#In case someone has sent more than one and I end up replying to the most recent one first

[matrixbearer2024]

HEYYYYY so ive been thinking, what if reader is like good at singing and one day when vox tells her he’ll be out for a meeting and then they start busting down them tunes not knowing vox came back and then after theyre done singing vox is just like “wow that sucked” (bro does NOT want to compliment them🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🚫🚫)

Sing-Song Shenanigans

A/N: HAHAHAHAHA I've been wanting to incorporate this into a new interlude and now this has absolutely given me the chance to- Vox at this point is practically wrapped around our dear Reader's pinkie, he's just in denial about it not to mention absolutely clueless. He compliments (Y/N) easily whenever he can pull the charm but his default is usually: "Haha lol u suck + ratio" while he not so subtly overheats and melts on the other side-

A/N: Also- this is the song Reader sings- I know the voice for Vox is outdated but the point is just it's his song that Reader sings lololol- Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this one and as always- happy reading!

You honestly didn't know if you should've expected this or not.

For someone as egotistical as Vox-

It kind of made sense that he would've straight up written his own theme song.

You only joked about it offhandedly-

Only for him to actually send you an audio file with a song he wrote and SANG.

Did he just have the file on hand or something??

You just looked up at the TV screen dumbfounded.

"I never aired it, I was just an up and coming overlord when it was made."

Came his nonchalant reply, you could only guess he shrugged but since his face was all you saw it was just a guess.

"I'll give it a listen later, you weren't finished with your story!"

"Right, where was I?"

And just like that, you both continued talking well into the night.

You'd actually almost forgotten about the audio file when Vox disconnected and bid you good night and adieu.

But seeing it in the chats when you opened your phone reminded you.

Well, it was probably cringe and you could make fun of Vox the next time around-

So you gave it a listen.

Only for the song to be pretty catchy and good.

Like the beat was stuck in your head good.

You didn't think that would've been the case at all.

And he said he didn't air this??

What the hell Vox???

Before you knew it, the darn thing ended up playing on loop more times than you would dare recall.

Too bad you couldn't include it into your playlist since that would mean having to publish it.

And you were just not ready to have that conversation with Vox yet.

Especially when it meant admitting that you liked listening to his singing.

And fuck THAT.

You absentmindedly hummed the tune on the way to university-

While you traversed between classrooms-

Even during breaks.

It only hit you that it actually was stuck in your head when you were asked about it.

"Yoooo (Y/N), what's that new bop you're listening to? It sounds pretty good from just your humming."

"Oh uh... it's a song a friend wrote. He sent it to me to... ask for my opinion!"

"Really? Can you send it to me too? I want to give it a listen!"

At least they didn't notice your awkwardness answering their question.

But because you didn't want to make it seem even weirder-

You hesitantly agreed to let your friend listen in as well.

Only for them to seriously cement what you didn't want to hear.

"Dude! They should publish this! It's a banger!"

"Eh? You think so?"

You knew the last thing Vox needed was another ego boost.

Maybe you could just keep silent about this whole thing?

"Hell yeah! What's their name?"

Or not.

Fuck.

"Of the song-?"

"The artist you goof, what does your friend call themselves? Surely they've got to be making music for a while with this experience."

Your friends had absolutely no idea you were friends with a technology demon overlord.

Even if it was their shenanigans that summoned his presence in the fucking first place!

You still couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or grateful for that fact-

What the hell were you even supposed to tell them??

"Uhhh... Vox?"

"Vox? That's a weird name. I almost thought you said 'aux', like the aux port."

You didn't notice that before, was his name actually an alias?

You weren't even surprised at this point if it was.

"Y-yeah, it's a mix of the words voice and aux! He came up with it!"

You pat yourself on the back for that bullshit reason, who cares at this point if it was right or not-

You could always just ask Vox personally later.

"Well you should ask him if we can make a music video for it!"

"Excuse me what-"

That immediately made you blank.

Did you seriously hear that right-

A fucking music video???

Problem was, you were way too deep into this conversation to back out now.

"Yeah! It would work for the music project the school's been encouraging!"

Right... the community music program your university's been doing to help spread the names of up and aspiring artists.

Problem being how in the fucking hell were you supposed to dodge a very blatant unspoken issue.

Which was the fact the song's writer and producer had been dead for DECADES.

That and you didn't even want to think of the ego boost Vox would get if you told him that your friends wanted to make a music video of his theme song.

They didn't know about him, but you were sure it would immediately go to the overlord's head.

Could this day get any worse??

"Uhhh- yeaaaah- I'll see what I can do?"

"Come on (Y/N)! You've got to at least try and convince him! This'll be a hit once it's out!"

You hated that you agreed with the fact the song most likely would be a hit.

Especially with the new rise of electro-pop.

God fucking damn it-

So that's how you found yourself pacing your living room waiting for Vox to finish with his meeting.

Well, if you guys were to make a music video anyway... might as well practice right?

Vox was a little bit concerned when you suddenly shot him a message during a meeting asking to meet up.

Especially when he couldn't really figure out what was wrong.

You seemed just fine a while ago?

Did something happen in class?

He looked back at your messages in the chat while he wracked his brain for any clues.

"Hey uh- if you're not busy I need to talk to you?"

"Why the rush doll? Miss me already?"

"In your dreams Samsung! Something came up and I need to talk to you."

"I'm in a meeting right now but I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks."

Suffice to say, he rushed the meeting so it would end quickly.

Vox didn't really even care that there were some things that still needed polishing with the presented concept.

It was a problem he could deal with later.

First, he needed to check what was wrong with you.

So you could imagine his surprise when he saw you on his feed dancing and singing.

Had you connected your computer up to the TV while waiting for him?

Vox just silently watched your antics while a familiar tune played in the background to accompany your actions.

"So I'll corrupt, manipulate, control what they see~"

Admittedly, the overlord found himself enraptured by your movements and singing.

He really couldn't help but stare as you danced around and performed to no one in particular.

If he'd only known that you would like his music sooner-

Maybe he'd have sent you more.

"I am the master of obscuring through our technology~!"

Vox didn't really think much of the song he'd sent you the other night.

A slight nervousness hit him when he was about to sleep wondering if you'd like it-

But clearly-

He didn't need to be worried at all.

"I'll sell your every single weakness back to you for a fee!"

A part of him wanted to just appear and see if you'd notice-

But the risk of cutting your performance short stopped him from going through with it.

"Don't be a fool and stand there droolin'-"

Vox couldn't help but chuckle, well-

That line was more ironic that it should've been in this situation.

"Get those Eyes. On. Me!"

His fans whirred loudly at this point, while your dance moves were quite clumsy and even random compared to more seasoned dancers-

Vox couldn't help but think you were just friggin adorable.

"Take a chance, play my game, get the rush in your veins~"

He really tried to keep his cool-

The overlord really really tried.

But he couldn't help the stupid grin on his face when he discreetly appeared on your TV.

"I'm sending out my signal download into your brain~!"

That was when he realized your eyes were closed.

It seems like whether or not he'd have appeared you wouldn't notice.

"And I'll be conquerin' the airwaves, I'm on all of your screens-"

As much as it was his theme song, Vox felt like you could rock the vibe just as well.

Which was so hilariously disconnected that he couldn't help but softly chuckle imagining it.

Well, maybe it was about time you realized he was actually here.

"So pay up motherfuckers, you belong to Vee!"

You screamed in surprise when you heard his voice from behind you.

The direction of the speaker was far enough for you to realize your digital companion appeared on the TV.

Of course he just had to join in at the last moment!

Wait-

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE?!"

Your face was beet red from embarrassment, he wasn't supposed to see any of that!

"Long enough, I didn't realize you liked the song that much dollface!"

You practically swore at him up and down as Vox laughed and mercilessly teased you.

He seriously could've given you any hint if he arrived!

The fucking jerk-!

"I'm not doing it for you! My friends gave a listen to your song and they want to make a music video for it!"

Vox hummed thoughtfully, he was still on his high watching you get all shy and flustered.

You were so fucking cute-

"I'll agree to it on one condition."

You were almost too scared to even ask, weighing your choices before eventually daring to inquire.

The grin the overlord gave you immediately made you regret pushing forward with it.

"Fine fine, what's the condition?"

"That you perform and sing in the music video and send it to me."

"What?! Why?!"

Vox just laughed at your expense, the fact you were practically steaming out the ears because of him was the most entertaining thing he'd seen all day.

"Why not? Can't I have a look at the final product I'm agreeing to?"

You stuttered and huffed, he had a point there.

Fucking hell....

You should've never agreed to that fucking music video!!!

"Oh shut up, you just wanna see me sing and dance."

"Not really, your performance sucked."

"Oh fuck off Vox!"

The overlord just continued to laugh at how blushy and red you got.

Maybe he did enjoy your singing and dancing.

Well, it's not like he'll ever admit it.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox x you #get off my screen series

[dizzyemi]

hi! could you write something with a reader that's working at ada and they are always cheerful and happy and get along with dazai well, but one time they get sent to a mission (i just started the anime so i dont really know how things go, sorry!) and get badly injured so they are not as cheerful as before and dazai and others help them get better? it's my first time sending a request so sorry if I didn't explain well! feel free to change it up a bit! feel free to ignore this! take care!

ᰔᩚ Get well soon!

Summery: You've been healed up by Yosano but you still feel troubled from your recent assignment and the ada members are here to comfort you

Contains: Dazai, Ranpo, Kunikida, Atsushi, Yosano X Reader

Tags: platonic but can be seen as romantic, reader has an ability but not specified, fluff, not proofread, grammar mistakes, oc probaly

Format: short Headcannons

Notes: I feel that some are too short than others and probaly out of character, I'm not good at writing words of comfort so yeah

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Dazai

You come back from Yosano's clinic all healed up and fresh

No evidence of the broken bones and cuts you had gained from your first ever dangerous assignment

You may have been patched up physically but emotionally you were still wrecked

Just staring quietly at your empty report as the scene of the fight kept replying in your head over and over again

You kept wondering "why didn't I use my ability properly?"

You were too busy to notice someone staring right at you

Dazai would instantly notice the change in your behavior

how you've become more quiet

not a single word coming out of your mouth as you looked lost in thought

he'd try to comfort you to the best of his abilities but comforting others isn't his forte

He would try to comfort you in a rather silly way

Telling you a silly joke or pulling an innocent prank involving flowers or something that you like

Doing some overly dramatic scheme just to see you smile :(

He doesn't know how to bring comfort in any other way

He would let you talk out your feelings but if you're expecting some comforting words, you will not get any

Because he doesn't know how to

But you will get a hug in the comfortable silence

Ranpo

Obviously he would know you we're clearly bothered by your recent assignment

Coming back with a practically broken body and nearly failing the case that could've cause devastation to others had turned you extremely quiet

He's more actions than words

Will share only a little bit of his sweets

he'll share as much as you want

he'll tell you that you did a good job and that you're still one of the best out there

nothing was your fault

expect the best hugs and him staying by your side as long as you need

Kunikida

When you return from your case and are properly healed there will be a scolding

but in a comforting way?

it comes from a place of heart

He understands this pain

would like to address your feelings

unlike Ranpo its words rather than actions

"one moment of weakness dosent define you. Mistakes will happen"

"We all stumble and fall down from time to time but it is these stumbles and falls which make us who we are"

"its not the end of the world"

trust him

he would know

Yosano

the one who brought you back from nearly being dead

You're feeling woozy on the bed of the clinic after

Physically you were fine but you still felt disturbed

Staring at the white ceiling of the room as replays of the same moment stay in your head

Yosano was in the room, hearing how silent the room instead of the usual chatter she would know that you were troubled

she would be the one to break the silence

Words of comfort and good advice

takes you out to go get your favorite food together

Atsushi

He is extremely worried about you

Checking up on you to see how you're doing

Seeing how upset you are makes him worry

“Hey, hey.. It’s okay… You didn’t know what was going to happen and it was your first case… Please don’t blame yourself..”

The best person who brings comfort

I don't know how to write that

He'd try to cheer you up any way he can

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #ranpo x reader #atsushi x reader #kunikida x reader #yosano x reader

[sugamehhq]

His Angel (Johnshi)

Quick things before you indulge;

This is an au I've started working on where these characters are placed in a world of demons and angels. For this specific story part, a process known as "marking" or "claiming" is done.

In the realm of demons and angels there are rankings. The higher your rank, the more privileged you are. Anyone who falls in the 7-12 range are not lucky people. The only way to climb in the ranks is either by someone above you dies, or by a higher up claiming you as their own (with consent). The marking/claiming process can never be done without consent. An action of consent is required to begin the process.

In Johnny's case, he was born a rank 12. Being a rank 12 means he's been treated poorly most of his life. Of which leads me to say CW/TW for mentions of Sexual Harassment/Sexual Assault. Please stay safe!

(Art is included at the end for visuals :] )

--

“Remind me why you’re here again,” Johnny stated, avoiding Kenshi’s gaze.

The demon was a little confused by the sudden request, but complied, “I wanted to spend time with you.”

“Right,” the angel fidgeted with his fingers, “and why is that?”

Kenshi sighed, “I’ve told you already. I enjoy your company, you’re comforting to be around.”

He paused before asking a question, “Do you not enjoy our time together?”

The angel’s brows furrowed as he searched for an answer.

“Would you prefer I leave?”

“No,” Johnny replied quickly, “I’m just confused is all.”

Kenshi raised an eyebrow before placing himself by the angel’s side. His hand gently took Johnny’s, the other’s small wings moving to cover his face.

“If I may ask,” the demon spoke softly, “what’s confusing you?”

Johnny hesitated, his hand accepting the demon’s touch while he thought how to word his concern.

“Who told you about me?”

His voice was gentle, but rough enough to get the point across. He felt this wasn’t genuine. That Kenshi was sent to keep watch over him for something worse, that there were no real feelings. The fear in his mind was making it hard to see the truth. Johnny was aware there was some connection. The demon had spent months visiting, doing everything he could to protect his lower rank self, showing him respect, bringing him gifts, and yet there was still the strong feeling of it being too good to be true.

“I’m not sure I’m following.”

“If you’re just here to use my body for satisfaction, then use me. There’s no need to butter me up for months if that’s all you want.”

Kenshi’s heart hurt knowing that thought has been stuck in the other’s mind for months, yet all he could do was repeat the same thing over and over, hoping one of these days it would get through that horrid road block in the angel’s mind. He found himself standing in front of Johnny, gently pulling his feathers from his face, revealing an expression of fear yet acceptance.

“Starlight, look at me,” the demon placed his hand against the other’s cheek, “there’s no need to be afraid of me.”

Johnny’s lower lip twitched as he fought back tears.

“You know that, and I know you’ve been through a lot, but please don’t be afraid of me,” Kenshi wiped the singular tear that fell, “I’d rather die than ever think of hurting you in such ways.”

The angel’s hand shakily met the demon’s wrist. His eyes closed, allowing the tears to fall.

So Kenshi continued, “A close friend of mine told me about you, how you’re a good person, that you don’t deserve what you’ve been through, so I came to see for myself. I started spending more time here than in my own territory. It occurred to me that you really are something special.”

The demon hesitated, his words feeling way too corny for himself, but he chose to keep speaking his mind.

“I grew fond of you. I’ve wanted nothing more than to bring you up from this hellhole, not only because it’s the right thing to do, but because I truly fell in love with you, and I want you to see that. So, over the last few months, I’ve tried my best to prove myself to you. I’ve brought you things I thought you’d enjoy. I respect your wishes. I avoided anything you disliked. I wanted to make you feel safe and give you a safe space. I’ve grown territorial of you. I want to protect you. I-”

The demon’s mind went blank. He had so much more to say, but couldn’t figure out how to word it. It sunk in that he admitted to the fact of wanting to claim the angel, take him as his lover. His mouth hung open, slight nerves settling in his gut as he waited for a slap in the face, assuming the angel would think he was crazy.

How many people have told him the same thing, only to turn around and hurt him for no reason at all? What he did just now, he was probably no better than the other disgusting demons that tried to get a taste of Johnny.

A laugh entered the air, a song the demon would kill for just to hear again.

“You’re so blunt,” Johnny laughed.

Kenshi’s face relaxed, assuming he didn’t mess up his words.

“Not blunt, honest.”

Johnny pulled Kenshi’s hand away from his face, squeezing it in his other hand. He admired the claws of the demon, the color of his skin, how rough yet soft his touch felt, the jewelry that adorned his arm. His eyes trailed up to his shoulder, chest, opposite arm, back to his chest, to his feet, and finally up to his blindfolded eyes. Kenshi stood still, his posture stiff in fear he was presenting himself wrong, which earned another laugh out of the angel.

“You’re trying too hard for someone like me,” Johnny smiled, wondering what his eyes looked like under the cloth.

“I beg to differ,” Kenshi sighed while relaxing his shoulders.

Johnny continued to laugh at the demon. Even if it was to make fun of him, Kenshi enjoyed the sound.

“So, run that by me again,” Johnny spoke, “what’s this about love?”

The demon’s tail twitched nervously, but he obeyed, “I said I fell in love with you.”

“Right,” the angel leaned closer to the other, his voice softening, “and what did you say you wanted to do?”

“Bring you up from this hellhole,” Kenshi replied automatically.

Johnny smiled, taking in Kenshi’s features once more.

He really did love this demon. So why should he feel guilty about this? Kenshi himself just stated he loves him, but that word doesn’t mean anything when you’ve been told all your life how loved and beautiful you are, only to be used and thrown around like a damn toy. 

Even still, Johnny followed his heart. The angel planted a soft kiss on the demon’s cheek. A silent way of inviting the demon into his heart.

Kenshi was hesitant, his heart grew louder, his tail swishing slowly behind him. Was he really allowing him into his life? Was all his hard work finally paying off? 

“Johnny,” Kenshi whispered in awe.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure?”

The angel froze. Did he mess something up?

“I-I mean are you okay with me. Are you sure you’re okay with it being me?”

“Kenshi,” the angel placed another kiss on his face, “I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

The demon’s lips broke into a smile, his heart pounded in his ears. He could only imagine how stupid he looked at that moment. His head fell against Johnny’s shoulder, his arms embracing him.

“You do know it’ll hurt like hell, right?”

Johnny sighed, “I’m sure I’ve felt worse.”

Kenshi cringed at the statement. Both for what it implied as well as the idea Johnny might be overlooking how painful a marking for them would be. Regardless, if Johnny was okay with it then he’d gladly deliver.

The demon lifted his head, taking the angel’s face in his palms. His lips found the other’s, testing the waters. He gave Johnny the opportunity to back out, but the angel returned the kiss.

His left hand gently trailed its way down to Johnny’s right hip, where his initial “12” mark was exposed. As if staged, Johnny’s left hand found its way to Kenshi’s exposed back, his finger tips grazing over the demon’s “3” mark. With a consenting kiss and connected marks, their palms began to glow, signaling the start of the marking process.

The two stood together, hands grasping at each other’s marks. It took about a minute for the pain to creep into the angel’s muscles. A burning sensation ran down his thigh to his knee. While Kenshi remained unphased, Johnny’s leg started to shake lightly.

Pulling away from the kiss, he rested his head against Kenshi’s shoulder, a hesitant growl resonated from his throat in response to the pain. As another agonizing minute passed, his knee started to give out, the only thing keeping him from falling over being Kenshi’s hold on his hip.

“Use your other hand,” Kenshi spoke, his voice ever so slightly shaking, “you can hold my arm.”

Without thinking, Johnny did as told, his right hand finding Kenshi’s upper arm. His fingers dug into the underside of his arm. The pain from his hip spread to his side creating a combined feeling of a horrific side stitch alongside a massive leg cramp. 

In an attempt to mask the pain for the other, Kenshi returned to his prior position in providing a kiss. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for Johnny to pull away again. He tried to speak, but the pain took his breath away, though Kenshi could tell what he was trying to say.

“You’re alright,” Kenshi sighed in an attempt to combat his own aches, “I’ve got you.”

The angel rested his forehead against the demon’s in an attempt for comfort. Having been in immense pain for about three minutes, all he could do was stand there and listen to the other’s calming words until the pain subsided.

After an agonizing four and a half minutes, the pain started to dissipate. Johnny’s body collapsed on itself, all his energy had been used connecting his energy to Kenshi’s. The demon’s hands immediately moved to embrace the other, guiding him to the ground safely. While the process was draining for both of them, it wasn’t nearly as bad for Kenshi as it was for Johnny.

The angel struggled to keep his eyes open, fatigue catching up with him almost instantly. As his eyes closed, Kenshi laid him on the ground comfortably so he could rest.

As much as Kenshi would’ve loved to take a nap as well, he dedicated himself to staying by his partner’s side, keeping watch for any suspicious higher ups. Fatigue wouldn’t stop him from protecting the angel at all costs.

As the angel opened his eyes, he felt disoriented, like his world was on a tilt. He blinked a few times trying to take in his surroundings, to understand where he was and what happened. He felt a sense of fear being unsure of where he was or who was around him, but that slowly ceased as his mind registered the gentle messaging of his hip.

Kenshi had found himself instinctively brushing over the mark on Johnny’s hip, a way of comforting the other. He wasn’t sure how much it actually helped, but he did it anyway. The demon waited for a bit to eventually speak.

“How do you feel?”

Johnny hummed in response, still tired.

“Is this helping?”

The angel nodded, the comfort he felt from the other’s touch kept him from seeing the world upside down. Kenshi huffed in response, acknowledging the silent request to keep at it. 

As Johnny slipped in and out of sleep, Kenshi grew tired. He too wanted to rest from prior events. The next time Johnny opened his eyes, Kenshi asked if he could move them to somewhere more secluded.

“Can you stand?” Kenshi asked while helping the other sit up.

“Mm, doubt it,” Johnny shook his head, barely able to lift himself up from the ground originally.

It was a little worrying the effect marking the angel had, but Kenshi pushed his concern aside in favor of picking the other up. He lifted Johnny into his arms, noticing his leg was still stiff, he quickly moved to somewhere more hidden, somewhere that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything happening to his angel.

It didn’t take long for the demon to join the other on the ground. Without any sort of bed, the floor was just barely tolerable, but for a fatigued pair such as them, it was the comfiest thing in the world. 

Having been newly bonded, Johnny joining Kenshi in being a rank 3, the two settled for cuddling each other for a while. They’ll save rank discussion and their future for a later date.

Right now, the only thing that mattered was the fact that Kenshi’s goal was met. He had saved him.

His angel.

--

Some extra details to think about:

Markings hurt for every pair that consents to one. For Johnshi their marking is the most painful one of the list of character's I have.

Pain of markings is basically like a cramp in your muscle.

Receivers' markings can be found in three places: Their hip, cheeks, or their necks.

Givers markings can be found in three places: Their back, chest, or stomach.

Markings are extremely draining, specifically if the rank distance is large like Johnshi's was. (Johnny had to sit through four and a half minutes of burning pain as his mark switched through the nine stages of ranks before ending at Kenshi's rank 3.)

When bonded with another being, your energies are tied to one another. You can feel what the other feels, comfort them by touching their mark, and overall, just feel closer to your other half.

Angels and Demons all have three types: Angels can have white wings, brown wings, or black wings. Demons can have spiked wings, pinched wings, or rounded wings. (There's more to this, but I don't want to make this too long.) Johnny is a lower-ranking brown wing while Kenshi is a higher-ranking spiked wing.

Ranks also determines the kind of jewelry a person would own. Kenshi's on the higher end, so he possesses golds. Johnny originally being the lowest rank of 12, he possessed bronze.

Kenshi's whole goal in this au was to bring Johnny up from a rank 12 to a rank 3 to keep him safe, of which clearly, he won.

Here's some art to give you an idea of what this looks like :))

@s-icarus-hofmann designed their outfits ! Everyone thank them for the help :))

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!

#johnshi #mk1 #kenshi takahashi #johnny cage #johnny x kenshi #kencage #mortal kombat 1 #sugameh's fic archive #sugameh's aus #mongelmkau #Demons and Angels MK Au #johnshi fanart #mk1 fanart #mortal kombat #mk1 au #mortal kombat au

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idk if this is ok but can I sent honmei choco to male Raven from the April fool’s day event ;u; (yes my thirst for Da Boi transcends dimensions) “Raven-kun!! Hi, hello!! Fancy seeing you here. I wished really hard to meet you again and I think my wish has been granted! I don’t know if you even remember little ol’ me but I remember you. I missed you more than I care to admit and, well, I made these truffles thinking of you but not knowing if I could ever deliver them. So um h-here. Be mine?”

This ask was an old one from 2022's Sweet on You/Love is in the Air Valentine's Day themed blog event! The idea was to send chocolates to your desired boy. I missed the chance to reply to this one for April Fools in 2023 so I figured I'd get it out in honor of this year's April 1st!

For people who are confused about this character 💀 There was a joke event called “Raven Redux”, which featured the reader (you!) being transported to a genderbent AU. A male Raven Crowley (my OC + blog’s mascot) then helps the reader find a way to their home universe. He ended up being uh... pretty popular?

Even if it's just for a little while... Let's return to that other world!

***Art is by tinyfantasminha!***

“A dream is a wish your heart makes.”

That was what the headmaster had told you when you came to him with your troubles. A gaping hole in your chest, a longing that had yet to be fulfilled. Crowley had looked at you with pity, warbling as he smoothed a hand over your head.

“Speak your most heartfelt dream, your wish, to the Mirror of Darkness, and it shall take you there… to him.”

Now here you stood before the portal between places… and worlds. You hugged a box of truffles to your chest and took a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. Your reflection rippled in the mirror—then wildly distorted once you plunged into it.

A sharp exhale as coldness enveloped you. All the air from your lungs expelled, as if you were screaming with all your might, even if no words ever left your lips.

Your feet met solid ground.

You slowly opened your eyes.

The attic.

You were in Raven’s attic, her nest, her humble abode. A place built of papers and ink, tomes and tales. But was it the right Raven?

You steadily approached the feathered figure seated behind the writing desk. Each step as quiet as a mouse. No matter the Raven, you didn’t wish to disturb their creative process.

They reclined with a sigh, head draped over the top rail of their chair.

That’s…

A cap of midnight fell over his haughty face. Dark blue makeup colored closed lids, decorative dots lining his lower lashes. And there, dangling from his pointed right ear, was a golden feather earring.

He seemed set deep in thought, taking no heed of you. Willowy limbs splayed out, his vest generously opened to display the rise and fall of his chest. Dreaming, perhaps.

It was as though he was a sleeping prince encased in glass coffin. Awaiting his special someone to sweep him off his feet.

It’s him.

You cleared your throat—rousing him from his rest. He bolted upward, swiveling in your direction. His eyes were wide with alarm.

“Raven-kun!! Hi, hello!!” you called out with a bashful wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You’re…!” He stopped himself, reining in his shock and replacing it with what he hoped was casual coldness. “What are you doing here, worm?!”

You giggled nervously. “I wished really hard to meet you again and I think my wish has been granted! I don’t know if you even remember little ol’ me but I remember you.”

“… By the Seven, you’re absolutely hopeless,” Raven muttered.

He drew himself up from his seat. You yelped, taking a step back. It had been too long; you’d forgotten just how tall he was compared to your typical Raven.

“My memory isn’t that bad,” he scoffed. “How could I forget the fool who dared to tread in my territory and then groveled at my feet for assistance? In any case, it looks as though you’ll be needing it a second time.

“Wishing to see me again like this, reliving that old story… You must be truly desperate, hmm?”

Ah, yes. There it was—his silver tongue, sharpened for use as a bladed weapon. A dishonest defense.

Your chest fluttered.

“I missed you more than I care to admit,” you confessed, cheeks warming, “and, well, I made these truffles thinking of you but not knowing if I could ever deliver them.”

You held out the box of truffles to him.

“So, um… h-here.”

“This is…” Raven hesitated. “A heart-shaped box secured with a sparkling ribbon, with chocolates inside… It’s the sort of thing gifted to long-held crushes and lovers. You… You’re not being serious, are you?”

But you nodded, refuting him.

“I’m totally serious about you, Raven-kun,” you declared, your voice trembling. “B-Be mine?”

Surprise flickered through his face. Subtle, fleeting. His arrogance then returned, an attempt to cover the moment of weakness.

“Hoh? What’s this? Seems you grew a spine since last we met.” Wearing a smirk, Raven plucked the truffles up. “It would be rude of me to refuse your offering after you’ve pleaded for my affection and traveled all this way.”

“Y-You accept them? My feelings…”

“I didn’t say that.” He waggled a finger. The truffles, shoved inside of a drawer like some treasure stowed away for safekeeping. “Sweets and sentiments are two entirely different matters. I’m afraid that a bird is never to be tied down—the sky always calls to it.”

“Oh.” You deflated, lowering your gaze to the ink-stained floor. “Th-That’s okay, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

"Don’t make that sorry expression,” Raven sighed, frowning. "Sadness is unbecoming. No one wears it well."

I despise seeing on you. Because of me, you're making such a face... and I cannot even bring myself to properly apologize.

His chest ached.

“Look at me. Hate me,” he had once written--the tale of his isolating curse. “It is a better fate than languishing in history and being forgotten altogether.”

Suddenly, the short distance between the two of you seemed like oceans apart.

He could reach out, offer his hand. He could blurt out all that was running through his mind.

I was so lonely ever since you left. Let's make up that lost time. Tell me about yourself, about your world. How have you been? Do you still care for me, despite going through all my vitriol?

But he couldn't. No, he shouldn't.

Raven sucked in a breath through his teeth. Dancing with danger, tempting fate. He would dare, this one time.

“... Come here.”

"What?"

"I said, come here," he repeated, a little louder. His arms were out, hesitantly spread just wide enough for you to slip in. Raven, embarrassed, hastily glanced away from you.

“I failed to prepare a gift to return the favor—of course, you can’t really blame me, can you? Your appearance was unannounced. Accept this in its place… one moment of respite in my arms."

“R-Really?!”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

It was strange, shuffling into the folds of his arms. You had never been this close to him before—body and body, soul to soul. He smelled of pages and chilled rain, the darkness and the stars between it.

Raven was a painting come to life, speckled with intricate details you could only glean from up close. The curious twinkle in his eyes, the way his long, dark lashes flutter like wings, the pout to his mouth. From far away, he presented cool, untouchable.

Now…

He was strangely gentle. Almost vulnerable.

A bird crafted of glass, set to shatter by your hand.

“… Stop staring,” Raven grumbled. “I’ve told you before, haven’t I? It’s terribly rude. Not an ounce of good manners in you, is there?”

“Haha… No, I guess not,” you replied softly—noncommittal as you nestled snuggly into him.

“Hmph. Getting comfortable so soon?”

“Yup. Your feathers are fluffy and warm.”

A scoff. “… For what it’s worth, we can stay like this for as long as you like. Be thankful for my magnanimity.”

You smiled, and it set his pulse drumming. A new idea, born.

“I am.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #sweet on you #m!Raven Crowley #Reader #self insert #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions

[willsimpforanyone]

I just remembered this prompt from wattpad or Tumblr and that it's good for angst.

Request for a Brother!reader x Percy Jackson, where the reader is slowly getting tired of always just being compared to Percy (about how he did so much while the reader just did small things for camp) which leads to reader holding some animosity towards Percy, so he just run away due to Percy not saying or even noticing what's happening to his brother leaving Percy to be sad and wishing he could've been there to stop some of the comparison

(sorry if this was too long, also, you can decide what happens to the reader after running away)

thank you for requesting!

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

I stared at my reflection. I don't look much like Percy. Less muscled, for sure, but when one of us has ten times the life experience of the other, that's bound to happen.

I don't even know if I look like my dad; my mom always said I had his nose, a strong, Grecian nose. Both Percy and I have his eyes, though mine have always been... more muted, like the ocean in December.

"Hey, c'mon, we gotta practice."

Percy's voice filtered through the door of the bathroom and I sighed, zipping up my hoodie and throwing the hood over my head. "Yeah, yeah, like you need the practice."

He threw his arm around my shoulders and grinned at me. "Okay, then you gotta practice so I don't have to cover your ass every time there's a battle."

I ducked my head and elbowed him. He backed off, laughing, and I kept my eyes to the ground to hide my scowl. He didn't mean it, I know he didn't, but it still pierced through my ribs, icy and sharp.

There were about a dozen people in the amphitheatre, choosing weapons, slashing at dummies and each other. Percy uncapped Riptide, bronze blade gleaming in the midday sun, and gestured for me to unsheath my own weapon. I pulled out my shortsword from it's sheath at my side, the enchanted iron a familiar weight in my hand.

Already there were whispers surrounding us; watching Percy fight was a spectacle for a lot of campers. I doubted it even mattered that he was just here to help his incompetent brother, they were waiting to see him kick someone's ass. In this case, it would be mine.

I took a deep breath, shaking off some of the negativity. This was Percy, who I trusted to be able to resist the siren call of a performance in favour of actually being a good teacher. It shouldn't matter that there were more people here than there were a minute ago, he was here for me.

That gave me a little encouragement, and I faced him, sword at the ready. He grinned at me, and I managed a smile back. "Come on then, Jackson, what're you waiting for?"

He lunged forward and I swiftly sidestepped, slashing towards his arm. My sword hit against his armour and he spun round, aiming for my side. I could tell he was taking it easy on me, giving me a chance to learn to anticipate his moves.

I was almost having fun. For a moment, it was just me and my brother, the way it was when we first came to camp. I remember being terrified I would never see him again each time he was sent off on a quest, that I would lose my brother forever but he always came back, eventually.

For a split second, I gained the upper hand, pushing Percy back from the assault and attacking rather than defending. Swordplay had never been my strong suit, but I was good enough.

Until somehow he slipped under my arm, dodging the mad swing I made for him and twisting so he ended up with Riptide at my throat from behind. Both of us were panting, and I realised I really should have taken my hoodie off before I started fighting.

There was a cheer from around us, and Percy took his blade away from my neck, clapping me on the shoulder. "Maybe next time," he panted, backing away slightly. I made to turn and reply, but Percy was already swamped, younger campers and friends congratulating him. Annabeth sauntered over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Don't know why they're so excited, it's not like it was a difficult fight." She said it quietly, in his ear, but I heard it anyway. Percy just laughed, and pecked her lips.

I was torn- I tried! I tried to fight him properly, I swear, it wasn't an easy fight, at least I don't think so. Even if it was, why should he get all the praise and attention? No one else other than Annabeth was willing to fight him, I was holding my own against him.

I shrunk in on myself, hiding as much as I could in my hood, and slipped away from the amphitheatre. My sword tapped against my leg in it's sheath as I slunk back to the Posiden cabin. I shut the door, not bothering to lock it behind me; it's not as if anyone would come looking for me now wonder boy was outside.

Rooting around under my pillow, I withdrew a photo. It was a couple years old now, creased in the middle. I traced the fold lines, time separating me from my mom. She died trying to protect me from a monster that came to kill me when I was 12. I still have some of her things, everything else was burned down with the house.

My mouth tasted bitter as I remembered that Percy, only a year older than me, had found me and taken me to camp in the middle of the school year. I'd idolised him, and for a while we were inseparable until he kept being chosen. He was special, he was the one sent on quests and given power and was more connected to our dad that I would ever be.

I took a shuddering breath, looking down at my mom and feeling that gnawing, craving ache of grief; for her, for never knowing my dad, for feeling like I was losing the only other family I had.

There was a noise outside, a few feet from the door. I snapped my head up, eyes watery. From what I could hear, it was a couple of kids, no older than 8 years old.

"That's Percy Jackson's cabin!"

"Whoa, cool! He has a whole cabin all to himself?"

"No, dummy, his brother lives there too, duh."

"He has a brother? I didn't know that."

"Did you know he defeated Ares when he was like, 12? That's so cool."

They walked away, fully invested in their hero worship of my brother. People didn't even know I was his brother? Maybe they were new, they didn't know anyone, it wasn't fair to be angry at them for something out of their control.

They knew him, though.

That voice was insidious, echoing in my skull. They might have been new, but they knew who Percy Jackson was.

I folded the photo back up, and went to put it back under my pillow. Slowly, I reached into the drawer of the bedside table, pulling out a notebook and slipping the photo into the middle of it.

Without even really meaning to, I found my backpack stuffed into a corner. I scanned the room for my stuff, acknowledging that it couldn't all fit in my bag. Didn't matter, I didn't need much.

Some of my clothes went into the bottom of the bag. The contents of my bedside table was packed, a couple toiletries, as much as I could fit. I changed my shoes, finding a sturdier pair than the ones I was wearing.

I needed food. It was about lunchtime, I could grab some stuff and give an offering to Posiden for safe passage or something. Not that he'd be much help. I found a plastic box from somewhere and hid it in my clothes. I was out and back in 20 minutes, ignoring the few attempts at conversation. The plastic box was filled with food, and I swiped a cannister with water from a table.

I waited until it was dark, the sun just dipping below the horizon and painting the sky in dusky pinks and purples. Everyone would be getting something to eat after a long day at camp. Perfect.

The door shut quietly behind me, backpack slung over my shoulder and my sword at my hip. I should be able to get out unnoticed if I cut through the forest, and I slipped into the shadows of the trees.

A cough came from by my side.

I jumped a foot in the air and swore loudly, clapping a hand across my mouth a little too late. Nico di Angelo was leaning against a tree, dark hair not quite hiding his judging look.

No, not judging. Curious.

Feeling a little under the microscope, I let him take in everything about me- there was no reasonable explanation as to why I'd be here.

After a painful minute of silence between us, he shrugged. Reaching into a pocket, Nico tossed me a piece of plastic; a phone.

"Someone should know where you are."

I nodded and Nico seemed to melt into the shadows of the trees. I was alone, actually alone. Maybe I should have been worried he would immediately run to Percy or Chiron, but I trusted him. He didn't try to stop me, it seemed like he just wanted to make sure I didn't die.

Which, in a weird way, is the most caring thing anyone's ever done for me.

I steeled myself, slipping the phone into my pocket. I couldn't see the barrier that kept camp safe from here, but I knew I'd know once I passed through it.

Deep breaths. Let's get out of here.

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

ooo i love writing angst, thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoyed!

#percy jackson #son of poseidon!reader #pjo angst #percy jackson imagine #pjo imagine

[burningvelvet]

on percy shelley & human connection & coping through art

to set the mood of this post i must say i'm writing it really quickly on my phone over a bowl of pasta with bread & broccoli & some orange flavored sparkling water & im still dressed in my outdoor wintery clothes (all black, knee boots, wool, silver chains & rings, although i mostly prefer gold jewelry).

so anyway today i've been kind of sad over ppl not replying to my texts & my usual reaction is to say "ok, guess i'll kms, wah wah, cry cry" but this sort of passively cynical joking schtick has gotten old & i would rather occupy myself some other way instead of moping about failed connections or the difficulty of initiating contact with anyone or the struggles of modern socialization as a whole.

instead, i will read the works of percy shelley tonight, and think about how he struggled with all of this over 200 yrs ago. of how hard he struggled to make leigh hunt and lord byron collaborate with him on their journal the liberal, and how he struggled all his life to build a positive community even in spite of years of bullying, ostracization, and family strife - he often felt like giving up, and like human connection was impossible, but he never gave in to apathy and instead he continuously curated his ideal life by seeking out other like-minded people, even when he occasionally embarrassed himself in public or when others were decidely averse to him or lukewarm in their reception. john keats didn't entirely take to him when they met and some of keats' friends straight-up disliked percy for being weird, but percy (though scarcely knowing him) loved keats as a brother-poet nonetheless, was generous to him, wrote one of his masterpieces in his favor, and died with a copy of his poems in his pocket.

percy always reached out to others and was a loyal friend even when others disrespected him or ignored him or just simply didnt love him as much as he did them. his letters to lord byron show how reverent he was to his friend, and how his affection was never returned in quite the same gusto, but, while still trying to keep his self-respect, percy quelled his frustrations and continued his correspondence with byron regardless. percy acted as the mediator between byron and claire even when his stress was so high it weighed heavily on his health. he actively tried to choose to be positive even when the people around him were negative or miserable. like most writers back then, he sent his writing to his idols, and sought mentorship from people he admired, like william godwin and leigh hunt, and he continued to respect them even when they took advantage of him financially (moreso in godwin's case).

anyway what i mean to say is that whenever im feeling lonely or rejected or alienated or socially stupid or am just second-guessing my role in society or whatever whatever whatever, i cling to creativity/art/literature/etc. even harder than i regularly do, because thats what it exists for.

i knew a therapist (not one i saw as a patient, but someone i knew through mutual interests in media/the arts) who said that a certain musical performance we both loved probably saved way more lives than any single therapist ever has. - the performance in question was david bowie's tokyo 1990 live recording of rock n roll suicide, an anti-suicide song (its available on youtube, go watch it lol, he performs it with so much conviction).

any way even though at the end of his life shelley sometimes felt like he was failing to achieve his dream of building a utopian art commune - he actually did succeed in introducing several people to each other in ways that changed peoples lives. his friends jane williams and thomas jefferson hogg got married only through his mutual friendship. whole literary societies have been started in his honor - to this day there are conferences & whatnot that meet annually - his life & writing continues to inspire people and bring them comfort - & he would be extremely proud of that - any artist would. the main goal of any famous dead writer is basically to become the imaginary friend of their future readers & he accomplished that - even though all the time he was wracked with doubt/depression/suicidality/illness/chronic pain, etc. - as a political/philosophical radical, he realized that having hope is one of the most influential & radical things one can do - & i'm glad that, even though this is a person who died over 200 yrs ago, there is at least one person who really resonates with me - even though we're from different centuries, different continents, different sexes, etc. - it's helpful to have positive influences to look up to, especially when they've also struggled in similar ways as you. and although shelley was pretty privileged (rich englishman) he really did struggle a lot mentally & physically - his life was a chaotic mess - and he wasn't perfect at all - but i think he's still inspirational for my previously mentioned reasons - his ceaseless hope. the last poem he was working on was titled the triumph of life, even though he wrote it during a deep depression. the last poem he published in his lifetime was hellas, which he hoped would raise money for the cause of greek war of independence. from the poem:

"Life may change, but it may fly not;

Hope may vanish, but can die not;

Truth be veiled, but still it burneth;

Love repulsed, — but it returneth!"

#percy bysshe shelley #percy shelley #me #? #ramblings #my writing #art #literature #socializing #thoughts #hopepunk #that was shelley #tw suicide mention #opinions #essays #poetry #social anxiety

[satelarry]

a light breeze, the touch of your fingertips.

Pairing: Tim Laughlin x Hawkins Fuller

Summary: Hawk enters his first rut and follows his friend's advice to make it more pleasant: call Omega Hotline.

A/N: I got inspired by @fellowstraveling tumblr's post and decided to write this, i hope you all like it!!

⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯

He's barely eighteen when it happens but he doesn't feel scared, rather impatient of what comes next.

So he does the most logical thing which is to inform his mother, Estelle, to clear the house as soon as possible.

Becoming an alpha was something he was certain it would happen, mainly because of his parents' lineage, so it's no news when it finally hits him.

Kids his age spend a lot of their time theorizing over if they will become alphas, betas or omegas. Always assuring one another that they will become the first because the other two are merely seen as stuff to breed and assist them. Being an alpha means control and he gets along with that.

When he talks with Marcus about this, someone he met at a party while his friends were playing beer pong, feels the closest thing to a safe place he's ever had. And it has nothing to do with the fact that they both like men.

Hawk's known to be a private person yet people are constantly pushing his boundaries to see if they can get something else, a glimpse of a smile or a deep confession.

Marcus is neither and he's not afraid to call him on his bullshit either. His friendship isn't the mean to an end.

Thank Moon he's an alpha. It's what he thought before inviting him to his birthday party.

So now he's laying on his bed and he reaches for his phone to search for the contact he sent him in case of emergencies.

"Hello, Welcome to Omega Hotline! If you are in heat press one, if you're in rut press two." he presses the number quickly and cleans his right hand over his knee. "Perfect! If you want to speak to a female omega press one, on the cont—. You've selected option number two, we'll connect you with one of our operators shortly."

The waiting doesn't take long, he closes his eyes as he focuses on the song playing on the other side while starting to palm himself slowly to ease all the pent up tension.

When Marcus told him about his first rut he said it was very violent given that no omega was there to help him through. Unconsciously he inflicted a bit of a fear inside Hawk, who didn't want to harm himself or destroy his bedroom for that matter. That's why recurring to an unknown omega seemed like the best choice, having rut buddies means a relationship of some kind and he doesn't want the risks that it involves.

He is in no position of getting attached, much less, falling in love.

He barely recognizes the song stopped and it’s been replaced by another voice, an angelic one.

“Hi, can you tell me your pronouns?”

He feels his mouth getting dry at that moment and he has to lean in to grab another bottle. Drinking from it hastily.

“Hello?” the man repeats.

“Yes, sorry.” he coughs. “My pronouns are he/him.”

“Okay, thank you. By your timbre I figure you’re not in rut yet, are you touching yourself already?”

Such a simple question that sums up the beginning of a new stage in his life.

“Just palming,” he replies. “you?”

“Been waiting for you, alpha. Whenever you’re ready.”

Although those words are what any alpha would expect, it does not prevent it from generating the expected effect, the primitive switch that is inside his brain turns on and all he can think about is pleasing that omega that's on the other side.

He spits in his right palm and sneaks in through his boxers to begin massaging himself. The first touch makes him let out a sigh of relief.

“Mhm, it seems like you've been waiting for me too alpha. Tell me, how does it feel?"

It's not the first time that he has masturbated but he has had such an urge to do so, his cock erects faster than usual as he moves his hand slowly along the length; trying to prolong the moment as much as possible. Knowing that the climax will most likely make him lose consciousness.

“G-Good, yeah. ‘s nice.” he replies.

“Drag your thumb to the tip and caress it slowly, I want you to feel all the wetness my mouth can take. I am kneeling waiting for you to give me something, anything. Show you how well I can take it.”

He obeys as he tries to imagine the man's face in front of him doing what he said. For a split second he thinks of the boy he met during his summer vacation, sweet Kenny, and the really intense month and a half they spent together.

Although his voice wasn't as hypnotic as this one but it sure was pleasant, especially when he rubbed himself on him as Hawk dragged his fingers over his...

“Oh, yeah. F-Fuck."

He starts to feel his pre-cum leaking over the length and uses that as leverage to move faster.

“Keep your eyes closed, alpha. Let the feeling hold you, let me take care of you.”

It should be considered a skill the fact that he didn't come at the spot when he used his title the first time, now it's a miracle he's entering his rut and not ramming the sheets in search of more fraction.

“Promise to be good?” he dared to ask, opening his eyes again to see the knot starting to form at the tip, and he swears he heard a shaky breath come out from the other side of the call.

“I’ll be the best. You won’t need anyone else.”

He emits a deep rumble that causes his eyes to roll at the back of his head. The man has a way with words that makes his skin tickle and his inner alpha nod proudly.

"C'mon alpha, show me how good you look when you come. Fill my mouth with it."

"Nugh, beg for it." he says, denying.

"Please alpha, please. I want all of you. Haven't I been your good boy?"

"Fucking hell, yes you have. So good fo' me, waiting for my call so you can get on your knees like the cockslut you are. Here it goes baby, open your mouth."

The man makes a sound of agreement and that is the last push he needs to reach his high.

"Fuck, yeah..." he reaches his left hand towards his nightstand to grab the disposable napkins and clean his chest. "God Skippy, that was amazing."

"Who's Skippy?"

"It's what I'm gonna call you." he replies, due to the lack of response he hurries to add. "If you'd like."

"Alright." he says nonchalantly. "Whenever you're ready."

"Yeah just a second." he gets on his side and grabs one of his pillows to ram against it. "'m ready."

"Were you getting comfortable to fuck me again, alpha?" he asks, trying to convey an innocence that drives him nuts.

It is diametrically different to experience rut without the physical company of someone compared to having sex without commitment. The desperation running through his blood to get rid of the heat he's going through is so unbearable that he's not surprised other alphas don't even hesitate to turn to any omega they come across for relief.

Without a doubt, the person who got his call is a professional at what he does, although he doesn't want to think too much about it because his alpha is capable of getting angry, and it doesn't take him long to discover what he needs to get off.

Although dirty talk is one of his main assets when it comes to sex, the situation is so new that the only thing he can do is grunt mixed with moans and some onomatopoeias.

The call ends twelve hours later when his phone battery dies and his mind is too foggy to focus on where is the charger.

#fellow travelers #hawkins fuller #tim laughlin #jonathan bailey #matt bomer #hawk x tim #tim x hawk #hawk fuller #skippy #hawktim

[psychoticallytrans]

I'm in a mood tonight.

Let me tell you my oldest story, one I've had told to me as long as I can remember. It's a disjointed one, told in fits and starts and anecdotes. It starts shortly after I was born.

The first thing that worried my parents was that when I tried to cry, I didn't make a sound. I turned purple from the effort of it, and couldn't get anything out. People brushed it off, mostly, saying that it was normal for babies to cry themselves purple. My pediatrician humored my parents, and poked around me a bit. Found an enlarged liver, and sent for a scan.

Turns out, my heart wasn't quite fully formed, and one part of the main pipe leading out, the aorta, was still stuck to the intake pipe. Blood was building up in my heart. By the time I'd have surgery, at one month old, it would grow to collapse one of my lungs. That surgery started being arranged the minute the scans came back.

My parents asked what the hospital would have done if they'd refused the surgery. The surgeon replied that they would have taken my parents to court. The surgery was a clear cut case where I would die if it didn't happen, and I had about a good chance to live if it was done. I was one of the lucky babies.

They understood, once they saw the other babies in my ward. Every infant that was there in the cardiac unit when I arrived was there when I was discharged. All my problem needed was splitting the tubes properly and patching them. The other babies, they needed more than one surgery.

I'm the only one of my siblings who was baptized. Neither of my parents are religious people. My Christian grandparents were so terrified that I was going to die before I got to make a choice that they asked my parents to get me baptized just in case. My parents didn't see how it would hurt, so they did.

My parents didn't process how bad things were until the nurse asked for the milk to be pumped for a feeding tube. They didn't want me spending calories on suckling. If I'd been a week later, they said, I wouldn't be alive.

The surgery took hours. The surgeon came out of the room smiling.

I have a seven inch scar on my chest, these days. Runs straight up and down the middle. Easiest way to the heart is to crack open the ribcage, after all. Used it as show and tell in elementary til I got old enough for teachers to tell me off for it. I muse sometimes that it'd make a good song lyric, or line of a poem, that I was born with a broken heart. It works just fine these days, if with a bit more scar tissue than average. That may well make a good line too.

I draw different things from this story, depending on what I need. Sometimes, I need the reminder that there are people in this world, like that surgeon, that will move heaven and earth for one sick baby, even if that baby has no other significance than it's a sick baby and needs help they can give. Sometimes, I need to remember that when there's something wrong, like how I couldn't cry right, deciding that it's normal is a terrible answer. Sometimes, I need the reminder that there's people sicker than me, like the other babies who were all there before and after me, and that just because I got what I needed doesn't make them less sick.

Sometimes, before I got a med that worked for my bipolar, there were long nights where I needed the reminder that if that didn't kill me, hell if I'll let anything else do it- including my own brain.

There is one thing that never leaves me about this story: I couldn't do it alone. There was no way for me to survive without intervention. There was no way for me to get intervention without someone else noticing what was wrong. All I could do was fail to cry. Someone noticed, and someone helped. And that's why I got to see the end of the year, and all the years after.

I suppose that's why I'm telling this story. It's gotten me through hard times. If there's anything you can take from it, feel free. That's what stories are for.

#medical #cardiac

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

Official Miu Iruma Post

[contains debate about the 4th case & trial of v3, post-game irouma, a dating show au with saiouma & kiiruma, talk about her abandonment issues, parental HCs and toxic yuri, just the normal way conversations in the Pit go, I simply cut out some of the screaming, distractions and put displaced replies closer to what they're replying to]

Hina: Kokichi’s Chapter 4 plan right It’s to do two things: Save him from Miu Make himself the villain Right Cause if that’s the plan WHY PUSH MIUS BODY OFF THE ROOF Clown: That was gontas idea!! Hina: No I’m blaming Kokichi for this fuck you Ves: i think he actually meant to kill everyone but that's an unpopular opinion sndhsgfgfh Hina: THEN HE SHOULDVE LET MIU KILL HIM IM SORRY MIU HAD THE BEST MURDER PLOT IN V3 AND SHE DIDNT EVEN GET TO USE IT BECAUSE KOKICHIS A FUCKING MINDREADER Apollo: LIKE HOW DID HE KNOW? WHAT. SHE WAS ACTING WEIRD SO HE CHECKED THE COMPUTER CODE? [yes. I assumed that this was just. canon] Sini: HE COULDN’T LET MIU KILL HIM Ves: NO?????????? THAT WOULD BE FUCKIGN STUPID???????????????????? Hina: No but if his plan was to kill everyone, Miu probably could’ve gotten everyone killed Ves: "i COULD convince the strong one and the detective to help me and carefully manipulate the trial til the end, but why don't i just throw it all to the wind instead-" miu was VERY OBVIOUSLY gonna kill someone dude Clown: MIUS SO BAD AT HIDING HER INTENTIONS BUT ITS OKAY I LOVE HER

Hina: Okay no I’ll give him that But Kokichi makes a lot of assumptions Like the “He’d be frozen in a touch” thing That’s a big assumption to make Ves: NO IT IS NOT THAT IS JUST ASSUMING MIU ISN'T COMICALLY STUPID IF SHE DIDN'T THINK OF THAT SHE WOULDN'T DESERVE TO BE CALLED A GENIUS if miu has control over the virtual world, then of course she'd add some way to stop him from resisting. that's an educated guess Clown: He didn't think he was going to be frozen but I think he assumes Miu was smart enough to make a fail safe!! She needed to do something to make him killable. I don't think he knew what it was but he knew she did something! Especially since she's openly telling everyone that she took away all dangerous objects and diminished their strength?? What are you scheming queen?? Apollo: I get he's smart but can he even read code because I doubt it was just written 'freezes when Miu touches' [with what monokubs pulled up for them. it was kind of written like that] Hina: No code is usually written very fucking simple Me: It wasn't an assumption? He knew. Because he looked into what she was doing.

Apollo: I still think he should have just 'decided to piss her off' and not show up to the meeting on the rooftop. Either that or he acts real sus so someone follows him up and sees her about to murder him Clown: I think he did act kinda suspicious! Like actively making a show of needing someone to watch him or clearly getting pulled off to the side so Miu could talk to him. Chee: He was being more sus than usual and that made V3 think “someone needs to watch him” Idk why they sent Gonta over when its Kokichi actually Clown: I like to think he gave her a chance to back out. If Miu had seen him act this way and still proceed with her plan. Well that that was that. Again. Probably not what they were intending BUT LET ME BELIEVE THEY WERE FRIENDS AT ONE POINT SOBS Chee: DUDE NO I ALSO LOVE THINKING THEYRE FRIENDS THEY FUCKING WORKED TOGETHER FOR FUCKS SAKE Tehyre friends to me fuck whatever canon goes against that!! Ves: she picks him because he's one of the only people who would conceivably go to a secluded place with her and that Hurts me Me: With his views on killers he most likely thought that Miu will go for a kill no matter what and will do something else if she's not forcefully stopped. Plus, he was pissed off first, she betrayed him and he was especially cruel when talking about her after that, some elements of the plan were going out of the way to say "fuck you" to Miu (and using that to draw more suspicion to himself, but that was not necessary to do that), I think he wanted Gonta to be the winner, as somebody who stayed on his team, making it his victory, but then Gonta wasn't following the plan, meaning that he must have betrayed him too, and then Kokichi lost it

Sini: OOOOH! You mean the interpretation of him killing everyone… Let’s be real, if that’s the case, then yeah, he was dumb. Cause even with what Ves said, HE STILL FUCKED UP! FUCK REVERSE PSYCHOLOG! WHY TF WOULD YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH SM YOU DUMB BITCH!? YOU’RE GIVING OUT MORE EVIDENCE He was so dumb for it, idc. Bro, stfu….Saying Gonta is the culprit!? WHY!?!? SHUT UUUPPPP I get the logic but fuck man! It’s so risky and stupid! Why would you do that!? Ves: OH I DON'T THINK THAT WAS PART OF THE ORIGINAL PLAN CAN YOU IMAGINE LMAO that's BEYOND "risky and stupid" sini did you think i thought this the whole time HE'S BETRAYING GONTA AT THAT POINT I- Chee: YEAH I THINK THAT WAS NOT PART OF THE PLAN Me: It definitely wasn't part of the original plan, that was the moment he snapped Sini: Oh. I knew that too but I forgot how you interpreted it. But he does similar shit even in the beginning of the trial. I just….I think it’s dumb. This is part of why I don’t think he planned to kill everyone Oh yeah, I know that. I just wasn’t sure what they meant, there are many ways you can interpret this theory. But yeah, I agree that he thought there would be no reasoning with her and she would kill him regardless. While he could’ve let Miu kill him, keeping Miu alive is good in case the plan were to ever fail. Her plan was really good, even Shuichi noted that without finding out about the secret of the virtual world that they would’ve been fucked. She could’ve very well won had he just let her kill him, but still, it’s better he have control over the situation than potentially die for no reason while the game continues. I get that. But like….What did Gonta do to not follow with the plan? From what I remember, by the time Kokichi outed Gonta….He didn’t do anything?? No one suspected him until he brought it up. Gonta became suspect because of him. Why would he do that? Are you saying he got so pissed that Gonta was good at not being sus that he changed his mind? Cause I honestly find that ridiculous. It is literally essential that Gonta not be suspicious so that they win…. Was it a method to make Gonta not suspicious by making him suspicious? But again, why? No one was ever suspecting him and he should know that most of everyone would never suspect him as the culprit at that point because it’s Gonta. Yes, they’ve suspected Gonta plenty times before and you could say they only reacted that way cause Kokichi was the one saying it, but…I feel at that point everyone grew closer to Gonta and would have that genuine bias. Kokichi outing Gonta just led to him spewing more evidence that got them fucked even before he snapped at him. He was basically giving hints since the beginning of the trial. I always read it like he was doing what he usually did until Shuichi and the others pissed him off. Then Gonta pissed him off by denying everything and everyone believing him despite the evidence. Ves: it's not that gonta didn't follow the plan, it's that he followed it too well. you have to remember that kokichi had no way of knowing about the cord mixup; from his perspective, gonta was just lying his ass off. and he was lying so well kokichi wouldn't've been able to tell if he hadn't seen him kill her. even in an interpretation where he planned to betray gonta from the beginning, i think that would've freaked him the hell out

Sini: But he wasn’t really lying before…. He wasn’t doing anything. He was barely present in the trial until that point. Ig that’s a form of lying, maybe Kokichi expected him to be all nervous and shit?? But….Is that good enough reason to out him and abandon your plan??? I see some people say how he could’ve suspected Gonta as the mastermind, but I can only see him suspecting that after he outed him. And even then…If he was the mastermind…Why would he follow his plan in the virtual world in the first place? Surely Kokichi must’ve thought of that. To think he’s the mastermind based off of good lying alone, while understandable, is also a bit of a stretch. Kokichi knows there is more to Gonta than what people see, he’s seen him lie before. It’s just at that moment where it’s taken to a whole other level that even rivals his own (at least that’s what he thinks). But still…I just….He said that unprompted and I can’t think of a good reason as to why he’d do that after planning all this out There is Gonta debating Shuichi before I think but that’s still not enough to do something like call him the culprit I feel…. I just don’t understand it. Maybe I’m giving Kokichi too much credit, but it’s weird. Ves: gonta has repeated that he doesn't understand over and over in a very convincing (because it's true) way by that point tho idk ch4 doesn't make a lot of sense to me without the idea that kokichi was originally planning to follow through TBF though it's the clearest example of kokichi being a microcosm of v3; it's meant to be up to the player to decide what they believe, and that means there's evidence both ways. it's definitely a weird way to write a character Sini: But again, Kokichi knows he isn’t stupid. He must know he can probably pull off just saying “I don’t understand”. Not to mention, I don’t think he’d do something like this at all. Chapter 1 he acknowledges how if they die, they can just bring in new people and the games will continue. While everyone dying is a unsatisfying ending, it’s not enough to end the game. It has enough entertainment value and not enough scandal where it could do that much damage. Kokichi must still think this is all a show even if at that moment where he believed what he saw in the vault was real. Is it really winning the game and bringing justice to those who died if he follows the rules practically to a T and kills everyone? It’s not that much of a satisfying ending for him either. Ig he could’ve not known what else to do and was overwhelmed with despair, but I personally don’t think he’d want things to go that way. But that’s just me. I agree that it’s written in a way where you don’t really know what’s the truth. I understand the theory and I think the idea is cool, with enough evidence to support it. To me though, it just doesn’t jive

[I just got hit in the face with a crack theory: What if he made it so it looks like he gave in to the motive and wants to kill everyone so the mastermind doesn't intervene before he gets to flip the switch on them?] Ves: that's a totally fair interpretation!! i haven't asked - do you think he believed what he saw at the end of the tunnel :o? oh and also. i think believing what he saw would undo his ch1 belief about them just bringing more people in..? where would they get them from Clown: I guess that's assuming he'd believe the world really did end. But thats vauge too, how much did he believe it? How long? Did he even believe it in the first place? WHO KNOWS Ves: i think he did believe it. i mean, he was THERE. he saw the broken world stretch out to the horizon, he felt the air leave his lungs that's very different than a flashback light Sini: Well, that’s the thing. I feel like he believed what he saw but soon afterward started to doubt it given everything else he witnessed. Why things are the way they are…It only makes sense if it’s a show. Kokichi himself acknowledges that in Chapter 5. The flashback lights….There’s so many things to not be trusted here. If they can pull off crazy rooms, executions, and robots, could they fabricate what he saw and experienced? Maybe it is real but there are survivors out there. I think Kokichi was in constant conflict about it Ves: it could be a show for just one person. i think that'd haunt him and yeah i agree about him being in constant conflict Clown: I do think he believed it for a good while!! It's hard not to. It probably effected him more than he realized. But at the same time the world around his is changing in completely unnatural ways, he acknowledges that it feels as though they're following a script sometimes. So that gave him room for doubts. But he couldn't really be sure Kodaka was a coward for not giving us a bonus unlockable scene where ouma sees the world end, BY HIMSELF, ALL ALONE, and just implodes in on himself for a little while I wanna see how he reacted!!! I wanna see why he even managed to get up again!! Ves: MAYBE I'M ALSO A COWARD JESUS Sini: I’m fine with not getting anything. The whole point is that he’s a mysterious character. The way we see him is supposed to be somewhat similar to how Shuichi sees him, constantly questioning wtf he is up to and how he feels But that would be cool tho Clown: I can agree with that! I do love that there's so much room to theorize about him This is entirely self indulgent askshjdh WHERES THE POV SWITCH KODAKA?? WHERE?? Sini:Yeah, same. I indulgently want a Kokichi Ouma novel but writing wise that’s a shitty idea Clown: Yeahhh, unless their willing to break away from the embodiment of a lie thing, at least a little, than i wouldn't have high hopes Or they could evilify him more thats also something that could happen

Hina: Me writing a whole Kokichi Miu fight scene be like Chee: no dude I actually enjoy that BC THERES NO WAY AFTER ALL THAT HAPPENED IN GAME THEY WOULDNT FIGHT Im just still praying theyll be friends after the fighting or something [sob emoji]

[conversation went into detail about how fucked up Kokichi novel could turn out to be if we got it (and so it's best it doesn't happen)] Clown: Miu and kokichi get an explosive divorce Ves: okay no i want this actually that sounds HILARIOUS Sini: That already happened in V3 tho Me: they are SO divorcecore <3 /pos Ves: they are the OPPOSITE of the "i don't argue with beautiful women, my wife hits me with a hammer and i walk it off" tweet Me: and I love that for them! frenemies irouma is nice, but they could take that to a higher level Ves: IT IS romantic iruma is just so inherently hilarious that "higher level" is divorce court Sini: “My wife tried to hit me with a hammer, that bitch got strangled” Clown: It's like the ending of one of those shows where they try and pair everyone off into couples but they explode as a result Maybe literally Miu puts a bomb in oumas cereal Sini: It’s their love language, dw Clown: They only got married because the people of their affections also got hit with the straight people ray and they're mourning together/hj Shuichi should marry maki to make it worse Ves: they're all cheating on each other Worst Suburb Of All Time Me: this gave me a VIOLENT flashback to that one hamilton songfic (Say No To This? I think) where Miu wrote Saihara a threathening letter bc Ouma was her husband and saiou was having an affair

Sini: Salmon Mode: Love is Blind edition Ves: hold on i've got a better one the ultimatum …actually hold on maybe i'm NOT joking an ultimatum au would kinda slap… are saiou in preexisting relationships or did they come together shuuichi issuing the ultimatum to kokichi would be TASTY but so would them falling in love and leaving their unhappy relationships for each other,,,, one person in a couple wants to get married, the other isn't so sure. they go on the show where they pick another person to be in a 'trial marriage' for a couple weeks, then go back to their original partners, then decide 'the ultimatum' is 'marry or our relationship is over' Clown: Oohh man I dunno. Them as a preexisting couple is ANGST AND PAIN and ✨️ drama ✨️ But them coming together is [teary eyed cat emoji] Hina: Okay but that's so good if they're preexisting in a relationship Me: the "getting back together" energy (despite there being no break-up and only a threat of it) is definitely up your alley and it could be neat, but them getting paired up for a few weeks fake relationship that's not intended to last should be injected in my bloodstream immediately or I'll die Ves: they're meant not to last, to be a test before they go back to their Real partners, but they find themselves happier than they ever were AUUUUUGH Hina: If we're being realistic though wouldn't Kokichi bail the moment Shuichi offers an ultimatum like that? Ves: IF WE'RE BEING REALISTIC NEITHER OF THEM WOULD GO ON REALITY TV IN THE FIRST PLACE THIS EXISTS SO I CAN HAVE FUNNY SAIOUMA COUCH ASIDES AND ENDGAME SMOOCHES Clown: Can't remove brain from shuichi giving the ultimatum because ouma is a flighty nerd- NEED THERE TO BE A SWEET SCENE WHERE GONTA AND KOKICHI BOND BECAUSE OF THEIR SIMILAR CIRCUMSTANCES BUT ON OPPOSITE ENDS. Gontas straightforward point of view seems illogical, it doesnt even take into account how much could go wrong, but its suprisingly comforting. Maybe ouma shouldn't focus on the fail safes… AND HE GAINS PLUS 1 BUDDY OLE PAL [I skipped a big part of the conversation suggesting other couples, but one of them was Gonta and Kirumi] Ves: gonta and kokichi come out Best Friends he's the best man at the saiou wedding unsure if kokichi gets this privilege also because. kirumi. but STILL Clown: She doesn't want his greasy face in the wedding party thats understandable If you wanna add some ✨️ drama ✨️ maybe shuichi is just a tad jealous over seeing ouma so genuinely connect with someone. After such a short time too?? Shuichi goes "this is fine" as if he isn't iron gripping the table Ves: he thinks kokichi's left him for bigger tits greener pastures meanwhile gonta is patting his back while he wails drunkenly about shuuichi inevitably leaving him he's NOT jealous he is a responsible partner he does not feel Bad Emotions he does NOT- he's not coping and seething that gonta is better at protecting kokichi from spiders

Ves: who is shuuichi's partner. rantarou is Not Allowed it hurts my brain Hina: Wow smh Miu/j Ves: he'd never pick her but GOD it'd be funny Clown: MAYBE KIIBO, FOR THE EXTRA LACK OF BRAIN CELLS Did Miu drag kiibo there?? Ves: love hotel abandonment issues flashbacks Clown: She would vent this in a completely public scandalous way I love that for her Miu iruma the walking disaster beloved Ves: why doesn't kiibo want to get married? is it just bc miu's being Like That about it or does he have his own issues Hina: What if their relationship is still fairly new Like less than a year Clown: "We aren't financially stable and the average expectancy of dating years before marriage is 4-6 years, we haven't yet to agree upon how many kids we would have because 8 is illogical. I think we should wai-" and Miu is throwing a tantrum Ves: i don't think i've ever seen kiiruma as anything but a fluffy side ship this is spinning in my brain oughhh miu iruma you are the worst gf of all time i love you messy bitch she's gonna key his car they are neurodiverging in opposite directions kiibo's autistic robot ass is planning things out according to nothing but logic meanwhile miu is traumatized and brain damaged and putting beans in all his shoes he doesn't Get why she's so sensitive about this he's said he's not going to leave her, and he's never proved himself a liar, so why doesn't she believe him??? actually on that topic. why do u guys think miu is Like That?? she apparently has very severe abandonment issues but they're brought up ONCE and NEVER EXPLAINED it bothers me i need to fill that gap with hc

Sini: Miu [handshake emoji] Kokichi Crippling trust/abandonment issues. Your love? They do not see Ves: and that's why they make such inch resting friends :) Sini: I hc her mother left her and her dad. Perhaps she also had a childhood friend who abandoned her since in the Love Hotel she sees you as one Ves: i'm inclined to say someone (a parent?) just BOOKED it while she was in the coma Clown: Oohhh!!! Similar hc!!! I also think she was raised by a single dad. Mom was too focused on her career Ves: i gave her a single mom LMAO does she just radiate Divorced Kid Energy??? Sini: SHE DOES HONESTLY What if they left after her coma? I can imagine it going like that…. Ves: i mean her personality was probably different by then maybe they just…didn't like her anymore…… Clown: Ahsgshwhs, I just think part of her sense of humor comes from the fact that her father was like…one of those drunk uncles who gives you shittiest dating advice and has been divorced 3 times and is not at all a bad person but has clearly made far too many mistakes. And he's her MAIN caretaker. And so he talked to her more like a friend than a daughter and so she really was craving some sort of bond she considered unbreakable, someone to take care of her. AND WHATS THAT?? ON TV?? YOUR ROMANTIC ENDEAVOR WOULD DIE FOR YOU?? YES PLEASE??? Ves: SHE JUST WANTS SOMEONE TO OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR FOR HER, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK Sini: Men these days, smh Hina: Easy, don't date men Ves: WOMEN WILL NOT FIX HER ISSUES HINA Clown: WOMEN COULD MAKE HER WORSE, TOXIC DOOMED YURI WHEN Ves: her and ouma, if you're not a COWARD Sini: Toxic doomed yuri fem!Kokichi/Miu. 100k words- Me: where [and I still don't see a fucking link] Hina: Ever female Kokichi I've seen scares me So yes I am a coward Me: multigendered Kokichi then, it can still be yuri and that's my preferred hc anyway Ves: kokichi's already a girl to ME. multigender queen Hina: I mean Big boobs Heterosexual Female Kokichi Sini: The big boobs are a red flag Me: I can excuse heterosexuality, but I draw the line at Kokichi with boobs /ref Sini: YOU EXCUSE HETEROSEXUALITY!?

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #kokichi ouma #talking canon #kokichi oma #miu iruma #shuichi saihara #irouma #ouruma #oumasai #saiouma #gonta gokuhara #kirumi tojo #kiibo #kiiruma #writing prompt #writing ideas #writing inspiration

[hotchaways]

Cupid’s Arrow

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

summary: Maybe being sick is a good thing, especially if it gets a confession out of your long time crush.

prompt: “Cut the crap, alright? You’re not fine.”

content: Fluff, Hotch being the sweet man he is, mentions of sickness, BAU team, Spencer as your best friend, two idiots in love but ended up confessing to each other

word count: 1.7k 

A/N: i don’t know how i got here, but i couldn’t stop typing away and this was only supposed to be a blurb from this request LMAO but anyways my mini celebration is still ongoing so just send in requests :) i love you all and hope may has been great to you! 

You thought it was just a minor headache because you skipped breakfast and had less than 7 hours of sleep - but you thought wrong. You were pretty sure that fatigue was taking over your body, which is everything unpleasant all at once - the feeling of your head being constantly hammered, lightheadedness that made you feel like you were walking on a tightrope and the way your stomach felt uneasy from feeling nauseated - you just wanted to crawl up in a shell and lock yourself up.

Dragging yourself to the office was tiresome, you felt and probably looked like a zombie from how haggard you looked. You didn’t bother stopping by Penelope’s batcave for a quick morning chat or even having your usual chatter with Spencer about whatever show the two of you were currently watching. The change in your demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by the team, especially by Aaron.

“You feel like crap, don’t you?” Spencer asked as he rolled his chair next to yours, “You look like it, too.”

You groaned as you rubbed your hands on your face, “Thank you for that, Spencer. I do feel and look like crap, I did not need the reminder today.”

“Did you even eat breakfast today?” 

“Didn’t have time to, almost ran late to work,” You replied while mindlessly tapping your fingers on your desk, “Before you say anything else, yes, I slept through my alarm clock.”

Spencer sighed as he rolled his chair back to his desk and returned after a few seconds to put a wrapped sandwich in front of you, “Here, it’s from my emergency (Y/N) pocket in my satchel. Don’t worry, I make a new one everyday in case.”

“Spencer Reid, you are heaven sent,” You smiled softly as you picked up the sandwich, “Seriously, what would I do without you?”

“Well, you might be found in a ditch,” Spencer quipped as he grinned, “You’re my best friend- you always look out for me and it’s given that I do the same.”

Before he continued onto his next statement, Spencer looked around for a second and whispered, “I also have to look after your idiotic ass whenever Hotch is around to stop you from turning into a blushing mess.”

Turning your head to Spencer with a mouthful of sandwich, you glared at him as you punched his shoulder repeatedly, “I will not hesitate to strangle you in your sleep, Spencer. Seriously, please shut your mouth.”

“I’m not ratting you out like that,” He laughed as he rolled his eyes, “Although, you have to admit that there is a possibility of reciprocation. He does have this weird aura whenever you’re around…and smiles more often.”

You laughed sarcastically as you pushed his chair away, “Don’t feed my brain fantasies, Reid. Now, you need to get away from my zone, I have to suffer again.”

Aaron didn’t miss the way you and Spencer interacted with each other everyday in the office, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy in him. Although, it was all on him - he could’ve done something about his feelings instead of moping about it. But he couldn’t help and ask himself, what would someone like you do with a grumpy, old profiler like him?

Penelope knocked on Aaron’s door before entering, “Sir, we’ve got a case in Texas.”

As soon as the team was called into the briefing room, you knew that your immune system had extremely bad timing. Even if you took an aspirin on the way to the office and Spencer gave you a sandwich to resolve your hunger, it barely helped. In fact, you were pretty sure you were going to pass out- although, you hoped you didn’t.

“Are you okay?” JJ asked as she took a seat beside you on the jet, “You look really pale.”

You sighed as you rubbed your temples, “Just feeling tired.”

“You should’ve told Hotch about it,” JJ replied, “He would’ve let you stay back with Garcia.”

You shook your head but winced from the movement, “It’s fine, I’ll try to nap it out.”

When the jet was in the air, napping was definitely not an option for you.  It was also not a wise option to try and read the case through again from the way the words were spinning on the file.

It wasn’t long before the jet landed and the team made their way to the precinct to talk with the local policemen with regards to the case. You managed not to pass out, although you were slower than your typical working pace. Spencer made sure to stick by you in case you did and to remind you to stay hydrated every now and then- it didn’t do anything good to Aaron’s heart to see the way the young genius looked after you.

“We can grab dinner before heading back to the motel, it’s getting late,” Aaron told the team to which they all agreed to, “You guys can go ahead. I have to speak to (Y/L/N) and fix a few things back in the precinct, we’ll take another SUV on the way there.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you mouthed a ‘what the hell’ to Spencer, who was pretending to shoot arrows in an attempt to be a grown-up cupid. Aaron didn’t utter a word to you while he fixed some things at the precinct, but you didn’t miss the way your heart fluttered when he put his hand on your lower back as the two of you made your way to one of the SUVs to catch up with the team.

“Are you okay?” Aaron turned to you after he closed his car door, “You should’ve told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“I’m going to strangle JJ or Spencer, whoever ratted me out,” You mumbled, “I’m fine, Hotch. A fully functional human.”

“Cut the crap, alright?” Aaron said with his eyebrows furrowed, “You’re not fine and being in denial about it isn’t doing anything good.”

You blinked your eyes a few times in surprise, “Excuse me?”

“You are frustratingly firm on your denial, (Y/L/N),” Aaron let out a deep breath as he ran a hand down his face, “The fatigue is obviously taking a toll on you, if Reid didn’t take care of you the whole day, I’m certain you would’ve passed out.”

“I’m not in denial,” You crossed your arms, “Spencer made that choice, I didn’t ask him to take care of me.”

“I can’t believe you are so stubborn,” Aaron shook his head as he drove out the parking lot, “I don’t see why you don’t let anyone but your boyfriend to take care of you.”

“My what now?” You looked at him as your mouth fell open, “Are you seriously talking about Spencer?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged, “Who else would I be talking about?”

You laughed as you shook your head, “Spencer’s not my boyfriend, Hotch. He’s my best friend and we are literally like siblings, despite the fact that his IQ is way higher than mine.”

Aaron felt his heart sigh in relief if that was possible in any kind of way. He pulled up to the side of the road to park and turned to you as much as the car seat allowed him to, “Why won’t you let me take care of you then?”

“I don’t want anyone to do it against their own will,” You shrugged as you gave him a small smile.

“But it’s not against mine,” Aaron replied, “I want to take care of you every single day. Even when you’re all pale and a little bit slower than usual.”

“Hey, I’m not slow,” You glared at him as you crossed your arms, “I will push you off the driver’s seat and drive away without you.”

“It’s okay,” He chuckled, “I’ll find my way back to you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat from Aaron’s words, which was probably the nth time that night since he admitted to wanting to take care of you.

You leaned over the console and put your hand against his forehead and frowned, “You’re definitely not sick too, though. You’re just being very…weird tonight, you know? Who are you and what did you do to my frowny and serious unit chief?”

Aaron smiled as he leaned back against his seat, “I’m not being weird, though. Would you call being open about my feelings towards you as a sign of weirdness?”

“Feelings?”

“Yeah, my feelings towards you,” He turned to look at you, “It’s weird, isn’t it? I’m not a fan of talking about it, but I don’t know why the impulsive side of me took over.”

“Definitely weird,” You nodded as you turned your head to the side to look back at him, “Guess you knowing that Spencer isn’t my boyfriend pushed you.”

“Maybe, it did.”

Aaron looked like he wanted to say something but decided against it, so you took the chance and nudged his shoulder, “Spit it out, Hotch. It’s just me.”

“I’m not pressuring you or anything, I don’t expect the reciprocation because- well, I’m me,” He chuckled softly and was immediately cut off by you placing your hand over his mouth in an attempt to silence him.

“I know I could get scolded if we were in our roles in the office, but,” You took a deep breath and smiled as you took your hand off, “We’re just Aaron and (Y/N) right now, not Hotch and (Y/L/N). Two people who both somehow managed to develop feelings for each other. How? I don’t know, it’s just that you’re you, Aaron- I love everything about you, even the parts of yourself that you don’t love.”

“For a sick person, you are pretty coherent,” He grinned as you frowned at his quip, “I’m kidding. I’d kiss you right now, but I don’t want to get sick.”

You rolled your eyes as you laughed, “Maybe on the third date, I’d let you kiss me.”

“Okay then,” Aaron shrugged as he put the key in the ignition to start the car, “I plan to kiss you everyday as long as you’ll have me after that anyway. Worth waiting for.”

“I’d like to have you around forever, grump,” You smiled as you slipped your hand into his free hand, “I think Spencer shooting arrows pretending to be cupid helped me tonight.”

“Remind me to thank Reid for that by getting him a book,” He paused for a moment, “Never mind, you might not remember it, I almost forgot you’re a little turtle today.”

“Aaron Hotchner, I swear to God I will push you out of the car right now.”

taglist: @izbelross​ @skyler666​ @sbeno22​ @blondekel77​ @katieslotherford​ @malindacath​ @gillysoldlady​ 

let me know if you want to be a part of my taglist here!

#riley's mini celebration! #riley writes #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #one shot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch x fem!reader #hotch fluff #reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x you

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

Hi Sloot so I bout fainted when I saw requests were open! Since yan!Kempachi (and Kempachi in general!) is making my brain go brr may I please request an NSFW sinario with him?

Can this be of him carrying off his darling and wrangling her to his quarters after geting good and lost whilst trying to do so? Like Darling got transferred to the 4th as a punishment for brawling, but it turns out she has a knack for Kaido. Guess who gets sent to the 11th most often? So after she's healed his buddy's broken arm some asshat grabs her ass. Asshat has a broken nose. Few incidents like this and Kempachi's in love. Then one day he runs into a grocery shoping Darling while he's lost as shit...

Kenpachi was a man who admired strength, and who believed you could only really know someone when you crossed blades or fists. He was a being that relied on his instinct as well, and let it take him wherever he went--if he wanted to drink, he drank. If he wanted to fight someone, he fought. And if he wanted to fuck...well, typically he just worked it out himself or went to the pleasure district. Sex was more or less a means to a biological urge's end, and romance wasn't something he cared for. Your average lady "companion" couldn't fight worth a damn, and he could only love someone who fought. Granted, he learned that the hard way when he found out that the madames in the red light districts disapproved of patrons wanting to spar as a way to determine which woman to pick.

But as fate would have it, he'd managed to bump into a woman he could see himself really wanting for more than a few minutes--not in the pleasure district, but on the streets of...to be honest, he had no idea since he'd gotten hopelessly lost and was just wandering. But that didn't matter. What mattered was he had bumped into a familiar pretty face.

"Oof!" ____ stumbled back and clutched the small bag of fruits she'd just bought. She realized she hadn't run into a wall and peered up at the man towering over her. "Captain Zaraki?"

She'd only seen him once or twice in the 4th Squad barracks, usually dropping off one of his soldiers to be healed up after a nasty fight or a sparring match gone wrong. She appreciated his talent for fighting, but she didn't appreciate how some of his men had a bad case of "wandering hands" whenever she'd tended to them; the last time that had happened, she'd quickly turned around to punch her patient in the face and fracture his wrist. The only reason ____ had healed THOSE injuries was because Lieutenant Kotetsu had seen it and scolded her. Come to think of it, didn't someone else see her do that?

____'s eyes widened in realization as she remembered the hulking figure who had dropped that soldier off in the first place, and who may have caught a glimpse of that little exchange in the doorway. Shit. She looked Kenpachi up and down as he stared down at her. SHIT.

"Look, if your 9th seat is still pissed about it, tell him I'll be happy to settle it any time, anywhere," ____ snapped. "Though honestly, asking his captain to deal with it instead of confronting me himself is pretty pathetic."

"Huh? Oh yeah, I forgot about that," Kenpachi replied. "Your form was pretty good for an on-the-spot punch." Not only that, but the fluidity of her movements and how fast she'd grabbed that soldier's wrist and snapped it showed some experience. "'Specially for a 4th Squad healer."

Kenpachi noticed that she had her hand close to her sword's guard as he looked down at her. Between that and the silhouette of her uniform hugging her body, he wasn't surprised by the little tingle of arousal under his belt. He swiftly put a hand on her shoulder; the sudden movement made ____ draw her zanpakuto and step back. Before she could react further, he disarmed her by gripping the zanpakuto by the blade itself and yanking it from her hand. "Oi, help me find my way back to my barracks." He hoisted her over his shoulder while lazily holstering her zanpakuto on his belt next to his own blade. "Or if you don't mind, we can fool around right here."

"We can...wait, what!? Put me down, goddammit!" ____ pounded against Kenpachi's back and kicked wildly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Kenpachi started to head in what he hoped was the right direction towards Squad 11, giving ____'s ass and thighs a few squeezes while he ran. "Sex, obviously," he replied, sounding almost as confused as she was. "What the hell else does 'fool around' mean to ya? Now help me find out which way to go."

____ felt a warmth bloom across her cheeks as he fondled her. This was definitely better than getting beaten to hell by Captain Zaraki, but this was still so bizarre. He didn't even know her name and he wanted to sleep with her? She sat in stunned silence for a few moments as her captor headed in the opposite direction of his squad's headquarters. Does she try (and definitely fail) to put up a fight? Does she call for help? Who's gonna stop Kenpachi Zaraki from taking her like this? And...fuck, why's it so hard to think straight when a man's fondling you through your clothes?

"...Turn around, then turn right at the end of the street."

It took only a few minutes for ____ to guide Kenpachi back to his barracks, and after passing several of his subordinates sparring and looking surprised at their captain with a random woman slung over his shoulder, the two of them had arrived to his personal quarters. He dropped her unceremoniously onto his bed and cast their swords aside onto the floor.

"We can spar later," Kenpachi offered with a lascivious grin. He crawled onto his futon and groped ____'s breasts, leaning down for a rough kiss. She winced at the sudden pain and recoiled, punching him in the shoulder in retaliation. He barely flinched at her strike, but when she bit down on his lip as hard as possible, he chuckled and swallowed the blood trickling in his mouth. "Or now, if you're that eager to fight."

He pinned ____'s arms above her head with one arm and nipped and sucked at the soft skin of her neck. Soon he'd left a trail of dark marks down to her shoulder and chest, and to ____'s dismay there was an uneasy warmth between her legs. The pain of his forearm pinning her wrists while he pinched and groped her as well had left her panting and wincing from his rough treatment. "You wanna be on your back or your stomach while I eat you out?"

"H-huh?"

Kenpachi moved his free hand to cup her clothed cunt, and her hips jolted at the sudden sensation. "D'you wanna be on your back, or your stomach? Some women have a preference, don't they?"

____ glared indignantly at her captor. "Oh, now you care about what I want? You just fucking kidnapped me!"

Kenpachi raised an eyebrow. "Usually I don't care, but you're not one of the red light women," he replied nonchalantly. He traced his fingers up and down her slit through her uniform and undergarments. "This is about making you my woman, after all. I want to know what you like the same way I'll show you what I like." He lowered his head to kiss her again, a little less harsh than before while tasting her sweet mouth. When he pulled away, he heard her gasp softly for air and marveled at the glossy shine of her lips thanks to his tongue. "So. You wanna get eaten out on your back or stomach?"

____ looked away pointedly and was silent for a moment. This really was happening, wasn't it. She still didn't forgive him for just snatching her up against her will, but...well, maybe she didn't entirely hate this.

"Stomach." She wouldn't have to look at him that way.

Kenpachi took her by the waist and flipped her onto her stomach, but not before pulling her robes to the side and enjoying a handful of her breasts. She squirmed in his lap as he groped her from behind, biting her lip at the cold air hitting her skin and his rough calloused fingers. He kissed her neck and earlobe, rubbing his cock against her backside. "Just needed a handful before turnin' you around," he murmured. "You're softer than I thought you'd be."

"You're rough enough for the both of us," ____ snapped, wincing at how he tugged and pinched her soft flesh. "Feels like I'm being groped by fucking sandpaper..."

Kenpachi barked out a laugh and moved one hand on her breast to press past her lips. "Let's fix that," he replied. "Try to soften n' slick 'em up with your mouth." He pushed three fingers past her lips, and ____ struggled to not gag at just how much they were pressing on her tongue and throat. She complied and swirled her tongue around them, covering them with a thick layer of saliva. He pulled them out and pushed Darling face-down, and then yanked her uniform bottoms all the way off along with her underwear.

"Maybe I didn't need your mouth after all," Kenpachi mused, eyeing her slit and the arousal making it glisten. "Glad you're having fun too." He took her by the thighs and lifted her lower half up a bit, taking his place underneath her so that he was laying face-up with her cunt just inches away from his mouth.

Before ____ could say anything, he immediately set upon her and latched onto her clit. She arched her back and curled her fists, and when he started to slide his index finger into her walls she cried out. His tongue curled and swirled around her sensitive bud entirely too fast, but every time she tried to move her hips away he simply grunted in disapproval and moved her back himself.

"Too f-fast, too fast," she whined, her voice trembling. "Captain, K-Kenpachi, please--FUCK, slow down!"

If Kenpachi heard her through her thighs squeezing the sides of his head, he didn't let it show. He'd waited long enough to claim her as his woman, and he was going to do it over and over until her legs collapsed and his cock was drained dry.

Minutes passed...or was it hours? All ____ could tell was the heat and pressure building inside of her kept going and going, and every time she'd felt it peak and her eyes rolled back, Kenpachi just kept going. Her voice felt hoarse from her moaning, crying, begging and babbling as he ravaged her--and what was driving her insane was that this was all BEFORE he'd stuck his cock inside of her. She might actually die when he did.

After another climax that left her legs wobbling and barely able to move, she collapsed onto him and his bed. The world faded to black, and some time later she came to. Instead of her eyes opening to the mattress and bedspread, she realized that she was sat up in Kenpachi's lap as she saw the wall scroll bearing the 11th Squad's logo. He was behind her, running the length of his cock back and forth against her slit and panting in her ear.

When he felt her head move as she stirred and saw her eyes flutter open, he took her thighs and spread them wide. "Finally, you're up," he groaned. "Wanted to wait for you to be awake for this." ____ heard and felt the squelching sound of the precum and arousal covering her thighs and buttocks as Kenpachi lined his cock up with her entrance.

Too overstimulated and out of it to even try to speak properly, she merely moaned as the tip of his member pressed against her hole. "Look at me." Kenpachi's voice was soft as he turned her chin to look up at him while she rested her head on his shoulder. "I wanna see your face while I claim you."

She stared up at Kenpachi with a dazed expression, panting just like him as he slowly impaled her on his cock. That feeling of fullness in her core after so much teasing was so unbearably...good. The corners of her lips turned up into a hazy open smile. Kenpachi chuckled and rocked into her at a deep steady pace. There wasn't any need to go slow or be too gentle when she was this fucked-out of her mind and VERY prepared for his cock.

The two of them moaned, sighed, panted, and growled as they became more and more intertwined. Soon Kenpachi was fucking her at a fast and brutal pace, but ____ was no longer protesting and wanting him to slow down; if she had the strength to move her hips on her own, she would have rocked back against him to bounce even faster on his cock. She knew he was an animal, a monster--everyone did--but she never imagined it extended past the battlefield, nor that she'd come to love it. She desperately wished she had the energy to heal herself, just so she could grab onto him and sink her teeth into his skin while the two of them ravaged each other. The thrill of a fight was one thing; the thrill of a lover's embrace was another; this was something in-between yet something else entirely.

Kenpachi marvelled at the look on her face, sensing that warrior's spirit inside of her even if she couldn't move or act on it herself. He'd have to try and hold back a little next time, just so she had enough strength to do everything she wanted with him. 'Bedroom sparring', now THAT was something he could get behind. And of course, his fiery little healer from Squad 4 was the one to show him that.

He gripped her by the waist and bounced her on his cock, chasing his high and relishing in the lewd moans and stupid breathless giggles spilling from ____'s lips as he came. He pulled out of her delectable cunt to mark her abdomen, but to his delight his throbbing had managed to spray not just her stomach and thighs but even her breasts.

____ melted against him when he wrapped his arms around her in a full embrace, her cunt still twitching as he lay down with her curled up on his chest. He kissed the top of her head and felt himself nod off, not even stirring when Ikkaku and Yumichika had knocked at his door to remind him of a meeting he had in an hour. The distinct smell of sex and shadowy image of their captain sleeping naked with a woman on top of him through the sliding door's paper was enough to keep them from barging in. Normally he kicked out his "ladies" from the red light district once he'd came, so if this one was special enough to warrant sharing a bed with (and, by how she'd been moaning and screaming loud enough for everyone in the building to hear, pleasuring multiple times) then they weren't going to intrude and risk a sword flying through their throat.

#tw: dubcon #.bleach #.kenpachi #yandere kenpachi #yandere bleach #fem darling #.myshit

[not-with-you-but-of-you]

Do you think by the end and ayitl Loralai realised what a good guy Jess was?

Hi, Anon! So sorry for the late reply, sometimes Tumblr doesn’t notify me when I get asks. I only saw yours because of the newer one you sent today 😅 (well, at least I suppose that was you). So, yeah, I apologize for that…

Anyways, if by “was” you mean back when he was a teenager, no, I don’t think she’s changed her mind about that lmao. She probably still believes she was right for not wanting Rory to date Jess at that time. She clearly understands better than anyone else why he acted the way he did — so she knows it wasn’t coming from nowhere —, but she can understand that and still not want him to date her daughter, you know? I do get that, but one of the things I really didn’t like about the way she approached the whole “Jess situation” was how she apparently always craved direct confrontation with him every time a “conflict” would arise and how she herself seemed to turn back into a teenager when talking to him in these cases (“Oh, don’t ‘whatever’ me, you little jerk!”, “She is ooover you!”, among other completely unnecessary and inappropriate interactions between a full-on adult and a kid).

So my point is: Lorelai always knew why teenage Jess was the way he was (and that it wasn’t entirely on him), but still didn’t like him and didn’t want him near her daughter, because 1) on the surface level, they had awful first impressions of each other, and the show’s events didn’t allow them to fully and explicitly correct that (they perhaps made it even worse), and 2) on a deeper level, as we all know, Lorelai saw too much of her younger self in him and she didn’t deal very well with that (hence the terrible interactions I mentioned above). The show didn’t change anything about this, so that’s why I think her opinion of teenage Jess remains the same, even when in comparison to Rory’s other boyfriends (though I’d like to believe she now sees that they were no good either in the end, that would probably still not work in Jess’s favor to her, only against the other two 😂).

On the other hand, if you’re referring to the guy Jess turned out to be after he matured and worked on himself, I think it’s pretty safe to say that Lorelai knows he is great. There’s no evidence to the contrary (that he’s great) and they’re perfectly civil to each other — as they should be, since they’re both adults now. Also, let’s be honest, Luke’s probably gushing about Jess and his accomplishments at every opportunity 😂. He already did that back when Lorelai’s motives to dislike Jess were still fresh in her mind (telling her about him winning employee of the month), and now he has even more reason to do so (Rory’s comment “Luke tells me that the book press is going great” is a good indication of that). So I think Lorelai is fairly up-to-date with the reality of the new and improved Jess. As to her unfortunate remarks regarding him in the revival (like suggesting Luke should toss a ball at him), I believe that’s just her past animosity toward him making itself remembered like a phantom limb — it’s not truly there anymore, but she can’t help but still feel it from time to time anyway. Because, yeah, strong opinions can be hard to let go of 🤷‍♀️, especially for someone as proud and stubborn as Lorelai.

So that is my take, Anon, I hope it wasn’t completely incomprehensible 😅. Thanks for the ask!

#lorelai gilmore #jess mariano #gilmore girls #asks #anonymous #*

[gubes-sweaters]

Fire on Fire

Content Warning(s): discussion of childhood trauma, small mention of Cat’s mother’s murder

Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter 2: I Almost Started to Believe Her

“I think this session went well, but before we go. Overall, how’ve you been feeling? I know these past couple weeks haven’t been easy,” she says, pushing her blonde bob back behind her ear. She looks carefully at the young woman sitting across from her. The young woman who was clearly avoiding the conversation busied herself by rolling an M&M in her hand, then popping it into her mouth before the candy coating began to melt.

Her mouth opened slightly like she was getting ready to talk, but she grabbed a few more M&Ms out of the bowl of candy on the wooden coffee table in front of her. She ponders her thoughts for a moment before opting to speak.

“I don’t know it’s been… heavy,” She wasn’t sure what to say. Knowing the sister she desperately looked for and created this star studded image of from a young age before and after they were separated by the foster system, did what she did, left her numb to say the least. She popped the colorful candies in her mouth signaling that she was done talking.

“I know the idea of finding Catherine one day was something you dreamed about. We talked about that when you first came into my office six years ago. It has to be disappointing, knowing she turned out like this,” she says, while writing something in the woman’s patient file.

“I think I just liked the idea of her more than anything, Someone who protected me and loved me, but looking back without the rose tinted glasses, her love was conditional. If I didn’t do A then she did B or she would ignore me for X amount of time. All while I have the other childhood trauma running alongside the turmoil she put me through,” she says with a solemn look on her tired features.

“Well, why did you stop listening to her? What changed?” The therapist asks before adjusting herself in her leather seat. The two women had been talking for over an hour at this point and it showed because both of them have been wiggling in their seats more frequently as the time passed.

“I guess I started to get a mind of my own and she didn’t like that. Shortly after our dad killed her mom, and we were both sent off to foster care. She ended up with some man in North Carolina I guess and I eventually ended up with my foster moms. Since we have different mom’s and her mom was murdered, we were considered different cases, so we were split up and we lost all contact,” she says bluntly. It wasn’t even two years since she originally unpacked all of this trauma. Reliving all of this feels like opening old wounds. Especially since she had to go into depth about her childhood because of Cat getting arrested the first time. She had talked about her childhood a lot when she began therapy, but Cat now being brought into this brought a whole new set of memories. No longer did she see her older sister as this snarky, funny, and strong person. She was a bully at the end of the day. She used to be able to look at her old memories and see Cat as a beacon, but those memories are now forever stained.

“So, it didn’t end on either of your own accords?”

“No, I was still very young when everything went down and Cathrine was a teenager,” she says before adjusting herself and fidgeting with her necklace.

“Alright, I’m sorry to cut this off, but we are over our time and I know you have to go back to work. I’ll still see you next week, at the same time?” The therapist asks.

“Yep,” the younger woman responds, while grabbing her belongings off the tan leather couch.

“Alright then and you know if you need me for anything, call my number,” the woman says while standing in unison with her.

“Will do. Have a nice weekend,” she replies while walking out of the office. She repeats those same sentiments to the man who works at the receptionist desk after picking up her doctor’s excuse for work. As she makes her way out of the building the sun that's peaking through the cloudy sky warms her skin and she pulls out her sunglasses from her purse while making her way to her car.

She doesn’t even get to open her car door before her phone starts buzzing. She expected it to be her boss or even a co worker wondering when she’ll be back to work. Instead she got an unknown number in her phone.

“Hello?” she picked it up, curiosity looming in her voice.

“Hi, um this is, well, I don’t know how to explain this very well. This is Spencer Reid, I’m with the BAU. We did an investigation on your sister, Cat. Well, my team did, I wasn’t there because… the reason isn’t all that important right now. I wanted to know if we could talk about a few things over coffee,” a shaky voice replies on the other line.

“Listed I told your team I haven’t even seen Cathrine since I was eight. There’s nothing I can do to help,” she snapped back.

“No, it’s nothing work related. It’s just personal. Cat has caused me a lot of… problems in my personal life and I’m just taking my therapist’s advice. I wanted to know if it was alright to meet for coffee, maybe we can talk. If- If you don’t want to that’s fine,” he ended his rambling sounding unsure and awkward. Spencer sat in his car fidgeting with anything that was in the cup holders or center console, waiting for a response with bated breath.

She lets out a long, but quiet sigh. The other line was nearly silent for a minute minus the muted sounds of the young woman on the other line opening her car door and cranking the car up.

“Sorry, I wanted to switch the call to the bluetooth in my car. I don't want to be running late for work,” speaks up. Spencer suddenly feels the shred of confidence he had when making the decision to call begin to dissipate.

“How does Thursday afternoon work? Like three o’clock? After two I’m off work for the rest of the day.” She says with a slightly gentler tone. The tenderness makes Spencer’s ears perk up a bit.

“Yeah that’ll work. There’s a great coffee place that I love. They have a latte that uses robusta coffee beans. Which has very high levels of caffeine. It's actually very interesting. I can send you the address to the coffee shop.” He says before cutting himself off before going on about his prefered type of coffee.

When Spencer first moved into his apartment after Gideon recruited him that was the first place he visited. Ever the routine-oriented person, he has gone there before work almost everyday since.

The women's cold demeanor began to be chiseled away. This was proven by her light, airy laugh she let out at Spencer’s sudden facts tumbling from his mouth, an old habit of his.

After her small laugh she agreed with a simple ‘okay’, with the remnants of her laugh still lingering.

Now it was Spencer’s turn to be quiet. He wasn't sure how to navigate certain conversations, especially with new people because of how often he was bullied as a child. It doesn't make it any better when the new person he’s talking to is a half-sister of the woman who’s dedicated the past few years of her life to ruining his.

“I'm sorry if that seemed like I was laughing at you, I wasn’t . You kind of sounded like my mom when you started bringing up random facts.” She says, noticing the quiet. Y/N tended to be very perceptive. Captivating a small crowd of people with varying reactions is important. Knowing how to get shy, curious people to speak up, get overtly snarky know-it-alls to quiet enough for everyone else to enjoy the tip, but entertaining their conversations enough that they did not feel rejected, or to get more bored people engaged with the stories she tried to paint became her forte.

“That’s alright, well I’ll send you the address. I’ve uh- got to go. I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, have a good day. Bye.” She says, admittedly kind of awkwardly.

“You too, bye.” Is all Spencer udders before fumbling with his phone then hanging up.

When the call drops he heart is left pounding. Not with fear or worry, but the type of anxiousness that makes someone have butterflies in their belly. The type of anxiousness that brings a little bit of warmth to the tips of a person’s ears and cheeks.

She has a small smile she can’t wipe off her face as she pulls out of her parking spot and heads towards work.

A/N: I’ve had this unedited sitting for so long, but i finally decided to edit it and put it out, mostly only because I said I would yesterday and now I feel obligated. So enjoy! Also if you have any requests my messages along with submissions are always open! Also this is inspired by the Sam Smith song Fire on Fire. The titles of the chapters are the lyrics to that song. Their voice is absolutely breathtaking and I listen to their music a lot while I write.

Taglist (if any aren’t gray that means i tried to tag, but couldn’t find the user sorry :/): @striving4averagegirl @measure-in-pain @tvandfanfic @haylaansmi @rexorangecouny @sophiario

#spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #mgg #matthew gray gubler #stellas writing #fire on fire fic

[silvfyre-writings]

I don't want to worry you (BSD Fanfic)

I think bramran is a fitting way to end the year, don't you?

I do believe that this will be my last fic of 2023 unless I can finish the other one that I'm working on, but uhhhhh, I don't think I will, so yeah, here we are!

I am so in love with this ship, and playing around with their dynamic is fun, and something I'm enjoying a lot!! And this was my first time writing from Bram's POV, so I think I did okay.

So without further ado, I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! Leave a kudos or a comment or both as well!!!!

Bram stares at his phone with such an intense look that it’s a surprise that the device doesn’t catch on fire. He knows that staring at it won’t do anything, that it won’t make a new message appear on the screen no matter how desperately he wishes for it. He eyes the read nine days ago tag attached to the last message he’d sent, and tries not to worry. After all, his lover works hard at his job, and often forgets to reply when he gets focused, and normally Bram wouldn’t worry, but normally, Ranpo doesn’t send him one worded answers, or brush him off when he tries to organise a date, but recently, that’s what he’s been doing, and as such, Bram worries.

There are few things that he actually does worry about, mostly because it takes a lot to make him worry in the first place, but his lovers wellbeing is one thing that makes him worry a lot, hence why he’s been staring at his phone all day in the hopes of getting a response to the last message he sent: Ranpo, are you okay?

Bram tries not to worry, telling himself that Ranpo is fine, and that he’ll simply message him when he gets time; he remembers Ranpo telling him about a big case that’d come through, and that it was all hands on deck—even his. But it’s been nine days, and no matter how difficult a case is, Ranpo has never needed more than three to solve one. And sure, Bram could reach out to Ranpo’s friends and co-workers, but he doesn’t want to distract them from their work, doesn’t want to make them worry either since they already worry enough about their head detective.

He sighs, and checks his messages again, even though he knows that no new ones have come through, and his gut churns as he, once again, focuses on that nine day old tag, because it’s not normal, and although nothing about him and Ranpo is normal to begin with, their communication is the most normal thing about them, which is why Bram knows that something is up, and that perhaps, he shouldn’t wait any longer this time, that maybe he should be the one to take initiative this time.

It’s decided. He’ll go to the Agency and check to see if Ranpo is there, and if he isn’t, then he’ll stop by Ranpo’s home and check there.

Bram stands up, swipes his phone off the counter and strides over to the coatrack he’d been gifted by… someone—Dazai he thinks, but to be honest he isn’t sure, since it just turned up in his apartment one day without his knowledge—and pulls his coat off of it, and then tugs it on. Once he makes sure he has his keys, he leaves his apartment behind and sets off down the street. He has a vague idea of how to get to the Agency without using his phone as a navigation aid, no thanks to said Agency making him study the maps of Yokohama since he made the decision to stay.

A decision he was still adjusting to, but so far, hadn’t regretted it.

The walk to the Agency is peaceful, and gives Bram a chance to think over what he plans to do. His main goal of course, is to find out where Ranpo is and why he’s been ghosting him this entire time, but he also wants to do so in a way that doesn’t worry anyone else. Because if there’s one thing that Bram’s learnt since meeting Ranpo, it’s that the genius detective doesn’t like being fussed over, no matter what. Ranpo could be bleeding out, or suffering from some kind of plague, yet he would still insist that he’s fine—thankfully, his fellow detectives were on top of things, and did their best to stop Ranpo brushing them off, but sometimes, he did manage to fool them.

Before he knows it, he’s at the Agency, and climbing the stairs, only to run into the Agency’s doctor halfway up. Bram stops and stares at her, eyes widening just a little, and Yosano’s mouth drops open a little bit at the sight of him. “Bram, what brings you here? Is Ranpo alright?”

Yosano’s words cause Bram’s own question to die before he can even voice it, and he frowns, because why is she asking him about Ranpo? Ranpo’s been at work, hasn’t he? Bram thinks, and then elects to just speak the truth. “I haven’t seen Ranpo in two weeks, and I haven’t heard from him in nine days. He told me he had a case, so I assumed he would be here, working.”

Now it’s Yosano’s turn to frown, and she shakes her head slowly. “No… Ranpo called out sick a couple of weeks ago, said he’d be back once he felt better. We simply assumed he was staying with you while he got better.”

So Ranpo had lied to both Bram and his co-workers… but why? Were they in danger from a new threat, and Ranpo was trying to protect them? Was there something going on with Ranpo that he didn’t want those closest to him to know about? There were so many possibilities, and Bram couldn’t stop running through them in his head, trying to figure out which one is the most plausible. But not one possibility calls to him, which makes him think he’s wrong, but the churning in his gut makes him think he’s also on the right track.

“Is… there someone closer to Ranpo than either of us?” Bram asks after a moment of silence. He knows that Ranpo has people closer to him than just Bram—he knows that Yosano is one of them, and that the president of the Agency is another, but other than that, he has no clue. He in Ranpo are still in the ‘learning about each other’ stage of their relationship after all, it makes sense for him to not know everything yet.

“Well, there’s Fukuzawa—he’s known Ranpo since he was young after all.” Yosano brings a hand up to scratch at her chin in, deep in thought. “And well, me and the rest of the Agency, but we already established that that’s not helpful… maybe Poe? He’s a friend of Ranpo’s, and I know that Ranpo sometimes visits him.”

Bram nods, and files away the information for later. He feels like he’s been told this before, since the names feel familiar, and then a bit of guilt wells up inside him that he should already know this, but he squashes it down and blames it on the worry he’s feeling. “Would it be possible to speak to Fukuzawa?”

“Sure, he’s in his office. First door once you get up the stairs.” Yosano points behind her and then steps past him, calling over her shoulder. “Good luck, Bram!”

Her abrupt departure leaves Bram alone on the stairs, and he watches after the doctor until she disappears from sight, just blinking from how short and simple the conversation was. Usually conversations with any of the Agency members took several minutes—sometimes hours if stuck with certain members—and not… a minute. But no matter, the conversation had given him a starting point, and that was what mattered, so he turned on his heel and made his way up the stairs, spotting the office he was supposed to enter the moment he got to the top.

Bram paused outside the door, wondering for a moment if he was being too forward, and that he’s bothering someone who is busy just because he’s just a little worried, but once again, he squashes that feeling down, knocking on the door.

The door swings open after a few seconds, and reveals the man at the head of the Agency—and a man that Bram realises is familiar, and that he’s met before at a recent dinner that Ranpo had dragged him to; some kind of family dinner that Bram vaguely recalled as also serving as an introduction between him and one Fukuzawa Yukichi.

Fukuzawa is shorter than Bram, so he has to look down to meet the older mans eyes, and for minutes, the two stare at each other, with no words being spoken.

Bram is the one to break the silence, giving a polite bow as he’d been taught was custom. “I do not mean to disturb you, Fukuzawa, but I have come to ask you of something.”

“You wish to know of Ranpo’s whereabouts.” It’s not a question, but a statement, and Bram blinks, surprised that Fukuzawa is aware of what he’s after—which means the man also has the answer he’s seeking.

“I am. I haven’t heard from him in several days, and I am growing worried.”

Fukuzawa hums, his eyes closing as he thinks.

Bram simply waits patiently while he does.

After a while, Fukuzawa opens his eyes again. “He’s currently staying with me. He’s been… unwell lately, so I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“But you are here.” Bram says.

Fukuzawa nods. “Ranpo insisted I still come to work because he did not wish to worry anyone. I was about to leave to go and check on him, but I won’t begrudge you from going in my place if you would like to soothe your worry.”

“That would be much appreciated, thank you.”

Fukuzawa gives another nod before reaching into his sleeve to pull out a key and his phone. He holds out the key towards Bram, and taps away at his phone. “This is the key to my apartment, and I will text you the address—Ranpo gave me your number after dinner.”

Bram nods, and pulls his own phone out of his pocket once the message tone goes off. “Thank you. I will do my best.”

“I know you will, Bram.” Fukuzawa gives him a soft smile, one that makes Bram feel warm inside. “You care for Ranpo deeply, and that is something I appreciate.”

Bram didn’t know what he was expecting when he steps into Fukuzawa’s apartment, but total silence isn’t it. Fukuzawa had said that Ranpo was unwell, and Bram distinctly remembers the last time that Ranpo was sick; he’d laid on the couch, filled with complaints and glasses of juice, watching whatever was on the television at the time. And yet, here, there is no Ranpo in sight, no mess to even indicate that he’s even here in the first place. But he has to be, because that is what the Agency president had said, so Ranpo simply must be elsewhere in the apartment.

With that in mind, Bram steps further into the apartment, barely remembering to pull of his boots in time, and looks around. The apartment is neat and tidy, freshly cleaned from the looks of it, although there is a bottle of water, and a couple of what looks to be medicinal pills next to it. Underneath the bottle is a note that must’ve been written by Fukuzawa before he’d left that morning:

Take your medication please, Ranpo. You know it helps. I’ll be by to check on you at lunch.

- Fukuzawa

Bram studies the note, and then eyes off the water and medication, before grabbing both and continuing on his search for Ranpo.

It doesn’t take long to figure out where Ranpo is, since there are only two other rooms in the apartment, and only one of the doors is closed, which means that the younger detective must be there. First, Bram knocks on the door, but when he doesn’t get a response, he quietly opens it and steps into the darkened room, closing the door behind him with a click.

It takes a moment for Bram’s eyes to adjust to the darkness—not total darkness, because even though the curtains are drawn, there’s a light plugged into the wall, providing a glow that allows some visibility—but once they do, his attention is drawn immediately to the lump in the bed, currently drowning in blankets. Bram steps closer to the lump, making sure that he can be heard so as not to spook Ranpo when he sits on the edge of the bed. “Ranpo?”

The lump under the blanket jerks, and then shifts before a head slowly appears with tangled hair, and eyebags so heavy that it makes Ranpo look like someone has punched him in the face. Even his eyes, which are normally so green and bright, and full of life, look nothing more than decaying herbs as they seem to stare right through Bram, unblinking, until Ranpo lets out a sigh and drags the blankets back over his head. “Go away…”

Ranpo’s reaction stumps Bram, who has never seen his lover as anything other than cheerful and energetic, so he’s not entirely sure what he’s meant to do here.

But then Bram remembers Fukuzawa’s faith in him, and his determination returns full force—he needs to do good; he needs to be helpful; he needs to take care of Ranpo.

“I will not.” Bram says, reaching over to tug the blankets down until Ranpo’s face is visible again. “It’s been nine days since I last heard from you, so I got worried, and it seems like I was right to worry in the first place.”

Ranpo grunts, refusing to look his way again. “How did you even get in? Fukuzawa isn’t home.”

“I went to the Agency to see if you were there, because you told me you had a case.” Bram said, watching Ranpo’s head turn the tiniest bit to look at him. “I ran into Yosano, who directed me to Fukuzawa, who told me you were unwell, and then he gave me a key.”

“Of course he did.” Ranpo sighs, eyes disappearing from view again. “Well, you’ve seen me, so you can go now.”

“No, because something is wrong and I want to help.” Bram says and places the water on the bedside table next to an empty cup, and grabs the medicine from his pocket. He taps Ranpo on the shoulder, until Ranpo groans and just rolls over to face him. “These were on the kitchen bench when I got here, you should probably take them.”

Ranpo eyes the pills, and Bram turns to grab the water, holding both out to his lover. He watches the younger’s eyes flit from his hands to his face, a variety of emotions crossing it before resignation settles there, and he pushes himself onto his elbow to take them from Bram’s hands. Ranpo throws the medicine into his mouth, and swallows the pills with a mouthful of water; then the water is being pressed into Bram’s hands again, and Ranpo turns back to face the wall.

A silence falls between them, Bram using that moment to study Ranpo carefully. Aside from the bags under his eyes, and a pale complexion, there isn’t really anything that says Ranpo is sick; he’s not coughing and his skin is free of fever-sweat. Which leads him to think that whatever’s going on, it’s something else and being sick is just the coverup excuse. Injured? No, I’d smell blood if he was wounded. Maybe the illness is something else…?

In the end, Bram just decides to ask. “What’s wrong with you?”

Silence, and then a huff that could have been a laugh. “That’s a bit of a blunt question.”

“You told me you preferred me being blunt.” Bram shrugs.

Ranpo hums, but doesn’t say anything more, not even to answer Bram’s question, which he thinks means that he can continue with his observations.

“You do not seem to be sick in the way that you were the last time you were sick—”

“That’s because it’s not your usual sickness.” Ranpo interrupts, and then curls up into a tiny ball. “’m just a little bit sad, that’s all you need to know.”

“Ah, I understand.” And Bram did understand. After all, one doesn’t exactly handle just being a head and a body for so many years by being happy, and even before that, when the people of his homeland turned against him and called him a monster, no matter how many times he tried to tell them that he wasn’t the one responsible for their people dying, one wasn’t exactly happy about that, especially when it ended in your near death. And those were just the ones with reason; there’d also been times where, seemingly for no reason, he’d felt less inclined to getting out of bed that day.

So he did understand.

And it tugs at his heart that someone important to him is going through such a thing.

Bram stands from the bed, and in no more than a few seconds, he’s pulling all the blankets off of Ranpo and lifting him from the bed.

“Wha—hey! Put me down!” Despite his protests, Ranpo doesn’t try to fight him.

“No.” Bram says, adjusting his grip on Ranpo so he can carry Ranpo easier. The moment he does, arms come to wrap around his shoulders, and Ranpo hides his face into the crook of Bram’s neck.

“Please put me down.”

“No. You are suffering from… I think they call it depression now, so I will do what I can to help you deal with it easier, and that means taking care of your physical needs so you can fight the demons in your mind.”

Ranpo sighs and tightens his hold, but he doesn’t say anything as Bram carries him from the room, which is fine with him, since he would much rather Ranpo not fight him as he tries to help.

It’s silent between the two of them as Bram carries Ranpo into the bathroom—not after struggling to find it in the first place—and seats him on the edge of the toilet seat so that he can get the shower ready. Ranpo’s head droops where he sits, his hair hiding his face from view as the rest of his body trembles; it looks like it’s taking all the energy that Ranpo has left to stay upright, and it tugs at Bram. He steps away long enough to turn the shower on before returning to kneel in front of Ranpo, raising a hand to cup his lovers cheek, running a thumb over Ranpo’s cheek.

Ranpo’s eyes flit to him.

“You don’t need to do anything, alright?” Bram reassures, leaning up to press their foreheads together. “Just let me take care of you, and I’ll do the rest.”

For a moment, Ranpo stares at him, and then drops his head to rest on Bram’s shoulder. “… okay.”

Bram nods, pleased with Ranpo’s answer, and sets about doing as he said he would; helping. He pulls away slowly, and stands, gripping Ranpo’s arms with his own and guiding his lover to his feet. He continues to hold Ranpo up with one arm, and with the other, he unbuttons Ranpo’s shirt, and tugs it off the others body. Next come the pants, and it’s the only time Bram asks Ranpo to help, continuing to hold his love upright as he shrugs off his pants and the underwear underneath, and then, it’s time for the shower.

He doesn’t hesitate to step under the spray, ignoring how his clothes become soaked in an instant and stick to his skin because it’s not important. It’s much more important for him to take care of Ranpo right now, since his love has been struggling to take care of himself if the state of him is anything to go by. It makes Bram wonder what exactly Fukuzawa has been doing to try and help the situation, but he tries not to judge—in situations such as these where the person important to you is suffering, you simply do the best that you can, and sometimes that means taking each day as it comes. Depression is ugly at times, he knows this from experience, which is why he’s determined to try and help. Bram doesn’t expect to magically fix how Ranpo is feeling right now, but he hopes to make him feel a little better at least.

With that in mind, Bram guides Ranpo to sit on the floor of the shower, following him down to kneel behind him. He reaches behind him, grabbing blindly for the shampoo until his hands knock into the bottle and that of the conditioner beside it. It only takes him a second to decide on grabbing both, and brings them into his view; he elects to just squirt the shampoo straight onto Ranpo’s head, and begins to drag his nails through tangled black hair, taking care to get the tangles out in a way that won’t cause Ranpo any pain.

Ranpo lets out a sigh, and shifts to rest his head on his knees, eyes closed as he gives in to Bram’s ministrations. It’s hard to see his expression from here, but Bram imagines it to be a little content, but emotionless all the same.

“Tilt your head back.” Bram says once he’s finished, and places a hand on Ranpo’s forehead to encourage him into following his words. Then, he rinses out the shampoo and starts the process over again the conditioner.

Once that’s done, Bram stands and turns the water off before guiding Ranpo up again and helping him out of the shower. And like before, it’s done in silence, and Bram doesn’t break that silence as he grabs a towel and drapes it over Ranpo’s head. He starts to dry it, only to have Ranpo’s hands come up to grasp at his own.

“I can do this…” Ranpo says, looking up into Bram’s eyes. “You go get changed. Fukuzawa has spare yukata’s; he won’t mind if you borrow one.”

“You are sure?”

Ranpo nods.

“Alright.” Bram leaves Ranpo to finish off, going to hunt down a yukata and get out of his wet clothes. In hindsight, getting into the shower without getting undressed first was a poor decision, but Bram hadn’t exactly been thinking when he’d done it. But what’s done is done, and now all that’s left to do is get Ranpo fed, a task that seems simple enough considering how much the detective likes to eat on a daily basis, even if it is mostly sweets.

But that was when Ranpo was feeling good.

Because right now, Ranpo is refusing to eat anything that Bram offers him.

“Why not just some toast?” Bram suggests after having yet another meal shot down, now dressed in a fresh yukata that’s a tad too short for him, and he’s pulled his damp hair into a bun.

Ranpo pulls a face and shakes his head. “I’m not hungry…”

Bram hums, worried, because he’s pretty sure that Ranpo hasn’t eaten anything in recent days—it doesn’t take a genius to see that his love has lost weight since he last saw him—and while he’s resigned himself to not getting Ranpo to eat an actual meal when he feels as terrible as he does, he refuses to let Ranpo eat nothing. “What does Fukuzawa usually do when you aren’t hungry?”

The expression on Ranpo’s face tightens even more before it just disappears entirely and is replaced with defeat. Ranpo stretches out across the table. “He usually cuts up an apple… or any kind of fruit, really…”

“Apple it is then.” Bram moves towards the fridge, quickly finding the apples, and from there it only takes him a couple of minutes to slice it up and put it on a plate. He slides into the seat next to Ranpo and picks up one of the slices and holds it out. “Can I ask a question?”

“Yeah.” Ranpo shrugs, and after eyeing the slice of apple carefully, takes it and nibbles on it.

“You could have stayed with me if you were feeling like this, I would not have judged you, so why did you not tell me?”

For a while, Ranpo is silent, and Bram thinks that he’s not going to get an answer, but then Ranpo shrugs and begins to speak. “I don’t know. Didn’t want to burden you or worry you, I guess, so I just lied and hid.” Ranpo gives an empty laugh. “But I failed anyways.”

“I care about you.” Bram argues gently, choosing to be soft instead of blunt for a change. “So of course I was bound to worry when you stopped talking to me.”

Ranpo hums, and picks up another apple slice. “You don’t need to worry, I’ll be fine. I’m safe here.”

Bram understands the implication of the words without having to question them, and it makes sense why Ranpo chose to come to Fukuzawa rather than himself. Fukuzawa has known Ranpo for years after all, has probably seen this side of Ranpo many times over and knows exactly how to handle it, unlike Bram who is witnessing this side of the person he’s chosen to love, for the first time. And while he trusts Ranpo’s words when he says that he will be fine, Bram also wished that Ranpo would accept help just a little bit more; it might make these days more bearable.

“I understand that you come to Fukuzawa because he is familiar, and understands you best,” Bram begins to say, reaching over to draw Ranpo into a one-armed embrace, pressing his lips to Ranpo’s crown, “but I ask that the next time you feel this way, that you let me know. I want to help you when you cannot help yourself.”

Ranpo flushes, and turns to bury his face into Bram’s chest, hands coming up to clutch at the yukata he’s wearing. He makes a noise like he wants to say something, but then falls silent.

Bram doesn’t hesitate to wrap his other arm around Ranpo and draw him closer. “You don’t need to answer. I don’t expect one. Taking in what I say is enough.”

“… thank you.”

When Fukuzawa steps into the apartment late in the evening, he certainly didn’t expect it to be silent—well, he did, because his apartment’s been silent for the past two weeks—but somehow, the silence seems different this time, and he’s almost certain it’s because of Bram. He’s not sure what Ranpo’s boyfriend… partner… lover—he’s not entirely sure what the two have labelled themselves with if he’s being honest—has done since he sent him over, but he knows that something occurred here.

If not for the apple scraps on the bench, and the fact that Ranpo’s meds are gone from where he’d left them on his way out of the apartment that morning, then it would be the sheets that Fukuzawa had been trying to change for days, hanging on a rack, freshly washed along with two towels, that gave it away.

Quietly, he makes a beeline for Ranpo’s room, since neither he nor Bram are within his sights, and he’s rewarded when he opens the door and sees the two of them crammed into Ranpo’s too small bed, asleep. Fukuzawa’s lips twitch into a smile as he observes the way that Ranpo is curled against Bram’s chest whilst Bram holds him protectively; Ranpo’s head is tucked underneath Bram’s chin, and Fukuzawa can see from his spot that Ranpo’s hair has been washed, and he gives Bram a silent thanks.

Getting Ranpo into the shower when he was in the midst of a depressive episode was a battle that Fukuzawa seldom won, so he’s grateful that Bram’s somehow achieved that.

A noise from Ranpo catches his attention, and it sounds like he’s about to wake up, but then Bram’s arm moves to run up and down his back in a soothing manner, as if he’s had to do this before, and Ranpo falls silent, face softening back into sleep. Bram’s hand slows until it stops, but not before he tightens his grip on Ranpo.

Fukuzawa’s smile widens a little, and he carefully shuts the door as he leaves the two to sleep.

Love doesn’t cure all, but it can certainly help ease one’s pain, and that is what Fukuzawa clings to as he goes to make himself some tea.

Tea for three.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #hurt/comfort #light angst #comfort #bramran #bram stoker #edogawa ranpo #writing #fanfic #depression

[dangraccoon]

Oyuba'din - Chapter 14: Remember

Summary: Jaine makes a decision about her future.

Warnings: intense pain, painful memories resurfacing, implied physical abuse, brief mention of murder

Author's Note: Hello friends! This is gonna be a sort of rough one; as mentioned in the warnings above there is implied physical abuse and mention of murder. These are contained in less than 100 words at the end of the chapter. Nothing is described or discussed further. All that being said, I hope you're all still enjoying this series! I'm really loving creating it for you all! Please keep it up with your lovely replies, likes, and reblogs! they fuel my even better than the spite that normally does 💛🤟Also, let me know what y'all think of the little banner I made!

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“What?” Hunter groaned, squinting at the medic at his bedside. 

“You’re an idiot,” Jaine repeated, a little softer now, but the chill didn’t leave her voice. She picked up a scrap of cloth, smeared some kind of paste on it, and then blew a cool breath over it before laying it across Hunter’s forehead. 

“Smells weird,” he grunted. 

Jaine scoffed a little. “Smells better than you do.”

Hunter shifted his concentration towards himself. She wasn’t wrong. He could tell his body odor was stronger than normal, and he still reeked of alcohol. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

She ignored him, turning back to her bag on the side table. “Can you take pills?” she asked, tersely. 

“Yeah, I-”

“Take two of these with food, and then one every two hours until you’re feeling better. I’ll give the instructions to Tech and Crosshair because I know you’ll either forget or just not do it without someone forcing you.”

Something was wrong. Hunter knew something was wrong. Her voice was icy and her face seemed to be made of durasteel. None of the typical humor that sparkled in her eyes was present. She almost looked hollow. 

The door to the room he was sharing with Crosshair for their R&R slid open, revealing the sniper himself. 

“Good timing,” she said, though Hunter noted that the hint of sarcasm that was usually a staple in her voice - especially when speaking to Crosshair - was absent. 

He longed to ask her what was wrong, to search for whatever was draining away all the little tones and mannerisms he’d grown used to and fix it all. 

“He needs to take this medicine. Two as soon as possible, it goes down better with food. Then one every two hours until his headache is gone. That cloth on his face is optional, but it should help minimize the overload I’m sure will hit him later on,” she prattled, barely even looking at either brother. 

“Jaine,” Hunter tried to interrupt. 

“If you need to add more to the cloth, it’s in this container, and this container has the drink blend for his migraines, and some of the de-scented kind in case he’s overloading. Also in this bag is the bruise salve - I made extra, I know Wrecker goes through it like crazy - Echo’s phantom pain lotion, Tech’s tea blend, and those pills I gave you for your stiffness.”

“Jaine,” Hunter tried again, sitting up. 

“Lay down, sergeant,” she ordered, not looking away from the task at hand. “I labeled everything in aurebesh; I know Tech was worried about not being able to read my ‘scribbles’, as he called them.”

“Hey,” Crosshair started, quietly. “What’s going on? Talk to us.”

“I am talking to you,” she stated plainly, pulling a data stick from the bag. “This has everything I just told you in case none of you can get it right.”

She packed up the bag, then placed the strap of it in Crosshair’s hand. “You can contact the 501st when you are in need of a resupply and more will be sent when we get the chance.”

“Jaine, you’re not serious,” Crosshair protested. 

“As the grave, trooper,” she spat. “I have a meeting. Goodbye.”

She quickly left the room, despite the protests of the men behind the other side of the door now closing behind her. 

She started her brisk walk away from the barracks, but was quickly met with Tech and Wrecker, emerging from the room they were sharing with Echo. 

“Jainey!” Wrecker shouted, even as she brushed by them.

“Jaine, I have some questions about the files you have sent to me,” Tech started, trailing after her and meeting her pace easily. 

“I’m sorry, I have a meeting in a few moments, and it is important that I get there on time,” she stated. 

While Wrecker was more or less oblivious as he and Tech stopped following Jaine down the hallway, letting out a disappointed sigh, Tech noted her. Her voice came out flat and monotone as opposed to the way she sounded almost musical to him, and her posture was guarded, even as she rushed away. More than that, she brushed them off completely. Tech knew she cared about them, but she was acting distant from them now. Even if she were running late, she would have stopped and likely would have told Tech about her meeting. Now, she barely even glanced at them, even Wrecker, for whom Tech knew she had a soft spot. Tech didn’t rely on intuition or “gut feelings” as much as his brothers did, but he had one now. 

“Guess we’ll see her later,” Wrecker shrugged, heading back to their room. 

Tech stared at the point he had last seen Jaine before she had rounded a corner. “I’m not sure we will,” he said under his breath. 

-

“Jainey, are you sure you want to do this? I know you and General Skywalker don’t have the best…opinions on one another,” Rex asked, cringing a little.

“Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t,” she shrugged. “Do I wish Skywalker was a little less…irritating, sure, but he takes good care of his men. I’ll be fine.”

Rex took a deep breath. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t give you the chance to back out of this.”

Rex hit the button to open the door, and Jaine entered the room.

“Lieutenant Vale,” General Skywalker greeted warmly. Jaine stood rigid at attention, her hand at her forehead in a salute. “None of that for an old friend.”

“Of course, sir,” she replied, as at-ease as she could be in the presence of this particular General. 

“Why don’t you have a seat; my Padawan and our other colleagues will be arriving shortly,” he smiled, gesturing to a set of chairs on one side of the room. 

“‘Other colleagues’, sir? I was under the impression it would just be the three of us.” Jaine was beginning to feel uneasy, like she had just been walked directly into a trap. She ultimately decided to attempt not to show her true feelings, sitting politely on a couch. 

“You see,” Skywalker began, but was interrupted by the door opening again. 

Kriff, she thought as she watched two more Jedi and two more clones enter the room. 

“Jaine,” Obi Wan Kenobi smiled. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited Commander Cody and ARC Echo here to this meeting; they and Captain Rex all feel Echo may have some insight that could be helpful in coming to a decision about your placement in the GAR.”

-

“You have to take them,” Crosshair grumbled as Hunter refused to accept the medication left for him by their medic, his medic. 

“Stow it, Cross,” Hunter growled back. 

Wrecker laughed. “Sarge must be feelin’ bad,” he grinned, elbowing Tech’s side. “That’s why he’s so grumpy!”

“Given the amount of alcohol he consumed last night and his usual hypersensitivity to stimuli, it is unsurprising that he doesn’t feel well,” Tech mentioned, rubbing the section of his rib cage that had caught the brunt of Wrecker’s amusement. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wrecker added, rolling his eyes and waving Tech off as he walked out of the room. “Anyway, I got some regs to spar and win against.”

Tech and Crosshair exchanged a look with each other, then glared back at Hunter. 

“What?” he scowled. 

“Hunter, Jaine’s directions were clear,” Tech said. “If you want to feel better, you will have to take the medication she has left for you.”

“I don’t need them; I’m fine,” Hunter reiterated, flopping back onto his bunk. 

“Sure,” Crosshair snarked. “The lightest sleeper I know slept undisturbed through all of his brothers and his medic coming into the same room as him. But yeah, sure, you’re fine.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed at the sniper.

“Hunter-”

“I’m not taking the damn meds, Tech,” Hunter snarled, shooting back into a sitting position. He realized he said it a bit more forcefully than he’d intended as he watched Tech recoil a little, and Crosshair stepped towards him, almost protectively. 

“Fine, feel miserable then. Just answer one question; why didn’t you tell us Jaine was transferring units?”

“She’s what?” Crosshair sputtered looking between Tech and Hunter. “She told me she was on a temporary mission, not leaving altogether.

“Jaine is leaving our squad for another unit. I do not know the reason behind it, though I expect Hunter does. 

Hunter simply sat there, glaring at his brothers as though he were trying to convince them to leave just with a look. 

“Hunter, why is our medic transferring to another unit?” Crosshair asked, his voice far softer than Hunter expected. 

“Don’t know. It was her choice,” he finally said, doing his best to keep his voice as neutral as possible. 

Crosshair scowled at Hunter, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Echo was supposed to be babysitting him last night,” Crosshair murmured. “Maybe he’ll tell us.”

With one last nasty look from both of his brothers, they left him alone. 

-

Why does this feel like a trap?, Jaine wondered as 6 sets of eyes all watched her carefully. 

“So, Lieutenant Vale, your record shows that you recently transferred from the 212th to Clone Force 99, about two and a half months ago,” Ahsoka questioned. “Why are you requesting another transfer now?”

“Interpersonal conflict between myself and the commanding officer of the unit, Sergeant Hunter,” Jaine reported. 

“You want to join the 501st because you and Hunter can’t get along?” Anakin scoffed. 

“I am unsure of what soured our working relationship, but it seems we have irreconcilable differences.”

“Lieutenant, you were ordered to work with Clone Force 99 by General Kenobi, myself, and Commander Cody. Why go against that order now?”

“As I said, General-”

“Echo,” Skywalker said, cutting Jaine off mid-sentence. “Did you witness any of these ‘irreconcilable differences’?”

Jaine watched Echo’s eyes widen in surprise for a moment as though he couldn’t believe his opinion was actually being asked, before settling back into the fierce expression of determination he’d been wearing since he arrived. 

“Not personally, sir, although Sergeant Hunter did confide in me a few things he was uncomfortable with regarding Lieutenant Vale,” he reported, his eyes never leaving Jaine’s. 

“Did you agree with your Sergeant?” Obi Wan asked. 

“No, sir. I found most of his points to be unfounded.”

What is he thinking? Jaine wondered as she watched the ARC speak.

“Oh, really? How so?” Obi Wan said, urging Echo to continue.

“His observations were primarily based on Lieutenant Vale’s character, something to which I have been paying close attention as well, and I believe his findings to be fallible,” Echo explained, his amber eyes burning holes into Jaine’s hazel. Despite the stoic expression on his face, his voice was full of emotion. “That being said, I also believe that any misunderstandings between Sergeant Hunter and Lieutenant Vale can easily be cleared up. I can even mediate if they feel it is necessary.”

For the briefest of moments, Jaine felt as though she could read beyond his soldier’s countenance. Deep in his eyes she saw it; his express desire to keep her in the squad, to keep her with him, and above all else, his fear that she actually would leave.

“Well, I’d say that’s certainly something to consider,” Obi Wan said, grinning at Jaine. 

“Would you be open to meeting with Sergeant Hunter, perhaps accompanied by Echo, to try and…talk things out?” Anakin snarked.

So Jaine was right, it was a trap. She walked right into it, and now that it had her, she had no choice but to submit.

“I will have a meeting with them, however I would ask that my request for transfer be kept open, in the event that our discussion does not go as well as you all seem to think it might.”

“Of course,” Ahsoka smiled. “And I’m sure that should you still wish to transfer to the 501st, General Skywalker would be glad to have you.”

Jaine couldn’t be sure, but she could’ve sworn she saw Commander Tano kick Skywalker’s leg under the table, who quickly cleared his throat.

“Right, I’m sure we could find a…suitable position for you, Lieutenant.”

They all stood from the table, and Lieutenant Vale gave a respectful salute to the Generals, Commanders, and Captain, turning on her heel to leave.

“Oh, Lieutenant,” Obi Wan called. “I was hoping we could have a word with you in private?”

“Of course, General,” she sputtered. 

Jaine watched as Skywalker, Ahsoka, and Rex all left. Echo turned back to face her. “I’ll be right outside,” he assured her, before following the others out.

“How can I help you, sir?” Jaine asked nervously. 

“None of that. What happened, Jaine?” he interrogated. 

Jaine’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What?”

“All records indicate that your time with this squad have been positive, but here you are, leaving only a few months in? That doesn’t seem like the Jaine I know.”

There was a slight ringing in her ear. “I- I don’t understand,” she mumbled, hand cupping the side of her head.

“Jaine, what do you remember about your home planet, Qoljak? What do you remember about the day your moon died?” Obi Wan pressed. The ringing became louder and Jaine fell to a crouch.

“General,” Cody began to protest, rushing to Jaine’s side.

“It’s going to be okay, Cody,” he spoke soothingly to his Commander, before his voice turned harsh again. “Think, Jaine. You must remember how you escaped the planet after your ship went down.”

“I don’t- I c-can’t,” she whimpered, clutching her head. Her eyes were screwed shut tightly, the ringing becoming too much. She knew what he was trying to do, thinking back to the way she’d brushed Sinya off when she’d suggested going over the list. “P-please don’t.”

“Obi Wan,” Cody practically begged, feeling helpless in this situation.

“Come on, Jainera, remember me,” Obi Wan’s voice pleaded with her, pushing her down into what felt like a black lake. She crashed under, floating helplessly into her own mind.

On the surface, Jaine howled in pain, her torso thrusting up, face towards the ceiling. Her eyes flew open, her usual hazel replaced by a crimson red light that completely covered the irises, pupils, and sclerae, smoky red tears dripping from them. Cody jumped, looking over his friend, full of anxiety. 

Echo burst into the room, eyes rapidly trying to take in the sight before him, he rushed to Jaine’s side, grasping her shoulder with his hand, and pressing his scomp to her other arm.

“Jaine, Jaine,” he called. “What happened? What’s wrong with her?”

He looked frantically to Cody and Obi Wan, begging for answers.

“Echo, Cody, we need to lay her flat, and you both need to get away from her. If you see any red smoke, do not touch it,” Obi Wan ordered.

The pair of clones looked at each other, but ultimately followed the general’s orders.

Jaine’s red eyes were wide open as she lay supine on the floor, unmoving. 

“Set a chrono, I’ll need to know how long we’re under,” Obi Wan ordered Echo, then turned to Cody. “There is a contact on my data pad labeled as S. Bey. Comm her, immediately. Tell her M3, GAR barracks. When she confirms that she received the message, you will meet her at the gate. Use my clearance codes if you must, but she must get here quickly. Go, now.”

Cody set off to carry out his orders, sending one last look of thinly veiled fear.

In her mind, Jaine resurfaced. She was home. No, not quite. This isn’t where I was that day, she spoke, her words echoing slightly, as though she were in a cavern. She could see the destruction around her. The craters left by the meteors.

No, I remembered this already. I know what I did, she begged to the emptiness. She could hear herself crying out, pleading for help. She ran towards her own strained voice.

I was so young, she said. Something made her spine tingle and she realized she wasn’t alone. Just as her younger self saw a young man running towards her, shouting for his master, she saw Obi Wan Kenobi, now a Jedi master in his own right. The two images collided together, mixing in a way that made her eyes sting.

Do you remember me, Jainera? he asked, stepping towards her. My master, Qui-gon Jinn, and I were sent to your home planet to stop the war and save your people.

Jaine felt herself trembling. She looked down at her shaking hands, vaguely aware of the wisps of red smoke pouring from them. 

Obi Wan? she murmured.

Obi Wan pointed to the memory playing out before them. Yes. We rescued you from that debris. We brought you to Coruscant.

Qui-gon Jinn and Obi Wan Kenobi, she repeated. You brought me to the temple.

Yes, Obi Wan breathed.

You brought me to the Council. You said they would help me.

Yes, he repeated.

The Council sent me to the AgriCorps. That’s where Sinya and I met, she remembered. That’s… she trailed off as she felt what felt like a swift kick to the gut.

Go on, Jainera. Remember, he pleaded.

They refused to let me contact you. Our group leader, she- she was horrible to us.

Obi Wan’s eyes went wide. These were not the memories he was looking for. 

That’s why I can’t remember you, isn’t it? she cried, red tears streaming down her face. Because of what she did to me?

Jainera, I-

She killed me, Obi Wan.

Thanks for reading! - Dang

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