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#adhd comfort
annahxredaxted · 1 year
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Sickly in love.
Pairs: Aaron/smartass
Tw: medicine I guess/ kinda angsty
Genre: fluff/sick comfort from our favorite asshole <3 (also ADHD comfort; or hyperactivity; call it what you will)
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“Here, tea. Drink it.” Aaron said, not bothering to elaborate further.
“Aaron I swear I’m- f-fi-Achoo!” They sneezed mid sentence, on Aaron no less
“Sorry.” They mumbled apologetically
“It’s- ew. It’s fine.” He muttered that line in-between
Smartass had a coughing fit for about 13 seconds straight, when they were done sounding like they were dying, they re-situated themselves on the couch, after they did, they sighed- dramatically no less
Aaron raised an eyebrow. Knowing their tricks; knowing they didn’t actually mean that sigh.
“What?” He asked arrogantly to his partner who was pulling all the strings, stuck in a constant facade.
“If only I had a handsome, sexy, boyfriend to cuddle with me..” they said dramatically draping a hand over their eyes
“If only.” He retorted; the immediate glare was enough for him, to put the tea cup down and slither around, wrapping around his ill partner.
“Mmm…,” they groaned adjusting themselves around him “,you feel nice..” they finally say, snuggling their head on his chest.
“Glad I could help.” He said, running his fingers through their hair.
~~~~~~~
“Elementary my dear Watson!”
The rather sleepy pair of lovers we’re currently cuddled up on the couch. The sound of the great adventures of Sherlock playing blissfully in the background, while Smartass was talking at a mile a minute about the most random shit.
————
“I’m just saying, I think blue cheese is underrated!” They said to their disgusted boyfriend
“I think the meds are getting to your brain.” He said making a weird face, absolutely horrified that they would even eat that, whilst rethinking every time he’d kissed them.
“Aaron!,” they whined “stop being mean to me!” They said groaning, which turned into a high pitched voice whine
“I’m not. Your just being plain nasty.” He said putting his hand over their mouth playfully to shut them up.
“Stopppppp” they said muffled under his big hand
“Not until you stop taking about the most random shit every two milliseconds.” He said wryly
“I am not! Plus it’s not like your even paying attention to the goddam movie!” They exclaimed making hand gestures at the television screen
“I would if you wouldn’t be a goddamn nuisance all the fucking time, Goddamit your annoying.” He said glaring at the tv, avoiding eye contact.
With that noted they shut up, kinda upset he called them that, knowing he was half kidding. Half not so much.
His eyes burst open realizing he’d snapped again, knowing they weren’t gonna say anything, knowing they took that as a sign to shut the fuck up and stop annoying him. And he fuckin hated how he was the only person in the god damn world who could shut them up. He hated it.
He slowly moved his eyes to look at them, not moving his head. Just eyes. Fearing their sadness and anger, probably frustration..
“Sorry.” He muttered.
“S’ okay.” They muttered back
He was working on it okay? His bitchyness he was working on it, he knew being a complete and total asshole wasn’t a desirable trait in a guy. And he really shouldn’t behave like that to his partner, the love of his life, who was sick no less.But nevertheless he was working on it.
At least that was what he was telling himself..
-
And they knew they pushed his buttons to hard. They’d yelled; it was playful but they still got out of hand, got too excited and had been hyper; they’d gotten so caught up in being sick, that maybe they’d forgotten to take their meds. Maybe they were just forgetful in general. But it’s not like they were trying to; They really didn’t want to be this way but they really couldn’t help it, they’ve done a lot to improve but nobody was perfect
‘Especially not me.’
They mused to themselves quietly, looking at the Movie with slightly more focus than last time, trying not to annoy him any more then they knew they already had.
—-
It had been 23 minutes since he’d done that and they’d stopped talking, they’d stopped having playful conversations, they stopped joking about cheese and movies and actually shut up.
Aaron tried to play it off as ‘Maybe their just too tired to argue. Maybe their sleepy. Ya that’s it, their sleepy.’
But they were wide awake. Occasionally chuckling at the screen.eyes widening when a intense scene came on. Making a goofy face anytime someone said something stupid.
Aaron loved their reactions to certain movies. Sherlock especially. But his heart was still pounding with thought of how he should actually apologize. Not some crappy obligatory ‘sorry’ but like actually
7 minutes went by as he thought out what he was gonna say. 7 whole minutes of smartass feeling horrible about the way they were. 7 minutes of Aaron’s remorse pounding in his heart to his stomach.
“S- uh, babe?” He said slowly turning his head to them.
“Yeah?” They said retaliating, a slight pout on their face.
“I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have, called you a nuisance, and annoying, your not annoying I was just annoyed. I’m sorry, please forgive me.” He said as if it were a question, his entire face filled with apologetic expressions
Smartass felt an overwhelming sensation of happiness, that maybe he wasn’t all that mad at them. They smiled a big toothy grin and his heart felt like it was about to explode out of his chest.
“I forgive you, it’s okay really I get it. Thanks for being patient with me, sometimes.” They said holding their hands out for a hug.
He quickly hugged them, burying his face into the crook of their neck, leaving a light kiss there.
“I love you..” he whispered into their ear.
“I la-la Achoo!,” they sniffled “,love you too.”
“Ew..” he said wiping his cheek off.
“Opps, Sorry.” They said with an apologetic smile
———-
Taglist<33
(If you want to join Taglist just comment ‘aye’)
@verrverii @darlin-collins @itsdaifuku @youisagayhooman @mainhoesstuff
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angelicgarnet · 4 months
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the way people online talk about autism is getting really weird, like do they know that neurotypicals still have interests? that someone being passionate about a hobby doesn't mean they're autistic? you guys know that right
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inkskinned · 8 months
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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moonlit-typewriter · 2 months
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Watching 8-year-old Percy think his mom was trying to get rid of him for something he couldn’t control after we’ve already seen 12-year-old Percy try so hard to tell his mom that he tried to be “good” and feel so adamantly that something was wrong with him said so much about compounded experience and neurodivergent kids
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autismwithoutpremium · 6 months
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Me with eggs
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luxethehumanva · 1 year
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youtube
Please listen responsibly 💜
Script by u/foggycsea on Reddit
Picrew artist’s twitter: Usuke_akt
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midnightmothnest · 1 year
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if you can’t eat a whole meal, eat half. you ate, that’s what is important.
if you can’t get out of bed, try and sit up instead of lying down. it’ll be better for your back and your blood pressure.
if you can’t shower or have a bath today, try and brush your teeth and clean your ears. it’ll keep you a little cleaner, and we often forget those areas. 
if you can’t get dressed today, change underwear and use some deoderant. it’ll leave you a little fresher until you have the strength to change fully.
and remember, i’m very proud of you. your best will look different every day, and that’s okay.
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lazylittledragon · 2 months
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isn't it weird how if you get up at 7 or 8, do your work all day, then have free time and go to bed at 11 that's absolutely fine
but if i said i get up at 10, do fun stuff in the morning then work in the evening and go to bed late, i could be called lazy, nevermind that i'm getting just as much or MORE work done as i would in a traditional work day
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Having a comfort character is so weird
Like, oh they're 'not real'?
Well I love them as an entire being who I trust with every ounce of my personhood and soul on such a level that they resonate within me a frequency of comfort and peace unparalleled to anyone who has ever walked this Earth ever
also if I don't see a picture in them within the next twenty minutes I'm going to scream and Become Evil
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chronicbeans · 2 months
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A random example of my mother and I talking about Alastor:
Me: Mom, this is my new hyperfixation and comfort character! He's a smol little demon deer man! I wanna have a queer platonic friendship with him! 😁
My Mom: You're "Smol little demon deer man" is currently EATING A DEER. RAW, TOO.
Me: HE'S DOING IT POLITELY THO-
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*Cue my mom spending ten minutes talking about Hannibal Lector and comparing his eating habits to Alastor*
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tiredpoets · 4 months
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HEY! YOU! Yea, you, scrolling through Tumblr for validation and support for your executive dysfunction because you feel powerless: I love you, and I know you're trying your best <3 Take a moment and breathe. Let your chest unwind for a little bit as you read this post. I love you despite the things you cannot do, and I hope you find people who see your complexities and value you for them instead of putting you down. You deserve empathy and comfort. I know it's heavy, so thank you for continuing despite how hard it is. I see you.
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mortagesrants · 1 year
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Autism: Comfort Objects
Many autistic and neurodivergent people have comfort objects.
A comfort object is usually something the person likes to bring with them wherever they go, or they like to keep it somewhere safe at home. This object brings them security and safety. We often think of security blankets or stuffed animals as comfort objects, but anything can be a comfort object.
Anyone can have a comfort object. Not just kids.
I have a comfort object I sleep with every night. Without it, I have a difficult time sleeping and often feel anxious.
I also have a comfort object that I take with me everywhere! I usually keep one of these in a backpack or in the car, but it comes with me wherever I go
If your child or someone you know has a comfort object, DO NOT:
- Take the comfort object away as punishment
- Tease the person for having a comfort object
- Joke about destroying or throwing away said comfort object
Those are ways to cause trauma. Comfort objects are not just objects a person really likes. This is an object they have connection to, and feel SAFE with.
Taking away a child’s (or adult’s) comfort object for a punishment is like taking away their safety.
Do not use the comfort object as a reward for good behavior either
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pearynice · 1 month
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The Plan
rated: T | cw: N/A | tags: hurt/ comfort, fluff, established relationship
Written for @steddielovemonth day #15 prompt: love is letting yourself be loved from @quinns-shadowy-arts 💗✨
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It was never part of the plan.
The plan, of course, being throwing his middle fingers up at the entire town and making it big somewhere, anywhere, else: it was, back then, ideally: Los Angeles. He had wanted his songs to top charts, wanted sold out tours and fans screaming his name— all of their names— wanted fame and fortune and to show his shitty goddamn hometown he was worth something—
But.
All of that feels— hollow. Now. In comparison to what he does have. In comparison to what would have to change if he tried to peruse it, still, in comparison to what he would be losing, if he did. And there is nothing, in this world, or the next, that is worth losing Steve Harrington for.
Why would he care for sold out tours when there is Steve, asking him to come over? Chart-topping songs when there’s Steve’s voice in his ear? Fans screaming his name when Steve screaming his is so, so much prettier? Why care about fame or fortune when the idea of living with Steve, having an apartment with Steve, a shared, quiet life with Steve sounds so very much richer?
It’s not a question. His dreams have changed. His plans, of course, have, too. Because he thinks, after everything, after brushes with death far too close for either one of them to yet be able to sleep soundly through the night— he thinks they deserve some peace. Some quiet. An apartment, maybe, with windows so drafty they have to curl around each other just to keep warm, with a water heater so old they have no choice but to shower together so they can each have a bit of the limited supply: and this, now, is what he yearns for. Wholly and completely.
And so he’s going to ask Steve if he would want to get an apartment with him. If he would want for them to have a space of their own. Maybe Indianapolis, maybe Chicago, close enough where Eddie can still visit Wayne and Steve can still visit Robin and they both can still visit the kids, and Eddie’s heart gets so full at the thought it makes him a little teary.
But he’s still a little… nervous.
A lot more than a little, actually, because they haven’t ever… talked, in specifics, about the future. Not in any real terms. Not in the solid type of way Eddie would prefer to. And Eddie doesn’t have a roadmap for this. Not like Steve does.
And Eddie’s not a complete idiot— he knows Steve Harrington does nothing in halves. He knows that he his Steve’s boyfriend because Steve wholly and completely wants him to be. But it also makes him beg the question: how has Steve not asked? Never brought it up? Never, in their months of dating, even mentioned it? When he is the one who knows this?
But Eddie is tamping down his concerns. His worries and his reservations— because he’s putting it all on the line tonight. For Valentine’s Day.
He just hopes it all goes to plan. Hopes Steve likes it. Hopes his cobbled together night, planned within the confines of their homophobic town, live up to what his boyfriend deserves.
*****
It’s all going to plan. Sort of. They had to blow out the candles because even with the van’s back doors open it was getting smoky, and he was a little afraid of kicking one over in the midst of their piles of blankets.
But it’s warm for February. Nearly fifty degrees, and with the sun out for the whole of the day the earth feels warm, too, even under the cover of darkness. He can feel the warmth from their blankets, the van doors open to the best view Hawkins, Indiana has to offer: the quarry.
He feels a little bad about that one. Wishes he could do something bigger. Grander, than takeout containers and flowers and the view of some dirty water, but Steve seems happy. Had clutched the flowers to his chest when Eddie handed them over. Had smiled all sweet and full when Eddie handed him his dinner (Steve’s favorite— because he pays attention to those things). Had leaned, heavily, into Eddie’s side when the food was gone. Had curled up his legs and spread the blanket over them both like he didn’t want their night to end.
So Eddie’s hoping he did okay. He didn’t want to fuck this up. Wanted Steve to think Eddie knows how to treat him. Now, and in the future.
“Thank you,” Steve murmurs, beside him, “this was perfect.”
So Eddie holds him a little closer. Rests his cheek on the top of Steve’s head. “Any notes?” He questions, “for next year?”
Steve’s quiet, for a moment. Just a breath, really, but it gives Eddie enough time to spiral. Because quiet, historically, and always, is answer enough. Quiet says Steve is wondering how to break it to him, how to tell Eddie that he’s been too presumptuous. That the thought of a next year, let alone a next several, is folly, and Steve, kind as anything, is going to want to let him down easy.
But then Steve asks, “you’d want that?”
And those are not the words he was prepared for. He frowns. Lifts his head to look down at the top of Steve’s, his hair fluffy and perfect, and Eddie knows how long it takes him to get his hair to look like this.
And then, because Eddie still hasn’t said anything, Steve clarifies, “a next year?” Like he couldn’t understand why Eddie hadn’t gotten the question immediately, why Eddie would need more than a moment to wrap his head around something so nonsensical.
But Eddie’s tired of not seeing Steve’s face, so cups his hand around Steve’s jaw to get him to meet his eyes. And he’s always loved Steve’s eyes. Thinks people make too big of a deal of blue or green or grey, thinks there’s nothing prettier than the color of Steve’s eyes. “Of course, I do, sweetheart. What would ever make you think I wouldn’t?”
And Steve shrugs. Looks down. Tuck his finger under the belt loop of Eddie’s jeans. “I never expected you to take me with you, Eddie.” He says, quiet. Resigned, like this is a battle long lost, “that wouldn’t be fair of me.”
Which is an odd thing to say. To say the least, and Eddie’s frown deepens. “Stevie,” he murmurs, and he uses the hand still on Steve’s jaw to caress his cheek, “I don’t understand. Where do you think I’m going?”
Steve’s eyes meet his again. “I’m not gonna be what holds you back.” And he says it with such hardened conviction, his jaw set and his eyes bright like this is a fact of the universe, like there is any scenario in which Steve could be anything less than the stars by which Eddie now navigates the world. “I know we have an expiration date,” Steve adds, and he averts his eyes again, out to the dirty water, “I knew that when we started this.”
“An expiration date?” Eddie repeats, and his voice cracks over the words, his lungs unwilling to fill the space between them with an idea as heartbreaking as this.
Steve looks to him again, a little furrow between his brows, now, looking at Eddie like he’s just noticed the devastated expression etched across his face. “Because you’re leaving,” Steve says, but he sounds hesitant about it, now, uncertainty creeping in, “for Los Angeles. With Corroded Coffin.”
Leaving. Steve thinks he’s leaving. Thinks Eddie would not only leave but leave Steve behind?
Eddie swallows, tries to find his bearings on this new turf they’ve stumbled onto, his mind reeling as he plays back the past few weeks, and then the past few months because he hasn’t talked about California since— since—
“I haven’t talked about that since you asked me out,” Eddie breathes, “I haven’t wanted that since.” He brings his thumb across Steve’s cheek again, like he could press the truth of it into Steve’s skin, “Steve I don’t want to be anywhere unless you’re next to me.” It’s too much. Far more than they’ve ever spoken aloud to each other, but Eddie knows he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t pretend to be brave, here, and now.
And Steve’s face crumples. His mouth turns in that way it does when he’s trying not to cry, his brows pinching— but Eddie thinks it’s in the good way, as Steve leans further into Eddie’s hand. Presses the weight of him into Eddie’s waiting palm. “I don’t want to hold you back.” Steve whispers, but it sounds small, now, like it’s the last whispers of Steve’s reservations, and Eddie shakes his head, turns to crouch on his knees so he can face Steve properly.
“You could never,” he avows, and uses his free hand to cup the other side of Steve’s face, like touch alone will get Steve to believe him, “Steve, there’s nothing more I want than a life with you.” And Eddie can prove it.
He turns, pulls his backpack closer to him, and begins rifling through.
“Ed—”
But Steve breaks off as Eddie dumps the contents of his disastrously organized backpack onto the floor, finally, now, spotting the bundle of news clippings.
“I sorted them by city,” he says, handing them over. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go somewhere else, so I found some places here, too…” he trails off, not knowing how to end his sentence as Steve unclips them and begins to leaf through.
“Apartments?” Steve asks, and then, “for us?”
“If you want to,” Eddie adds, quickly, “I know it’s— I know we haven’t talked about it. If it’s too soon, Steve, I understand.”
But Steve doesn’t look up from the clippings. He continues to leaf through, flipping quickly through the few Eddie was able to find in Hawkins, just in case Steve had wanted to stay, and begins going through the ones he’d found in Indy, “you want to move in together.” Steve says, like he’s tasting the thought, “because you want a life with me?” And he looks up at Eddie, then, like he needs confirmation that he has this all right.
“Is that so hard to believe?” Eddie asks, a touch of self deprecation bleeding into his words, “that I do?”
Steve drops the clippings. Eddie has half a moment to gaze down at their fluttering words before Steve is surging forward, nearly cracking their teeth together as he kisses him, Steve’s arms winding around Eddie’s waist and pulling until they’re both standing on their knees, chests pressed together.
And then Steve pulls them apart just as forcefully, the arms on Eddie’s sides dragging him back until he’s forced to break their kiss, “yes,” Steve promises, fervent, beaming, “Eddie, yes, always, always, yes.” He kisses him again, quick, this time, like he’s sealing his vow.
And that sort of makes Eddie want to cry. Makes him want to curl up small against Steve’s chest and never leave, makes him want to keep Steve, forever, next to him.
“I thought you were leaving,” Steve marvels, and he grins, bright and wide and happy, and Eddie doesn’t think there is anything in this world that could possibly feel better than being the reason for Steve to smile like that. “But you’re not.” And he says it like he still can’t believe it, like the words haven’t yet sunk in, and he’s smiling, his cheeks rosy and his eyes crinkled when he says, “I love you.”
Scratch what Eddie thought earlier, because now, now he knows: there is no better feeling in the world than to know, somehow, he has become worthy of Steve Harrington’s love.
He can’t help the own gooey smile that comes over his face, the one that happens so much more, nowadays, with Steve, when he allows himself to say, “I love you, too.”
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Permanent Tag List (open): @hotluncheddie @hitlikehammers @chaotic-waffle @littlewildflowerkitten
@westifer-dead @perseus-notjackson
@finntheehumaneater @theheadlessphilosopher
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chronicially-parker · 24 days
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me again :3
I've thought of another prompt ! spencer reid x gn!reader, as always :3 !
(idk how original it might be,,, but I thought I might as well just request it anyway)
so imagine BAU!reader running late for work and in their haste they've put on one of Spencer Reid's cardigan (maybe reader is also a cardigan wearer and didn't notice until they get to work maybe it takes them a second to remember/realize)
but the BAU notice (especially Reid) (that man is a blushing mess seeing his SO in *HIS* cardigan in front of the *BAU* /hj /lh) (bc the cardigan is a larger size than what reader would wear,, but it is Reid's size)
and so this is how the BAU realized they are dating :3
Thank you for reading and considering my ask !
yes yes yes!!! this is AMAZING!! i had so much fun writing this!! ♡
authors note: hi! this has been sitting in my drafts for far too long, so sorry if it isnt too good! i tried my best ❤️
you woke up to a call from your lovely boyfriend, spencer reid.
"hey baby, are you on your way to work yet?" spencer whispered softly through your phone
you had picked up a call from your boyfriend of 2 years at what you thought was early in the morning but had turned out to be nearly the time you were expected to arrive to work at the bau
"what-? ah shit!" you gasp, coming to the realisation that you had somehow slept through your alarms
"i'll take that as a no then," he chuckles "I'll see you soon, love you!"
"love you too!" you yell into the phone as you jump out of bed, sprinting to your closet grabbing the first things you see
"morning! sorry im late hotch!" you pant as you rush through the doors of the BAU to everyone staring at you, their eyes fixated on your current attire.
"ok i get im like really late but whats up with the staring guys?" you wheeze through breaths in a desperate attempt to regain your energy from running through the entire bau building
"loving the cardigan pretty girl" morgan snickers
thats when you noticed it, the purple cardigan you had draped over your shoulders in your desperate attempt to get out the door this morning
"oh my gosh! r/n is that spencers cardigan!!" your lovely friend penelope squealed, drawing the attention of just about everyone in a 50 ft radius
"everything ok?" spencer asks, coffee in hand after hearing penelopes excited squeals
"anything you want to tell us reid?" emily chuckles, eyeing the poor boy
"my girlfriends wearing my cardigan?"
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THIS SPENCER YESYESYES
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moonlit-typewriter · 2 months
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There’s an underlying bitterness in Percy’s tone in this scene, despite the fact that he’s making a “joke,” that couples with the way he doesn’t look at his mom while he says it but kind of just stares distantly. And also the way his eyebrows go up and down in a quick, wry — and almost judgmental, even — way.
This one singular line hit me so hard as a neurodivergent person because it’s all you need to see the way that Percy feels about his own inability to do “basic” things, like pay attention. He’s making a joke that’s also a dig at himself for “screwing up” in some way and it felt so relatable.
And the fact that it’s basically setting up him the next scene when he tells his mom that he thinks there’s something “broken” in his brain?
It hurt in all the best ways that seeing an accurate representation of yourself in a series that’s been your comfort series since the moment you picked it up 🥲
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heyprettykitty · 16 days
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It’s not that I don’t know things it’s just that I can’t remember when you ask me.
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