a high place, which wasn’t even a certainty when they made the bet, and 2) it's Scott Smajor. Because Shubble and Wilbur did the exact same thing, without the bet I believe, and there's no negative discourse from anyone about that.

And, while we're on the topic of hating on Scott, especially for MCC related actions, please can I take time to remind you that withiut Scott we wouldn’t even *have* MCC? And we wouldn’t have this event raising over a hundred thousand dollars for the Trevor Project, which saves LIVES, and on a much more insignificant scale, we wouldn't have ANY of the teams you were cheering for, whoever those may have been. If you feel angry, sure, you can’t control the emotions you feel. But that anger doesn't have to, and shouldn't, be taken out on others, especially when they already get a lot of unjust hate (for what, exactly?), especially when they're a big force behind ORGANISING the thing you care so much about, and ESPECIALLY when you don't know the *context*.

So please, take time to learn about what you're reflexively criticising, and consider the actual consequences (or lack thereof) of the actions you're condemning -- as well as the harm hating on people like this can bring -- before jumping onto the cancel culture train.

I'm sorry if I was being uncivil, and I'm sorry if I made assumptions that were wrong, for example, that people who are part of this actually did watch the whole of Yellow, and did consider everything Scott's been doing for this event and the LGBTQ+ community as a whole. I also know other people have replied to this post addressing some of the issues I brought up, and thank you very much for that -- I'm just putting this in the form of a reblog because I feel like it's a wider issue with the community that has reared its head before, and needs to be addressed. And, to clarify, this is not a personal attack in any way, so please don’t take it as such, I just don’t support unjustified hate or mobbing online.

So I beg you, everyone, to just *think*.

(I’m really sorry about this whole thing if you see this, Scott. You've done so much and don’t deserve any of the hate whatsoever, I don’t know why it’s always directed at you, but it’s definitely not right. And most of the Tumblr community (I don’t have Twitter) do really appreciate you, we think you’re awesome.)

[enderspawn]

sorry guys its my scheduled weirdo time i need to foam at the mouth abt song lyrics again

[thejinxedblog]

This battle started with:

“Wha—?”

“Get lost! [words I forget]!”

Someone help this poor team rocket go grunt, he doesn’t want to be here

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ i’m afraid that’s just the way the world works (but i think that it could work for you and me)

synopsis. suguru stumbles across two girls that need a home. somehow, one step at a time, you both find yourselves navigating parenthood

word count. 5.4k (sigh...this was supposed to be a drabble)

contents. not canon compliant at all—there are still curses, but it's literally an au where everything turns out happy LMAO, teacher! suguru, husband! suguru, fem! reader, reader is referred to as "wife" and "mommy," hints at child neglect/abuse (nanako and mimiko's backstory), yuji, nobara and megumi are the ones that save nanako and mimiko—the timeline is inaccurate bc the twins are still kids when megumi and co. are teens, single dad! satoru who raised megs and tsumiki (tsumiki is ALIVE and NOT CURSED) <3, it's just fluff tbh, it's overall healing and happy i promise

notes. yeah i am telling u i literally shoved every fix-it fic idea for jjk into one fic okay and u will all nod along and agree with it. this was supposed to be a drabble but i literally just could not shut up so now its a fic

“there are these two girls,” suguru says quietly at dinner one night, pulling you from the comfortable silence. you look up as you swallow, eyeing him as you nod carefully—nothing is ever a normal conversation when your husband is a jujutsu teacher. nothing is ever a normal conversation when you’re capable of jujutsu in general, you’ve learned that well by now.

“okay…” you say slowly, “and are they your students?” 

they must be new, if they are. you know all of suguru’s students; you know them well enough to pick birthday presents and bring what they each like from the bakery. you don’t think you know of these two—they must be new.

“no,” he breathes, “no, they’re too young for that. maybe someday,” he adds hopefully.

“maybe someday,” you agree thoughtfully.

suguru loves teaching. it’s not something he ever saw himself doing—but life is dark at one point, a constant cloud looming over his head as it screams it’s over! your youth is over.

sometimes it hits him all at once—no one was there to protect suguru’s youth, no one was there for satoru’s or nanami’s, and certainly not haibara’s. no one was there to make sure they could be kids, that the sun could still shine and chase the clouds away. 

so suguru becomes a teacher. he’s fond of the kids—and they like him too. geto sensei, they call, geto sensei, look! and then he pauses in the hall, holds back an amused chuckle before turning to face an overly enthusiastic yuji and nobara. megumi is not far behind, that disgruntled look on his face as always, but if you look closely, his eyes are soft and laced with something close to fondness.

geto sensei is a favorite—much more of a favorite than gojo sensei is, to satoru’s utter dismay. you can’t help but watch proudly sometimes, can’t help but watch how much suguru has grown as he interacts with those kids, how much he’s allowed himself to grow, how much he’s let himself try to chase the sun instead of letting the clouds convince him the light no longer exists. 

“they’re five,” suguru continues, poking the soba in front of him as he doesn’t meet your gaze. “the kids found them on a mission. in a cage.”

you know what that means instantly. you look at suguru, watching as his eyes stare numbly at the food in front of him—sometimes, you worry that suguru will once more fall victim to those bone-chilling thoughts he shares with you one night. sometimes you worry he’ll slip and fall once more and you won’t notice this time, won’t reach your fingers and grasp him at the last second. 

but he blinks, looks up and meets your eyes this time, stares into them and searches them for what he needs. he finds it, you think, because there’s light returning to them once more. 

maybe it’s hope, maybe it’s acceptance. maybe it’s neither, and he’s just happy to have you to come back to when the world gets too burdensome. you’re not sure, but you do know you’ll always be there, right where he needs you.

“what happened to them?” you ask gently, “was it their parents?”

“no,” he shakes his head, “the villagers. their parents are dead.”

it’s not new—you’ve seen it before too. children tend to notice their techniques at this age. it’s not new to hear about children with no family history of sorcerers being labeled as some type of other in the family, in the community, or in the village. 

suguru is lucky in that way—his mother and father see him as something special, something worth celebrating, something greater than they could ever hope to be. you meet them once every year, just for a few days. they love you, greeting you with kind smiles and warm hugs, pulling you inside as they get dinner ready. you visit his old room and smile as you rake your fingers over the figures on his desk and the cd’s he used to collect. his mother keeps his room in perfect condition, even after all these years. 

you remind him to call more. sometimes, he tries—just for you, he tries. it’s hard for him, you realize. sometimes suguru is guilty; sometimes, he’s haunted by what he almost did but thankfully didn’t. it’s hard to face his parents ever since, even if they’re blissfully unaware. it’s easier to love them from afar, he thinks. but you insist he calls more, so he does. sometimes hearing his mother’s voice is what he needs, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.

“so…what’ll happen to them?” you ask quietly. 

“they’re at the school for tonight,” he mumbles, “there’s enough bedrooms, anyway. but…”

but they can’t stay there forever, is what he wants to say, you know that. staying at jujutsu high is hardly enough for children so young. they need a proper home, a proper family. you can’t help but stare down at your own bowl of soba. it’s hard to watch children suffer like this. it’s especially hard on suguru—he chose to teach to help those kids, to be there. somethings, however, cannot be fixed by simply being there.

“and then what will happen after?”

“they need a home,” he says quietly, “and…listen, i know we never really…we’ve never discussed something like this. but…maybe for a while, just until something better is decided, we could…”

you know what he’s trying to say before he can even say it—you and suguru have never discussed children. you don’t think you ever really want to, and you’re fairly certain he feels the same. it’s hard to lose haibara when you’re just a young kid, hard to live with the fact that someone so young and hopeful about the world is here one second and then gone the next. you see nanami sometimes—he’s kind to you, greets you politely, and asks how you are. but nothing about him has ever been the same since that day.

will your children meet the same fate? will you have them one second and lose them the next? will you patiently wait for them to come to visit the next chance they get from school, only to get a phone call no parent deserves to hear? they’re common in the jujutsu world. it’s a risk every parent has to take. some are selfish—rightfully so. some don’t care to let their children master their techniques, arguing it’s better to have a child that’s incapable and alive than gifted and dead. what if your children end up like nanami? the one who manages to live but can never accept the fact, not when someone else is dead. how will you be a pillar of strength? how can you tell them it’s okay to live as long as it’s not them who’s dead? how can you help them grieve when you are always grieving yourself?

you don’t think you ever want children, and you think you’re right in your assumption that suguru agrees. 

but those girls need a home, and you know the look on suguru’s face means options are limited—scarily so. you look at him for a while, look at him and see the way he’s got his heart set on these two girls—suguru has lost more than you ever could, and if this is something he thinks he should do, you think it might be worth a chance.

“bring them for dinner tomorrow,” you say finally, bringing soba to your lips, “i’d like to meet them.”

it’s not a straight answer, but it’s a start. suguru nods, smiling gently at you before he continues with his own dinner. it’s silent after that, but it’s not uncomfortable. he still steals your last bite of soba at the end, and you still roll your eyes and let him. you wash the dishes together after that, argue over whose turn it is to rinse and whose turn it is to dry—it’s routine, and you’re grateful you have something to look forward to in this cruel world, something you can count on regularly.

—————

hasaba nanako and hasaba mimiko. 

those are their names. megumi says so when he first brings them to suguru. nanako is blonde, a bit bolder than mimiko, who’s brunette. nanako is older by five minutes, and she likes to remind everyone when she can. mimiko holds nanako’s hand when she’s nervous, and nanako squeezes tightly with a smile. they’re a mellow pair, despite it all. a little distrusting and a little nervous when too many people are in a room at once.

they take a liking to suguru, however. satoru is a bit too loud and boisterous for them, but suguru is kind and soft and gives them gentle head pats when they cooperate and answer his questions. on the way home, he asks them if they’d like something from the bakery.

it leaves them a bit quiet, right until he looks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow as he awaits their answer.

“we’ve never been to one,” nanako answers quietly, the first to speak between the two, as always.

“is that so?” suguru asks gently. they nod, still holding hands.

children of five summers, and they have never picked out a cake for even a birthday—he wonders why that is. they shouldn't have shown signs of having cursed techniques so young, there should be no reason to mistreat them so early on—the conclusion he comes to makes him even unhappier. parents should never have children if they aren’t willing to love them, he thinks bitterly.

“it’s alright,” mimiko says finally, “we don’t need—”

“come on then,” suguru grabs nanako’s free hand, gently pulling them both along the busy streets of tokyo, “my wife’s favorite bakery is around the corner. we’ve tried everything they have by now, so you’ll have to tell us what’s your favorite, yeah?”

it’s nanako who answers again first, nodding slowly before she smiles hopefully. “okay,” she murmurs. 

from the corner of his eyes, suguru notices mimiko gently pull her hand from her sister’s, quickly taking a few steps as she walks across in front of him before promptly finding herself on his other side. her hand reaches for his—it’s slow, a bit unsure, so he grabs it delicately, giving a small squeeze as he grins down at her.

“wait until you try the strawberry cake,” he hums, “that’s my favorite.”

—————

suguru comes home with two small girls on either side of him and more bags than you can count from the bakery just five minutes from your apartment. you blink before rushing over and taking a few bags from his hands.

“did you just buy one of everything or something?” you ask incredulously, staring at all the boxes of goods within the bags. 

he grins that closed-eye smile of his, crinkles forming in the corners as he says, “well, of course,” like it’s the most normal thing ever to buy one of every item in a large bakery in the heart of tokyo. “the girls have never been to a bakery before so i thought we could let them try everything and rank them.”

you look down at the girls, who stare at you nervously as they cling to each other. instantly, as soon as you meet their eyes, you can’t help but drop down to your knees to meet their level as you smile softly. 

“why hello there,” you murmur, ruffling each head gently. they like that—suguru texted you that earlier, that they seem to brighten considerably when he offers them a gentle pat on the head in affection. “what are your names?”

“i’m nanako,” the blonde one answers instantly—suguru is equal parts shocked and equal parts pleased by her new air of confidence. he wonders if she’d be a bright and energetic child right about now, if the world hadn’t crushed her under and forced her to live meekly. “and i’m older by five minutes.”

“hello nanako, the eldest by five minutes,” you answer seriously, nodding as though it’s a crucial fact to her identity, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. and what about you?” 

the brunette clutches her sister’s hand a little tighter—but nanako seems to have deemed you as safe. anyone geto sensei (as the other kids seem to call him) trusts is someone they don’t have to be on guard around. she nudges mimiko gently, encouraging her to tell you her name.

“i’m mimiko,” she says quietly. she seems to be holding a small, pink stuffed toy. it’s seen better days, you think, but a nice wash and a few stitches to the top of its head should have it looking quite a lot better. 

“and hello to you too, mimiko,” you smile, “are you younger by five minutes, then?”

she giggles a little at that before nodding, “i am,” she assures, “but i’m smarter.”

“are not!” nanako says instantly, gasping. you and suguru share a look, amused and fond and relieved all at once.

“what a lovely toy,” you murmur, tracing the eyes with your finger. she droops a little at that—like being reminded of its condition is something that breaks her spirit.

“it’s ripped,” she mumbles, “it wasn’t before.”

“i can fix it,” you offer, “suguru is always ripping his uniforms, but lucky for him, his sweet little wife here is a fixer-upper.”

“really?” she brightens. you nod, chuckling as you ruffle her hair, doing the same to nanako, too, when she eyes you hopefully from the side. 

“that sounds great,” suguru interrupts, “but i believe i have cakes that need to be tried and mouths that are not trying.”

you rise, rolling your eyes and standing next to him, and his hand gently grabs yours. thank you, he squeezes. always, you squeeze back.

“well, come on, girls,” you usher. mimiko grabs your free hand, and suguru grabs nanako’s—you all make your way to the dinner table. it feels oddly natural, you think. “we have desserts to try. the chocolate one will definitely be your favorite, i can feel it.”

“it’ll be strawberry,” suguru says confidently. 

you meet his gaze, grinning at him as he stares at you hopelessly in love. it’s always been enough, you and suguru—it’s always been more than enough with just the two of you. so enough, that you never wanted more. but this is nice too, you think. this is something you could get used to, even if it breaks the routine you’ve learned to love just a bit.

—————

nanako and mimiko stay at your house that night, and somehow, that turns into a week. sometimes, suguru takes them with him to school, just to handle a few things that are still to be taken care of regarding their case. you find you miss three instead of one while you’re home alone for the day. 

they return cheery each time, bags of deserts in hand and a newfound glow in their eyes. mimiko’s toy is much cleaner now, and the small rips have been carefully sewn shut by you from the first night they spend. she clutches it everywhere she goes, hugs it in her sleep too. it’s hopelessly endearing. 

nanako takes a liking to suguru’s phone—he’s a bit too giving with her, you think. she’s managed to figure out his passcode rather quickly, and he lets her get away with it, watching her small fingers work the buttons of whatever game she's downloaded with a gentle look of affection over his features. 

on the days that suguru goes to school alone, the girls are left in your care for the day—you don’t usually have someone to keep you company while you’re at home. you’ve quit being a sorcerer long ago, deciding that it’s not worth the constant back-and-forth tug of war with life and death. 

perhaps it's selfish—people are dying every day, and you sit and let it happen, but you can’t help it. it’s too much, sometimes. suguru has always supported it, though, has always murmured that you’re doing the right thing and that sorcerers deserve quiet, peaceful lives, too, if they wish. so you do just that, stay home and learn a new dish or two through the day, watch a few shitty sitcoms on the television, leave and do some grocery shopping for the week, and return home to your quiet little apartment (as quiet as an apartment can get in tokyo, that is) and wait for your husband to come home. 

suguru comes home by seven pm every day and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead as he says, hello, wife, to which you giggle and murmur, hi there, husband. you have dinner after that and share details about your days with each other. yuji and nobara are arguing again, suguru will tell you sometimes, i think nobara will cave and talk first this time, though. i brought fresh strawberries from the season’s harvest, you murmur behind a glass of water to your lips, got them just for you, sugu.

it’s been a routine like that ever since your marriage. you marry suguru quietly when you barely turn twenty, just a room full of the few people you dare let yourself love and the two of you as you sign the papers and share a kiss. there’s an extravagant meal waiting for you after, though, courtesy of gojo satoru, a man with more money than he could hope to use on himself. satoru is happy that day—happier than you’ve ever seen him in a long, long while. he takes his bandages off, sits and watches everything, and takes it all in even if it’ll bite him back in the ass later with a long, pounding migraine. 

today, however, is a saturday—school is out, and anyone who doesn’t have a mission is free to have the day to themselves. suguru hasn’t taken a large mission in ages, years, even. he accepts small ones here and there, and if it really calls for it, he joins a tough one with his students—but it’s for their sake more than anything. but the big ones are too much for him to handle regularly anymore. the higher-ups aren’t happy—special-grade sorcerers are hard to come by, and it’s unfair that the lower-grade ones are busting their necks out there more than he is. but suguru deserves a semblance of control over his well-being, and with satoru on his side, there isn’t much of anything the higher-ups can really do.

he sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone as you click the remote, finding something to watch. 

“you know, we should really talk about this,” suguru mumbles from the side. it’s early, still. barely eight am, and the girls are still sleeping. they’ll be up soon—and with that, will be gone any moment for you and suguru to share a private moment.

they didn’t warn you about that part of kids—you knew it was a busy job, watching over them, but you figured leaving them to play for a bit would grant you some peace. you and suguru quickly learn that children, no matter how well-behaved and disciplined, always need a watchful eye on them. 

“talk about what?” you yawn, “it’s too early for you to speak in codes.”

“the girls,” he says, unimpressed. oh. right.

“what about them?” you say, dancing around the edge of the real issue. he sees right through you—you know he will. still, you’re petulant enough to try and dodge the topic anyway.

“it’s been a week,” he says seriously, “those kids think this is their new home. it’s cruel to make them think that any longer if we don’t…”

keep them. let them stay. let them become a part of this home and, by extension, this family that has always just been you and suguru. raise them. take them in. take responsibility over them. love them. 

can you love? like that, at least? are you meant to be a mother? you’re too selfish, you think—you couldn’t even stay fighting curses for long, too weak to care about those who need you, and too focused on needing yourself. can you handle two children? if you do this, you can’t do anything else but do it right—it’s what they deserve. but you don’t know if you can give them what they deserve.

but there aren’t many better options either, you remind yourself. 

suguru seems to know what you’re thinking because he murmurs, “i think it’s easier to raise children than be a sorcerer,” he says quietly. 

you raise an eyebrow skeptically. “you can walk away from being a sorcerer, suguru. being a parent is for life.”

“being a parent means you get to love,” he reasons, “unconditionally. without regrets. without a contract, you know? loving a sorcerer is just betting how long someone has left to live, at the end of the day.”

“how morbid of you,” you snort.

“they’re good kids,” he says quietly, “great, even.”

“they’re lovely,” you agree. and then, quieter this time, “i…i would miss them. more than i care to admit.”

“me too,” he nods. 

your head falls to his chest, and he presses a kiss to your head, wrapping his arms around you. suguru has always loved you—when the world was not worth loving, and the people were not worth saving, suguru had loved you. he still does. and the way you love him is enough to make all of those things change. the world has a little more hope, and the people are a little less ugly when you’re there to prove not everything is bad. that even where the bad exists, the good can follow. as long as he has you, suguru is complete—but he thinks more is not always so bad.

“suguru?” you ask gently. he hums, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he squeezes your hand, “we won’t force them,” you say firmly, “to do anything. they should exist as themselves if they want to. cursed techniques or not.”

he smiles. you don’t see it, and you don’t have to. you know it’s that deep, eye-crinkling smile that’s heartfelt and real. 

“no, we won’t force them,” he agrees, “they’re perfect as is.”

—————

the girls are given the option to each get the two spare rooms you and suguru have in your apartment. that leaves ultimately no guest room, but you think they deserve to have their own space and be their own people after everything. but, as you and he had expected, they choose to share a room and stay together.

you’ll never forget the looks on their faces when they realize they’re staying here permanently, the look of pure excitement and the slightest hints of shock—you never realized how fulfilling it could be to make two children smile like that. 

“we can’t paint the walls,” you hum, “we don’t own this place. but we can still decorate,” you offer. 

they don’t seem all that disappointed about not being able to paint their walls—instead, they’re too excited about their beds, giggling as they jump on the mattress. suguru wants to tell them that jumping on mattresses is bad for the springs, but you stop him—they deserve to be kids for a bit. after that, you’ll teach them. but for now, they deserve to just be kids.

“can we get lights?” nanako asks—now that you and suguru are guardians to two children (parents seems…a bit too overwhelming to use right now), spontaneous dates don’t happen one on one anymore. evidently, it’s hard to find babysitters on the spot, and leaving them home alone is not an option, so you decide to simply bring them along on your weekly sunday afternoon cafe visit. nanako takes a liking to the lights on the walls, and mimiko eats three slices of cake. 

you can’t wait to bring them next week, too. 

“you sure can,” suguru hums, chuckling. 

“and a mirror?”

“of course,” you nod, “you’ll certainly need one to make sure the beauty sleep works.”

nanako giggles, flopping onto the bed, and mimiko sits not long after, still hugging that toy to her chest as she looks around the room in wonder. they’ve been sleeping in it for over a week now, but now that they can officially call it their own, they seem to be much more attached.

“i want pink sheets,” nanako hums.

“i want blue,” mimiko mumbles, looking at you shyly. 

“well,” suguru murmurs so that only you can hear, “maybe we can get them two beds. smaller one—they’ll fit on either side.”

“and what do we do with this one, then?” you raise a brow.

“we…sell it?”

“suguru, are you trying to drain every last bit of our savings?”

“we have plenty,” he chuckles, “we don’t ever do anything.” 

that much is true—you and suguru hardly leave tokyo let alone japan, and though you let yourselves splurge on nice things, there isn’t much to spend on between two people. but the last few days have really put into perspective how…expensive raising children can be. clothing and school supplies (they’ll attend a normal school) and room decor and snacks, and anything else children require to be children is quite denting to bank accounts. 

but you and suguru can’t say you mind—and if nanako and mimiko want pink and blue sheets, well…you think you can make that happen.

“i think we’re spoiling them,” you mumble, “should we be doing that?”

he wraps an arm around you and pulls you against his chest as his nose presses to the top of your head when he kisses it. he’s warm, just like he always is—maybe warmer now, in fact. 

“nah,” he grins, “i think we’re doing great.”

—————

the girls take their time to warm up to satoru, but when they finally do, he seems to be a favorite. satoru is very proud of this fact—he’s not a lot of children’s favorite…well, maybe yuji’s perhaps, but you don’t think yuji has a single bone in his body that could really dislike anyone. or rank them, to be quite honest—you don’t think he prefers satoru or suguru over the other.

“oh, kids,” satoru calls, stepping into your apartment and letting himself in. you and suguru are in the middle of making dinner, looking back in shock from the kitchen as satoru waves enthusiastically at you both.

“satoru, how did you even get in?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. he grins, practically giggling as he points to your husband.

“suguru gave me a key.”

“what?” suguru sputters, “no, i didn’t!”

“you let me borrow them,” satoru concedes—that’s still not even anywhere near the truth.

“i left them at your place and kindly asked you to bring them to me at work the next day,” suguru corrects, crossing his arms and looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“yes, and i did what you should have done a long time ago and made myself a copy,” satoru huffs, “i’m the best friend! i deserve a key—”

“gojo sensei!” the girls call. 

as most kids do, they pick up what they hear around them. everyone seems to refer to satoru and suguru as gojo sensei and geto sensei. they’re not students, but nanako and mimiko both pick up on the habit too—and it’s helplessly adorable, you can’t deny.

sometimes, you want to correct them, but they seem excited to see satoru, so you let the moment pass.

“there they are!” satoru beams, taking his blindfold off and crouching down to meet them in the eye—nanako and mimiko seem to find satoru infinitely more approachable when his eyes are out and easy to look into. you can’t imagine why—he looks like a creep. “i brought dessert! because what’s life without something sweet, right? are these two feeding you girls the sugar you need to grow into tall, healthy young women?”

“this is why you should never be allowed near children,” you say flatly. 

satoru looks at you with a pointed look, “i practically raised megumi and tsumiki, y’know. saving young siblings and giving them a nice home life is old news, i already did that. be more original, please.”

what a jackass—you scowl at him, throwing the wooden spoon in your hand at his head and watching as it doesn’t even touch him and falls to the floor. curse his infinity.

“okay, now,” suguru chuckles, “i don’t want to spend the evening looking after four children instead of two—”

“geto sensei! thanks for having us over for dinner,” yuji interrupts, stepping through the door that satoru took such great care not to close, “fushiguro was a bit of a hassle to convince, though.”

suguru throws a sharp glare at satoru as soon as three of their students step into your home—you’re going to have to forget the dinner you’re making and order takeout, you think. satoru will pay.

“this is why you didn’t get a key,” suguru hisses, “because then you act like you own the place.”

“i wanted a family gathering,” satoru gasps, “tsumiki is coming too! wait for her.”

despite the way suguru grabs satoru’s hair—and satoru, for some reason, turns off his infinity and lets him—you notice the corners of your husband’s mouth twitching into a gentle smile, and you know he’s thinking the same thing as you. family—nanako and mimiko are here, and so are yuji, and nobara, and megumi, and satoru (the biggest headache), and soon, tsumiki too. 

family—yes, this is family, you think.

—————

“daddy, i’m hungry,” mimiko tugs on suguru’s sleeve.

“i know, pumpkin, just give me a second and—”

“daddy, look! i beat the high score on my game and—”

“daddy is looking, sweetie, just give me one minute, nanako, yeah? daddy will look and—”

“wow,” satoru chuckles, grinning amused, “you’re really worn thin.”

“satoru,” suguru grumbles, “if you’re not going to help, then please leave.”

nanako and mimiko are seven now. in two years, their personalities have really blossomed—something which you and suguru are very grateful for. the world should not crush children so young that they don’t get to be the children they are meant to be. you and suguru take great care to make sure they know they can be kids. 

and they are—they whine about bedtime and pick at their vegetables and point at everything in the store and plead for something new. they’re children—your children, and you can’t help but love them unconditionally so.

“well, welcome to fatherhood,” suguru snaps, trying his best to make lunch and entertain the two girls waiting for his attention. 

suguru is a good father—a gentle one, in fact. he comes home every day from work and grins, asking in that smooth voice of his, where are my ladies? and just like that, you and your two girls meet him with excited grins. you peck his lips before he crouches down and pulls two small bodies against his chest, letting their tiny arms wrap around his neck as he hoists them up.

it’s a perfect little routine, one you cherish greatly. but the girls are getting older, and soon, they’ll be too heavy to carry like this. it makes you a little sad to think about—but if there’s one thing you’ve learned, breaking routine isn’t always so bad. soon there will be a new one, and when you outgrow that, another new one, and so on.

what won’t ever change is the way you love suguru, and he loves you, and you both love your daughters, and they love you both too. 

“daddy,” nanako calls, “where’s mommy?”

“at the store, nanako,” he says patiently, sighing. this is the fifth time she’s asked.

“when will she be back?”

“soon, nanako,” he smiles assuringly, “at least, i hope so,” he adds quietly, under his breath.

satoru hears, though—and he cackles, heinously loud, too, as he watches the scene unfold in amusement. but satoru is suguru’s best friend, and yours too. and the girls love him. he’s family—and so are their students. 

it’s nice, suguru thinks, it’s nice to have something worth smiling for.

“i’m home!” you call, “is satoru here? because the door was unlocked—”

“mommy!” the girls call, cutting you off with the pitter-patter of small, excited little feet hitting the ground and greeting you. 

“why hello,” you gasp excitedly, laughing as they tackle you in a hug.

you and suguru share a smile as he looks back—family, it’s what you’ve both built here. it’s slow at first, and sometimes it wasn’t easy. at one point, it was just the two of you, just you and suguru, and that was okay. you didn’t think you would ever be capable of letting it be more—but it’s nice when it grows, you think. maybe one day, you can dare to hope to grow it some more.

the scene were they got 2 beds—that was me and my sister when we first moved into our weeeee lil apartment back when i was in middle school !! we were bummed bc we couldn't paint the walls but our parents let us have 2 beds so we could pick our sheets !! it was a fond memory LOL but now i DO have a room where i painted the color except i HATE the color now bc i was still in middle school when we moved into our house and got to pick colors and middle school me and adult me are soooo different so now i have a teal bedroom that haunts me

[shunsuiken]

HOW THE GENSHIN MEN ASK FOR YOUR ATTENTION

pairing(s). kaeya, diluc, zhongli, childe, kazuha, thoma, ayato, alhaitham, cyno x gn!reader

genre. fluff (the boys are clingy <3) + they are all so in love with u god wtf get a room pls + minor spoilers for ayato’s story quest kinda (saying this just in case but idt it spoils that much) 

wc. 300-500 words for each character 

an. i literally forgot this piece existed… last time i edited it was 2021 can u believe omg 💀 (i unearthed this thing two months ago or sth) originally it was dckz + ayato, kazuha and thoma but now i’ve added alhaitham and cyno too + also it is SO SO canon that kaeya calls reader snowflake yup yup! also zhongli is so clingy here dear god oh to have this man yearn for my attention <//3

kaeya alberich

kaeya had been sitting in his seat for far too long (it’s really only been a minute) and decided that he needed some fresh air. being captain of the knights of favonius really took so much time out of his beautiful day. he sighed and easily reattached his fur cape onto his collar with one hand before he began to seek you.

he strode down the streets of mond, greeting the locals with his charming smile. but there was still no sign of you yet! perhaps if he took one more round in the city centre he’d find you…

“i think that’s it for me, thanks blanche!” you were about to take your bag of goods from the counter when you felt two arms snake around your waist. “huh—”

you turned around confused until you saw who it was, a relieved sigh then leaving your lips.

“hello snowflake,” he greeted you with a smile reserved only for you.

“kaeya, hi.” your face brightened at the sight of your lover, hands resting on his biceps. “what are you doing here?” you could feel his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, a habit you noticed he did every time his hands were on you.

he made a melodramatic sigh, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “my love, i’ve been looking for you everywhere.” he felt himself recharging with every second you were with him. “my day is beautiful again now that i’m with you, what are you doing here anyway?”

“i was buying things for… dinner,” you said the last part quietly, cheeks warming because you’ve never really cooked for kaeya before but the idea happened to cross your mind earlier in the afternoon, hence why he found you at the general goods shop. “wanna join me?”

“for dinner?” kaeya removed himself from your neck, raising a brow. “are you going to cook for us both?” he asked, tone ending in a teasing lilt. his voice made your knees melt.

you purse your lips in an embarrassed manner, nodding your head. “if you’re free after—”

“now, now—” kaeya shook his head, swiftly taking your bag of goods from the counter before snaking his free arm around your waist again. “—you know i always have time for you, snowflake.”

diluc ragnvindr

you were by the couch in front of a fire, reading through a book that’s caught your attention for the past hour. it was usually around this time that you would visit diluc in his office to ask for cuddles but… you never came.

thus diluc made the courageous decision to seek your attention. he made his way out of his office and down the staircase, spotting your figure sitting on the couch. your nose was so far up the pages in your book that you didn’t even hear his footsteps.

“have you had dinner yet, my dear?” your eyes snapped away from the book, revealing your face and warm cheeks to diluc. you shut your book softly, not forgetting to bookmark the page you left off.

“i haven’t, i was so caught up in my book i didn’t realise,” you said, naturally not realising what diluc was here for. he was a tad bit unimpressed with how you forgot to visit him; he was expectantly waiting for your cuddles, staring at his office door and focusing on the sounds outside to identify which footsteps were yours. but none of them were.

“was it the book you bought from our journey in liyue?” diluc inquired, casually plopping his head on your lap. his messy ponytail became even messier but that was fine, he knew you would offer to redo it for him later.

your fingers acted on their own as they gently carded through his soft crimson locks. “it was,” you replied in a whisper. then his eyes suddenly locked with yours and it startled you so you had to ask what was wrong.

“is that why you didn’t visit my office for the past three hours?” he deadpanned at you, jokingly of course. when the man discovered that you had grown fond of this reaction, he couldn’t help but make the face more often.

you laughed and the corners of diluc’s lips tugged upwards in a smile. but what caught him off guard as he was lovingly gazing up at you was when you began pinching his cheeks.

“your expressions are so cute, if only everyone else could see them.” diluc tried to conceal his blush, clearly working to no avail because you seemed to laugh louder as he averted his gaze elsewhere.

“i won’t forget to visit you next time.” you leaned down to plant a kiss on his forehead, grinning in satisfaction when diluc’s cheeks completely camouflaged with his hair.

zhongli

zhongli was in need of something from you. as he sat in his usual spot at third-round knockout, his head could not stop turning about, perking up to the slightest calls from one person to another. where were you? he normally saw you running around this area at this time.

but of course! on the day zhongli needed something from you, you coincidentally weren’t around. if the adeptus had learnt anything during his time on teyvat, it was that the world really knew how to test one's patience. he sighed inwardly, about to revert his attention back to iron tongue tian until he saw the figure of your head amongst the crowd of people walking around.

the poor adeptus almost spit out the tea he was supposed to swallow, and after apologising to nobody for his poor etiquette, he stood up and rushed over to you.

“y/n! y/n, hello,” zhongli greeted you warmly with that smile on his face that made him look like a happy puppy that found his owner.

your expression softened at the familiar call of your name, knowing immediately who the voice belonged to. grinning, you thought it was adorable. which made you reciprocate his energy.

“my dear, the look on your face is making me believe you’ve done something audacious.” you raised a brow, looking at him up and down suspiciously.

zhongli’s heart churned, this was it! the look that did something to his poor heart made him unable to contain the expression that crept up to his face. he was waiting the whole day for you! and now that you’re here giving him what he wanted, he just couldn’t quell the excitement surging through his veins.

was he blushing? was he just hot from the weather? whatever the look on his face was, you were still absolutely stunned. never in your time with zhongli had he made a face like this before. 

you quite liked it.

“hm…” you tilted your head, looping your arm with zhongli’s. he heard the playful tone in your voice and he was living for it. “it seems that mr zhongli of the wangsheng funeral parlour is in need of some entertainment. might i borrow you this afternoon, dearest?”

zhongli nodded his head (with such enthusiasm too, there were practically stars in his eyes!). his smile was accompanied by the light blush dusted across his cheeks, arm tingling when it came in contact with yours. “of course dear, my time is yours.”

childe

you were by wanmin restaurant, chatting it up with xiangling about her newest dish you were just obsessed with. you wanted to order it again for takeaway but those incoming footsteps from behind you were quite concerning. so you turned around in curiosity because why is someone running to you at such speed?

“my looove!” oh.

you chuckled, opening your arms to accept childe into your embrace. “now what are you doing here?” you greeted as he nuzzled his face into your neck, feeling him softly exhale on your skin while his arms wrapped snugly around your waist.

“i’m not allowed to come see you when i want to? that’s so unfair of you.” childe pouted, removing himself from your neck.

“thought you’d be out ‘til the evening so i wasn’t expecting you,” you reply, briefly combing his hair down from its usual wildness. “oh! have you returned from a spar?” you bid xiangling a goodbye before heading out with ajax.

“i have! and…” the bright look on his face quickly dissipated when he showed you his upper arm after rolling up a bit of his sleeve. “i got just a little carried away in the process.” ajax looked at you with his blue eyes that feigned pain. “fix me up?” he suggested meekly.

who were you to say no to that? of course you would help your lover patch up his wounds. so after walking over to your home, you sat ajax on a chair and told him to stay put to which he replied with an animated nod of the head.

you returned with a first aid kit, quickly dabbing alcohol on his cut before bandaging him up. normally ajax never came to you with any wounds after sparring so this was a little unusual—but he was human. he would get hurt.

while you were in your little bubble of thoughts, childe was practically vibrating in his seat. the toothy grin on his face brighter than the sun that shone upon liyue, he finally had you all to himself now! and you were patching him up, these results were much better than he could’ve imagined. he’s always wished of being aided by you, since your touch was so gentle and warm.

he leaned into you, placing his forehead on your shoulder. and like a kitten he nuzzled his face into your neck. “missed you,” he mumbled, although muffled you understood what he said. pulling him further into your embrace, you let your warmth surround him. “missed you too.”

kaedehara kazuha

kazuha sits idly by a tree in liyue, whistling softly to greet the sight of the serene horizon. the sun rises gradually and soon, so will you. he lets the leaf he was playing with fly with the morning breeze, getting up to greet you a good morning.

kazuha knows just how far the sun has to hover above the horizon to know when you begin stirring out of your slumber. he enters the inn and takes the staircase to your room you booked, opening the door to find you stretching on the bed.

“good morning, my love.” his sweet voice makes your head snap upwards, your expression brightening at his presence. “morning, kazu.” you open your arms, inviting him in for a hug and he plays right into your little trap when you pull his body on top of yours.

kazuha yelps in surprise, face smacking into your pillow as he’s slotted right beside your face. he lifts his head up, shaking his head slightly in fondness. his baby hairs tickle your cheek. “you’ve just woken up but you already have the energy to play tricks like this.”

you snake your arms around his waist, pulling him flat against your body. “that’s what makes life fun, kazu.” you nuzzle your face into his warm neck. “but i might have to cut this moment short, boss needs me at the restaurant.”

what. kazuha blinks owlishly at nothing in particular. what do you mean your boss needs you at work right now? no. nope! kazuha doesn’t like the turn of events. he swears today is your day off!

“i thought you had the day off?” he raises a brow at you, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“i was supposed to but boss came over last night when you went to buy us dinner and practically begged on her knees for me to go to work.” your voice is laced with amusement as you remember the look on your boss’ face. “apparently two other employees had last minute plans they couldn’t cancel.” you remove your hands from his waist to place them on his cheeks.

kazuha doesn’t normally make such expressions so when your eyes land on his face, you can’t help but coo. “well we may stop by for some breakfast before i leave.”

his expression doesn’t improve.

you purse your lips. you’re trying your absolute hardest to contain your laughter. “i’ll ask boss to give me another day off? so i’ll have two days off to spend with you.”

kazuha shakes your hands off his cheeks so he can nuzzle his face into the juncture of your neck. “your boss should learn to keep her promises.”

thoma

“y/n! would you like me to make those pastries from yesterday?” thoma’s face pops up from behind the book you’re reading. you smile and put the book down momentarily.

“that would be love—”

“oh oh! what about those cakes from two days ago? i recall you saying that it was delicious for afternoon tea or i could make you—”

you stifle a laugh. to be honest, it has been a while since you two met up due to your busy schedules so his hyper attitude right now is understandable. but you don’t think you can have a proper conversation like this so you decide to mess with him. pulling a business smile on your face, you say, “good afternoon, commissioner.”

“h- huh?! good afternoon, my lord—” but when thoma lifts his head to greet his lord, he isn’t there. his brows furrow, whipping his head around to see the mischievous look on your face.

“y/n! that wasn’t funny.” he blushes at your teasing, pouting unintentionally in response.

you chuckle, raising your fingers to pinch both of his cheeks. “you can be so naive around me. it's adorable, thoma.”

the use of his name makes him gulp embarrassingly loud. in his kneeling position, he holds onto your wrists that now cup his warm cheeks. “i- i was just wondering if you wanted any cakes! my lord said i’m free for the rest of the afternoon so i thought—” thoma exhales shakily from your intense gaze before continuing, “—i thought i would be of service to you today.” he ends his sentence with a smile, bringing his gaze to meet yours.

your heart pounds in your ears. maintaining composure around your beloved one soon became difficult after time passed. but you learnt that letting your walls down for him was worth it.

“then let’s make those cakes together. didn’t you say you would help me improve my baking skills?” you take his hand from your wrist to guide both of you on your feet.

he nods his head like an obedient puppy. “i did!”

“then let’s head to my kitchen.”

kamisato ayato

it is rare for kamisato ayato to leave the main office. oftentimes he is drowned under paperwork that needs him to provide his official signature or input for upcoming events. however, ever since you came around, even the commissioner’s most capable retainer finds himself at a loss when in search of his lord.

the only reason ayato even leaves his office is because he hears the echo of your voice entering the estate after your afternoon walk around the city with your ladies in waiting. with swift movement, ayato relocates his work from his office into yours.

when you slide the shoji open, you flinch at the sight of the figure who’s been awaiting your arrival for the past hour (ayato’s distracted himself by busying his mind with official documents). 

“welcome home, darling,” ayato greets you while his gloved fingers continue to sign pages with his brush, ink gliding over the documents smoothly.

heat rises to your face at the pet name. you promptly dismiss your ladies in waiting before they can see the expression on your face, maintaining it to the best of your abilities until they are gone.

“have you been here this whole time?” you slide the shoji shut behind you.

ayato raises his gaze from the document to flash you a smile. “yes i have.”

unfortunately for him, you don’t miss the cheeky glint in his eye. sitting down beside him, you scold him jokingly with a pointed finger. “tsk, you’re lying. i just saw thoma bring out your tea set from your office.”

“oh.” the single syllable word is emphasised by his lips that form an ‘o’ shape.

you don’t realise you’re holding in a laugh until it bursts out of you at the sight of him acting like this. ayato’s posture relaxes as your laughter fills your office. he puts his brush down to pull you closer to him so he can lay his forehead on your shoulder while an arm wraps around your waist.

“did you happen to bump into someone on your afternoon walk?” ayato’s eyes flutter shut, fatigue finally hitting him when your warm palm rises to caress his cheek.

strands of his hair tickle your chin as you reply, “yes, i met lady hiiragi near uyuu restaurant. she said she was waiting for one of her retainers.”

“you mean you spotted lady hiiragi on a secret outing with sir kujou.” ayato doesn’t fail to correct you, the corner of his lip rising in amusement.

you gasp knowingly, patting your lips to correct your words. “indeed that is what i saw.” you nod with a smile. “no wonder she was wearing such an atrocious looking kimono and styled her hair… like that. she was disguising herself.”

ayato lifts his head to meet your gaze and jokes, “i can only imagine what sir kujou was wearing.” 

your eye twitches, a grimace appearing on your expression. “i’d rather not.”

the yashiro commissioner can only chuckle at your reaction. ah, he just loves it when you’re around.

alhaitham

the akademiya’s scribe is a rather quiet man. he only opens his mouth when necessary. for example, when his roommate, who cannot stop blabbering about a rather irritating client, comes waltzing through the hall, disturbing the peace of the scribe’s reading time, does he open his mouth to shoot him a sharp “shut up.”

another example is when a certain knock on the door is heard and kaveh goes to answer it.

“kaveh, hello! is alhaitham home?” it’s you.

the scribe is on his feet immediately. the blond yelps when he is shoved out of the way to make space for your lover, who greets you with a gentle smile. the book from earlier is now left disregarded on the chair.

“my dear, you’re here.”

alhaitham finds it difficult to stay quiet around you. there’s just always something to say when you’re right next to him. like right now as he offers his arm out for you to hold, before promptly announcing that he and you will take a stroll around the city. kaveh only gapes at the unusual behaviour of his roommate. poor man can never get used to it. you offer him an apologetic smile before leaving with alhaitham.

you sigh, patting on your lover’s arm scoldingly. “be nicer to that roommate of yours, did you see the stunned look on his face?”

“don’t look at his face, dear, it’ll stress you out,” alhaitham says bluntly as he takes the path towards treasures street.

you have to cover your own mouth before a sound so unbecoming can leave it.

alhaitham takes pride in how he can make you laugh. he loves watching your eyes twitch and how you purse your lips to contain the boisterous reaction, how you have the self-control to maintain your composure in public despite wanting to cackle loudly like a maniac. knowing he can prompt such a reaction out of you makes him huff proudly when he’s alone with his ear pieces in.

but right now, his ear pieces are turned off. he finds himself carrying the conversation as you and him find seats in the audience, waiting for a scheduled performance hosted by the zubayr theatre. he keeps you close to him as you squeal in excitement when the lights dim for nilou to appear on the stage.

alhaitham finds himself speechless when he yearns for your presence. the most he can do is pull up that smile on his face and pray to lesser lord kusanali that you’ll see the faint twinkle in his eye that is telepathically asking for your attention. the man doesn’t even realise he’s doing the latter, that’s just his unconscious bodily response.

fortunately, the dendro archon is of kind nature, and what archon of kind nature would ignore the prayer of one of her most loyal followers?

cyno

the general mahamatra comprehends his silent need for your presence when he takes a quiet stroll through caravan ribat. he misses you and your curiosity—your hand that grabs his wrist to take him to a stall that has trinkets and things that have caught your eyes or how you’re so quick on your feet to run to the next thing that shines in your field of vision.

cyno stops in his tracks, staring at the path that would show him out of caravan ribat and into the greenery that leads towards the city.

he could leave right now.

you know your lover has a demanding job so you obviously don’t get in his way with distractions. but when your head snaps to your right side at the sight of your lover donned in his usual attire, walking towards you with a rather intriguing look on his face, you have to burst his bubble of personal space.

“cyno, what are you doing here? i thought you had something to do at caravan ribat.” cyno only smiles gently, offering his hand out for you to take, which you do.

“work is finished,” he tells you, bringing you closer. “and i missed your company, my love.” he whispers lowly, gaze pouring into yours.

you raise your brows, gulping, making you break eye contact with him to stare at the interesting potted-plant behind him instead. “cyno it’s only been four days since we last saw each other.”

“that does not change anything.” cyno tilts his head to find your pretty eyes again, a crease appearing in between his brows as he stifles a laugh. “my love, my eyes are here.” and he only pulls you by your waist when you act like you don’t hear him.

he’s so insufferable.

“hm, it’s a lovely day today, how about a round of TCG with me?”

your head snaps in his direction. an expression of disbelief takes over your face completely. “are you serious? you come back after four days and you ask me if i wanna play—”

a smug look grows on cyno’s face as you complain. then it clicks in your head and you click your tongue, folding your arms and looking away. “go and play with your friends then, i can just go to treasure’s street and—”

“oh come now, love, you know that was a joke, right? or do you want me to explain what my true intentions are? because if you would like to know then i’m happy to mmph—” cyno grins into the kiss you give him, effectively shutting him up. perhaps this is what he wanted in the first place.

you pull back, heat rushing to your cheeks at your own actions but really, you miss your lover. so that seemed to be the most appropriate thing to do at that moment.

“dinner. we will have dinner.” cyno relishes in the way you grab his hand, squeezing it as you lead him towards puspa cafe.

[dotster001]

What kind of parents are they?

Requested by @stygianoir

A/N: as per usual with these long ones, staff and non NRC will be a separate post that I someday make

CW:raising kids, but gn. No talk of whether birthed or adopted

3k follower masterlist

Riddle Rosehearts

1 kid

Riddle is a learn as you go kind of parent. Breaking the chain is hard. It takes generations. He knows that, so was always hesitant to ever raise kids. But with you he thinks he can speed up the process. He is a little strict, you can't win every battle, but he's much more understanding. And that's the difference between him and his mother. If he makes a mistake, or upsets your child, he takes the time to understand and grow from it.

Trey Clover

3-8 kids

He's a jovial father. He's calm but everyone can see he's just so happy to have this life. He's the kind who will quietly sit with the kids to help them with homework, boop their noses with chocolate frosting, tell the worst dad jokes ever that make them laugh so hard they pee, and tucks them in snuggly so "the monsters can't reach them". A soft man, who when he passes, the kids will always remember dad as someone who had a smile for everyone.

Cater Diamond

0-2 kids

Honestly, Cay Cay is one of the ones who if you wanted to have kids, you'd have to try hard to convince him. But for the sake of these HC's, we'll ignore the 0. In all honestly, he starts out incredibly scared and tense. He's worry he'll break the kids. But he slowly gets over it, and becomes the cool dad. The dilf at pta meetings His holiday cards are always the best, he sets up a haunted house for the neighborhood during Halloween, puts on a light show during the winter, dresses the kids in modern fashion…a lot of parents are so jealous. They wouldn't be so jealous if they knew the literal blood sweat and tears he puts into it all though. You need to tell him to calm down from time to time.

Ace Trappolla

2-5 kids

Hybrid of cool dad, and concerning dad. He'll let the kids do pretty much whatever they want, as long as they don't disrespect you. Sure you and your friends can go snowboarding, but your room better be fucking spotless, or you'll be praying to the seven for your soul. Yeah you're friends can- what the fuck do you just say about Y/N? No more friends. You're grounded. You'll have to try your darndest to get him to watch his language. Spoiler alert, he never will.

Deuce Spade

3 kids

Deuce is the kind of dad where, when people asks if he wants to raise a boy or a girl, he says boy. Not because he doesn't want a girl, he's just scared he'll fuck her up on accident with some of his behavioral tendencies. But in the end…he's a girl dad. He raises three girls, whether by birth or adoption, that's just how his luck turns out. And he's the best goddamn girl dad ever. By kid three, he only wants girls, cause how the fuck do you boy dad? Even as the girls get older, he isn't scared of some of the things that come with women. He always carries pads and pain killers. Anytime they need advice on relationships, and societal problems, they know they can go to dad.

Leona Kingscholar

1 kid

The one is a struggle for him. He doesn't want to have a second born who will go through what he did. So only one kid. That's it. He…to his surprise…turns out to be exactly the way Mufasa raises Simba. Stern when necessary, but totally down to rough house and play. He never even thought he had the energy for a kid…turns out he does. He loves his little rat more than life itself, and will do anything to prep him for life so that he can have the things Leona never did.

Ruggie Bucchi

5-8 kids

Teaches his kids early on to be light fingered. Imagine a bunch of hooligans running through the street, and when they're gone, you realize you're wallet is gone too. That's your kids. But only when you're not looking. He's raised them to understand not to snitch on dad. 😒 Otherwise no one can have fun. Other than that, he's a really soft dad. Playing with the kids, good for hugs, cooking meals that get them all their nutrients, but also provide comfort. The moment he can afford it, Ruggie is becoming your perfect little househusband.

Jack Howl

5 kids

He's the kind of dad that outsiders worry is a little cold and distant. But that's not the case. They just don't know how to read him. He has his own language that his kids perfectly understand. Left eyebrow quirked=what do you think you're doing? Right side of mouth quirked up=I'm so proud of you. Left side quirked down=that's not funny. Etc etc. The kids can always count in dad for snuggles if they are sad or have a bad dream. Even if he doesn't always remember to verbalize it, they always know they are loved.

Azul Ashengrotto

4

He's the one who has every step of his parenting and finances planned, to flawless perfection. And then immediately panics when he realizes you can't plan for everything, children are unpredictable. The first kid that breaks a bone, he's just wanting to go back to his octopus pot. Not to mention if your kids are birthed, he's not prepared for half octomer, half human, kids. He's unprepared, and very scared, but he's a loving dad…even if he seems too tense sometimes.

Jade Leech

1-3

He's the Gomez Adams, raising little Wednesdays. Female and male Wednesdays, but Wednesdays nonetheless. So excited, big smile, happy to be alive with you, and with your kids! Meanwhile the kids are all dark and brooding. It always looks so professional when you all walk up in business attire, Jade smiling, as the kids, also in business attire, have the darkest expressions on their faces. 

Floyd Leech

2-15

Rough housing dad. He raises a bunch of chaotic rascals. They're all sweet kids, but damn some of them have so much energy it scares the neighbor parents. Then they'll look over and see eel merman wrestling three of them and laughing like a mad man. He'll bandage them up, and give them kisses on their boo boos, but he won't calm down. Not that he needs to, they don't want him to calm down. Dad's fun!

Kalim al Asim

8-whenever you say to stop 😁

Party dad! He's a, "we rather you tried it at home than with strangers" kinda guy. By the time he is parenting, he's a little better at self control though, so he's willing to be that buffer, and help kid's stop before their limits. Also, he's the kind that pouts if his kids don't say, "I love you" when he drops them somewhere.

Jamil Viper

1-2

Strict dad. Old habits die hard. Or don't at all. You'll have to be self aware if he's too hard on the kids. The thing is, he has only had his freedom for so long, and his kids. The reason he's like this is because he's scared. His kids have a freedom that previous generations of Vipers never had. He doesn't want them to throw it away. He's terrified one misstep and they'll lose everything. You'll have to calm him down sometimes. But the kids, especially the older they get, will understand that this is how dad protects them. He also gives out expensive gifts if he thinks he's taken things a step too far… the kids love that.

Vil Schoenheit

1

There's no way this man doesn't raise a high achieving, future ex gifted child. So at first, he'll beam with pride as his child produces the best results, grades, magic, appearances, etc. It'll be a bit of a learning curve when the crash hits, and won't understand right away. But once he does, he becomes the biggest advocate for mental health services,and getting kids the care and enrichment they need. He does speeches, runs rallies, becomes the face of any movement that has to do with his kid. 

Rook Hunt

15

Teaches his kids to hunt like wild animals. He's the kind of dad that says, "I'm gonna take the kids out!" And later you find them in the middle of the woods, hiding in the bushes, waiting to jump you in a tickle pile that is inescapable. He's raising wild animals. And yet…somehow…the kids seem normal as they age? At least that's what you see…

Epel Felmier

5-7

Another one who raises hooligans. You have a bunch of freckled, sunburned kids, all who live outdoors and climb trees. But the kids are never alone when they are hooligans. Dad is always in the tree with them.

Idia Shroud

2

Scared shitless. He's a gentle parent, but, God, is he terrified. Everyone knows it. Anytime the kids get sick, or hurt, or sad, he's always worried it's cause he fucked up in some way. But once he calms down, he's always good at calming them down. He's gentle and understanding…once he gets out of his own head.

Malleus Draconia

1-15

He has to raise the future heir. So on the one hand, he has to be strict. But he makes it clear early on, that there's separation from work and home. Aka, sometimes he is father, king of darkness, and sometimes he is dad, server of applesauce. The kids are smart enough to know the difference, and figure out which Malleus they are talking to.

Lilia Vanrouge

3

When you and Lilia discuss raising a family together, you aren't expecting Silver to come to you with stories of how he was left in the middle of the woods for training…and if you don't say anything, you're destined to be raising kids with Lilia Vanrouge, delightful scamp, and general to Malleus Draconia's armies. If you have that conversation, you'll be raising kids with Lilia Vanerouge, delightful scamp, and nothing else. Usually. Make sure if he's giggling, and you can't find the kids anywhere, you know exactly where they are.

Silver

1-2

Quiet dad. A lot like Trey. He's soft and gentle, and the kids can count on him for snuggles, whether he's awake or not. A man of few words, but perfect for a lullaby, deep life advice, and snuggles.

Sebek Zigvolt

3-6

Soccer dad. Angrily yelling at his kids when they are subpar, and angrily yelling at other kids when they come for his kids. Fiercely loyal to the end, and to a fault, he will protect his family at all costs, even if he does grump and groan about it the whole time.

[reiding-writing]

Hiiii, first of all i wanna say congratsss!! You’re an amazing writer and i LOVE your stuff! Secondly, i would like to mention that i’ve never actually made a request before so bear with me 😬 Okay okay, so i was wondering if you could write cold!reader with angsty prompt 28. "I can't believe I didn't see that coming." and general prompt 23. “I thought I’d lost you.” Maybe spencer gets hurt and reader shows emotion (maybe some tears) and the team is all like ???

(feel free to ignore this btw 💗💗)

CLOSE CALL [CLIMACTERIC]

28. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming.”

23. “I thought I’d lost you.”

WARNINGS: fem!reader, guns, hostage situation, character death, reader is her typical rash self, happy ending

spencer reid x cold!reader || hurt/comfort || 2.8k ||

a/n: thank you <3 i’m honoured to be the conduit you chose for your first request and i hope this is what you envisioned 🫶

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

event masterlist!!

Spencer’s hands shake so much as he pulls off his bulletproof vest you’re not sure how he has enough articulation in his fingers to do so in the first place.

“Reid, you’re not ready to do this.” Your words aren’t as harsh as they are truthful, but it cuts him down the same anyhow. “Let me or Hotch do it.”

“No, I need to do this myself,” Spencer shakes his head determinedly, and if he wasn’t so focused on the sheer amount of adrenaline running through his veins right no he’d probably be proud of himself for standing up to you and not just following your word as law, but alas, the only thing he could feel right now is absolute dread. “He won’t listen to you.”

Why was it always him that got personally involved with the unsubs? It was like they were a heat-seeking missile locked only onto his location.

Literally locked onto his location in this case. He’d seen him —Daniel as he called himself— on the train home from work, in the coffee shop he frequented, the local library, and he swears he also saw him parked in his apartment building’s parking lot.

It was like he was silently screaming at Spencer to notice him, and when he finally got to speak to the man, he asked for help. He was afraid. He was afraid of himself because he was having horribly intrusive thoughts that made him want to do terrible things and he viewed Spencer as his only scapegoat. Pros and cons of being all over the news for his job he supposes.

Spencer really did try to help him, but every suggestion he made was shut down like they weren’t good enough, like Daniel wanted Spencer to physically go into his brain and remove all of the faulty parts that were making him feel insane.

Spencer’s help just wasn’t good enough, and it lead to multiple people dying as a result.

And now Daniel was holding a woman hostage in her own house.

How was he supposed to not feel solely responsible for that?

Spencer had to be the one to speak to him. Not you or Hotch and your negotiation training, him and his personal connection to all the deaths that had happened because he wasn’t able to help someone that was begging him to save them from their own mind.

He practically shoves his revolver into your hand as he commits to going inside, taking a second to regulate his breathing before emerging from behind the SUVs to approach the closed front door, leaving you all in wait, guns raised at every window in the event that something goes wrong.

Something was bound to go wrong.

“Reid the minute that something feels off you leave, understand?” It technically wasn’t your call to make, but as you spoke into the small radio on your chest you weren’t really thinking about that. It’s not like Hotch would disagree with you anyway.

There’s a few seconds of silence over the radio, even though you know he heard you from the slight jolt in his spine as he reached the front door of the house. “Reid. Tell me that you understand that.”

“Copy,”

You had half the mind to drag him back into the car from that response alone. He clearly wasn’t listening to you, not properly anyway, and having such an emotional involvement in something like this was going to get him killed if he treated it the wrong way.

“Be careful,” Hotch was less antagonistic in his warning, but it held the same message.

Spencer threw an arbitrary thumbs up above his head before knocking on the door of the house and entering slowly with both his arms raised.

Then it was a waiting game. A stalemate where you had to sit with your guns trained and just wait for any sign of change. It was like absolute torture.

It was virtual silence and tumble weeds for the best of five minutes, and then there was a loud gunshot sound that echoed from inside the walls of the house, and all of that waiting felt for naught as you pressed the button on your radio with a steady stream of trepidation raising in your throat that he might not answer you. “Reid? Reid come in.”

You wait for something to come from the other side of the radio, even if it’s just the crackle of static from him pressing the button without actually speaking into it. But all you get is silence, and it makes that sinking feeling grow until you literally feel like you’re about to throw up your stomach.

You don’t think twice about running towards the front door of the house after you don’t get an answer, ignoring the calls of Hotch for you to back down and let SWAT take care of it so he didn’t possibly lose two agents instead of just one.

He knew you weren’t going to listen to him either way.

You open the door with your pistol raised at your eyes, the weight of Spencer’s revolver tucked into the waistband of your jeans acting both as an instrument to ground you and as a torturous reminder that the gunshot you heard couldn’t have possibly been from him.

It had to have come from Daniel.

Logically you should’ve swept the ground floor first before rushing straight into the dining room where you knew the three had been last, in case Daniel had left the room and approached you from behind.

You don’t of course, and you kick open the barricaded dining room door with enough force to splinter the door frame holding the hinge pin in place, the door hitting the wall with a thud.

The sight you’re met with is not what you expected to find.

“Reid—” You drop your gun to your side the second your eyes land on the back of his head, his back to you and his eyes locked on Daniel, lying on his back on the dining room floor with a bullet hole to the side of his head, his blood slowly pooling on the linoleum.

The woman he had hostage was alive too, thank god, practically trying to melt into the corner as she cried into her hands, obviously still in shock over what happened.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming,” Spencer’s words didn’t feel like they were coming from himself as he spoke, his voice feeling detached from his consciousness as his mind focused on fully comprehending the situation.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are—” Your body forces a sharp breath to leave your mouth as it cools don from the adrenaline rushing through your system, and you pull Spencer backwards by his arm to stop the blood from Daniel’s body reaching his shoes. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I just- I don’t know,” Spencer gives up on trying to find an explanation for his actions before even really thinking about it. He knows there’s no use, because he really wasn’t thinking, it was just acting on instinct.

“You see this Reid?” You give the radio on his chest a pull with your hand, causing him to stumble forward towards you in the process. “It’s a radio, use it.” There’s no denying the insurmountable rage in your tone as you berate Spencer for his carelessness, something that he most definitely deserves as he stands there nodding at you like an idiot.

You let go of his radio with a small push, sending him stumbling backwards this time, and you take a second to compose yourself before pressing on your own radio to communicate with the rest of the team. “I’ve got Reid and the hostage alive. The unsub shot himself.”

“Copy that, we’re coming in.”

Hotch’s voice may as well be a leaf in the wind as Spencer puts his full focus into how absolutely furious you seem with him.

“I’m sorry—”

”Sorry isn’t good enough.” You ignore the arrival of your teammates in the house, how they carefully guide the hostage outside to get her looked over by the ambulance waiting outside and how they secure the scene for the forensics team to deal with. “You cannot throw your life away by running head first into a dangerous situation knowing you can’t defend yourself.”

“I thought—”

“What? That it’d be fine? That you all of a sudden had all the training you needed to talk down an armed serial killer with serious delusions that could leave you as his next victim?” Maybe you we’re being a bit too harsh on him, but it was important he understood exactly what could’ve gone wrong. “You might be a genius Reid, but you are the dumbest goddamn person I have ever met.”

Spencer presses his lips together into a line at your declaration, lowering his head until his gaze is firmly planted on the floor.

“You are not an expendable resource, you can’t be replaced, and you need to understand that before you throw yourself into a possible line of fire do you understand me?” You ignore the lingering gaze of Hotch as you continue your verbal assault on Spencer, and you know you’ll probably get an earful yourself for being so hard on him, but he gave you a real scare, and you were expressing that to him in the way that suited you most.

“Yes I understand, I’m sorry…” The slight waver of his voice as he responds to you is enough to knock your anger down a peg, and you drag your hand down your face with a sigh.

“We were scared for you Reid, you could’ve died.”

“I know…”

You give another soft sigh at the voice he barely keeps his voice controlled as he whispers out his answer to you, on the verge of tears from your thorough verbal assault.

“Don’t do it again. I thought I’d lost you.” You lift up one of your hands to put it on his shoulder, although it lands closer to the curve of his neck, prompting his face upwards to meet your eyes once more. “And as much as you can be idiotic, the team needs you alive.”

He gives you a soft hum as an answer this time, not trusting his voice to not crack if he were to speak properly.

He tries not to focus on the warmth of your hand on his neck, nor on the fact that you’d said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’ when talking about being concerned for his safety under fear of only worsening his attempts at keeping himself composed.

Your gaze softens marginally as you spot the glassiness of his eyes, and for a second he swears that the protective shield you cover yourself with disappears to show the amount of concern you truly felt for him.

“I’m okay… I promise,” He nods softly at you with rounded eyes. He’s mildly flattered by how much you care, but he doesn’t want you to show it as concern, positive emotions suited you much better he thinks.

“You’re lucky, and it won’t last forever,” You use you hand against his shoulder to turn him around, pushing him gently towards the front door and using the opportunity of him not facing you to swallow the start of your own tears, clearing your throat into your elbow as he takes your lead in leaving the house.

“Reid,” Hotch is on top of the two of you before you even walk out the door. “Go and meet Morgan by the ambulance, I want you checked over,”

“But—“

“Go,” Hotch’s inherent ability to be authoritative trumps Spencer’s resistance immediately, and Spencer begrudgingly leaves your side with a small “yes sir,” to go and be checked out by one of the EMTs.

You attempt to follow him at first, but you’re promptly stopped by Hotch raising his hand in your direction, and then gesturing you over to him.

“Berating somebody for running into a dangerous situation head first with how you responded is very—“

“Hypocritical, I know,” You interrupt the end of Hotch’s sentence by finishing it yourself. “But if he hadn’t gotten into that situation in the first place then I wouldn’t have had to respond the way I did,”

“I understand you care about Reid,” Hotch crosses his arms over his chest, and although there is zero malice in his expression or his tone, you can still tell that he’s not exactly happy with you right now. “But you also need to be more careful with how you handle yourself,”

You narrow your gaze at him a little, and he mirrors it right back at you. “You can’t worry about keeping Reid alive if you’re not alive yourself, you need to be more careful, understand?”

“Yes sir,” The words are almost begrudging as they leave your mouth, but you know he’s right really. Running in after Spencer without a second thought and then berating him for being reckless was hypocritical, and you probably deserved to be reprimanded for it.

—

“You really gave her a scare you know,” Morgan speaks, prompted by Spencer’s very obvious lingering glances in your direction as you speak with Hotch.

“I know,” Spencer sighs dejectedly as he finally removes his eyes from you to allow the paramedic in front of him to check his pupillary response. “She made sure of that,”

“She cares about you Reid,” Morgan gives him a squeeze on his shoulder. “You’re gonna give the poor girl a heart attack if you keep this up,”

“That’s quite dramatic, the chances of somebody going into cardiac arrest from shock is extremely low, only 5% of all cases, and technically it would actually be cardiogenic shock, which isn’t a heart attack,”

“It’s a figure of speech Reid,” Morgan gives him a small playful shove after the paramedic has finished his evaluation, rolling his eyes. “Point is, you scared her, and I don’t know whether to be amazed or concerned at the fact that’s even possible,”

“She’s just as likely to be afraid as anyone else,” Spencer bites his cheek at Morgan’s declaration, unsure whether he should feel guilty or flustered at just how much you seemed to care about him, from the words of the rest of the team anyway.

“I mean yeah we were all worried about you, but she ran head first into the house with a potentially manic shooter inside, by herself, after Hotch told her to wait for backup,” Morgan gives Spencer a light nudge with his elbow, raising his eyebrows with an amused expression. “You know what I call that? Favouritism,”

Spencer lets out a small airy laugh, shaking his head as he stands from the edge of the ambulance.

“Face it pretty boy, you’re stuck with her for life, even if it means she follows you into an early grave,” The teasing in Morgan’s voice is unmistakeable, but his words ring truth either way. “Let’s just make sure you don’t end up in an early grave alright?”

“Yeah—” Spencer lets out another small breath through his mouth as Morgan pats his hand between his shoulder blades, gesturing for Spencer to follow him towards the rest of the team with a nod of his head.

Spencer doesn’t want to cut himself short just yet, especially if that means you’ll serve yourself the same fate. Although the idea of having you accompany him, even if it did mean in whatever lies after death, didn’t sound like too bad of an idea.

[reverie-starlight]

{beautiful liar- m. atsumu}

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. highly suggestive at the end <3

it’s my birthday month, would you expect anyone other than atsumu to be the main focus?

atsumu thinks you’re beautiful when you lie to him.

the subtle strain of your facial features as you try to keep your expression neutral makes his heart beat faster in his chest.

he can’t help but feel fondness for you, even as you stand before him with the blood still on your hands. even after you’ve hurt him beyond repair, he can’t help but admire your quirks and tells and how hard you fight to keep his trust.

he places his hands on the countertop and lets the coolness of the marble bring him back to reality.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” he tries again, silently pleading with you to have mercy on him and finally cut him down from your web of lies.

“baby, do you know where my gym bag is or not?”

he watches as your expression cracks just a bit. you’re trying so hard not to break as you shake your head.

he thinks you’re absolutely stunning when you tilt your head down to hide the smile that finally cuts through.

“angel…” he warns, like he’s trying to keep a child from doing something they shouldn’t be. “look at me, please.”

he can’t help but laugh a little when your eyes meet his again and he sees that you’re tearing up from the effort.

it’s a known fact that you’re not a good liar unless the situation is… dire. you wear your heart on your sleeve, and that’s an admirable quality. atsumu has the same one, and he’s learned to like it on himself a bit more since loving it on you.

but he still grew up a twin, and even if he can’t hide his stronger emotions, he is most definitely a better liar than you.

(something he never lets you forget when he exploits your horrible poker face. like right now.)

“yes, ‘tsum?”

he shakes his head and smiles. “don’t ‘‘tsum’ me. I know ya hid my bag. don’t even try to lie to me, ya literally can’t.”

you finally let out a laugh of your own and he wonders if there are stars in his eyes making you shine this way, or if you’re just like that.

the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering again when you get up from the bar stool and walk to his side of the kitchen island.

you wrap your arms around his neck and he doesn’t think twice before letting his hands settle on your hips.

“I guess I can tell you where your bag is for a small fee.”

he raises an eyebrow. “oh can ya? how generous.”

you blow some air in his eye at his remark. “the fee is a kiss.”

“hmm, I don’t know if you deserve one after lying to me for a full ten minutes. well-“ he stops to correct himself. “attempting to lie to me.”

you gasp, but he knows you’re still being playful. “excuse me? never mind, I take it back, you’re not getting that bag today.”

“sweetheart~” he holds you tighter against him when you start to pull away and starts peppering kisses against your cheek.

“don’t you start sweet talking me, miya. it won’t work.”

he sighs and throws his head back. he’s not truly annoyed- he makes that clear with the easy, lovesick expression on his face- but he at least wants to know why you’re trying so hard to keep him home.

“baby. what’s going on with ya? is everything okay?”

you nod a little and he hates that his words cause you to frown. if his hands weren’t so comfortable on your hips, he’d bring one up to smooth out your forehead. “yeah… I’m sorry I’m making you late, I just miss you.”

his eyes widen. the new season has just started, so he’s been trying to get back into the swing of things. he loves going to practice, and he loves the new beginnings every start of the season brings, really he does.

but he hates the transition period between spending most of his time with you to having to find a healthy balance again.

of course you always reassure him that you understand it takes a minute to adjust, but that doesn’t mean he feels good about the unintentional neglect that can come from it.

he rubs his nose against your cheek. “baby, I’m sorry,” he starts. “ya know I don’t like being away for too long.”

your bottom lip juts out the tiniest bit and he leans in to kiss it. “I know… and I also know it’s selfish to keep you here because I’m feeling lonely… guess I’ve just been a little needier than usual lately.”

he thinks back to how you’ve practically been hanging off of him this whole week. he was a little confused by it, sure, but more so he’s been eating up all the attention and indulging you as much as possible.

taking in a deep breath, he makes a split second decision that will definitely have consequences later- good or bad, he won’t know until they come to pass.

but he knows whatever the outcome, it’ll be more than worth it just because he gets to see you smile now while carrying you to the sofa.

“atsumu! what are you doing?!“

“screw the gym bag, I’m staying here with you today.”

you gasp at his words and a panicked look washes over your face. “wait, no, that’s not what I was getting at-“

he shushes you. “no no, listen. it’s early in the season. we don’t have any games scheduled for a long while, yet and I stayed late last night. one day off won’t hurt, I’ll just go in earlier tomorrow.”

if his younger self could hear him now, he’d probably throw a fit, but he’s older and wiser and his angel needs him, so this is obviously the only logical solution.

your eyes gloss over with adoration, and there’s no room left inside of him for the guilt from skipping a day that he’s been building up for years.

he feels good about his decision to make you a priority. he felt good about it years ago when he asked you out and he gets the feeling he’ll feel good about it twenty years from now, wherever the both of you are by that point.

nothing could ever make him regret making you his top priority. you’ve given him so much, it’s only right that he does the same for you.

“thank you, ‘tsum,” you say after a while of just existing together on the couch.

he nuzzles into your neck and lets the warmth spread through his body at the feel of your torso against his. “‘course, sweetheart. but I’m still curious-“

he lifts himself up just enough that his face is hovering over yours. “where did you hide my gym bag?”

your peaceful expression twists into a smirk. “still not telling~” you sing.

he snorts. “alright, keep your secrets. we both know I have other methods of getting it out of ya. we’ve done this dance too many times, baby.”

you giggle and shake your head fondly. “oh ‘tsum, you couldn’t torture this information out of me. it’s too much fun for me to have something over you.”

his grin is wolfish as he takes in your words. “alright, sure, keep digging yourself into a deeper hole and see how fun it’ll be for ya later.”

“aww, you’re all bark no bi- hey!” you shriek as he playfully bites your nose.

“yeah, yeah, we’ll see if ya still think that when I’m done with ya.”

you don’t put up a fight when he slings you over his shoulder and carries you back to your bedroom.

BONUS:

you take the water bottle he offers you and gulp down half of it in one go.

he takes it from you and sets it off to the side before laying down beside you, equally spent. he feels you looking at him, so he raises an eyebrow at you questioningly.

he knows that look- you’re not completely ready to back down yet. just like when you lie, he thinks you look stunning when you refuse to give in.

“I hid it in the laundry room.”

he sits up a bit and looks down at you with narrowed eyes. “oh really?”

“uh huh.”

“and why’s that?”

the look on your face is lit up with sinister mischief, like you know your words will strike a chord inside of him. “needed to make sure it was in a place you don’t go very often.”

it’s obviously a jab with no real malicious intent (he’s very good about doing his laundry), but it has him playfully growling and pinning you beneath him once more.

“so that’s how it’s gonna be today, hm?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ahem. anyway. he is my everything and I would absolutely hide his things to keep him with me longer. inspired by me bc I have a horrible poker face. cannot lie without laughing to save my life.

@rrairey since this is the fic that one WIP came from I thought I’d tag you, hope that’s okay :3

@emmyrosee 🫶🏻🫶🏻

hope you enjoyed!