#your leg has to be like hanging on by a thread for the doctor's to be considered acceptable in my family

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm VI

Alexia Putellas x Reader

*Smut: Dom!R, Sub Alexia, Top!Alexia, Bottom!R, Leash and Collar, Oral, Nipple Play, Strap-on, Strap-on Riding, Thigh Riding, Anal Fingering*

Summary: You take control

Having Alexia on her knees for you is not unusual.

It's actually quite common.

She looks up at you with this wide eyes, mouth hanging slightly open with no thoughts but how to please you.

Usually, that is.

Right now, you can tell she's not settled well.

You hadn't been expecting it in the slightest. You had taken a long shift at the hospital last night and come straight from there to your office at the Barcelona training grounds to go through some paperwork.

That's when Alexia came in like a whirlwind, locking the door behind her and getting on her knees for you behind your desk.

She's not looking up at you like usual. She's not even looking at you at all. Her forehead is pressed against your thigh as you stare down at her in shock.

"Ale?" You say softly," Ale, baby, what's wrong?"

It's not hard to get Alexia on her knees at home. She's more than happy to sit there all day if you want but this is the first time she's done it at work.

You hear a soft sniffle.

Ordinarily, you'd coax her out of hiding but she's crying and you know she hates letting you see her cry.

So, you let her hide her face away against your leg as she sits on her knees while you gently thread your fingers through her scalp.

"It's okay, baby," You say every so often," It's okay. I'm here. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"My knee," She chokes out and you freeze.

You slip into doctor mode very quickly.

Alexia wouldn't be on her knees now if she was in pain. She knew better than that and you received no texts from the staff earlier that said she had any discomfort.

"Your knee? Ale, what's wrong with your knee?"

"I don't know!" She still hasn't looked at you but that's okay. "What if it never goes back to normal?!"

It's been a rocky road for Alexia's injury. You knew this but you also knew it had healed up well. You knew that this wasn't a physical thing. It was purely psychological.

"You scored in the Champion's League Final on that knee," You remind her gently, carding your fingers through her hair," You're all healed up, baby. What's really going on?"

Alexia was trusting her knee again, you knew that. For her to be overthinking it now just means that something else is going on.

She draws in a shuddering breath and finally looks up at you, eyes sparkling with tears.

"I...Amor, I..."

"What is it, baby? You can tell me."

Her hands bunch up into fists on her lap. "I'm so overwhelmed! Do that Alexia, do this Alexia. Captain Alexia. Player Alexia. Barcelona. Spain. Olympics."

The words tumble out of her now and you lightly tug on her hair.

She falls silent immediately, staring up at you again as you take a tissue to mop up her face.

"Do you need someone else to be in charge for a bit?"

She nods.

"In what way, Ale?" You ask.

You've settled Alexia like this before. You knew all the inner workings of her brain but, still, there's two ways you could go.

One was the domestic route. You could send her home with a list of mindless tasks to complete. Do the dishwasher. Fold the laundry. That kind of mindless repetition of tasks to take her mind away from football.

The other was the sexual route. You were wary about that though. Only Alexia knew if she was in the right headspace for that. If she wanted it like that, she'd have to tell you.

You had no problem giving it to her if that's what she wanted but she'd have to make it clear to you that that is what she craved.

"I..."

"Think about it," You say, bringing her head back to rest against your thigh," I've still got work to do so take all the time you need."

So, Alexia sits on her knees for you as you complete your paperwork.

You know her mind's made up there, just by the way her breathing has evened out and the way she leans more heavily against your leg.

"Can you let me fuck you, amor?" She asks," Please?"

"Go home, Alexia."

"Wha-"

"And I want you to go in the toy drawer and decide what you want us to use tonight." You give her clear orders, already working to settle her for what you know will be a long night. "I want you to think about what you want to get out of tonight so you can tell me when I get home. I've still got work to do."

She nods, shakily getting up. She lingers at your side for a moment before," Can I have a kiss first, please?"

"Of course, baby. You're so good for asking."

Already tension leaks out of her frame as you pull her in for a kiss.

You don't try to drag it out but you don't rush through your work either. It would be a disservice to the other players and to Alexia.

She needs this time to decompress on her own, to go through her feelings even as she works through the instructions you'd given her.

You stretch as you get out of your car, walking up the stairs to the house and unlocking the door.

"Alexia!" You call out," I'm home!"

You don't expect an answer.

You don't get one.

You hang up your coat and settle down on the sofa.

Alexia kneels at your feet and finally, she's looking at you like how she usually does.

Her pouty lips are parted in a dazed smile and her eyes glisten with desire rather than tears. Her hands lay resting on her legs though you see them twitch a little as you unbutton the top of your shirt.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Alexia? You're in the right space?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Do you remember your colour system?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"Green for continue. Yellow to slow down. Red to stop."

"And you know you can use them whenever? Even when it's not a check in?"

"Yes."

"What colour are you now?"

"Green."

You look over at the coffee table to see what she's picked out. The strap, obviously. It's her favourite thing to wear when she fucks you. She always gets the same starstruck face whenever you help her put it on.

There's a little bullet vibrator there that you know Alexia loves on her nipples.

Her leash and collar are there too. Usually, they both hang up on the inside of your closet door. They don't come out often but their position on the table now lets you know all you need to know about what Alexia's craving tonight.

You pick them both up and spread your legs, pointing between them.

Alexia fills the space instantly.

"You want your collar on?" You tease.

"Yes, please."

"Such good manners."

The collar had been an impulse buy years ago when you and Alexia had first started experimented. A simple black collar with a little tag.

'Ale'

Nothing else.

Not Alexia. Not Alexia Putellas. Not Captain.

Just a simple Ale, like she was to you now.

"You changed," You note as you clip it around her neck, eyes dragging down to appreciate the lace covering your wife's body.

"I did," Alexia says, dipping her head a little in embarrassment," Is that...okay?"

"You look beautiful, Ale," You say," So beautiful. I'm so lucky to have you."

Her cheeks flush red like every time that you praise her.

That's what she needs tonight.

To be praised.

"But I fear I'm a bit overdressed," You say, teasingly clicking your tongue," Help me out."

Her hands are instantly on your trousers. They're trembling a little in their haste to unbuckle your button. Her fingers keep missing in entirely and you force down your laughter.

You tug on the leash, winding it around your hand so there's little slack.

"Slow down, Ale," You say," Take your time. Breathe."

She sucks in a trembling breath before she finally catches your button. You lift your hips up to help her pull them down.

The desire in her eyes has tripled tenfold and it's almost like she's seeing you for the first time even though this is a dance you've taken together for years.

You lean forward and snatch the bullet vibrator up off the table as you unbutton your shirt and strip off your bra until you're sitting there only in your underwear.

She whines, something low and deep in her throat as you run the vibrator over your pebbled nipple.

A soft moan escapes you and Alexia shifts a little on her knees.

"Are you being impatient again, Ale?"

"No."

You tug firmly on her leash and she corrects herself.

"Yes...Sorry, you're just so pretty."

It's amazing that after so many years you can both still have the same effect on each other because you can feel heat rush to your face at her simple words.

"You're so pretty too," You say a bit breathless as you push the vibrator a bit firmer against you.

"Thank you."

You look at her through hooded eyes. Hers keep drifting from your face to your breasts and back down to your underwear like a ping pong ball.

She's doing a good job at not moving without permission though but it was time to put her out of her her misery.

You remove your underwear and point.

She face breaks into a smile but, still, she doesn't move.

"Go on, Ale," You tease," You've been a good girl. Come and get your reward."

That's the thing about Alexia.

She just adores making you cum.

You could tell that she wanted to just dive straight in but she didn't. Restraint was something that came with age, something she had learnt over years of worshipping your body.

She kisses up your thigh, occasionally stopping to lightly nibble and bite at the flesh there. She stops in front of where you wanted, where you needed her.

"You're wet," She says, reverence leaking into her tone.

You'd been wet the moment you'd sent her back home without you. You'd been wet as you drove home.

Right now though, you're pretty sure you're dripping.

"Because I need you, Ale," You say, breathless as you stare down at her, tugging slightly at her leash in impatience," Please, don't you want to make me feel good?"

She whimpers a little at your words.

Her tongue laps around your hole in brushing sweeps and you whine at each pass. She moans as well, at the taste of you, and finally dips her tongue into your hole.

You pull on the leash, forcing her even closer to you and you can feel her smile against you.

You ignore it, desperate for her as her tongue dips into you again. She explores you like this is the first time you've let her do this.

Like you're some kind of goddess whose altar you're letting her worship at.

Your eyes flutter closed and the sight that you see when you open them is beautiful.

Alexia laps at you with vigour, going from your hole to your clit and back again. She's always been good with her mouth, always known how to take you to pieces, brick by brick.

"Ale," You whine," Ale, so-so good."

With every bit of praise from you, Alexia tries harder, desperate to impress you and finally bring you to the peak.

"Do you want me to cum for you, Ale?" You ask, still trying to tease despite the way that she's steadily building you up and bringing you closer and closer. "Want me to cum in your mouth?"

She whimpers at that and redirects quickly to your swollen clit, focusing all of her energy as she tugs it into her mouth, tongue flicking it teasingly as you tug on her leash to somehow bring her closer than she already is.

You don't give her any more warning than that as your hips rut against her face.

She brings you down slowly before bringing her tongue down in broad strokes to clean up the mess she's made of you.

You loosen your grip on her leash, panting. Your chest rises and falls as you flutter on her tongue with aftershocks.

"Good girl," You say as you catch your breath," Up here now, Ale." You pat your lap and she scrambles on.

Her face is covered in your juices and she looks dazed. Happy but still a little dazed and you take her by the chin into a soft kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue.

"You did so well," You say against her lips," So good to me. So, so good."

She preens at the praise before breaking off into a whine as you unclip her bra and press the vibrator against her in quick succession.

She jolts a little at the shock of it, pressing closer to you and you laugh.

"Does that feel good, Ale?" You ask," Yeah?"

She nods.

"What colour are we now?"

"G-Green," She whimpers out as you switch to her other nipple," So green."

"Green, huh?" You lean forward and suck her now abandoned nipple into your mouth.

You flick your tongue against it teasingly and an even more broken whine escapes your wife.

You can feel her wetness through her underwear and you can't help but laugh, releasing her nipple with a wet pop.

"How are we feeling? Is your brain mush yet?"

She whimpers.

"Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to empty your head for a bit? Want to be my good girl?"

"Y-Yes. Am-Am I being a good girl?"

"So good, Ale. Perfect actually. Doing whatever I say. I think that deserves a reward, doesn't it?"

"Please, I've been good!"

"I know. Now, what do you want that reward to be?"

It takes her a while to get the words out, with the way you've got a vibrator pressed to one nipple and are twisting and pulling the other.

"What was that, Ale? I couldn't hear you."

"I...I wanna..." She's panting hard, each word punctuated with a soft moan of pleasure. "Wanna fuck you, please. With the strap."

"You want to fuck me with your cock?" You tease, kissing up her neck and leaving a trail of marks. "Are you sure? I could return the favour right here, right now."

"Want to fuck you with my cock," She parrots back to you," Please! I've-I've been so good."

"I suppose you have been following all my instructions," You muse," And you made me cum so well. Could you do it again with your cock?"

"I could!" She insists, rutting her hips against yours," Please, amor! Let me prove it!"

You nudge her slightly. "Go on then, Ale. I'll wait upstairs for you."

You take your time going to your bedroom, a smile on your face as you hear Alexia scramble to put on the strap and follow after you.

You've unclipped her leash, hanging it back up on the closet door but you let her keep her collar on as she stumbles into the room, almost tripping over her own feet.

She's a bit like a puppy, you think in the back of your mind as you kiss and back into the bed.

Overeager and excitable.

There's no need for lube, not with how wet you were so you lean against the pillows and spread your legs.

"Come on, Ale," You taunt," I want you to fuck me."

Her throat bobs as she stares in silence, that same awestruck look on her face, like she can't believe that she's the one that gets to fuck you into the mattress every night.

"Unless," You say," You don't want to be my good girl?"

"I want to be your good girl! Let me be your good girl."

"Then come and fuck me."

She pushes in slowly, collecting your wetness as she eases into you all the way to the hilt.

The strap brushes against her clit and she moans like you. Her fingers intertwine with your own as she slowly withdraws again.

It always takes a little bit for her to find her rhythm but she knows she's found it as your head tilts back into a throaty moan.

"So good, Ale," You say," You fuck me so well."

Alexia's attention wasn't on you though. Or, at least, not on your face.

She was hypnotised by the way that your pussy swallowed every inch of her cock, the way that her hands gripped your hips for leverage and the way you inhaled every time she went up to the hilt.

The strap brushes up against her clit and Alexia's broken moans mingle with yours.

"Slow, Ale," You remind her.

Alexia's always had a problem with her impatience, especially when it came to you.

You'd always preferred a slow fuck at first, trying to teach her patience.

Alexia didn't listen, as always. It was always like this when she had a strap.

She was submissive to you any other time, grateful and happy to let you take control but a cock on her hips and suddenly she thought she was in charge.

She thought that she could set the pace and make the decisions.

No.

You wouldn't let that happen.

You could see the moment she decided to disobey you, to try and take control again, undermining this whole thing. She'd wanted you to turn her brain off, to make all the decisions so she could decompress and forget about all the pressure that she usually thrived under.

You could see the moment she decided to stop thinking with her head and start thinking with her cock.

Her pace picks up and you whine in pleasure.

Ordinarily, you might allow Alexia this, you might allow her to have this small bit of control but not tonight.

"Last-Last chance, Ale," You warn through a deep moan when she hits that special spot inside you," Don't you want to be good for me?"

Her pace falters a little but doesn't slow down completely. You look into her eyes and she looks into yours.

She picks up again and you roll your eyes.

It's easy to roll her onto the bottom, your legs wrapping around her hips to flip her onto her back. It's even easier when you realise Alexia is craving to be put into her place.

You're on top now, a hand pressed down onto her chest.

You grab her collar.

"This," You say, lifting your hips up and slamming them down again," Means your mine. Being mine means I'm in charge. Not you."

A breathless whimper escapes her as you ride her cock.

"That means you just get to empty your head and let me decide how things go," You say," You know that, Ale."

"S-Sorry," She whines, head thrown back as you lift up again.

"That's okay. Even good girls need to be reminded of their place sometimes."

She whines into your mouth as you work yourself up and down on her cock.

There was no rush on it on your part.

Alexia was still your good girl but this was still a lesson about disobeying you.

You would have let her cum if she'd been good. She could have fucked you straight through to her own orgasm but now you wouldn't give her that curtsey, focused solely on climbing the peak yourself.

It comes maybe a bit too quickly and maybe you put on a bit of a theatrical moan as you tip over just to make sure Alexia knows that you don't need her fucking you to make you cum.

"Was that good, baby?" You ask as you lazily make out with her, still seated on her cock.

"Yes, amor."

"Do you feel better?"

"Yes..."

"But..."

Her throat bobs a little in nervousness and you wait her out.

"Can...Can...I want to..."

Voicing what she wants has always been difficult for Alexia so you gently kiss along your neck as you wait.

"Can I ride your thigh?"

You chuckle. "And I suppose you want something else with that too, do you, pretty girl?"

Alexia's face somehow gets redder. "Please."

"Come on, baby. Come be a good girl and get off on my thigh."

Alexia lazily takes off her strap as you reach into the bedside cabinet for lube.

"Colour?"

"Green."

She lowers herself onto your thigh and you tense the muscle.

You think this is Alexia's favourite way to get off. She didn't really enjoy taking the strap like you did and while she enjoyed you eating her out, nothing got her off quicker than riding your thigh with fingers in her arse.

"No," She says softly as you uncap the lube.

"You don't want my fingers, Ale?"

"No, I do...I...

She reaches for your hand, sucking in your first few fingers as she rode your thigh.

"Oh, Ale," You groan at the sight," You're spoiling me baby. You want my fingers in your arse that badly?"

She pushes further into your leg in answer.

"You're so good, baby. You doing so well."

You tease her rim gently with spit soaked fingers as she whines.

One finger first to ease her open, rocking it into her arse gently.

The angle is a little tricky, with your arm stretched all the way over her back as Alexia whines and whimpers into the crook of your neck but you've done this plenty of times.

You can make it work.

When the second finger joins the first, Alexia rocks herself more fiercely against your thigh.

"You're doing so well," You whisper to her," Taking my fingers so well. You're so good to me, Ale. Letting me look after you like this."

You don't need to do much, just hold your fingers there as Alexia rocks herself back and forth towards her peak.

"You're so good for me, Ale. You're so good."

You keep up your steady stream of praise even as she lets out a guttural moan.

You bring her down gently, easing your fingers out of her arse once she's fully relaxed and settled against you.

"Do you feel better, baby?" You ask," Was that okay?"

"So okay," Alexia mumbles, scattering kisses against your collarbone," Thank you, amor."

"You know I'm here to make you feel better, baby. I love you."

"Love you too."

You reach for her collar and she stops you.

"Want to keep it on for a bit longer," She says and you place your hand on her back.

"Okay, baby. Only for a little longer. We've got to get you into the bath."

[strawberrystepmom]

senku x f!reader. reader has a background in agriculture. reader is referred to as princess in jest and the unpacking of the reason it upsets reader follows. reader and senku are both 25. post canon au where he and the other ishigami village settlers find a small settlement in california. robert is an oc created specifically for the au. wc 1.7k

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune as always

“You and Gen have a lot in common.”

Snorting at Senku’s words, you dab at the droplets of sweat on your hairline with the back of your gloved hand. He hasn’t been superbly helpful weeding the carrot patch but at least he has been decent company, the two of you working in parallel worlds and occasionally exchanging remarks about what you’re doing. This is generally how things just go when you’re together.

You won’t go so far as to say that you enjoy him, you barely know the man who stepped foot on shores not far from where you are now a little over a month ago, but it’s pleasant to have someone around who will listen to you ramble about whatever has been on your mind. You don’t judge him and he has never judged you, a silent mutual understanding that people will be people, the thread that ties the two of you together.

It doesn’t mean he isn’t observant, though, and he’s all too apt to share said observations with you.

“Why do you say that? Is it because we are both charming, hilarious, and beautiful?”

Senku chuckles while you wipe your free hand on your pants. Very glamorous, you think and laugh to yourself quietly. The sun hangs high enough in the sky you know it’s midday and you offer small waves to everyone who passes by you, smiling big enough people can see it even from a few feet away. You don’t have to do this but you go out of your way to do it, something that always strikes Senku as funny.

“Humble, too.” The scientist remarks and you look up at him, noticing he’s jotting notes away in a leatherbound notebook he swiped from the medical barn.

He has a makeshift ink pen, an invention of his own making, and he’s jotting down thoughts of how to improve the settlement. Watch towers, another well, perhaps mechanized farming equipment to keep you from having to do as much heavy lifting as you do.

“So you agree?” He chuckles again at your words and keeps scribbling, raising his brows. “You know I don’t point out the obvious, princess.”

The recent nickname makes you scoff but your cheeks warm. He heard the village doctor and navigator, two of your closest friends, call you the name in jest and he couldn’t possibly let it go considering what an apt descriptor it is.

“Don’t call me that, it’s bad enough that they do.” Sighing, you reposition your sunhat before leaning down to dig up another weed. “There’s nothing princess-y about me.”

Tossing a carrot down, you decide to rest a moment and sit down next to him in the yellowing grass. The weather is still moderate and pleasant but six weeks from now, it’s likely a small blanket of snow and frost will cover the world and your plants in the process so time is of the essence with the less hearty members of the settlement garden. You feel Senku looking at you but don’t entertain him by glancing back, situating yourself and stretching your legs out in front of you.

“No?” Senku shoots back and you groan, laying back in the grass and closing your eyes. He looks over you and shakes his head, placing the notebook on his thighs where his legs are crossed. “Let’s be honest with ourselves here. If this were thousands of years ago, you’d be in a big tower in a pretty dress waiting for some muscle-brained knight to come and slay a dragon for you.”

You want to be offended but you’re instead curious about what exactly makes him feel that way and how it relates to you and Gen at all.

“What do you mean? I can take care of myself and have managed to do it pretty well so far.”

Senku shakes his head. He can tell you aren’t offended thanks to the lightness in your tone and he appreciates that you don’t read between the lines considering there are none when he comes to him. He says what he means and you listen to it appreciatively.

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying you inspire that kind of action in people.” He shrugs. “Think about the stories I know you used to read. A princess never has to ask for devotion, she simply gets it.”

Raising a brow, he meets your eyes and glances further out in the distance where one of the villagers he brought with him, Ginro, slumps in the fields while pulling weeds. The blonde man keeps glancing in your direction and waving before tilting his face downward to make sure you notice that he’s doing what you asked him to.

“I’ve never seen Ginro work so hard,” the scientist sniffs and you laugh louder than intended, bringing your hand to cover your mouth to stifle the noise.

“Not very fair of you to start with the easy target, Ishigami.”

He snickers and looks across the settlement, seeing if he can spot any of the others he has brought with him that have been more than happy to assist with anything you ask them to. You flash a smile, flutter your lashes if you have to, and shit seems to get done. It’s how you did things before you were petrified too.

“I overheard Hyoga arguing with Robert about being the one to escort you on the next foraging expedition.”

Thinking about the white haired man you feel a little uncertain of yourself and you look away. You find him extremely handsome despite his evasive nature and the two of you have only had a handful of conversations but he’s surprisingly helpful when necessary, you simply go out of your way trying to avoid asking for his help because he makes you nervous. Robert, on the other hand, is an issue that has followed you even thousands of years into the future (pro tip: don’t get petrified and then depetrified near a man harassing you in a club) but he insists on being your personal security whenever he can.

You make a note to genuinely contemplate trying your luck by asking Hyoga personally to accompany you but for now, you turn your attention back to your spiky haired companion.

“No you didn’t. Besides, we haven’t even planned a trip before winter even though we need to make one.”

Senku purses his lips and continues to look around the lands surrounding him.

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Considering his question for a moment, you hum and tilt your head. He hasn’t lied to you but this specific instance feels like a stretch.

“So you heard Big Mouth Bobby mention me and now I’m a princess? Seems like that criteria is a little unfair.”

Senku shifts where he sits and stretches his legs out in front of him to match your position. You shade your eyes from the sun with your palm and look up at him to find he’s glancing over his shoulder at you, shaking his head.

“You seem to think I’m telling you that it’s a bad thing people like and want to be liked by you.”

Shrugging, you settle back against the grass and kick your feet gently. He watches your every move and you feel observed and viewed rather than enjoyed, something about him that always makes you squirm despite yourself.

“Maybe you’re right.”

Senku smiles.

“I’m always right.”

You laugh and shake your head, shutting your eyes to keep from being further intimidated by his weighted glance. If he has any other assessments he’s clearly going to keep them to himself so you press forward, sun warming your face while you speak.

“I don’t get how that relates to me and Gen being similar though. Is he a princess too?”

A chuckle from your companion. At least you can always make him laugh even if you know your other charms won’t work on him. Looks have no effect on Senku nor do fluttering lashes or cute, coy smiles - he judges people off of their character only and you admire the depth it takes for him to do so.

“Oh yeah, that.” He picks his notebook back up and begins scribbling again. “You’re both very persuasive and understand people better than they think.”

Giggling, you sigh contentedly and even Senku finds himself a little bit drawn to the sound. You are charming and sweet and funny and perhaps a bit too honest beneath the slightly self deprecating humor you use to keep people from knowing who you really are. Even Senku can acknowledge all of these things - they’re true, after all. Proven and quantifiable.

“Well, thank you. The power of people skills can never be underestimated in a world where half of the people you meet want to kill you and the other half probably want to kill themselves because we don’t have social media to numb their brains.”

Again with that too honest humor. The scientist shakes his head and scribbles down a doodle for the vision he has for the tower he’s going to build in the coming weeks, halfway between your fields and the little cabin you call home. It’s the perfect position to see the entire settlement and he assumes the only reason you don’t have one yet is that you’ve lacked the people to assist with making it.

He may not be a muscle-brained knight, saving you while you sit forlornly in a tower, but he can be the genius that builds the tower you’ll help create the future society all of you will someday live in from. It’s a far more noble cause if you ask him.

“Keep it up.” He adds simply and you shield your eyes from the sun again, opening them to meet his. You offer a thumbs up and a grin and he shakes his head.

“I am going to tell Gen you called him a princess, though.”

Senku scoffs and leans back, still glancing down at you.

“Well then you’d be lying and it isn’t good to lie, now is it?”

You sit up, ready to argue back and forth but you’re interrupted by Ginro calling your name from a distance and approaching you, three carrots in his fist. Senku rises to standing and reassuringly pats your shoulder with the hand not holding his notebook.

“Looks like your savior is on his way, princess.”

You sigh, shaking your head and waving the scientist goodbye when he parts, watching him leave before plastering on your best persuasive smile and greeting Ginro exuberantly.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Moonlight -x- Sunlight

ch.4 -- Senjuro (cw// banner has flashing text!)

r.kyojuro/f.reader

genre: modern!au, teacher!kyojuro by day/demonslayer by night, izakayaworker!reader, slowburn?, romance, angst

warning(s): slight mention of bullying :(

w.count: 5k

a/n: *blows so much dust off this thing after i shelved it for a year* Go ahead and revisit the other chapters via the INDEX for your refreshers if you'd like lol

It had been two weeks since you had seen Rengoku. Your ankle had healed, and you were once again fully mobile- much to your relief. You weren’t sure how much more limping around with a cane or crutch you could take. After your ankle healed and you got the all-clear from Kocho, you went through the hoops of making her your primary physician.

You hadn’t ever met a doctor you could be so comfortable around- though the whole bonding over being attacked by a demon probably had everything to do with that. Still, you were pleased with your new doctor, nonetheless. Not to mention, giving your money to a smaller business worked more for your morality than signing it all away to a huge corporation like a hospital that already had more than enough business on its side. 

Rengoku never went a day without sending you texts. You had a feeling he did this with all his friends and acquaintances; texting you a ‘very good morning!’ or asking when you’d be getting off work at night and to be careful on the way. You find it pretty cute. Finding a man as well rounded, optimistic and diligent in the ways of keeping in touch wasn’t exactly something you’d consider common; especially since he didn’t use any sort of abbreviations and spoke in fully formatted sentences like he was standing right in front of you.  

Apparently, with midterms and exams coming up, he’s been busy keeping his students occupied and prepping them for passing grades. That, alongside any extra tutoring lessons or occasional substitute gigs has his days packed. 

“Being a teacher must be tough,” you had thought to yourself during one of your many threads where he explained such things.  

You remember the second time Kaname showed up to your house unannounced. Luckily you were home when he landed on the branch outside your window. Though, that didn’t stop you from being startled at the big black mass that landed and pecked at the window to your living room. You were confused as he hopped right on inside when you opened the glass window before he flew to your couch and just sat himself on the arm of it. You didn’t see anything attached to his leg like before- which would’ve been odd since Rengoku had literally texted you earlier- so you were wondering why he was there in the first place. 

Then your phone dinged.

(Rengoku): Per chance, you haven’t seen Kaname flying around, have you? 

Clearly, Rengoku was also unaware that his crow was hanging around your place. The picture you sent him of the black bird leisurely resting in your living room had him calling you for the first time. It was comical, hearing his voice over speaker phone to reprimand Kaname as if the crow would actually understand what was being said to him and reflect on his actions. 

It obviously didn’t work since the next day Kaname was once again pecking at your window as you got ready to leave the house to run some errands. And you continued to allow him inside. Enabling this behavior is probably the opposite of what Rengoku wanted from his work crow, but were you just supposed to sit and stare at that poor, needy bird out your window? No. Of course you weren’t. 

You were sat on the ground by your door, pulling on your shoes when Kaname had cawed behind you. You made a small noise of surprise before you felt his talons land on the shoulder of your jacket. His added weight on your shoulder and his black avian body perched on you was something he hadn’t done before, but you smiled at the fact this bird was getting more and more comfortable with you. Of course, you would then remember that this was a working bird, and he wasn’t exactly yours. 

“You want to come out with me?” Kaname cawed with a small flap of his wings as if he truly understood your question and was giving you an answer. “Alright. You’ll have to stay outside when I’m in stores though, okay?” Another small flap of his wings. 

You stand and grab your bag, going through the checklist of what you’ll need leaving the house. Phone. Wallet. Keys. And whatever else your bag had hiding inside it. With an impulsion decision, you pull out your phone and take a picture of Kaname resting on your shoulder before sending it to Rengoku- who was probably still working since it was still early afternoon- and slipping your phone in your pocket. 

“Remember to behave, Kaname,” you tell the crow one more time before you leave the house with him remaining perched on your shoulder. 

You thought that having Kaname perched on your shoulder was a cute thing. It showed that he liked you and had- to some degree- grown to trusted you. Having a little friend around for Taco to chase was a bit of an annoying exercise sometimes since the feline must’ve felt jealous. Or that's how you justify the way Taco would crawl up your legs to try and get the same level of attention at the crow. Still, having a smart corvid hang around willingly made you feel… magical? For lack of better terms. If this is what witches in the woods in fairy tales felt like you were more than willing to commit to the bit. 

That is, it’s all comfortable in the comfort of your home. The moment you stepped outside, you could feel the eyes of all the people also on the street focused on you. People from across the street giving you looks like you wouldn’t notice. Kids on playgrounds in the park you had to cross definitely had your face growing warm with the cheers of “that ladies got a big bird on her!”. 

It's silly how you had completely forgotten that it wasn’t exactly a normal, everyday thing to witness.  Still, Kaname remained unbothered. Lucky him. 

It wasn’t like you could shoo him off now. That would’ve made you feel more guilty than embarrassed. No, you couldn’t do that to him. So, instead of acting like a bitter woman, you just lifted your hand and used the back of your fingers to lightly ruffle his feathers just under his beak. His nuzzle into your hand as you gave him attention sealed the deal. 

When you get to the first store you need to stop at- a department store- you point to a small, city planted tree that sat in its own little square of dirt surrounded by brick that really needed to be upkept a bit better. 

“Now, you remember our agreement?” You talk face to face with the bird in broad daylight, not acting like a loon in the least. Still, Kaname bellows back to you like he was agreeing. “Good. I won’t be long.” You turn your back on your trusted corvid pal before you’re walking through the automated glass doors of the store. 

True to your word, you were in and out as quick as you could be- or in this case, as quick as the newly trained cashier who was stressing out over their first real day could go. You made sure to give a quick “you’re doing great” on your way out. When the same automated doors- with a few new smudges from strangers who couldn’t resist touching the clean glass- reopen to let you back outside, you see a small gaggle of teenagers. They surround the same, wimpy looking city planted tree you had left Kaname in, and with their phones out were snapping photos and a video of the cawing bird. 

For a bird, he sure had a lot of personality. Though, you supposed that all birds did in one way or another and crows were already smart to begin with. Though, you felt irritated as they all hovered around him like some sort of attraction. 

Stepping off to the side, you get out of the way of the entrance before you’re calling him. You figured that the kids would probably keep filming and snapping photos, so you turned your back to them before calling him back. Kaname would know the back of your head anyways. 

“Kaname,” you speak clearly. It wasn’t loud, but just enough to be heard over the bustle of the afternoon traffic. The crow’s head twitched before his wings unfurled and he was gliding gracefully over to your shoulder that he favored. With another quick finger pet on the crown of his bowed head, you start off again. You ignore the teens who were hollering after you, feeling like an attraction just as Kaname had been treated as. 

When you finally don’t hear them anymore and make it to a section of street that isn’t so thick with people that you’re stepping on each other, you pat Kaname affectionately on his beak that he once again nuzzles into. 

“I’m sorry about them. Your picture is probably going to be floating around school campus’s now.” Maybe he understood, maybe he didn’t. You didn’t speak crow, so his cawing back to your linguistic woes didn’t spark much need to keep talking. 

You continue your errand running in much the same fashion. Window shopping here, stepping into a small shop there, always leaving Kaname somewhere to wait for you- although this time higher than eye level so he wouldn’t be as bothered by the public. It was when you had just finished your final store run when you felt Kaname tug at your hair after riding on your shoulder for a while. 

“Ow!” You whine when his beak snags some of your hair and tugs on it. You turn to him to try and him to quit it when you see a familiar combination of blond and red. Though, it was atop a much smaller body. 

A small boy, maybe high school aged, has that same flame styled hair that you recognize. He was stuck between two other boys, one with his arms slung around Rengoku’s(?) shoulder. The other was hovering around like he was herding him. The boy who resembled Rengoku looked so uncomfortable that when they rounded a corner, your body just took off after them. 

You were right to trust your instincts. 

The two were classic, low-grade bullies from the look of things. Taking the smaller Rengoku’s bag and shifting through it like they were looking for something. You didn’t even realize that now is the time that schools had released their students for the day. You wanted to help but had no idea how to start. Shouting maybe? A strong Hey! would surely get their attention and maybe little Rengoku, who may not even be related (somehow), could slip away in the distraction. 

Luckily, Kaname disrupted your brainstorming and created an opportunity for you. 

With a loud and crass and angry sounding caw, his wings opened, and he flew towards the two bullies like a graceful, winged bullet. His talon’s had landed in the nest of hair of the boy who had the little Rengoku’s bag, effectively making him drop it. With another warning caw, jumps off his head- taking a few stray hairs with him, and flew up and swooped back down to attack the other boy’s skull with small pecks of his beak. You were in awe. Kaname didn’t even need your help defending the bullied victim! Still-

“Hey!” Your original plan of just shouting was definitely more effective when you had an aggressive black bird on your side. Kaname stopped his pecking and flew back up into the air, circling around before he was landing on your shoulder. His eyes that were gentle and relaxed before were now narrowed and attentive. “Leave that boy alone and get out of here,” you command with your stance wide, and arms crossed with your errand shopping bags hanging in the crux of your elbow. You knew that it wasn’t your demeanor that sent the brats packing, but the aura of the angry corvid that added a boost to your intimidation. 

When they were out of sight, you let out a sigh and you felt Kaname relax too. Uncrossing your ams, you jog over to the boy who was now gathering the things that had fallen out of his backpack. Kneeling on the ground with him, you place your bags down and put your hand gently on his shoulder to get his attention. 

“Hey,” you say again, much softer this time than before when you bellowed it. “Are you alright?” You ask. 

The boy nods and his completely tied back hair, aside from the front strands, bounce as he does. You hear him hum in affirmation too. He did a bad job of convincing you that he was really okay. Still, you give him a moment to collect himself. 

“You’re name,” you start as you pick up a stray pencil that had rolled away from him, “it’s Rengoku, isn’t it?” You were near positive. After all, who else could look so closely related to the Rengoku that you know? When he lifts his head and the eyes that also resemble the ones you know was proof enough. 

“Yes?” He sounded nervous. Rightfully so. You’re quick to defend yourself. 

“Oh! I just- well, you look a lot like someone I know, so I just took a wild guess.” Rengoku had mentioned before that he had a little brother in high school. “He mentioned he had a kid brother once too.” The more you tried to save face, the more awkward the whole thing felt. 

Still, the little boy’s face seemed to relax at the mention of familiar individual. 

“You know my older brother?” 

“Sure do,” you reassure. Helping him pack away the rest of his fallen items into his bag, you pick up your own bags and walk with him back out onto the main street. “Where are you heading? Do you want me to walk you?” Your sudden offer must’ve flustered him since his cheeks went pink. You were still a stranger, so yeah, it was kind of weird. 

“I’m okay!” It sounded like he meant it that time, more so because he was embarrassed and blurted it out in such flustered conviction. “I’m just going home. I’m not far now.” 

You hum worriedly but give in anyway. Then, the familiar weight you had gotten used to on your shoulder departed. Kaname and swapped from you to rest on the head of the smaller Rengoku, using his blonde roots as a nest. You chuckle. Looks like he’d have a well-trained escort home, so you weren’t needed after all. 

“Alright, then. Be careful going home.” He bashfully nods before he’s walking away from you. With a small huff of anxiety for his safety, you check the time on your phone. “Oh, damn!” You curse to yourself before rushing back the way you had come. It had gotten so late that if you didn’t get home soon, you wouldn’t have time to feed and play with Taco before it got dark. He’d pout about that for days if you missed his usual ‘me time’! 

Senjuro walks into the apartment he lives in with his older brother and let out a deep breath as he dropped his bag and sat to remove his shoes. Kyojuro, who had managed to come home earlier than usual by deciding to take the short, 15 question quizzes he had to grade back home with him instead of doing it on school premises, heard the familiar sounds of the front door opening, closing then locking. He didn’t need to go out tonight for demon slaying, so he had already changed into more comfortable clothes by the time Senjuro returned. 

Hair pulled off his neck with a hair tie that was fighting for its life and his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. The sweater he wore was light in color with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows as his lazy, black pants kept his legs warm. The air conditioning was almost always running in the apartment since both boys always seemed to run a bit warming than others.

“You are back early today,” Senjuro greets when the older sibling stood behind him and helped him off the floor when he slipped into his house shoes. Senjuro often wore slippers inside since his feet were always so cold- his older brother was the opposite walking around the apartment barefoot. 

“It isn’t often I can spend so much free time at home,” Kyojuro answers. The two walk deeper into the house when Kaname flies inside and to the wooden perch Kyojuro had set up months ago for him to rest on in the living room. 

The apartment was small, but just enough for the two boys. When Kyojuro had moved out of his family home, he was insistent that Senjuro come with him. Their father wasn’t fit to raise the youngest right now and everyone knew it. 

The main space was open and spacious. A single three cushion couch was in the middle of the open area with a tv mounted on the wall. The small coffee table in front of the couch is scattered with items and random odds and ends that never made it back to their proper place. Behind the couch was a small table that could seat four and was currently covered in the quizzes Kyojuro was previously grading. Beyond the living room was a small kitchen that Senjuro was in charge of since his older brother could not cook to save his life. Just down the short hall were their respective bedrooms, an extra room Kyojuro uses for an office space and the bathroom. 

Just quaint enough for the Rengoku boys. 

Kyojuro took to gathering his graded and ungraded papers into piles so he could make room for the homework of Senjuro’s that would soon be replacing his own mess. He could finish in the office later- his little brother’s studies are more important and this way he could ask questions if he needed help instead of holing up in his room at his own desk. 

Hearing Kaname honk softly for a dried treat, Senjuro is quick to oblige. Kyojuro stops his gathering as he takes his glasses off to have them hang off the v-neck of his sweater instead and crosses his arms. He sets his sights on his faithful crow.

“Where have you been all day?” Kyojuro knew Kaname understood him, and he also knew he could get an answer if the bird felt like he wanted to. Senjuro, who had fed him his treat, ran his hands along his back with the flow of his feathers. Then, the mysterious woman he met today came to his mind. 

“Ani ue,” Senjuro calls out the formality of his brother even though he’s been told time and time again that he doesn’t need to. Still, Kyojuro answers with an acknowledged hum, pushing his slight annoyance at his crow aside. “Have you met a girl recently?” 

The question stuns Kyojuro for a second. Longer than a second actually. Really, the bout of silence that followed the innocent question was long enough to make the air awkward. 

“Could you be more specific?” Kyojuro asked in return. His mind went to a space that his little brother didn’t need to be meddling in. Meeting a woman like… romantically? Or was he just over thinking? 

“In terms of meeting someone new.” 

He was over thinking. 

“Ah,” moron. He curses to himself. “I see.” He racks his brain with a hand at his chin. He often meets all sorts of people at work. New substitute teachers come and go all the time. Maybe he meant one of them? Or maybe… 

Kyojuro’s eyes widen in epiphany as he looks back at Kaname. Senjuro had been in classes all day, as had he been. When he wasn’t busy with his job as messenger bird, Kaname often lazed here at home. There was only one place Kaname had been frequently disappearing to instead of staying in the comfort of his home recently. His arms dropped back down to his sides as he walked closer to his crow and brother. 

“Is there a reason you want to know?” Kyojuro sits on the couch and offers the cushion next to him as Senjuro takes it easily. Slightly facing each other, they carried on their conversation. 

“I dropped my bag on the street today,” Senjuro starts. Kyojuro knew that wasn’t the full truth. As much as he hated it, Senjuro was timid enough to be picked on by other kids and Kyojuro wasn’t always around to help him. “When I was picking up my stuff, this woman came to help me. She knew my name; said I looked like someone she knew.” Senjuro’s habit of picking at his nail beds started up and Kyojuro quietly pulled his hands away from each other. “Kaname was with her too. I was just curious.” 

Kyojuro looked into the wide, curious eyes of his little brother and smiled. He called for his crow, and Kaname easily made a home on the back of the couch between the two siblings. Kyojuro pet Kaname’s back and under his beak, alternating. 

“You were with y/n-san all day weren’t you?” 

“Yes!” The crow loudly cawed. 

“Don’t you go and forget where it is you actually live,” Kyojuro lightly reprimands. “And don’t go speaking around her either. You’ll scare the wits out of her cat.” He returns his attention back to his brother. “To answer your question from earlier now, yes. I do believe I’m familiar with the woman you ran into today." Senjuro took notice to the change in his brother's face. Did he know he was making such a softened expression? "She and I met recently.” 

Something in Senjuro’s eyes shined at the mention of you from Kyojuro’s mouth directly. Maybe it was because he didn’t need to worry about a stranger knowing who he was. Or maybe it was something else Kyojuro just wasn’t picking up on. Senjuro spent a little bit longer talking about you, how you had shopping bags, how Kaname was so comfortably hanging around you, and how you seemed like a nice person. 

Soon, the brother-on-brother chit-chat had to come to a stop. The sun would be setting soon and Senjuro still had homework to do and dinner to make. Kyojuro took his papers to his office and shut the door. Dropping his work on his desk, he flipped on the desk lamp before he sat himself in his chair. The leather creaked at his added weight and the chair reclined when he leaned back against it. 

Digging his phone from his pocket of his slacks, he stared at his reflection in the black screen. Kyojuro really wanted to thank you for helping Senjuro, but for some reason he couldn’t even tap on the screen of his smartphone to wake it up.

Kyojuro wasn’t a religious man, but he did thank whatever god had been watching him when the screen lit itself up with an incoming text. 

(y/n-san): Did Kaname make it back home? 

Kyojuro laughs out loud at your message. Senjuro hears it echo from the kitchen. Kyojuro would get his grading done first, then he'd set aside time for you.

You jump out of your skin when, as you’re mindlessly browsing through your socials, an unexpected call jumps your phone to life in both vibrations and a loud ringtone you had always seem to forget the sound of. Fumbling your phone in your hands, you snatch it up before it could give way to gravity and hit the ground... or Taco who was resting on your lap. 

Seeing Rengoku’s name printed on your screen had you mentally lagging before you’re answering the call. Any later and it would’ve been dropped, then you’d be forced with the dilemma of if you call him back or just pretend it never happened. 

The sound of light white noise greets you for a moment as you bring the phone up to your ear. Then, you start off the call first. 

“Hello?” 

“Ah! You picked up!” He sounded excited. You mindlessly start petting through Taco’s fur as he still lay peacefully on your lap. “I’m glad. I was worried you may be busy given the time.” 

“That makes sense,” you agree. Any other night you’d be just about ready for work. “I have the night off tonight, so your timing works out.” 

“How fortunate!” You’ve never heard someone say those words without it being sarcastic before. He really sounded like he was relieved he wasn’t taking up your time. You smile as you lean back against the cushions of your couch and turn the tv you had on for background noise down. It was turned onto some random celebrity reality show or something, you weren't really paying attention to it. 

“Kaname did make it back safely to answer your earlier question. I apologize I couldn’t reply immediately. I was finishing up some work that I had already stopped in the middle of once.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You shift your legs. Taco mewls in annoyance. “Was it for…?” You didn’t know how to ask if he was talking about his work in education or his demon slaying gig. 

“It was for my classes! Grading quizzes can take up a significant amount of my time. I was also helping my brother with some homework when he needed it!” 

You perk up at the mention of his brother.

“That reminds me,” you start, “I ran into him on the road today. I was out running errands when we met.” 

“Yes,” Rengoku's voice took on a softer tone, “that is one reason I wanted to call you.” You stay quiet. Unsure on what to say next. “Senjuro is a gentle child, so he is easily the target of people who feel the need to push other's around. I feel guilty that he doesn’t express to me all the things that happens, but you helped him out today, yes?” 

“Well, sort of. Kaname did most of the work if I’m being honest.” You stop and think about what happened right before you noticed the little Rengoku- who’s name you now know to be Senjuro. Kaname was tugging at your hair, almost like he was trying to get your attention to shift somewhere else. “Without him, I don’t know if I would’ve been able to chase off those brats myself. So, really the credit is all his.” 

You hear Rengoku chuckle on the other end of the line. It was easy to tell just by his voice and concerned tone alone that Rengoku really cared about his little brother. 

“Does your brother do any after school clubs?” 

“Pardon?” The question caught the flame-head off guard. 

“I just- and stop me if this is totally invasive- but I thought that maybe if he needed, I could check on him from time to time after school. Just to make sure he’s not being bullied?” Saying it out loud made you realize just how crazy you sounded.  It sounded like you were trying to butt into their lives! “I’m sorry. It’s just I’m usually free in the afternoons and all so-” 

“I’d appreciate that.” 

“Oh,” you breathe. You half expected him to kindly reject you as you shoved your foot further into your big mouth. “Really?” 

“Senjuro sometimes spends time in the school’s library until I’m ready to go home with him. On the days where he or I cannot go back home together, I do worry about him. I know he'll need to defend himself one day, but he’s still young.” 

There’s a bout of silence between you both for an uncomfortable amount of time. You wonder if the call disconnected at one point because it was so quiet. Still, the time recording the length of the call kept ticking up, so Rengoku was definitely still on the other line. 

“So,” you clear your throat. “Senjuro-kun likes to read?” 

“He does!” The pep is thrust back into his voice and you feel relieved. 

The call lasts for much longer than you anticipated. So long that Taco had gotten off your lap, paced around the couch twice, ran up and down the halls and whined for food all the span of it. You don’t remember the last time you had a long phone call that wasn’t work or business related. Even the few previous calls you've recieved from Rengoku weren't this drawn out. It was enjoyable.

You notice the numbers glaring at you from the clock of your living room and gasp. It was getting late. Really late. And Rengoku- even if he wasn’t working tonight- had classes tomorrow. 

“It’s getting late,” you find the next best gap in conversation and throw in the beginning of the end of the call. “Shouldn’t you be getting some rest? It wouldn’t be good for a teacher to be dead tired all day because he was up so late.” 

“Believe it or not, I’m not a morning person at all! Senjuro brews me coffee every morning since I tend to be grumpy from the long nights I should be used to by now.” 

You laugh at the image. You don’t think you’ve seen him frown once since you met him- even if it hasn’t been that long. 

“Even more reason to let you go.” You get up off the couch and stretch. As if predicting your moves, Taco races towards your room ahead of you. Of course, you’d wash up properly before joining your feline son. “I enjoyed talking to you, Rengoku-san.” 

“You don’t need to be so polite,” he insists. “Referring to me by name alone is just fine.” 

“You’ll need to drop the formalities with me too then. It’d be weird if I spoke casually with you, just for you to not.” 

“Deal.” 

“Good night, Rengoku.” 

“Sweet dreams, y/n.” 

The call ends. Even though you wash your face with cold water, your skin still feels warm in your palms. 

a/n: wow i can't wait for next year when i get around to writing another chapter (is this satire? who knows)

[youngpettyqueen]

wrote something unbearably fluffy and I will be posting it on ao3 tomorrow but I wanted to do something a lil different and post it here. this is because I dont have the energy to do the format editing for ao3 rn but I want people to see it right now immediately

garashir, post-canon Cardassia, short and sweet, fluff that will rot your teeth out. enjoy <3

“Elim?” 

Gentle hands resting on his shoulders rouse Garak from a sleep he didn’t even realize he’d fallen into. He jerks awake with a rather undignified snort, more startled than he’d care to admit as he straightens himself up in his chair. Falling asleep at his desk… he really is getting sloppy.

Those hands squeeze his shoulders gently. He would know that touch anywhere.

“Only me, love,” Julian’s voice murmurs, soft and reassuring, “Didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Garak glances back over his shoulder, wincing slightly at the kink that’s developed in his neck from his awkward sleeping position. “You’ll have to forgive me, my dear,” He replies, offering Julian a tired smile, “I seem to have lost track of the time.”

He takes a moment to give Julian a quick once-over, his eyes heavy with sleep but no less sharp. He looks dishevelled, his hair a mess of loose curls and his jaw lined with a shadow of stubble. He doesn’t have any visible injuries, and his uniform is rumpled, but intact. So today was long, but likely not life-threatening. Good. He’d been worried, before he went and passed out.

Julian smiles back at him, a warm expression, though very tired. The lines under his eyes are deep. “I’ll forgive you, if you forgive me for being so late,” He offers, gently rubbing Garak’s shoulders, “Sorry to have kept you waiting. I was drafting requests for more medical equipment, and lost track of time myself.” He explains.

“How could I ever fault you for such a noble endeavour?” Garak asks, leaning back into Julian’s hands, which are doing wonders for what’s become a permanent stiffness in his shoulders, “I’m sure the staff appreciate your efforts.” His doctor has done marvellously, adapting to working in a Cardassian hospital. It took a couple of crisis situations before the rest of the staff finally took him seriously, but he’s managed to find a place for himself with minimal friction, as far as the hospital staff are concerned. Usually a Human would never have been accepted so quickly, but these are desperate times, and they can seldom afford to turn away such a capable pair of hands. 

“They’ll appreciate it when I actually get the equipment,” Julian replies. He works his thumbs into a knot at the base of Garak’s neck, and Garak all but melts against him, a pleased sound rumbling low in his chest, “Dare I ask what you’re doing with Kukalaka?” 

The question snaps Garak out of his pleased little trance. He glances back at his desk and finds that the bear is, in fact, sitting there, a needle still attached to thread hanging loose from his leg, which is half-sewn to his body. “Ah,” He says, now recalling what he was doing before sleep so unceremoniously claimed him, “Yes, that… well, I was rather hoping to surprise you with that tomorrow…” He hums, feeling a flash of annoyance at his plans being thwarted. 

Julian leans over his shoulder, examining his handiwork. “Oh, Elim…” He murmurs, like Garak has just handed him the world, “You wonderful, wonderful man. You really are too good to me.” He wraps his arms loosely around Garak’s neck, rests his weight against him as he presses his warm cheek to the side of his head.

It never ceases to amaze Garak, just how easy it is to make Julian’s day. The smallest acts have him behaving as if Garak has put the suns in the sky just for him. “Hardly,” He refutes, because he could never be too good for the man who reminds him days after day that good exists in this universe simply by existing, “You may have convinced the little ruffian’s mother that you weren’t upset over Kukalaka being torn asunder, but I know you far better than that. I may not understand the significance of the little fellow, but I would be remiss if I allowed him to remain in tatters when I could easily repair him.” He reasons, and it’s an awfully long way to say I hate to see you sad.

“That little ruffian was all of 3 years old,” Julian points out, a smile in his voice, “And teething, might I add, so understandably cranky. But… thank you,” A warm kiss is pressed to Garak’s cheek, an action that turns him into a puddle of bliss and affection, “I would tell you just how much it means to me, but I’m afraid I’m much too tired to adequately express myself.” He kisses Garak’s cheek again, and nuzzles against him.

Garak hums happily, reaching up to rest a hand on Julian’s arm. “Oh, I don’t know,” He muses, rubbing circles into Julian’s arm with his thumb, “I believe I could infer the depths of your gratitude from, say… more kisses.” He suggests, tilting his head so that he can flash Julian a cheeky grin. 

Julian snorts, buries his face in Garak’s neck as laughter shakes his slender shoulders. When he lifts his head again, he has the loveliest smile lines on his rosy-cheeked face, and the lines under his eyes don’t seem quite so deep anymore. 

“You’re incorrigible.” Julian tells him, earnestly and completely affectionate. 

“Yes,” Garak agrees, “And I do believe you love me for it.” 

“Oh, very much,” Julian agrees, leaning in till his nose taps against Garak’s, “It’s one of your most endearing traits.” 

Garak rubs their noses together, a gesture that is indescribably affectionate and also quite silly. “Tell me again about all those endearing traits of mine?” He requests.

“I’m far too tired for that,” Julian replies, his eyes flicking to Garak’s lips, “I think I’d much rather kiss you silly. Is that an acceptable substitute?” He asks. 

Garak doesn’t respond verbally, just angles his head and pushes up to capture Julian’s lips with his. Julian makes a happy little hum as he kisses him back, and his smile as he presses his lips to Garak’s again and again says more about his gratitude and his love than any string of words ever could. 

[jump-in-the-whump]

oooh, what about a whumpee who escaped whumper with other whumpees, and fled into the surrounding forestry but the other two whumpees died from injuries sustained escaping leaving third whumpee all alone and scared. plus surviving whumpee has a really bad wound on its leg, which results in near fatal infection. fast forward to super sick feverish whumpee who is in a state of constant delirium stranded deep in the forest with no more food or water left just waiting to die until a lone hiker stumbles upon whumpee. the hiker tries to help whumpee but whumpee refuses threatening to stab hiker if approached, because whumpee has trust issues and is afraid the hiker is working for whumper. eventually whumpee is just hanging onto life with a thread; super feverish, shivering, delirious, hallucinating, lapsing in and out of consciousness, super weak. the hiker comes back with others because they want to help whumpee, and don't care if they get stabbed in the process, and they find whumpee half dead and they manage to drag whumpee out of the woods and get them to a hospital where whumpee eventually comes too and literally freaks out trying to get away from the doctors and nurses because it reminds them of whumper. idk just a whacky thought...

ahh so, so sorry for the long wait but YESS!! I like this a lot!

I really really like the idea of a whumpee scared out of their mind, delirious from the very high fever, so they mistake the hiker for somebody they are not, maybe even the whumper themselves! And the fact they even attack the hiker is superr, considering they are barely conscious and probably can't even hold the knife, their hands are trembling so much and their view swims dangerously.

and I love the breakdown in the hospital, where all the medical personnel, perhaps even the hiker (who stayed in the hospital, wanting to make sure the whumpee is alright), have to restrain the whumpee. They hold him down, say soothing words to reassure him, but nothing works, and the whumpee keeps on kicking, scratching and biting everybody, even if they have no strength, they are in absolute pain and they lost their voice. So the only possible outcome is sedating the whumpee, who of course is terrified of needles, and they do their worse to get out of this situation. The question now is, do they manage to escape (perhaps only to pass out a few minutes later) or the doctor manages to sedate them?

thank you for your whacky thought, anon <3

[drdt-headcanons]

Teruko hcs because I love her

- probably use to have a pet scrawny street cat that followed her around everywhere

- she’s Japanese-Bengali

- doctors know her by a first name basis and they HATE her

- Charles asked her out with a chemistry formula pun but it’s scientifically accurate because he hates inaccuracy

- She has one beat up teddy bear she made herself out of scraps and it’s actually nightmare fuel

- Her leg does the thing when you walk and suddenly it just turns sideways and you sprain your ankle and it’s gotten to the point where it stopped being painful and more of annoying

- despite having to sneak in schools for education, was really good in history especially from the 14th Mediterranean trade.

- Her hair is really thick and needs to be brushed every hour or so because if not it gets tangled

- Physical Touch is terrible for her (real)

- Her love language is quality time and acts of service

- her shoes are so old and they are hanging by a THREAD. Like the soles and stuff are duck taped back on so they don’t fall off when she walks

- has found a million and one four leaf clovers in her life (they never help her)

- Charles and teruko’s love language is being jokingly mean to one another

- Cannot comfort for the life of her

- she used to like catching crabs at the ocean

- she has dysgraphia

- her Christmas list includes paying off her medical debt

- either is horrified of accepting apologies or only accepts it in cash

:)

[shmowder]

More Ex-husband Daniil. The day you hand in the divorce papers. how much angst? Yes.

-

The food has long gone cold by now, wax pooling at the bottom of the candles, halfway melted. Their fire flickers against the shadows of the dark room, the sun having bid its goodbyes hours ago.

How unnervingly still the world stood at the clock of midnight.

You blink the sleepiness away, an empty stare landing on the equally empty wine glasses set aside. Meeting your own reflection, distorted against their curved surface.

He said he'd come home early today.

Daniil gave his word, a promise whispered in the aftermath of the brief kiss atop your cheek as you stood by the front door, watching him put on his coat before heading out to work this very same morning.

His angelic eyes, the same ones you fell in love with years ago. A delicate smile painted on his lips, ones he couldn't keep off of you in between lectures during the long gone university days.

And like a fool you fell for it.

Again.

Fell for the passion in his voice as he spoke about his dreams, his work in Thanatica. His mission a crusade against death itself. All death.

The wooden chair creeks as you adjust your semi-numb legs. You don't dare look at the clock. You don't want to know how many hours have already passed with you sitting here, waiting for him.

Always waiting, staying in place, making yourself smaller to make space for him, pushing your dreams and obligations aside so he may overindulge in his own. Accommodating his self-made circumstances, bending to the whims of the prodigy of your generation.

There once was a day when he spoke about you just as passionately, a day when you still earned the right to his now stolen heart.

That day–like many others–was put on the shelf, collecting dust, reduced to a treasured memory, a security blanket you drape over yourself after every fight. Telling yourself he wasn't always this negligible, he wasn't always this harsh. He's just been cursed with a brilliant mind, you can't possibly understand, so make up a million excuses to justify his change of heart.

He vowed, till death do us apart.

The clicking sound of a key turning through the lock stands out amidst the quiet room. The creeking of the door pushed open follows.

He looks beyond exhausted, like he just escaped from the afterlife.

Pushing his own body to the brink of collapse and work through the long hours of the night. Always the last one to depart and first one to arrive.

Pushing aside your concerns about his health and mind. Saying how he'd know better, he's the doctor after all. Qui non proficit, deficit. His efforts are necessary.

Pushing the last thread of the patient you have until it snaps. Barely glancing your way with a raised eyebrow as the first words of his mouth are, "You should've gone to bed."

Swallowing down the acid in your throat, you give him the benefits of the doubt. Asking what took him so damn long to walk home?

"I had to attend to something important in the labs; a new sample is showing great potential." He hangs his coat, loosens his cravat, and doesn't add anything more.

A growing crack spreads through the walls of your mind. The dam finally breaks down.

An argument giving way into a yelling match, accusations are thrown around, vulnerabilities are targeted under the pretence of self-defence.

His brutal mind, your bruised heart.

It's nothing out of the usual, really. Those fights are becoming the norm as of late. Ones which and up with both of frustrated even more, storming away and slamming the door.

Dankovsky would think he memorised this ugly song and dance. Just like always, your anger would eventually fizzle out, and just like always, his pride would deflate down with time.

It's been done many times. The two of you break out into an argument, hours, days, or even weeks pass with total silence except for the passive-aggressive remarks until the original problem dulls and fades out. Politely swept under the rug so business as usual may resume.

After you're done with that tantrum, maybe the two of you can finally have dinner together like a civilised couple before the untouched food on the table gets more stale than it already is. Then he'll gladly tell you about his day, his annoying coworker who forgot to bring their pen and ended up borrowing his, finally ending his speech by asking about yours.

Dinner quietly passing with time.

As the soft mattress sinks below your weight, he'll close the book in his hand and take off his reading glasses to set them aside.

Looking at your turned back, a sigh leaves him, a semi-apology following close by. Empty promises of doing better easily slip past his lips, and maybe at that moment he spoke them with complete sincerity, maybe he really meant them.

You begrudgingly turn around, and he pulls you into his arms, lets you bury your face into the nook between his neck and shoulder.

And for a moment everything is fine.

Except maybe, not this time.

You never make it past the argument. He never makes it into your shared bed tonight.

No, Instead you're still sitting at that dinner table with him opposite of you. Explaining the documents in your hand, your signature already at the bottom of the divorce papers.

You're drinking in his expression of shock. Barely speaking a word as you talk, eyes wide looking at you in disbelief.

He doesn't put up a fight, he doesn't process his emotions fast enough to, he doesn't fully register the situation to reply back.

You almost feel bad, seeing him taking it lying down.

It didn't feel like winning to you, especially since he wasn't even playing, merely staring at the chessboard with an absent mind.

Until denial comes crashing down.

"Is this a tasteless joke? You can't possibly..."

He prays. He doesn't believe in god, but he prays deep down for it to be an awful dig at him. Please heavens above let it be one of your bluffing insults that was taken too far.

It's not.

He's lost in his own mind, what changed? You always came back so why not this time around?

You always waited for him.

The gold metal band glistens under the candlelight. You slowly slip the ring off. Dropping it into the table's tray, it clinks as it slots against its identical pair, the ring he forgot to put on this morning, the sound echos in the room.

You get up to leave, and he looks ready to drop to his knees. Painfull regret painted across his features.

For a brief moment, you're reminded of a younger Daniil. One who wore a similar anxious expression while studying for the finals, books scattered around, papers covering the floor as the two of you laid atop his dorm room's bed. You remember holding his hand, promising that everything will be fine.

You recall a sweet kiss, one he planted like a seed of hope as he brought your hand up to his lips.

Staring at the shadow of a man you once knew in front of you, a man of many talents and knowledge, a man lost for words, beaten, broken down.

Fists clenching against his coat, lips dry, eyes staring at you, waiting for your next move, begging for a reveal that confirms this is all a facade. For you to turn the lights back on, sit by his side, share dinner and forgive his sins for the night.

You don't wait for him to reply. Swiftly leaving the papers in front of him, you head towards the door.

The locks clicks in place behind you, the night air fresh in your lungs. Not a single star in sight amidst this cloudy night.

[thenamesblurrito]

A commission for @pluralsword for the lovely fic Addendum over on AO3, following Arcee on her gender journey! Some snippets are under the cut, including the bit this illustrated scene is from.

The torn metal thread shreds of the Crystal City Messenger newspaper fell from my hands. My body shivered and I felt bellows build up in my voice box unreleased.

“We have truly entered a world of madness- we are dead, dead peoples,” I muttered at my doorstep in the empty residential hallway.

The front-page article and first two sentences ran over and over in my mind. THEOCONOMIST FORM-ESSENTIALISM MADE LAW AFTER TAMPERED PUBLIC POLLS. Nova Prime endorses the theoconomists favoring form over aesthetic and orders the demolition of all aesthetic archives, programs, and organizations in the name of ‘freedom,’ and ‘moving on.’ We write with urgency – because of our reporting over the millennia against the reactionary rise, maintaining of records, and projecting of voices of the decreasing population that still connects to gender or anything like it, we are among the news groups hereby outlawed-

-

In my wordless scream of frustration and his of terror, I severed his head from his neck and immediately charged towards the door, deflecting the shots and cutting down the handful of bots in front of me, while taking scatter blasts to my back in yells of pain-

Blasts that fell silent as the hauler’s metal screeched and tore from rocket explosions at the front, spinning us wildly. I stood alone, legs bent and jumping about, while the rest tumbled.

I was about to run- Don’t run- and instead began to bear down on each with my blades in rapid succession while I bled. Four stabs through sparks by the time the remaining eleven stood back up in the back corner gravity had left them in, near me, and I sliced through the group’s torsos in four blows with a triumphant yell, as all fell to my blades beyond their experience or technology.

-

I sputtered, exhaust fumes coming out of my transforming seams in nervousness in my chair in her brightly lit office.

“You can say it, you know it as I do, and we’re here for you, just like people were for me,” she got up from her chair and stood in front of me, her sturdy shoulder stacked frame’s firm graspers towards me. “Can I hold your hands? Would that help?”

“Yeah...” I reached out and held her own, feeling her fingers gently find an easy grip around me. “It’s nice to actually be able to trust a doctor and a friend with understanding me and my body, that of a linked trans gal.” 

-

"Sibling, you shouldn't be here," Galvatron crossed his arms and leaned on the wall. "This is far too dangerous, not in a combative sense, but that of you against the world," He frowned. "Including danger from your supposed patron and protector."

"You mean, the only person who has done right by our kind with any sort of power to protect us?" I stared back. "You showed up now to tell me that? No hug, no gladness to see me?"

-

“Hang on m’am I’m messaging a medic named Safety he’ll be right over with his team-” Phreaker replied.

I was flabbergasted. “Phreaker!”

“What? Just finished talking to him, sorry about that lady,” Phreaker transformed back and extended an arm. “I’m way smaller than you, but you can barely stand, and you need a friend. Lean on me.”

“Why did you use she pronouns and gender terms that some have associated with women? I haven’t told you my pronouns or my gender or terminology therein,” I stared at his cube of a face.

-

I spotted recent Cybernought tracks in the direction of my heading. No no no this is bad!! =”ANODE! LUG! Can you read me??”=

I slowed and reached the residue point- there was a crater with a shattered shield staff in the middle, and pink blood everywhere. 

I transformed, crouched, and spotted split off pieces of Lug’s chest and torso armor.

-

“Hey Arcee, what’s up? Surprised to get a call from you after our last conversation,” Windblade’s holodisplay visage smiled at me, wings outstretched.

“I’ve been playing around with Earth mode reformats to choose.” I sent her communications table the file scans of considered alt modes and altered files I had tinkered with. “And actually found some euphoria from the shapes I’m considering, but I realized, I realized I didn’t want to be alone right now for this, I wanted someone who would understand to be present.”

-

“So, after all these millions of years, after all your labor for a radical revolution and then for survival in the wider galaxy, why in the stars would-” I fumbled over my words, the weight of my title and path of peace pressed on me, as I looked on at Arcee and Windblade, the old and new wiser than me, and both our future. “Why would you, an ancient trans woman anarchist, join up with the Autobots and work as my right hand, and even a commander in my stead?”

-

“Hey, hey, Arcee, Aileron told us what was happening,” Lug rubbed my back stacks, as did Anode from my sitting position where Aileron held me. “I know it’s a lot sometimes when we visit, and especially the occasion today.”

 I let their rubbing and embrace anchor for me a moment, and then whimpered out: “come around so I can hug you- let me try to stand-” 

Aileron helped me up, and the four of us hugged close. Lug’s head nuzzled on my waist, Anode leaned her head on my shoulder, and Aileron touched the three of us with her arms and torso. We had a quiet, lovely moment. 

-

“Reading Anode and Lug’s journals again I see,” Prowl sat across from my cell bar’s door. “I have to ask, what do you of all people see in them besides curiosity? A change of spark, historical inclination?”

“It’s how they lived with the resources they had, and how strong they were with so little material,” I turned my head, and put the journal down. “They had in abundance things I didn’t value that only they could make- their euphoria, their companionship, their epistemes, their memories, their family. Resources I lost understanding for their true meaning long ago and am trying to retrace, (rest of quote removed due to spoilers)

-

Aileron's drippy face looked up at me as Gauge and Sideswipe held her hand, and Ailering, Greenlight, Anodes, Lugs, and Lancer hugged her. "I know we'll be family again too, Windblade..." 

"I know we will," I smiled and joined the embrace, letting her chest rest on my head. "I have no doubt." 

"Aunty, do you think-," Gauge wrapped an arm around me. "Do you think if our world had been happier- if we had not had 12 million years of empire- that her life would have been able to blossom more than it did? To never have been so alone?"

[albertasunrise]

Life's too Short - Part 2

Masterlist

Summary: After Colombia, you weren't sure you'd ever be able to trust Frankie ever again but circumstances bring you to realise that life is too short… You just hoped you weren't too late to mend fences.

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to list any warnings. (Wasn't gonna keep ya waiting long ❤️ enjoy! Wrote this instead of working 😅)

Skip to the Good Part Universe

Part 1

You rocked in your seat as you awaited news. The alarms still ringing in your ears. Will had, had to carry you from the room when your legs had given out and you'd sobbed uncontrollably. Now he waited with you. His hand laced with yours as he stared off into the distance.

"Morales?" Your head shot up and your eyes were greeted by a different doctor this time.

"Yes." You replied, your voice barely above a whisper and you went to stand, only to be stopped by his raised hand "Please."

"How is he doc?" Will asked, his hand squeezing yours tightly.

"He's stable for now." The doctor confirmed and you both breathed a collective sigh of relief "I need to be candid with you both. Mr Morales' condition isn't good. We are currently treating his brain bleed with medication but currently, he's not responding."

"What does that mean?" You choked and the doctor sighed.

"It means that we will likely need to operate." You both slumped back in your chairs, sharing a glance before you return your attention to the man standing across from you "We don't want to resort to surgery unless absolutely necessary. Your husband's other injuries and the massive blood loss are also a cause for concern. We won't know the level of damage this has caused until he wakes up."

"If he wakes up." Will piped up and the doctor nodded grimly.

"We will do all we can for your husband Mrs Morales but I wouldn't be doing my job properly if I didn't tell you that your husband's chances are slim." You gave the doctor a weak nod, showing him that you understood what he was saying to you "I would get any family that you think needs to be here over as soon as you can."

"He's only got me and our two daughters." You replied, "His parents died a few years ago."

"I'll call Santi and let Ben know." Will piped up "Perhaps you should get Amanda to bring the girls."

"They're babies will." You sobbed, eyes flitting between him and the doctor "They shouldn't have to witness their father slip away."

"Bringing them might help." The doctor piped up "He's unconscious but studies show that coma patients are aware of their surroundings. Talk to him. Let him know you're there and that he's loved. The fight is down to him." He said as he placed a friendly hand on your shoulder 'Give him something to fight for."

…

You were sitting reading to Frankie when a nurse pushed Ben into the room. You smiled sweetly at him as you stood from your chair to help her seat him in the chair on the other side of Frank's bed.

"I should break bones more often if it means I get to have two lovely women fawning over me." He grinned and you snorted, giving his arm a playful punch before straightening up and glancing at your husband "How's he doing?"

"Vitals are slowly getting worse." You sighed "The swelling in his brain has reduced a little but his pressures keep dropping."

"Ah, Fish." Ben sighed and you gave him a weak smile and his arm a friendly squeeze before making your way back to your chair.

"Amanda's bringing the girls over." You stated "One last ditch attempt to get him to try to fight this." You sighed "If not then it'll give them a chance to see him one last time."

"Pope's on a flight over." Ben stated "Managed to get the last seat on a non-stop flight. Due in tomorrow evening."

"He'll be too late." You sobbed as you grabbed Frankie's cold hand.

"You can't think like that Sweetheart."

"My husband is hanging on by a thread." You choked "He crashed almost as soon as I first walked into this room."

"He just needs some time."

"He doesn't have time Ben." You sobbed "I left him and I'm to lose him. Guess that's my punishment for letting the best man I know, slip through my fingers."

"You did what you thought was right." Ben intervened and you scoffed.

"Look where that got me." You snapped "I'm alone, I'm miserable and now I'm to lose the men I love. He's gonna die never knowing that I never stopped loving him." Your tears fell freely then "That I was seriously starting to second guess my decision but I was too late!"

Frankie's heart monitor started to blare and you shook your head, afraid that history was about to repeat itself but instead you got a stern look from one of his nurses.

"You need to try and keep your tone positive." She stated as she pointed at the monitor "His heart rate spiked because he was stressed. He's too weak to be stressed so you need to tone whatever ya'll be talking about in here down."

You nodded and watched the nurses leave, feeling your heart prickle with guilt. But then your eyes settled on your husband and you started to wonder if maybe he could hear you. That perhaps he did just need something to fight for.

So you decided that you were going to give him just that.

~

"Hermosa!" Santi gushed as he pulled you into his arms before glancing down at Mia who snoozed soundly on your shoulder "How are you doing?" He asked as he cupped the infant's head and placed a soft kiss on her brow.

"As good as can be expected." You sighed "Will and Ben are in there with him at the moment sitting with the eldest. Alicia is currently mumbling some random babble story that the boys are particularly enthralled by." You chuckled "Reckon she'll be a good public speaker once she can string together coherent sentences."

Santi chortled at that before his eyes drifted to Frank's door.

"Go." You said as you motioned with your head "I'll be in in a few."

Santi didn't need to be told twice. He made his way to the door and smiled when she saw Will holding Alicia in his lap as she dramatically regaled her story.

"ANTEEEE." She practically screeched and the boys looked up and smiled at the sight of Pope standing there.

He gave them all a sweet smile as he stepped further into the room and then it dropped when his eyes fell on Fish. He looked like shit. His face was a patchwork of cuts and bruises. His chest was almost bare. A bright white bandage was wrapped around his middle and another around his head. A thick tube stuck out between his chapped lips. Held in place was tape.

"Ah, Hermano." Santi muttered under his breath as he stood and Frankie's side, his eyes filling with tears.

"Papi poorly." Alicia piped up and Pope's eyes darted to her, her eyes a carbon copy of Frank's.

"Yes, he is Princesa." Santi agreed, giving her a sad smile.

"Mumma cry." She said, her bottom lip trembling as her big brown eyes grew round and wet.

Will pulled her close and she let out a small sigh before curling up in the man's arms. Santi then noticed the shape Ben was in and let out a small gasp.

"Fight go badly Ben?" He enquired and Ben let out a breathy chuckle as he scraped a bruised hand over his face.

"Nah, I was in the car with him." Ben replied, "Broke my leg, arm and I have a pretty nasty concussion but other than that I'm okay."

"Shit."

"Language." Will scorned and Pope smirked.

"Sorry."

"How's she really doing?" Pope asked, noting Alicia had dosed off.

"She's trying to be strong but in reality, she's falling apart." Ben sighed.

"What are the doctors saying?"

"He's not any better." Will shrugged "If anything just getting gradually worse. The swelling increased on his brain overnight so he was rushed in for emergency surgery to relieve it. He's just so weak man."

"But this is Fish." Ben piped up "He'll keep on swimming." He said with surety "He always does."

Pope gave Ben a nod before glancing up at you as you rocked your sleeping daughter in your arms.

For your sake… He hoped Ben was right.

…

You were sitting watching Alicia with fondness as she sat crosslegged on Frankie's bed, talking enthusiastically about the puppy she'd seen that morning. Mia was suckling noisily on your breast, brown eyes wide as she grabbed at you.

When your youngest was done you placed her down on her tummy beside her dad. Keeping your hands close to her as she glanced up at him. At five almost five months old, her neck was strong and she had started army crawling as much as she could. You watched her do just that so she could get a little closer to Frankie and your heart ached. You just wished he'd turn that corner.

He'd made it longer than anyone had expected. Three days… three days he'd managed to keep holding on and you hoped it was because he knew his babies were there with him. That their presence was giving him something to cling to.

You glanced up when the doctor entered the room and you gave him a small smile as he started to check your husband over.

"Sup Doc." Alicia chirped and he chuckled.

"The ceiling." He said with a wink before looking up at you "How are you doing?" He asked, just like he did every day and you smiled.

"Same as yesterday."

"Well, you'll be pleased to hear that Fish's vitals are looking better." He said excitedly and your eyes grew wide "Whatever it is you girls are doing. Keep at it."

"Papi better?" Alicia asked and the doctor chuckled.

"He's getting there sweetheart." He said softly "So keep taking care of him because it's helping."

"Yes, sir." She said, giving him a salute and he gave you a bemused look.

"Ask him." You motioned at Frank.

He gave you a knowing smirk before ruffling Alicia's curls and leaving the room. Leaving you with more hope than you'd had in what felt like an eternity.

~

The days then merged into a week. You sat, with your daughters, at Frankie's bedside every day. You read to him. Helped the nurses clean him. You did anything you could think of to try and get him to continue fighting. Each day, the doctor seemed to be happy with his progress.

It was slow.

But it was progress nonetheless and you told Frankie each day how proud you were of him. How you'd take him to his favourite steak restaurant and buy him the biggest one on the menu if he continued to fight.

Another week then passed and he started to make real, noticeable, improvements. He started to fight the ventilator. So they took him off it. His vitals continued to get stronger and he showed more signs that he was aware of his surroundings.

Ben, being stuck in a wheelchair, spent a lot of his time with you. Helping with the girls when they were there and then being general company for you when they weren't. You felt yourself growing closer to the younger Miller. A true friendship forming between the two of you. You knew what they said though. Tragedy brings people together.

You were in the middle of a passionate conversation about the latest episode of a show you were both hooked on that you'd almost missed Frankie's hand squeezing yours.

"Frankie?" You asked as you jumped to your feet "Can you hear me?" You asked and he gave you a weak nod as his eyes cracked open.

"Ben, stay with Frank whilst I fetch someone."

The room was a flurry of movement then as nurses filled the space with energy and movement. Frankie's doctor was talking to him as you stood back and watched, your hands shaking with a mixture of excitement and nerves. One nurse fed him a few ice chips as another propped up his bed a little more then, after what felt like hours, everyone started to filter out.

"I'll leave you to catch up." The doctor said with a smile before he too left and then your eyes settled on your husband.

He seemed to be more lucid now. The claws of sleep had a looser grip on him now. You stared at each other for a while. Not knowing what to do or say. Then his lip curled up into a small smile and you knew then exactly what you wanted to do.

You closed the distance with a few long strides. Grabbed his face in your hands… and you kissed him. Pouring all the love, adoration and need you had for him into it.

"What was that for?" He croaked when you finally pulled away and you smiled.

"I almost lost you." You choked and his brows drew together.

"Did you?"

"Yes." You sobbed "But you're okay now." He nodded weekly, closing his eyes as you rested your forehead against his "We're okay now."

"We?" He squeaked and you grinned.

"Yes Francisco, we." You confirmed, "I am never leaving you again." You kissed him sweetly, smiling against his lips.

"I love you." He whispered as a few tears slipped down his cheeks.

"I love you too." You said before a comfortable silence fell over the room.

I love you three." Piped up Ben and you snorted, grinning when Frankie gave him the finger.

Everything was going to be okay.

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[whatistmt]

Exploring Angiography: Unveiling the Veins and Arteries

Introduction:

In the realm of modern medicinal drug, diagnostic tactics have evolved considerably to allow specific detection and remedy of diverse health situations. One Substantial assets that has drastically transformed cardiovascular care is angiography. Through this advanced imaging technique, blood vessels can be visualized and various issues related to the circulatory system can be accurately diagnosed. In this weblog, we will delve into the world of angiography, know-how its motive, kinds, and the know-how of renowned coronary heart and blood vessel professional.  Angiography:

Angiography is a remarkably potent medical approach employed to observe blood channels all over the physique, encompassing the cardiac and cerebral regions. During the procedure, doctors inject a special medication into your blood vessels. This drug helps advanced imaging technology to take clear pictures of these important pathways. These images are crucial because they reveal if there are any blockages, inflammation, or other issues in your blood vessels. This makes angiography really important for diagnosing different health problems.

Types of Angiography:

Coronary Angiography:

It focuses on visualizing the blood vessels that supply the heart.

A catheter is threaded to insert a contrast agent through the blood vessels, providing detailed images of the coronary arteries.

It is used to diagnose coronary artery disease and plan interventions such as angioplasty or stent placement.

Cerebral Angiography:

It focuses on the blood vessels in the brain.

Contrast agent is injected into the carotid or vertebral arteries for advanced imaging.

It helps diagnose aneurysms, varicose veins, or other neurological conditions related to the brain.

Percutaneous angiography:

It examines the blood vessels in the legs and arms behind the heart and brain.

Useful in the evaluation of excessive blood flow during the diagnosis of peripheral arterial disease (PAD).

Pulmonary Angiography:

Targets blood vessels in the lungs.

Commonly used to diagnose pulmonary embolism or other pulmonary vascular abnormalities.

Conclusion:

In the journey towards optimal cardiac health, the expertise of specialists like Dr. Umesh S. Hange is Best Cardiologist in Aurangabad. As an esteemed cardiologist with extensive training and experience, Dr. Hange, MD, DM (Cardiology), brings a wealth of knowledge and skill to the field. Having completed his training at LTMMC, Mumbai, and further honed his expertise at the prestigious John Hopkins Institute in the USA, Dr. Hange is renowned for his dedication to patient care and his contributions to advancing cardiovascular medicine.

Patients seeking cardiovascular care can place their trust in Dr. Hange's expertise, as he combines academic excellence with practical experience gained from LTMMC, Mumbai. By choosing a specialist with a global perspective, such as Dr. Umesh S. Hange, individuals can ensure comprehensive and cutting-edge care for their heart and blood vessel health.

In conclusion, the evolution of diagnostic tools like angiography, coupled with the expertise of specialists like Dr. Umesh S. Hange, marks a significant stride in cardiovascular healthcare, promising better outcomes for patients around the world.

For More Info: cardioneurocare.com

[besidemethewholedamntime]

Hello again! :D I'm here because of our conversation earlier... where I asked you if I could request a fic where Jemma wakes up after some surgery and asks hilarious questions to Fitz while still not fully recovered from anesthesia.. may be an au, may be canon! It's totally up to you ♥

hello! Here’s your finished piece and I hope it’s kind of what you were looking for! Thank you so much for prompting me it - it was such a joy to write

bumblebees and wisdom teeth

{Read on Ao3}

or read below! 

“No. Absolutely not. You must be out of your mind toeven suggest it.”

Fitz rolls his eyes as she turns her back for a moment– knowing better than to do it so she can see. His tone is calm, without a hintof frustration. “It was your dentist, Jemma, not me. And it wasn’t so much as asuggestion as she effectively told you that you needed your wisdom toothremoved.”

Jemma makes a harrumphsound, before throwing herself forcefully into the kitchen chair. “My teethare perfect.”

“I know,” hetells her, for the fifth time. “And so does she. But it’s hurting you. And youeither leave it or it gets infected and this becomes a much bigger deal.” Helooks at her imploringly. “You know this.”

A small smile appears, and he watches as she givesway. “That did sound like something I would say.”

For the first time since they’ve arrived home fromJemma’s dentist appointment this afternoon, Fitz allows himself a smile, too.As big and as brave as his wife is, he knows she has great reservations aboutthe dentist. It’s taken two weeks to try and convince the normally completelylogical Jemma Simmons to get over herself and make an appointment about thebothersome tooth.

“It won’t be so bad,” he tells her gently, able tocomfort now the stubbornness has subsided. “A quick operation.”

“But it’s only partially erupted,” Jemma moans. “Whichmeans they’ll have to dig around in there.”

“After everything you have faced, you can definitelyovercome this.” He watches her smile again, though it’s small. “And if you’revery good, then I’ll even get you some ice cream after it’s all over.”

She laughs at him, reaching over to kiss him gently.“That approach may work on our daughter,” she says silkily, “but I’m afraid Imight require something more than ice-cream.”

“Whatever you want,” he promises, kissing her again.

-x-

“Can I come, too?”

Sarah looks at him beseechingly, holding her miniatureladybird suitcase in her hands. Fitz stops folding the washing to ruffle herhair.

“We’ll all be going, kiddo. Mummy’s going to need uswhen the dentist is done with her mouth. But it’s only for a few hours so wewon’t need the suitcase.”

“Oh.” Sarah looks disappointed. “Okay.” She sets itdown on the floor. “When are we going?”

“As soon as mummy is done worrying about all of thethings she won’t be able to do for a couple of days,” he says, watching asSarah’s ‘thinking crease’ appears between her eyebrows. “Hey, why don’t you goget some things to do and put them in your amazing bumblebee bag, yeah?”

She runs off, clearly excited about the prospect ofgetting to use some animal themed luggage today. Fitz drops the t-shirt he’sfolding and pokes his head around the kitchen door.

“You ready to go soon?”

Jemma sits at the kitchen table, a pen gripped so hardin her hand that her knuckles have gone white. There are sheets of paper allover the table, all of the lists she has made to comfort herself. “It says twodays is enough time for recovery.”

“That’s what the dentist said.”

“The NHS website, too,” she hums. “But what do youthink?”

“I think we’ll see how you feel afterwards, okay?” Hereaches out his hand and, though with a bit of reluctance, she takes it.

“You’ll be fine, Jemma,” he says softly. “We’ll bothbe there the whole time.”

“Okay,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay.Let’s go get this bloody tooth removed.”

He grins in spite of himself. “That’s the spirit!”

-x-

“Oh wow! This is amazing!”

Fitz really only thought that the utter personality changesand complete silliness associated with wisdom tooth removal existed in thefilms, or was one of those things that was exclusively American.

“You are very handsome!”

But no.

“Are you single?”

It appears that it’s not. The proof of which iscurrently sitting on a chair in front of him, mouth puffed up with gauze, wheezingwith laughter at unknown jokes.

Jemma grabs his chin with her cool hands, and wiggles itabout. He tries not to laugh at the bewildered expression on her face. No doubtshe’ll remember it once the anaesthesia wears off.

“I think you’re incrediblyattractive.” She tries to roll her r’s, but it gets lose in the gauze. “Yourface is so symmetrical. I’ll bet if I checked, then you’d have the GoldenRatio.”

Knowing for a fact he doesn’t (because she’s checked,of course) he simply smiles and wishes it wouldn’t be frowned upon to record avideo in a hospital. “That’s a lovely compliment, Jemma, but I think it’s timewe get you home, now. Get you some sleep.”

Her elbow that he’d been about to take to help her upsuddenly retracts as if he’s shocked yet. Her eyes narrow, the crease betweenher eyebrows prominent. For a moment he’s overcome by the similarities between hiswife and daughter.

“How do you know my name?”

“You’re my best-friend and we’re married,” heexplains, patiently, opting for the short version. “If you let me help you up,we can get going and you’ll feel much better. I promise.”

“We’re married?!”She shouts, then winces, but doesn’t let the pain deter her. “Oh, I am verylucky indeed. A very lucky woman.”

“You know, I’m going to remember you said this.”

“Okayyy.” Jemma smiles up at him, glassy eyed, and offersher elbow up to him.

“Excellent, well done.” He helps her stand up, theturns his head this way and that. “Now we just have to locate Sarah and we canbe on our way.”

“Who’s Sarah?” Jemma asks sleepily, trying to lean herhead on his shoulder, and moaning a bit when his head swivelling doesn’t allowfor a comfortable stay.

“What kind of drugs did they give you?” He mutters, beforethe person he desires comes careening into the discharge room, brandishing asweetie from the vending machine.

“I got one for mummy and one for you!” Sarah exclaims,before noticing her mother and looking up at her, blinking owlishly.

“I’ll save hers for later,” she decides, stuffing thebumper pack of Starburst into her backpack.

“Good idea, kiddo.” He grins at her, then turns backto Jemma. “Right, let’s get going.”

“You are so pretty,” Jemma gushes, words slightly moreslurred than they were earlier. “Like a princess.”

Usually, Sarah becomes indignant at being likened to aprincess. Her face becomes all pinchy, and she tosses her toffee coloured curlsover her shoulder before walking away. If she’s in a particularly feisty mood,there can sometimes be shouting involved. He hopes that today isn’t one ofthose days.

Luckily, Sarah is a feisty but perceptive little beanand she simply loops her arm around her mother’s free one and leans her head inand says, “thank you.”

“And such lovely manners, too. You’ve been taught sowell.”

“By the best,” Fitz assures her. “Let’s go home.”

-x-

“Daddy,” Sarah whispers in the car on the way home. “Mummyisn’t going to be like this forever, is she?”

Fitz looks over to where Jemma has her head leaningagainst the passenger window, laughing uproariously at a dog, or perhaps theTesco delivery van, or the post box. He smiles a reassuring smile in the rear -viewmirror.

“Not for very long, kiddo. Don’t worry. Let’s justenjoy it while it lasts.”

-x-

“Knock knock,” he says, gently, pushing open the doorto the darkened bedroom.

“Ungggg,” Jemma groans into the pillow. “My head issplitting.”

He holds up a glass. “I brought you some water.”

She sits up, softly swiping hair away from herslightly swollen jaw. “My hero. Thank you, Fitz.”

“No bother.” He comes to sit next to her, handing herthe water with a paper straw in it.

She takes a sip, wincing a little bit, before lookingpast him, bleary eyes trying to focus in the dimness of the room. “Where’sSarah?”

“Downstairs making you a ‘get well soon’ card with hertoy dog. Expect a lot of paw prints next to her name.”

She chuckles, moaning and gingerly pressing her handto her jaw after she does so. He holds up a box of ibuprofen. “I brought these,too.”

“You deserve an award, Fitz.” She takes them with agrateful look. “I can’t believe what the anaesthesia did to me, earlier. I feelso embarrassed.”

“You shouldn’t,” he laughs. “It was cute.”

“Did I absolutely terrify our daughter?”

He can’t imagine Sarah being absolutely terrified ofanything. The child practically asks the world to come and take her on.

“No, not even a little bit.” He takes her hand in his.“She found it funny.”

“Oh dear. Never again, Fitz. I mean it.”

“I think you’ve done your fair share.” He takes in herpuffy jaw and bleary eyes and still thinks she’s the best thing, apart fromSarah, that he’s ever laid eyes on. “And it’s done now.”

“Mhmm.” She leans against him, head fitting on hisshoulder. “Thank you for everything.”

“Always, Jemma. What else was I going to do?”

He feels her try to smile into his shoulder, before shelooks up, gently taking his chin in her hand.

“What a handsome face,” she giggles. “I can’t believe I’mmarried to it.”

“Yeah, I know.” He presses his hand over hers. “I can’tbelieve it either.”

[fictionfunshop]

The Call - One Shot

Let's pretend its Monday and not Tuesday

18+ - just filth.

Spencer Reid / OFC.

You let out a sigh as his lips move down your neck, nipping at your weak spot before you let out a groan and roll your hips into his. You had been on a handful of dates with the handsome Doctor Reid over the same amount of weeks, and you were desperate.

Desperate for more than a handful of kisses or a fumble in his car. You swear that he does stuff on purpose, licking his lips or on your last date when his hand settled on your bare thigh, tracing shapes with his fingers on the inside throughout the foreign film you were trying your best to concentrate on as you squirmed quietly next to him. It wasn’t like he didn’t want you to; you can feel it now how hard he’s gripping your hips on top of him or the dark look in his eye on the last date after he kissed you goodbye before he had to run off.

The reason for not ravishing each other was the small device sitting quietly in Spencer’s pocket, taunting you both with a phone call to take him away.

He moves his hands from your hips, and he breaks the kiss to shrug off his cardigan, and you make light work on his tie. You dive back in to kiss his lips again, unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt so you can feel his skin underneath as he makes their way under your shirt and up your back, his fingers fiddling with your bra clasp.

“I want you so bad,” you whisper against his lips, not waiting for an answer from him before you kiss his lips again. He smirks before he slides both his hands around to your front, and he signals he wants your shirt off just as it drops to the floor; you both hear it.

His phone, the special ringtone he has for the BAU. It’s so loud it snaps you both out of your haze. He digs into the pocket, huffing before he holds it to his ear.

“Hi JJ…Yeah...Okay…”

While he was distracted, you decide to have some fun of your own. You place a light kiss on his neck while one of your hands moves to his crotch, palming his hardness through his trousers. You can see him bite his lip as he tries to keep his cool with the person on the other end. JJ and the murderers can wait.

You climb off his lap and kneel between his legs, he stares at you, silently begging you to stop, but your patience has worn out now, and you know if he genuinely wanted you to stop, he would find a way. Your nimble fingers undo his belt and trousers as quietly as possible; he coughs down the line to feebly cover it up.

“No, I’m fine, just a sniffle..” he replies as you release him from his boxers.

You pump him in your hand, and you can see he’s struggling; his lip is clamped between his teeth as he tries to keep up with the vital conversation happening. You run your tongue up his length and let the tip slide past your lips slightly, holding his eye contact. His hand grips the edge of his couch, and you can tell he’s trying to distract himself. You can feel your underwear get wet as you drink him in, his chest now flush and his hair a mess from your previous activities. You are excited to see what he does when he hangs up the phone. You decide to up the ante a little when you let his cock slide right down to the back of your throat, your gag reflex kicking in. He jolts forward from the couch, his free hand finding your hair and threading his fingers through it; his breath hitches in his throat and his eyes are screwed shut, almost like he’d combust if he saw the scene of you on your knees. The person on the other end knows something is up with the good doctor now.

“I’m all good; I think I’ve got a book here on soil patterns. I’ll look up how the bodies got decomposed that quickly,” his voice broke on the last part.

You hum around him, your hand now wrapped around the parts he wouldn’t fit into your mouth. You so desperately wanted him to see you like this, on your knees with your saliva dripping down your chin as you pick up the pace a little. You wanted his total concentration when he finally let go.

“Gimmie an hour, and I’ll be there. Bye,” he hung up the phone, probably a bit too curt for the person on the other end. You can feel his fingers pull your hair as he finally makes eye contact with you. “Impatient were we?”

You moan around him again, and he lets out a hiss from his mouth. He tugs you away from his crotch, spit running down your chin. He cradles your face before he sweeps his thumb across the mess.

“As beautiful as you are like this, I think we’ve wasted enough time” he pulls you back into his lap before his hands roam up your back and make quick work of getting your bra off.

He lowers his head to your chest to join his hands which are pawing at your nipples, pinching them hard. The minute you felt his tongue on your chest, you were in heaven. He continues the torture for a while, getting you back for your escapades earlier. You’ve lost control of yourself as you desperately grind into his hips for any relief. He lets out a chuckle, knowing the effect he’s having on you before he drags one of his hands under your skirt and runs his fingers over the soaked lace.

“Fuck...” you bite your lip hard to suppress any other words tumbling from your mouth.

“Did I do this, sweetie? Hmm? “ you nod your head, his words making you wetter “Talk to me, tell me what you need….”

“You, I need you to fuck me – please, Spencer”, You whine, and if you weren’t so turned on, you would be ashamed at how pathetic you sounded. His hand breaks the barrier of your underwear, and he slips two fingers inside you, slowly pumping in and out of you as you rock your hips for any relief from him, your fingers digging into his shoulder to steady yourself. You can feel his eyes on you as your lust takes over, moaning as you grind into his fingers.

“ I wonder how long you’d last when I do this..” his thumb glides over your clit for a second, and you let out a sob. He begins to rub circles again, his fingers still inside you meeting your thrusts, “So beautiful like this… I want you to come even though you were a bad girl earlier.”

With those words, you tighten around him, his name tumbling from your lips, which he captures in his to silence you. When your hips stop moving, he pulls his fingers from you, wiping them on the inside of your thigh so you can feel how wet they are. You let out a yelp as he lifts you from his lap and lays you down on his couch, positioning himself over you; his hands settle on the arm of the chair before he nestles himself between your thighs. His spongers kisses down your neck to the middle of your chest before he moves back up to your ear.

“I wanted to take my time the first time I fucked you…make you feel special.” He rasps as his hand finds your thigh, and you instinctively wrap it around his waist. “But after that little stunt earlier…” he pulls away from you, and you instantly miss his body heat.

His hand finds the waistband of your underwear and pulls them down, flinging them on the floor before he gets to work on his belt buckle, letting his trousers sag a little before he pulled his cock from his boxers. The fact that he was keeping on his clothes while you were practically naked below him turns you on, knowing he was going to go to work in the clothes he fucked you in and be sweet, innocent Spencer, who’s a hero. He pumps himself in his hand as he settles back into his previous position over you.

“Is this what you want?” he kisses you, not waiting for an answer as he takes his time sliding into you, letting you feel every inch. He stays still for a moment, letting you get used to his size before he snaps his hips into you; your lips let out a silent scream.

After weeks of kissing, you knew the sex would be good, but this is better than anything you thought of when it was just you and your hand after your dates.

One of his hand grips your jaw as he pillages your mouth with his tongue, his teeth grazing your bottom lip while keeping up the steady pace of his hips. He might have told them he’d be an hour, but he’s still taking his time savouring you. He stops kissing you and buries his head into your neck, occasionally his lips grazing the skin or his tongue swirling around your weak spot as your ramblings of his name and god knows what else tumble out of your mouth and bounce off his dark walls. You can feel yourself getting close, and you know he can too because he let out a groan before sucking on your earlobe.

“Fuck, you feel good”, he rasps in your ear.

You untangle one of your hands from around his neck and trap it between the two of you, finding your clit and matching your hand with the rhythm of his thrusts. You go to squeeze your eyes shut, but he stops you.

“ Look at me, Y/N – wanna see your pretty face as you come around my dick,” he grabs your jaw again, and you stare into his wide hazel ones, now swallowed up by his irises.

“Spencer, oh god….” You blackout for a few seconds as you finally come around him.

You let go and tightening around him; you can feel him come inside you with one last sloppy stroke. When your eyes flutter open, you can see his head hung down, desperately trying to catch his breath. You gently run your fingers up and down his back, comforting him as he softens, a complete contrast to all your previous actions together. He pulls out of you, and you can feel his cum drip from you onto his couch.

“Thank god it’s leather”, he smirks, looking down at the scene, “Wait here, I’ll get a towel.”

He tucks himself back in quickly as he heads to his bathroom. You just lay there, your skin still tingling over what happened before he comes back and sits by your side on the couch, wiping you down with a damp cloth and cleaning up the mess between your thighs.

“You okay?” He must see the dazed look on your face. You nod your head before you sit up and pull him in for a kiss. His self-control has come back a lot quicker than yours as he pulls away.

“I have to go; I shouldn’t belong – it’s just a consult for a local cause. Stay here? Have a shower…” he was rambling, which you found adorable.

“After all that, I’m going nowhere,”

[puffins-studio]

Rainbow Thoschei 🌈

Femslash February Day 28: Rainbow

When your girlfriend invite you to a nice rainy day date in Britain. But you know she will be over the top so you decide you will be over the top too.

Yes I see 13 as the type to wear wellies to keep her socks dry but then wear bell bottoms and get them all wet. And just Missy holding her umbrella watching her idiot play in the water in her yellow coat and after 13 accidentally gets her with the water. Missy make sure she isn’t left out and afterwards they run together to the Tardis all wet to cuddle with a blanket and hot chocolate.

And yes Missy is wearing wellies under her skirt, I’ m imagining 13 is wearing the same pair just the future version that Missy left in her Tardis. (Missy totally accidentally touch their boots together and op to just destroy them, so they don’t have to worry about a paradox but they instead end up there in their socks.)

Can we also appreciate the fact that 13 look shorter then Missy here so I now need Missy the first time actually standing next to 13 is almost tackled into a hug and then she look down to 13 she is just “I told you-” and 13 “yes yes I’m short I get it!” And hug her tighter

(I want to make more themed 13s now too so if you have any ideas or themes don’t be a afraid to suggest it, am always up for a challenge and I can try to do them.)

[ID: picture 1: is two felt doll that are the shape of gingerbread men with a big circle head, they are supposed to be the Thirteenth Doctor and Missy from Doctor Who. 13 is on the left with shoulder length, dirty blonde hair with brown roots. She have ears with her hair behind her left ear, to show her dangle earring. That have been changed so it looks like a cloud at the top of her ear with a rainbow coming down and two beads for rain drops as the part dangling. She have a white shirt on over a pair of dungarees that have bell bottom legs and a rainbow embroidery coming from the side and coming down over the other leg. Yellow wellies on with a yellow raincoat that have a grey interlining and a hood that fits her head. And pockets on the sides. Missy next to her has a dark brown piece of felt that is the part of her hair that is pulled back and another piece that is her bun. She have on a white version of her outfit. Yellow shoes you can’t see here, long skirt that is painted like a watercolor rainbow, her long coat with a collar the coat is lined with edging that is a braided thread that is also white. On her sleeves there some more of the edging, and the edging make up two pockets on her sides. Down the middle are buttons in the colors of a rainbow, Under the coat is a white collar shirt and a brooch that is a little yellow circle so it is a sun. She is holding a white umbrella that match her outfit it just some felt that is bunched up a bit to look like an umbrella, and a old pin make up the handle and the point. She have a white hat tilted on the left side of her head. It have stuffing attach to the top so it look like a cloud and there is transparent thread so blue beads are hanging there to look like rain drops are coming down from the hat 2nd picture is a close up of Missy, 3rd pictures is a close up of 13 with the hood up, and the 4th is a close up of 13 with the hood down .ID]

[waterloou]

First Lines Meme

Thank you @wordspin-shares & @randomfandomingwrites for tagging me 🥰

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories. (If you have less than 20, just list them all!) See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Tag some people to play the next round!

Boyd felt skinny arms wrap around him from behind as he washed his face, a head gently resting on his back. -softly sleeping pt 2 (berica) (WIP)

Erica’s hands cupped Boyd’s face as he woke up, tears falling freely down his cheeks, her thumbs swiping them gently away - there for you (berica one shot) (WIP)

Theo rested his chin on his arm as he leaned forward on the desk, tilting his head to the side as his other hand lifted, hovering in the air.- all wrapped up in one (thiam)(published)

“I wanna mark you up.” Theo chuckled at Liam’s words as the younger man buried his face in his neck. - mark you up (thiam)(WIP)

Theo’s fingers splayed over the edges of the ripped fabric, feeling the fraying material hanging on by a literal thread. - frayed nerves (thiam) ( @metagalacticx request) (WIP)

Liam screamed around the mouth guard as his back arched off the table, arms and legs bound by fraying leather; its ragged edges digging uncomfortably into his skin. - broken parts (thiam, morey)(published)

Liam didn’t know when it started, but the need to hold Theo’s hand was almost agonizing. -darling, take my hand(thiam) (published)

“ You are not beautiful ” Corey’s mother had told him one morning over breakfast as if she were discussing the weather, casually brushing crumbs from her shirt. - how beautiful it is to be loved (morey)(published)

Liam broke from slumber by the sound of harsh breathing from the room across from his. -stray(thiam)(published)

Liam staggered up to the apartment with Theo, both bloody and exhausted from their latest fight with hunters. - be gentle (thiam)(published)

The acrid fumes had been following him since the day he stumbled across the dread doctors. -the rot consumes (Theo) (WIP)

It grew like a wildfire beneath his skin, scorching every inch of him until he could no longer ignore it. - please don’t look (thiam) (WIP)

Voices sounded around him, but he couldn't make anything of them; everything muffled as if he were in a vacuum. - Unintentional (thiam)(published)

All her life, she cowered in corners, keeping her head down. - How to Spit Out Your False Ego (Tracy) (WIP)

Chilled hands cupped his face, pulling him out of the depths of his mind; familiar, calloused hands that were rough to the touch. -Touch has a memory (thiam) (WIP)

Mason woke up bathed in sunlight, wrapped in a warm embrace with the soft snores of his boyfriend whispering into his ear. - made of the sun (morey) (WIP)

Hell broke him wide open-shattered glass on the floor of the morgue-hastily glued back together each time until they were irreparable; baring his unguarded chest to Tara, letting her break him again and again until it became all he knew. - pick up the pieces (Theo) (WIP)

Theo and Liam never slept alone anymore, the two sharing one bed or the other, wrapped up in each other every night. - sweet love (thiam) (published)

Liam sighed as he laid on the floor, arm covering his eyes, muscles sore from the long hours of painting that day. - paint wash (thiam) (published)

Laughs tangled together as lips brushed against skin, hands fumbling with shirts and backs pressed against walls. - tangled up in me (thiam) (WIP)

(All published fics can be found on my ao3: hugharekillianmelou)

Tagging: @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @s-s-southsideserpentine @humangrumpycat @ksbbb @honeyscapes @blue-runt @darth-caillic @decennia @metagalacticx @multifandom-oc-hell @hiddenqveendom @theoceanismyinkwell and anyone else who wants to do it

My pattern: Jesus I start everything with a name

Favorite: “Hell broke him wide open-shattered glass on the floor of the morgue-hastily glued back together each time until they were irreparable; baring his unguarded chest to Tara, letting her break him again and again until it became all he knew.”

[neonsnarl]

Hello, I am a big fan of your work, especially blue streaks! And I'm wondering if you can do yandere Og Freddy, you've done yandere before, but you didn't mention it in your request requirements. Or whatever you call them, so I'm just wondering if your could do it

Yandere is probably one of my favorites to write. There's so much potential. This took a while since I'm under severe writer's block, sorry bout that!

"It's been so hard to love you from the shadows."

You're kicking, thrashing in the ironclad hold of an unseen figure. In the heat of the moment, you have no clue what's happening, only that something is wrong and you need to escape. In the end, you are left with bruised legs and muffled screams.

"Please don't struggle, you could get injured."

One thought circulates over and over in your head: Is this how I die?

Unfortunately, life is not so kind. A cold object obscures your vision. There is only darkness, pain, and adrenaline. You can feel the breath pouring out of you faster than it's going in. Any longer, and you might faint. Your screaming ceases, but you try to grip onto anything or anyone. There is nothing even remotely helpful around you. Only smooth metal and air. The grip around you adjusts so you can no longer move your forearms. Just the tips of your fingers wiggle uselessly. Everything is going numb.

Why?

Oblivion takes over.

When you wake, nothing is fuzzy. You are gifted with sharp clarity and it is the most crushing despair in your life. There is not a soul around. The room is padded with colorful foam. An insane amount of Freddy Fazbear merch is meticulously placed around you. Your kidnapper left you on what appears to be several Freddy Beanbags stitched into a sleeping mat without copious blankets and plushies on top.

The air vent is heavily locked with chains and padlocks. When you peer through the bars, you can vaguely see another grate with what looks like a combination lock. Weird. How did they get that to work? You try to trace the edges for a loose screw or something. It's a fruitless effort.

There's not a wall socket in sight. Just an overhead light that belongs in a doctor's office. There's no way you can reach it, and there's nothing you can throw to break it. You do notice a rather plain-looking clock, though. You should have been home already.

With nothing better to do, you sit on the pseudo-mattress and put your back in the corner. From here, you can see the door. It drives you mad, so you resort to sorting the plushies, throwing them at the vent, and stacking them to reach the light. You only end up falling on your ass instead. What you don't mean to do is fall into a fitful sleep after sitting, bored, for several hours. Your shitty sleep schedule has reclaimed your consciousness once again.

You automatically know that you're not alone when you next wake. It's in the air, carried across the room and nestling in your raised hair and panicked inhale. When falling asleep, you'd passed out while leaning against the wall. Now, you're curled on your side and tucked in. It freaks you out.

"I'm sorry if the decorations are not to your liking. Unfortunately, my options are limited. Are you hungry?"

With a clearer head- one that's not held captive- you know the voice. Freddy Fucking Fazbear. There's no way this is a prank. There's hardly any human staff in this building. A coding error, likely. "Hey, Freddy, are you feeling okay? Do you need me to walk you down to Sarts and Services?"

He doesn't move from his position in front of the closed door. "I am quite alright, but thank you for your concern. Are you hungry?"

"No," you lie. "Why am I here, Freddy?" You're hanging onto your patience with a thread.

"It‘s for your own safety. You're too delicate, you need my protection."

You scoff and consider how long you can stave off a nervous breakdown. "I'm an adult, Freddy. I pay bills and have a life."

Freddy smiles sadly. It's freaky, the updates that have been added since you were hired. Smoother motions, updated AI, and a lighter chassis. Now? You miss the old Freddy who gave you zebra-printed bandaids and gift shop coupons so you could buy a new jacket when your old one got nicked by some sticky-fingered brat.

This Freddy is not the one you know. Best to make that distinction clear to yourself in case things get.... hairy.

"It'll be better here, I promise. No silly worries! Why don't I go get you something to eat? If you're good, I can get you a fazwatch. Then you can always reach me!" Freddy claps his hands as if you've just agreed to play laser tag. And then he's gone, clad in only his limited edition denim jacket and pure denial.

Silently, you scoop several plushies up and attempt to cover yourself entirely with them. They do nothing to help you feel less exposed.

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part II (x reader)

Summary: Spencer and reader spend a lot of time together. And then he spends some time away.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: typical CM violence, Spencer gets hurt but there’s no graphic descriptions 

Word count: 5k

a/n: This chapter is a little bit of a different style, because it had a lot of ground to cover! So we’ve got a few different vignettes of their first few months together— first dates and sleepovers and Spencer’s first long case away. I also worked some requests into this chapter.

———

Y/N stretched out across the bed, humming and burying her face into the pillow. She sighed and then drew in a deep breath. Her eyes blinked open as she recognized the new scent on her sheets— cedar and spice and a hint of floral. 

She moved her hand across the bed to find the sheets were cool, then raised her head to see the room was empty. The apartment was quiet, but the aroma of freshly brewed coffee crept in through the bedroom door left slightly ajar. She ran a hand over her face and reached for her phone on the bedside table, tapped the screen to check the time and saw a missed text from Anita.

Anita: How did it go???????

Y/N: Good! We talked a lot. And he spent the night.

Anita: W H A T

Anita: 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Y/N: Calm down. It was just a sleepover. Emphasis on the sleep. 

Anita: Sure it was 👀

Anita: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Anita: 🍆🍑🍒💦

Y/N: I’m going to mute this thread.

Anita: You’re such a prude!!!!!!!

Anita: But also

Anita: This mf is still on THIN ICE with me

Anita: So tell him to sleep with one eye open 

Y/N swiped the message thread to mute the notifications and sat up to drop her legs over the side of the bed. She stood and did a cursory once over in the mirror above her dresser, retrieving the sweater hanging on her closet door and slipping into it. Then she padded to the doorway, pushing the door open and quietly moving into the living room.

Spencer was on the couch, still in her shirt, with a book in one hand and her favorite coffee mug in the other. Roald was curled up in his lap, fast asleep. Spencer turned the page of his book, then brought the mug up to his lips. The simple domesticity had her chest tightening, and she let out a small, contented sigh. 

Spencer lifted his head at the sound, a smile stretching across his face as soon as he saw her. “Morning.”

“Morning.” She shuffled toward the couch, and he closed his book. She peered over the couch and gestured to Roald. “I see you’ve got a friend.”

“Indeed. I kind of feel like I can’t leave now.” He looked up with a small crease in his brow. “I made coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” she assured with a smile. “Nice mug.”

“I didn’t want to wake you up, but I didn’t want to go through your cabinets,” he explained, looking a little nervous. “This one was on the dish rack, so I figured it was okay to use, but I can—”

“Spencer.” She leaned against the couch and smoothed a hand over his hair, meeting his eyes and smiling gently. “Is there more coffee?”

He nodded and looked down at the cat on his lap. “Yeah, I— I’d get up, but I don’t want to disturb him.”

Y/N laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his hair before retreating to the kitchen. “Oh, of course. We wouldn’t want to disrupt the king.”

…

They spent the morning on the couch, reading quietly and sipping their coffee and trading the occasional smile. She tucked her sock covered toes underneath his thigh as the sunlight crept across the floor. He brought his hand to rest on her knee and turned to the last chapter of his book, and she wondered if he was consciously slowing himself down so that she could attempt to keep up. 

Eventually, Roald yawned and stretched across Spencer’s lap, standing and hopping down off the couch in search of food. Spencer ran his hand down Y/N’s leg and circled his fingers around her ankle, rubbing his thumb lightly across the skin. She looked up from her book with a soft smile, wiggling her toes under his thigh. 

She closed her book and sat up a little closer to him on the couch. “So. I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” he teased. 

“Ha, ha.” She rolled her eyes, and then her gaze shifted back to him and she chewed a little at the inside of her lip. 

No matter how hard she tried to quell it, the idea continued to nag at her subconscious— that even though he’d poured his heart out to her, even though he’d said that he loved her… that somehow she was still building him up in her head, seeing things that weren’t there, and making this into something it wasn’t. She was well aware that getting too comfortable too quickly was a surefire way to scare people off. 

“Our tea dates weren’t really dates,” she hedged. “So we haven’t really had a first date.”

He gave her ankle a quick squeeze. “No, I suppose we haven’t.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to think I’m in the habit of inviting men that I’m not dating to spend the night.” 

He set his book on the coffee table. “Of course.” 

“So, um.” She tilted her head and drew her brows together. She needed to hear it, directly from his perspective. “Are we— do you consider us to be, um.” She closed her eyes. “Are we dating?”

She felt him lean toward her on the couch, felt his warm palm cupping her cheek and his thumb stroking across her skin. She opened her eyes slowly to see him looking at her with a tentative smile. “I hope so,” he breathed. 

She barely stopped herself from letting out a relieved sigh, slightly embarrassed to have needed the reassurance. He didn’t seem to notice, instead closing the rest of the distance between them to press a soft kiss to her mouth. Their noses bumped together awkwardly, drawing a laugh from them both. 

He withdrew from her mouth, pressed a kiss to her bumped nose, and then sat back a little, considering. “If you’re free today, we could knock ‘first date’ off the checklist.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You have a checklist?”

“Well, a metaphorical one,” he clarified quickly. “I’m not, like, keeping track in a journal or anything.”

She laughed, bright and loud and almost carefree, and then swung her legs over the side of the couch. “What did you have in mind, doctor?”

…

Spencer Reid’s idea of a perfect first date was the Smithsonian National Postal Museum, and it was just about the most Spencer thing Y/N had ever heard. 

“I should have put two and two together with the no technology thing,” she surmised.

“I know letters have sort of gone out of fashion with the advent of phones and email, but— letter writing is an art form!” he defended, waving his hands. “And think about how incredible it feels to get something in the mail. You don’t get that same rush with a text message.”

She thought back to receiving a perfectly wrapped package with his handwriting scrawled across the brown paper. “Mm, you do have a point there,” she conceded.

He led her through the exhibits, explaining the various displays with more facts than the placards themselves could ever contain. She watched with a smile as he gestured wildly about with his hands, his eyes wide with the joy of sharing the information— of sharing it with her. She nodded, and mmhmmed, and asked the occasional question. But she was mostly just so unbelievably content to listen to him talk about anything and everything. 

He stopped mid-sentence in the Serving the Cities exhibit, dropping his hands and looking at her sheepishly. “Sorry, I— I’m boring you.”

She drew her brows together in genuine confusion. “What? No, you’re not. I’d never heard of the, um— new— no. The— new tubes?” 

“New York City's pneumatic tube system,” he offered. 

She smiled gratefully. “Yes, the pneumatic tube system. Underground mail tubes moving at 35 miles per hour? That’s kind of amazing.” She shook her head. “Why don’t they use it anymore?” 

“The Post Office Department suspended the service to conserve funding during World War I,” he explained automatically. “They restored partial service in 1922, but it eventually just became too costly to continue.” He seemed to catch himself, shaking his head and continuing, “But I— I’m sure it’s all here in the exhibits, I should just let you—”

She grabbed his hand, and he closed his mouth to stifle the rest of his rambling. She used her free hand to gesture around at the displays. “There’s a lot of information here, but to be honest, I— I haven’t really been looking at the placards.” She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as he stared at her. “I, um— I’d much rather hear it from you.” 

She watched his eyes alight with surprise and wonder, and she wanted to personally fight anyone who had ever made him believe that he was boring. He took a step closer, eyes flicking down to her mouth, and her lips twitched up into a smile. He leaned down to meet her halfway in a sweet kiss, mostly just upturned mouths and huffed breaths. 

He lingered slightly as he pulled away, still studying her with a little bit of shock. She intertwined their fingers, pressed their shoulders together, and nodded toward the next display. “So, what else can you tell me about the history of the mail system, Dr. Reid?” 

The pair of them continued through the museum, their fingers threaded together and Spencer murmuring facts into her ear. They spent three hours walking through the exhibits, pausing here and there to gaze quietly at the details of a particularly interesting display. When they finally completed their circuit, Y/N insisted on visiting the museum gift shop. 

There were postage stamp tote bags, mail carrier t-shirts, mailbox ornaments and more— all incredibly overpriced and generally ridiculous and not of interest to either of them. But the stationery display caught her eye— sets of parchment with embossed letterheads, fancy letter openers, and wax stamp kits. She ran her finger over the raised design on one particularly intricate stationery set, and Spencer peered over her shoulder. 

“I’ve always enjoyed letter writing. Partly because I tend toward the arcane, but also because it feels… intentional and personal,” he explained. “It takes time, and energy, and care.”

“It’s a very deliberate and lovely way of showing that you care about someone,” she agreed.

“Mhm,” he hummed, smiling softly. “I still write a lot of letters to my mom. When she was still in Vegas and I didn’t see her very often, I wrote the letters because she didn’t always recognize my voice over the phone.” 

He drew his brows together and ran his fingers along the top of the stationary display. “Now I write them so that she can have a— a sort of record of my life, I guess. So that hopefully when the memories aren’t there anymore, she can still read them and feel like she’s a part of the story.”

Y/N reached for his hand again, and he accepted it with a bittersweet smile. “We did the same thing for my grandma,” she told him, returning his melancholic smile. “Lots of letters and photos. I never thought of it that way, but it was sort of like keeping her in our stories.” 

She turned back to the display and picked up the package of stationery, turning it over in her hands. He gently plucked it from her grip, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “I think you need some nice paper for the next few chapters.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to—” she started. 

He cut her off with a press of his lips. She grasped a little at his waist as he kissed her and wondered if she would ever get used to kissing Spencer Reid. When he finally pulled back, she had to catch her breath. 

“I’ll take half,” he murmured. “I was hoping I could, um— help you write them.”

She squeezed his waist gently, heard the chains of insecurity clinking and breaking as he chiseled away at them piece by piece. “I’d like that.”

…

Two weeks later, Y/N convinced him to try painting— specifically, Paint & Sip Night at the art studio around the corner from her apartment. 

“I’m going to be terrible at this,” he warned her, looking over his shoulder at where she was tying the strings of his smock. 

She tugged the strings around his waist to gently pull him back toward her, leaned up on her tiptoes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She knotted the strings tight and barely restrained herself from sneaking a little squeeze of his bum— although she did not stop herself from looking. 

“It’s not about being good at it. It’s about having fun.” She used her hands on his waist to turn him around. “And if you’re not having fun, then we can go home,” she shrugged. 

He smoothed a wrinkle from her smock. “I always have fun with you.” He smiled and scrunched his nose at her, and she returned the nose scrunch with a laugh. 

“All right, everyone!” The instructor clapped her hands together. “Are you ready to paint a masterpiece?”

Forty five minutes later, Spencer peered over at her canvas and huffed out a breath. “God, look at that texture. How are you actually good at this?”

Y/N turned and looked at his painting. “Yours looks good, too,” she insisted. 

“Michael could— and has, actually— done better than this,” he scoffed.

“Well, I like it.” She tilted her head. “It’s giving me... Monet vibes. It’ll look perfect in my living room.”

“You are not hanging this in your living room,” he laughed. 

“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” she teased, turning back to her work to follow the next instruction. 

She watched him as they worked— his tongue slipping out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, his fingertips tapping across his thighs in consideration, his huffed breaths here and there when a stroke didn’t look the way he wanted it to. She finished a little bit before him, adding her tiny signature to the bottom of her canvas before standing to move to his side. She slid a gentle hand around his waist and looked over his shoulder at his work. 

He sighed and gestured to the corner of his canvas. “This whole section looks… weird.” 

She studied it for a moment. “I think maybe it’s just because it’s sort of one note?” She pointed to the rest of the painting. “Like, you played with layering the colors everywhere else. Here it’s just the blue. You could add some purple maybe? Or green,” she mused. 

“Yeah, I guess I can try that.” He shrugged and leaned over to the paints, gathering some purple on his brush.

She moved out of his way but rested her chin lightly on his shoulder as he worked. He moved the brush meticulously in small strokes, layering and creating dimension in the corner of the piece. When he finally set the brush down, he leaned his head to rest on top of hers. 

“Okay. So it looks much more…” he trailed off. 

“Cohesive,” she offered. 

She could feel his smile. “Yeah,” he agreed. He lifted his head to look at her. “Seriously, how are you so good at this?” 

She moved her chin from his shoulder and gave a nonchalant shrug. “I guess my many years of finger painting experience had to pay off someday.” She nodded to his finished painting. “I don’t know what your going rate is, but I have to have this.”

He swiveled on the stool to capture her hands in his, lacing their fingers together and pulling her in between his legs. “It’s yours.”

She feigned shock. “For free?”

“I didn’t say that,” he corrected with a sly smile. He dropped her hands to bring his own to her hips, pulling her in closer. “But it’s sort of an on-going payment deal. I’m asking at least 30 kisses per month.” 

She pressed her lips together to avoid breaking out into an absurd grin. “You drive a hard bargain.” 

“Take it or leave it. That’s my final offer,” he shrugged. 

She pretended to mull it over, lips pursed and eyes on the ceiling. He huffed out a laugh, and she cracked a smile, bringing her fingers up to tangle in his curls. “Deal.” 

…

Y/N: I don’t even know if your phone is capable of receiving pictures, but look what I hung today!

Spencer: It receives pictures! I wish I hadn’t received this one though. I cannot believe you actually hung that horrific thing on your wall.

Y/N: I’m going to commission you for a piece for the kitchen ;)

Spencer: You’re hilarious.

Y/N: You love it.

Spencer: I do. 

Spencer: I wanted to tell you... I have my first therapy appointment tomorrow afternoon. 

Y/N: Spence!!!

Y/N: I am so proud of you. It’s going to change your life. 

Spencer: You’ve already done that, Miss Honey. 

…

Y/N: How did it go?

Spencer: I cried? A lot.

Y/N: That happens to me, too! Good therapy will do that. Other than the crying, how do you feel? 

Spencer: I feel… amazing. Lighter, I think? I’m actually kind of bummed that I have to wait two weeks to do it again. 

Y/N: I know I said it already, but I’m so incredibly proud of you. 

Spencer: I quite literally would not have done it without you. 

Y/N: Happy to give you a little nudge whenever you need it, doctor. <3

...

The BAU’s caseload had been uncharacteristically slow, and the two of them took advantage of every moment. On one particularly gloomy Saturday afternoon, they were sprawled across Spencer’s couch and sipping on their umpteenth cups of coffee. He scribbled notes in the margins of his students’ latest essays, while she typed out her lesson plans for the upcoming week. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him set down his pen. He stifled a sigh and she held back a smile as she typed out a short vowel word chain. She could feel his eyes on her, could practically smell the smoke coming from his overworked brain. 

When he didn’t break the silence, she looked up over the top of her laptop. “Can I help you?” she teased.

His cheeks colored with a very pretty flush— the same one she’d pulled from him in the carpool loop all those months ago. “Two of my students just… aren’t getting it.” He gestured to the papers in front of him. “I’ve tried extra office hours, extended time for work completion, and it just— doesn’t seem to be helping.” He looked at her with pursed lips. “I was, um— I was wondering if you had any ideas? That I could try.”

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “You— you’re asking me for help?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged. “You’re the best teacher I know.”

Now it was her turn to blush. “Oh. Well, um…” She set her laptop on the coffee table and sat up, considering. “Have you tried differentiating your lectures?” At his raised eyebrow, she continued, “Like— having a PowerPoint or a recorded version that they can revisit? You’re kind of a fast talker, so it’s possible that they’re struggling to retain the information because they can’t keep up with your delivery.”

“Huh.” He tilted his head with a furrowed brow. “I... didn’t consider that my oratory speed could have an impact on student achievement. But of course— that makes total sense.” He gave her a sheepish smile and his best puppy dog eyes. “So… how much coffee do you think you’d require to, um— help me make a PowerPoint?”

She sighed dramatically but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “At least another two cups. And one of those peanut butter sandwich cookies from Soho.”

He set the papers aside and leaned over to plant a kiss on her upturned mouth. “I’ll buy you a dozen.”

…

In late May, their luck ran out. 

First there was a case in Arizona— brutal and ritualistic murders scattered through the desert with almost no cooling off period. On the eighth day that he was in Phoenix, Y/N’s phone rang on the bedside table. She reached across to pick it up, smiling at his name on the screen.

“Hey,” she answered, moving her computer off her lap and getting comfortable. 

“Hi,” Spencer murmured. 

“How’s the case going?”

“It’s, um— it’s going okay, actually,” he assessed. “We’ve made a lot of headway in the last twelve hours, and I think we might be narrowing in.”

“That’s great.” She stifled a yawn behind her hand. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” 

His tone of voice had her sitting up a little straighter in bed. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he insisted, but his tone didn’t shift. 

“You don’t sound fine,” she prompted. 

“I just—” He blew out a breath, and she could almost hear him running his hand over his face. “I miss you. And maybe that’s weird, because we’ve only been together for seventy four days, but—”

“Spence,” she interrupted. He sighed, and she continued, “It’s not weird. I miss you, too.”

“Eight days isn’t even that long, but I just— I’ve never, um.” The line was quiet for long enough that she almost thought the call had dropped. And then his voice came back, softer than she’d ever heard it. “I’ve never had someone to miss.”

Her heart physically ached for all the time he’d spent without someone to miss— and without someone to miss him, and cherish him, and— well, love him. She still hadn’t said it back. She wanted to say it right then, but it felt wrong to say it for the first time over the phone. And there was still that nagging little fear— of his inevitable reconsideration and rejection— keeping her from pulling the metaphorical trigger. 

“Well. I’m happy to fill that position,” she settled on— and hated how inadequate it sounded. She leaned back against the pillows, prepared to make him feel it even if she couldn’t say it. At the very least, she could help him take his mind off the monsters— if only for a few minutes. “Teach me something, doctor.”

He laughed a little through the phone, and she knew her plan was working already. 

“Okay,” he started, and she could hear the muffled crinkle of the hotel duvet. “Um— did you know that the Sonoran Desert is the only place in the world where saguaro cacti grow?”

“Wow. No, I didn’t,” she smiled, ready to learn everything there was to know about the giant, prickly plants. “Why is that?”

“Experts believe there are two main factors that limit the cacti from expanding into the Mojave — temperature and rainfall. It’s also possible that...”

...

On his tenth day away, the letter showed up. 

Y/N,

I’m writing from the balcony of the hotel room overlooking the desert— well, more so the parking lot of the desert— and I’m reminded of the duality of this landscape. The arid climate and rugged terrain can make it a mercilessly hostile place. Yet at the same time, this environment is one of the most enigmatic and enchanting, and it’s teeming with life if you look close enough. 

This job can illuminate the cruelty and brutality of humanity, but it so often reminds me of the resilience and the goodness of people, too. The duality of the desert parallels the duality of man, I suppose.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been out here. I think you’d like it. I’ve thought of another poem that makes me think of you, and of the way that I finally feel like I can breathe. 

With thee, in the Desert –

With thee in the thirst –

With thee in the Tamarind wood –

Leopard breathes – at last!

       - Emily Dickinson

Love, 

Spencer

…

They had barely deplaned after the culmination of the case in Arizona before they were called back out to Colorado, this time for six days. She barely heard from him at all, save for the occasional text, and even then, it was never more than ten words. She spent her waking hours worrying and dreamt the same terrifying dream every single night— being chased until her legs gave out, never sure of what she was running from and never able to slow down. 

It was 2:27 in the morning when her phone rang, rousing her from her restless tossing and turning. His name on the caller ID had the worry jumping into her throat, but she answered as calmly as she could. 

“Hi.” She yawned into her hand and let out a little sigh.

“Hi.” The tenor of his voice was quiet and weary. “I know it’s unbelievably late—”

She sat up and interrupted, “Are you okay?” 

He was quiet for a moment, and her worry intensified. “I, um— I’m… I’m downstairs.” 

She turned on the bedside lamp. “Like, right now?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed quietly. “I— I’m sorry. I should have called first before just— showing up at your door.”

She was already climbing out of bed. “No, no, honey, don’t be sorry. I’m coming to buzz you in.”

She shuffled through the dark apartment, fumbled for the intercom to press the buzzer. She could hear his feet on the stairs before she even made it to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and pulling back the chain. As the door swung open, he was rounding the top of the stairs and turning the corner of the landing. 

It took him five strides to cross the threshold, and then he was tumbling into her arms and burying his face in her shoulder. The impact knocked the breath out of her, but she recovered quickly, bringing her arms around him and holding him tight. 

He didn’t speak, just breathed into her hair and clutched a little desperately at her back. She stroked a soothing hand over his curls and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured. “You’re safe, Spence. I’m right here.”

She shifted her weight slowly back and forth, rocking him gently and petting over his hair, steady and rhythmic. He burrowed his face into the crook of her neck and let out a shaky breath, and Y/N felt his tears on her skin. She brought both arms around his shoulders then, squeezing him tightly. “I’m right here, honey,” she repeated. “I’m right here.”

He cried quietly into her shoulder as she ran soothing hands over his back. She knew this was more than just missing her— it was the cruelty and brutality of man that he saw every day, the layers of hurt that would probably always be there. But she knew the resilience was there, too. And she was determined to always show him the other half of the chasm of humanity.

After a long while, he pulled back, still sniffling. Y/N reached out to grasp his face in both her hands, sweeping the tears from his cheeks with gentle thumbs. Her heart panged at the way his eyes were shining and ringed red, full of complete exhaustion and raging emotion. 

“What do you need?” she asked. “Water, tea, a snack, a shower?”

He shook his head. “Just you,” he mumbled.

She felt the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “You’ve got me. Always.” She pressed one, two, three chaste kisses to his chapped lips. “Let’s get cleaned up and changed and into bed, hm?”

She had him wash his face and brush his teeth, and then she moved him to sit on the closed toilet lid. “Close your eyes,” she said softly. 

He could barely keep them open as it was, and she didn’t even want to think about how little sleep he’d had over the last three weeks. She cupped his face in her hands for a long moment, rememorizing every curve and angle. 

First, she swiped a cotton pad soaked with cucumber toner across the high planes of his cheekbones and along his nose. She allowed it to dry, and then dropped gentle kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his chin. Next, she took a dab of moisturizer on the tips of her fingers, rubbing in circular motions along the path her lips had traveled. Finally, she pressed a few drops of her favorite lavender and chamomile face oil onto his cheeks, soothing away the last, damp remnants of agony. 

When he opened his eyes again, they were already a little clearer, a little calmer, a little lighter. He let out a long, slow breath and laced their fingers together. She squeezed his hands, and then pulled him up and into her side.

She led him into her bedroom, stripped him out of his cardigan and button-up and trousers, and helped him into the soft, oversized school fundraiser shirt that had become his. And then she took his hands in hers once again and pulled him toward the bed, getting him settled and tucked in on his side before coming around to shut off the bedside light. He whined at the loss of contact, and she shushed him gently as she climbed in next to him. 

“C’mere.” She lifted the duvet, and he moved to lay his head on her chest, wrapping his arm around her middle and pulling her impossibly closer. She tucked the covers back around him, and then brought her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. 

She stroked his hair quietly, listening to his breathing as it evened and slowed. He was asleep in minutes, snuffling gently into her chest. His grip loosened with every breath, and he settled more comfortably against her side with each exhale. 

She let the tears she’d been holding back slip over her lash line and pressed a soft kiss into his hair. The faint snores vibrating from his chest muffled her quiet voice as she whispered the trio of words she couldn’t quite bring herself to say in the light of day.

———

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