#bad pain day and brain fog both

[clockwayswrites]

I just wanted to say, darlings, that genuinely the dp x dc fandom is a delight. I have espoused to other fandom friends how fun it is to create for- how freeing.

You all are down for any canon changes and twists and warping. I can sit and write a story world building it one way and you'll all read along nodding and then in another story with the same characters completely change everything and you'll be there for that too. I can do as much or as little research as I want. I can horde or discard what I want. I can jump from ship to ship to found family at will.

And you all turn out for it in droves. The engagement and encouragement and passion and creations in this fandom are genuinely amazing.

We aren't a perfect fandom- no fandom is. There are some bad cores and hateful people or just people who haven't learned yet the reality of being in a fandom space, but they're easy enough to avoid or block. And oh how the good outweighs the bad!

So don't let anyone cause you to forget how good this fandom is or make you feel less for it verse the parent fandom. I'm so happy to have stumbled into it and the inspiration that it is and the joy that it's been to create for.

As always, and sincerely because you do it so easily, stay delightful, darlings.

#fandom matters #dp x dc #dpxdc #sorry if this is full of typos #words are hard for me today #mentally and physically #bad pain day and brain fog both

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

#transgender #queer #transmasc #lgbtqia+ #trans man #sexism #medical sexism #feminism #male privilege

[fauustic]

Hello! I hope you are having an excellent day! Soo I saw you asked for Miguel requests so.. only if it's possible and if you could, may I request some Miguel O'Hara dating hcs?? Please and thank you! ^^

you are so sweet! thank you for being for my first request, anon!!

Dating Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

comfort, fluff. angst. miguel's complicated, but he loves you more than anything.

warnings: insecurity, possessiveness, brief/subtle obsession? he's totally devoted to you, but in truth he just absolutely adores you. again, my spanish isn't the best so i had aid using a translator!

word count: 1745

You thought Miguel was infatuated before as he snatched any chance he could be with you? The moment he officially became your boyfriend, he couldn’t go one moment without reminding you of his affections.

Miguel is intense, eager to express how much he loves you after so long of keeping it contained. He can’t get enough of you, as his lips finally brush against yours– it takes him so much control to not black out and have his way with you.

It's not that he has a high sex-drive, he’s just so reliant on physical affection for reassurance. Miguel will take every chance to ghost his lips over your skin, whether it be between the juncture of your neck and shoulder or treating your hands as if they were made of gold. He felt as if it was his purpose to make you feel cared for, as his teeth grazed your knuckles.

His trust had been broken many times before you stepped in his life, which shocked him with fear at the idea of getting hurt again as he tried his best to open up about himself. But once you obtain his trust, show him that your intentions of being with him were nothing less than pure, the loyalty he has for you rivals anything you've experienced before. 

Though, due to the insecurities Miguel tries to keep to himself, some questions he may throw at you in the dead of night after returning back home late were heavy. He'd slip between your hold with a heavy sigh, skin still damp from the shower he took moments prior. You would ask him what's wrong, telling him he could talk about anything– and that's when the doubts and hurt rose to the surface.

"Do you think I'm a bad boyfriend, cariño?" Miguel would ask, voice broken and full of worry as if he's in physical pain at the idea that he's not doing enough for you. Not keeping you happy, or loved. Before you had the chance to wash away his worries, the exhaustion fogging his brain would make him ramble more, unearth his mysterious thoughts that he'd kept tucked away when the sun was shining. It was always a learning experience for you, and it made your relationship even stronger as Miguel learned to be more open and you learned how to reassure him that he was amazing by just being himself.

On nights like that, you'd drown him in kisses and swipe away the stray tears that may have fallen against his skin.

As much as Miguel loved dousing you in affection, he couldn't help but trip over himself like a lovesick puppy when you'd pass by a kiss his nose without a moment's notice, or slip your arm around his own to keep yourself from losing one another in the busy streets of Nueva York.

His demeanour was soft when it came to you because you were a safe space he craved for so long. And when that space is threatened, he can't help but show a part of himself that he won't ever be able to contain.

Miguel's jealous. Very much so.

He wasn't used to feeling such a way when the bouts of jealousy would flow into his veins and short-circuit his brain. Even before the two of you were officially together and you both shared the same space at work (you being a lab assistant at the time and him being a chemist), his scarlet gaze unconsciously scouted every move another individual made as an effort to be more than friends with you.

A seductive laugh from someone who leaned a little too close for his comfort or the whisper Miguel picked up on about a "bar a couple blocks away, we need to get drinks sometimes." Oh, it made him see red.

You never knew it, but your reserved, polite dismissal of intimate advances saved multiple people from returning to their stations with a burning glare or even a broken nose.

The jealousy and possessiveness came hand in hand.

So after a night of you possibly testing his patience unintentionally, he'd play off the excessive bite marks and hickies as heat of the moment the next morning. But you even knew how he felt about you, and the repetitive chanting of "You're mine, mi conejito. Mine, you hear me?" Another bite. "I ever see someone on top of you like that, taking advantage of your kindness. Los mataré." He'd sputter with his spit and your blood intertwining like the most delicious taste he's ever been blessed upon. He'd generously share the taste with you.

Gifts such as jewellery was common, but never anything too expensive or flashy, you warned him. You were more than willing to adorn the things he gifted with you in mind, but at the beginning of you two dating he had gone overboard with an engraved diamond necklace that had everyone's head spinning.

Miguel loved knowing that, a little fang smirk as he hummed to himself with his ego inflating like a balloon. You popped it easily, establishing the boundary of toning it down– but he couldn't help but forget sometimes. He'd beg for your forgiveness as he promised how he knew the rules, but the "ring he passed by on his way home was just, so you he couldn't pass up." Usually this excuse dived into a plethora of compliments, and relating the piece of jewellery to the idea that it has your favorite flower or color. You couldn't help but cave, the little argument long forgotten when he'd slip the expensive metal on you himself. Always ending with his lips to the gift and your skin in one kiss, a content expression in his gaze.

When he finally was comfortable enough to reveal his secret to you, his other life he desperately kept under the wraps, the confession was scarier than anything he's ever done in his entire life. Miguel faced criminals every sundown, putting his life at danger for his own morals. He's been genetically mutated, a painful process which he's still trying to accept. He's lost so many people in his life, Miguel would lose himself if you left too.

But as you accepted the truth, you soon accepted everything that came with it.

His teeth, the fangs he would muster up every and any excuse for, would be freely showcased now in every cackle and smile he had to offer. His obsession with biting you strengthened tenfold. You thought the amount of marks you had beforehand when he got jealous was too many? He introduced you to a whole new reality.

Of course, with the cat out of the bag, Miguel would show all the things he deemed ugly about his transformation with a guilty stance and a downward gaze. He'd get mad at himself for not controlling his retractable claws when getting too into whatever he was doing with you, he'd grow distressed at how you'd react when his surroundings grew too overwhelming because of his different, more advanced senses. 

It wasn't until you finally caught Miguel when he slipped into your shared apartment where you drilled it into his head, lovingly, that he shouldn't be ashamed to be himself around you. That's what you're there for, to be his biggest supporter. By that night, he would be bent over on the toilet seat in the small space of your shared bathroom, hissing when alcohol came in contact with his wounds and purring when a massage relieved his tension. Stories became common between the two of you, shared within the safety of bathroom walls and fluffy towels. Miguel would recall almost every detail of a specific mission or an on-the-whim job. Sometimes, he could feel the anxiety in your soul, but he'd reassure you with a promise and a sweet kiss. Suddenly, Miguel became very good at lullabies.

Miguel was needy, in a way where he couldn't stop himself from asking for another kiss when you'd already given him fifty. He also would hound to give you one more kiss when you refused, which made him pout in a way he'd never show anyone else.

Pet names became like a second language as Miguel sputtered almost all of them under the sun, except the ones he obviously found distasteful. "ángel, cariño," were no doubt something he called you often, but once the both of you grew more comfortable in your relationship he soon began calling you things that reminded him of you; "Mi conejito, mi lucero del alba." You would ask him why you reminded him of a bunny, and with a cheeky laugh he'd say because he's the "big bad wolf" in the silliest way possible. Yet, a more serious answer came to the term of endearment "my morning star." 

Miguel began calling you that due to his relief of seeing the morning sky peek through the pitch black, lighting up stars before drowning them out. You are the morning star he finds and catches every time the late night bleeds into early day, reminding him that the danger is over until the next night. You were his protector, as his scars met cold kisses and blood found the warm press of a washcloth. You kept him hopeful.

Miguel was a complicated boyfriend, but his heart bled for you. If you found yourself overwhelmed and needed a break or a split altogether– of course he'd accept your wishes. Was he truly the man of honor he tried to believe he was if he couldn't let a single person step out of his life for their own happiness?

It hurt him badly, and despite the swirling thoughts of bringing you back and keeping you to himself– he never allowed himself to cave. Miguel tried to play the hero, and despite knowing that most would view him as a monster– you wouldn't want that for him. You wanted him to be happy more than anyone ever had, you just couldn't take his complexity. And that's okay, Miguel knew that.  It's unlikely your relationship would ever take such a heartbreaking path.

You two are together still, happy and settled into your own routine. Miguel, being able to find a balance within his chaotic mind and you were able to find a purpose for someone you loved.

Miguel needed you as much, if not more than you needed him. He was absolutely enthralled with you, devoted until his last breath.

#miguel o'hara #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara comfort #miguel o'hara fluff #x gender neutral reader #x fluff #x comfort #comfort #fluff #miguel o'hara headcanons #x reader #angst

[eoieopda]

one to ten | jww

summary: your roommate may not know how to help you feel better, but that won’t stop him from trying. pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader au: roommates to ?, pining, sick fic type: drabble (hurt/comfort, fluff) rating: pg13 — still, minors do not have my consent to interact with my content. cw: gn!spoonie!reader; downbad!best boi!super shy!roommate!wonu; chronic illness/pain is implied but no diagnosis is specified; hand-holding 👁️👄👁️; barely proofread because brain fog, lol. a/n: this is super self-indulgent and based on my own personal experience with chronic illness (fibromyalgia), so it may be different than yours!! wc: 1k

Wonwoo isn’t psychic, but he knows that something is up the second he gets home from work.

Walking through the door of your shared apartment, he moves immediately to deposit his keys on the nearby hook and finds that yours are already there. Odd, he thinks, given your habit of imposing your own overtime. Your commute is shorter than his, and you still never beat him back here.

He looks down as he toes off his shoes, carefully maneuvering them across the mat to avoid both your heels and your sneakers, which don’t seem to have budged since this morning. Wonwoo frowns. It’s rare for you to skip out on the gym at the end of the day, but it’s unheard of for you to miss work — even when you should, in his non-expert opinion.

That’s a bit of a red flag, he’ll admit.

Wonwoo locks the door behind him, pads off across the kitchen and through the adjoining living room, and eventually stops at your bedroom door. It’s cracked open — a secret code of yours, he’s learned. One that means you don’t want to be alone, but you feel the need to warn him about what’s on the other side. Usually, it’s you, deflated in your bed in a way that you find embarrassing. Still, even on your worst days, he’s never seen you look bad. 

He’s not convinced that you could if you tried.

Softly, Wonwoo raps his knuckles against the doorframe to warn you. In response, he gets a muffled, “Hello?” It wraps around his heart and squeezes just a little. He loves that about you; how gentle your voice is when everything else you’re experiencing feels the opposite.

You lift your head up just enough to make eye contact with him as he slips through the doorway, and you smile. If it aches to do so, you pretend like it doesn’t.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Hey.”

Admittedly, this is the part that Wonwoo feels he’s worst at. He’s never quite sure what to ask or what he can do to help, always simultaneously afraid of being patronizing or too hands-off. It’s a balancing act; his equilibrium is off.

And, god, he’s so shy when it comes to you. He can’t make himself act on any of the comforting impulses he absolutely has, so he simply pauses at the end of your bed and sweeps his eyes over your frame. A triage of sorts, he supposes.

You’re on your right side, hugging a hot water bottle, and there’s a Munchlax plush between your knees to keep them separated. Your left hip hurts, he guesses. It’s probably safe to assume that the rest of you does, too. Crinkling his nose as he thinks, he asks, “One to ten?”

Another code. 

Wonwoo has to adjust the scale when you answer — three — because your three is his eleven. The good news isn’t lost on him, though: Your pain was a six during the last flare. Things may not be great, but they’ve definitely been worse.

“Mostly just tired,” you sigh, as if you can hear the calculations he’s running in his head. “I was this close —” You lift an arm and pull your thumb and index finger in so that they’re almost touching. “— to making it out the door this morning.” 

Dropping your arm again slowly, you pat the space next to you in silent invitation. Wonwoo’s body hesitates, even though his pulse doesn’t. It’s par for the course, unfortunately for him.

He wonders how many moments like this need to pass before his palms don’t sweat anymore. Will filling the spot next to you on your bed, on the couch, or even in your passenger seat ever not affect him like this?

Maybe not.

He’s okay with that, so long as you keep giving him the opportunity.

You laugh, and it single-handedly diffuses the tension in his posture. “I think the side of the bathtub got taller. I almost had to yell for you to haul me out of there, but I managed.”

“Proud of you.” He’s chuckling now, too, but that doesn’t undermine how much he means it. Getting your body to cooperate with you is always hardest in the mornings.

For what it’s worth, he would’ve come running if you’d called.

Carefully, Wonwoo sits down on the vacant side of your bed and scoots closer to you, knowing you’ll call him out for leaving distance and anticipating how badly he'll blush if you do. It’s so much easier for you to be close to people than it is for him, but he’s trying. 

He hopes you see that.

There’s a microscopic wince when you wiggle your way towards him. It’s replaced quickly by a satisfied little grin once you settle, your body curving around his bent knee like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

“You always run warm,” you muse. “I’m jealous.”

Wonwoo blinks, a little dumbfounded that you’ve noticed — not that he should be, really. He’s obviously picked up on a lot of trivia about you since you took over his former roommate’s lease several months back. If he knows the order of your skin care routine, it’s not weird for you to know that he can’t sleep without a fan on.

Should he have noticed this about you by now?

Curiosity makes him bold, apparently. He pulls his palm off the mattress and touches his fingertips to the back of your hand. “Goddamn,” he whistles. 

His hypothesis is proven the second he touches you — you’re freezing — but Wonwoo admittedly gets a kick out of the temperature disparity. He can’t help but run the pads of his fingers absentmindedly over your skin, tracing nonsense patterns. You can’t help the pleased hum that slips out of you as you watch his ministrations; or the way your heavy eyelids start to interrupt your view. 

Even when he’s sure you’ve been lulled to sleep, Wonwoo keeps doodling. It’s got to be exhausting to exist in a body that always aches, and you deserve whatever rest you can get. Truth be told, he could probably stay like this for hours if that would help. He’d be doing the same thing at his PC, anyways, holding a mouse instead of your hand.

Yeah, he thinks, this is a much better set-up.

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #svt #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo drabble #wonwoo hurt/comfort #jww #jade writes #jade’s drabbles #re: one to ten #kvanity

[green-sky-smoke]

Reader asks Husk about his ideal date. (~1300 words)

"My ideal date, huh? The one where i win all your money in poker." He laughs, and smiles at you firmly, his eyes pierce at you warmly, like he was looking at nostalgic show, on old, thick tv screen, in worst quality possible. "Bring me cards, hun, i shall do a little," he waves palms happily, "magic! Watch future, how good your chances are." He laughs purringly. Then his smile and cheerful look dissolves. He's never like this for long. "But if you don't plan it... Honestly, i'm not really used to dates. I'm not interested in flowers and fancy dinners, i saw enough of them. I am a man of simple pleasures. I have booze here, why don't just stay where we are?" he tilts his head a little, with catlike grace and elegance, expecting you to nod. And then you both hear something heavy, loudly falling on the floor, and a lot of swears and arguing. His ears press on his head from the sudden noise.

"Well. That's why. We may go somewhere." He sights, annoyed. Husk is frowning, looking in almost empty bottle, like lines of light and reflections on emerald glass will say something his drunk brain stubbornly refuses. He tries very hard to think it out, but he got solid brain fog.

"How about... Well..." he is really lost in his own thoughts. You can almost see how his neurons try to reach one another, but fail miserably, and pain gently swipes them away. "How about... About..."

No. Date isn't a game, it's when you entertained enough being with someone. Not a game. You did games everyday, Husk, what make date unique if it just another playful robbery? Date is not another gambling game, loss of big money and property. Especially not of someone who you like. Maybe you can both play and share loss, or win, playing together and not against each other... But against anyone else? Hm. Would be nice to offer it later, if he won't forget.

He hasn't had any sugarcoated romantic fantasies in a long time, and his brain rejected him creating some now, when he got someone interesting enough. The most interesting thing was just looking at your confused, annoyed face, and just any negative emotion. He felt better sometimes, seeing unhappy faces, when he is himself aren't happy at all about where it all ended for him. Husk hunched over the table, puzzled. Looks like he completely zoned out.

Most of all, he enjoys spending time together, calmly, not in a fight. Table games where he can bluff and laugh at someone's bad strategies and skill, or hand motorics. Magic tricks and spectacular shows. Gently massages and some cuddling. Sleeping and resting, doing nothing. He doesn't like very pricy places, or sports. He isn't most complex person, so it's quite a mystery for him why you would have interest in alcoholic with ludomania who likes to mock you lovingly, or insult. It's kinda easy when he presented with people insecurities every day, every year, when they can't shut up about it, and any anecdotes happening. He could write dissertation about it.

"Cheap, and funny." He chuckled, as your face becomes a little disappointed. "What? Not the answer you wanted?" He smiled, a bit smug. He enjoys your confusion, and how you try to think of questions to to clarify exactly what he wants, when you know that he won't reply long, he mostly gives you very vague answers that tells nothing at most.

"Let me tell you a thing, boo... Planning perfect dates is the most useless thing to do. Life is always unpredictable, chaotic, troubled and hard in hell. Situations always change, your mood, your tastes, you never the same person as day, or hour ago. You never know. If you hunt perfection, perfect place, perfect person, perfect reaction, day and time, you will end up miserable. And... You can try small things and be happy with surprises from this chaotic universe we live in, being constantly amazed how bad you are at fortune-telling!" He spreads his arms with enthusiasm, and then puts them down, waving one. He takes an indifferent sip of alcohol. "Or whatever. I don't care." He for a moment forgets what he wanted to add. Seems like he forgets that you're here too, too entertained with looking at same bottles, as if he was in an elite art gallery. His head migraine felt as if brain is expanding like the universe, right in his skull, and it is about to crack, while he won't be able to say anything intelligible or catch a coherent thought. He needs time to frown. You just look at him, wanting to stroke him. He looks so soft and fluffy, but you can't tell a moment you can do it.

"There isn't such a thing i would call a 'perfect date'. But there is 'it wasn't so bad as i expected'." he says before another long pause. He is clearly thinking hard, trying to scratch words off the walls of the skull, that hit him with an electric shock for any touch. His body was sometimes a real prison, making him worse person, who can really, really never leave for long.

"There may be all things i can enjoy to a point of addiction, but i would just act as grumpy ass until you take me there, waving booze, fists, threats, and i would know how enjoyable this is only after." He smiles and cackles, a bit annoyed and a bit self-ironic. He knows his brain and mood tricks pretty well, but believes he don't really need or can change a thing. He hates it, but he wouldn't wish to be anyone else. "It all seem too boring, overrated, overpriced and annoying to me when i think about it. I can find all reasons to not go anywhere and not move at all. Im in the point of life where it's really hard to find joy and eagerly seek things. You know?" He shrugs. "Go on, i don't mind, if you can bear with me constantly rejecting anything im not used to, and being grumpy old growler. It may at some point end as perfect date i would be sad to forget." He looks at you, like he doesn't really believe it, but willing to let you try. It doesn't matter to him, he will suffer each way in same amount, you wouldn't make it much worse than Alastor. " ...Or not. Who the hell knows. Maybe you will have patience to make some use of such boring, forever grudging and mean demon. Im not the best choice, and it will only make you pathetic to try make impossible work." You smile, finally out of confusion. He just invited you to annoy him, how sweet. You bend over to him and hold out your hand. He doesn't understand your gesture, so he just hand you some heavy bottle of some sweet, sparkling tonic for cocktails. You move the bottle to the table, and you put your hand on his. It suprised him, but he smiled at this micro-miscommunication, and places other hand over your. Old cats are playful too. And no cat will reject some good, pricy food and quiet place to see all things, not just hear behind the bar table. "Well, you are the strongest creative source of new things in my life for now." He smiles faintly. Maybe he was completely sarcastic. "So, take care of yourself. I can't appreciate you most times, but it would be loss for all hell. And i think you didn't drink in a while, so you need some liquid more than hold my hand, dumdum." He gets his hand out of your warm touch, and moves the bottle almost in your face. "Or shall I shake it for you?" He laughs. Husk believes you totally can use some foam of wrath in your face too.

#Hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #reader insert #x reader #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader

[heartsfromia]

a helping hand — c. seungcheol

pairing: non-idol! seungcheol x f!reader

word count: 4,872

genre: minor angst, fluff, workplace romance

warnings: reader experiences sleep deprivation, curse words, reader is a b*tch to cheol cuz of sleep deprivation and an annoying manager

author's notes: i have returned with more (not proofread) writing !

Your eyes were practically filled with lead as you stared at your computer screen, the design you had opened on Photoshop blurring as consciousness continues to slip past your fingers. Whatever you had planned on fixing with the design in front of you was long gone with your sanity and will to stay awake. As darkness surrounds you, all you could hear is the clicking of your mouse and keyboard, your department completely empty aside from you.

Your eyes flickered to the bottom corner of your screen; 08:24 PM, it read. Everyone else in the department had gone home, at six, but because your annoying, and cutthroat new team manager was giving you so much crap for the designs you submitted for next quarter’s social media, you were forced to work later to fix the mistakes she had pointed out.

It wasn’t unusual for the design team to stay later in the office to finish up projects, but your former team manager never allowed anyone to stay past seven. Safe to say, your new team manager didn’t care—all she cared about was that you work quick, and efficient. If it requires staying overnight at the office, then better bring out your neck pillow.

“Hello? Is someone still here?” Jumping in your chair, you looked over the dividers of your cubicle, spotting Seungcheol, an employee in the Marketing division, standing by the door.

Raising your hand, you announced, “I am.”

Seungcheol’s eyes squinted, trying to spot you through the dark before his eyebrows knitted together in confusion upon seeing you in the empty room. “Y/N? What are you still doing here?” His footsteps echoed throughout the empty room, approaching you and seating himself in the cubicle beside you. “Working on something?”

You weakly nodded, sleep returning to fog your brain. “I have revisions from Hyunhee.”

“Hyunhee?”

“Our new team manager,” you grumbled, just thinking about the woman made your head ache in annoyance. “Since Jiha is on maternal leave, I have to handle both hers and my own projects, and Hyunhee—safe to say—” you motioned to the empty room “—she’s a pain in my ass.”

Seungcheol couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “And this?” He nodded his head towards your computer.

“It’s for next quarter’s Instagram feed, but Hyunhee has a completely different idea to what my former team manager had, so she hates every single thing that I’ve given her.”

“Really? She’s that bad?”

You nod, your lips jutting out slightly as you recall how terrible Hyunhee was to you since she became the team manager. “I don’t get it, though—don’t get me wrong, she’s a nightmare to everyone, but it feels especially bad when it comes to me.”

“How come?”

“It might be because on her first day, I had a septum piercing, and she called me out on that saying it’s unprofessional and that I should remove it,” you explained, the design on your computer long forgotten as you shifted in your chair to face Seungcheol. Your brows furrowed upon a realization, “Wait, why are you still here?”

“I left at six, but came back because I forgot my phone charger,” he explained, “and since the janitor was mopping up the area in front of the lift, I chose to go down the stairs and walked past here and noticed the light in your cubicle.”

“It must be nice having an overbearing manager,” you mumbled, adding, “you can leave once work hours are over.”

“Why don’t you continue it tomorrow, Y/N?” He takes a gander at your work. “It looks good, too, you can do finishing touches tomorrow morning.”

“Because Hyunhee wants it tomorrow, before she comes in,” you responded, the urge to cry out of frustration growing stronger. “And this design is the one that she rejected, all of it.” You couldn’t but chuckle at Seungcheol when he stares at you with widened eyes, shocked.

“Is this even allowed? I get staying an hour after work hours end, but it’s almost nine, Y/N.”

“She doesn’t really care, just cares that the project is complete and placed on her desk when she asked for it,” you informed him, and immediately looked away as he stares at you in pity. It’s pathetic, really, to feel obligated to invest so much time and energy for something you knew could be completed within working hours. Maybe you were scared of Hyunhee. Rumors say that she got the job as team manager because she is indirectly connected to the Chief of Operation in your company, and you didn’t want to find out what would happen if you crossed the line.

Or in this case, submit a late project.

“Do you want me to accompany you while you work on this? I don’t mind staying in late,” Seungcheol offered, and your heart couldn’t help but melt at his offer. You couldn’t lie that being accompanied by an attractive guy as the hours grow late wasn’t a bad thing—it could help keep you awake, too, but you felt bad. This wasn’t Seungcheol’s project to complete, it was (unfortunately) yours.

So, you shook your head, giving him a reassuring smile, “No need, Cheol. I might go home in twenty minutes, and continue then.”

“I’ll accompany you until then, Y/N,” he states, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest to indicate he wasn’t going to move.

“Seriously, Cheol, you can go home, I’ll be fine.”

He only shakes his head, standing (or sitting) his ground. He then nods his head towards your abandoned project. “Go on, Y/N, move it to your USB.”

As you move the files to your flash drive, Seungcheol stood from the chair, eyes wandering around your cubicle space, noticing the little pictures you had all around the walls of the divider—there were a few of you with your friends and family, none that came off to be anything more than platonic.

Why was he even looking to see if you had a partner or not? His cheeks heated at the realization when his heart raced at the possibility of you being single.

“Seungcheol?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, what?” You couldn’t help but chuckle seeing his flustered face beneath the dim lighting of your cubicle. Your interactions with Seungcheol aren’t daily, but they’re enough to have you form an interest towards the Marketing division employee. He’s also the only one from the Marketing division that doesn’t give ridiculous deadlines like the rest of his team.

“I’m ready,” you repeated, and he nodded, taking a step back to allow you to walk ahead of him after turning off your desk lamp and the two of you left the office.

“Do you usually stay at the office this long?” Seungcheol asks as the two of you stepped into the elevator, and you shake your head no before answering, leaning your back against the metal walls.

“Not really, I get really bad headaches if I stay up too long, so safe to say I’m going to have a blast tomorrow at work,” you answered with a bitter chuckle. “It wouldn’t be a problem if right when I get home, I sleep, but I still have a lot to fix before tomorrow morning, so���” You trailed off with a shrug, Seungcheol’s look of concern not going unnoticed, causing you to chuckle. “It’s fine, Cheol… I’ll be fine.”

He only nodded, not convinced enough but didn’t press on. “Did you drive here?”

“Yeah, I did.” He nodded, and that was the end of your conversation as the two of you bid goodbye before climbing into your cars and driving separate directions towards your homes. As you had told him, the moment you stepped into your apartment, you didn’t directly fall into the soft covers of your bed, knowing well enough that the second your head touches your fluffed up pillow, you’d be out like a light.

So, you placed your work laptop onto your coffee table, arranging your pillows in a way that allowed you to sit on your wooden floor without flattening your butt. You brewed up a shot of espresso, ordering something to snack on as you turned on your personal laptop for an ambience. Once you felt that you could comfortably continue the project, you put on your headphones and got to work, eyes flickering between the laptop and the sheet of paper that Hyunhee had revised, making sure that all details she demanded of were there.

It was 4:52 AM when you finally finished everything, double checking and adjusting all elements before saving and resting your head on your arms that were folded on the coffee table. Despite downing two cups of iced coffee, the caffeine could not completely erase your exhaustion and soon enough, you awoke to your alarm, indicating that it was already eight in the morning, and you needed to be in the office before nine-thirty.

As you pushed yourself up, your head immediately spun, your vision blurring and for a couple seconds, an aching feeling pierced through your skull, forcing you to have to sit for a minute to let it pass. Damn it, today was going to be difficult to get through with your obvious sleep deprivation. Not even taking an ibuprofen could aid the headache that was going to worsen the longer you stayed awake, but you couldn’t call in sick, especially an hour before the day starts. Hyunhee has always nagged about last-minute excuses, asking (demanding) all of you to inform her 24 hours before, and anything after would not be allowed.

Pushing yourself, you quickly showered, deciding to grab breakfast on the way and within twenty minutes, you were out of your apartment and on the way to the office. Upon arrival, you practically sprinted to your office, eyes locking with your co-workers as they stare at you and shake their heads, indicating that Hyunhee hasn’t arrived yet. With a sigh of relief, you tip-toe into your supervisor’s office, placing the printed results and found your cubicle, practically falling onto your chair.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” You glance over at Yeeun, finding her staring at you with a look of concern. “You look really pale, Y/N, how much sleep did you get last night?”

“Barely any,” you answered with a pout, grabbing your phone to see your face. Although, you couldn’t really tell the difference. You did feel terrible, but safe to say, work isn’t that fun for you to put on so much effort for a job that doesn’t pay you enough. “I finished the Youngbok project just this morning.”

“Seriously? You’re still working on that?”

Before you could answer, Hyunhee bid everyone a good morning as she entered the department, her heels clicking against the ceramic floor as she walks into her office. You could only share a knowing look with your co-worker as you sunk into your chair.

It was good twenty minutes of peace in the Graphic Designs department, the clicking of keyboard and mice, and soft murmuring of the employees filling the air before a shrill yell emerged from Hyunhee’s office, a shiver running up your spine as you realized in your sleep deprived state that she had called you.

Yeeun shared the same look of genuine fear with you, as everyone stared at you with wide-eyes. You stood from your chair, the steps you took to Hyunhee’s office felt heavy, as if the soles of your shoes were filled with lead. Dread began to fill your body to the tips of your hair as you gently knock on your superior’s door, her eyes glaring at you before staring at the sheets of printed out designs you had laid out. You entered her office after excusing yourself in a tone nothing higher than a whisper, and she glances between the door and you, signaling you to close the door.

This isn’t going to end well, you couldn’t help but think as you push the door, the clicking of the lock practically echoing throughout the department, everyone outside of where you were, were sat at the edge of their seat, fearing for what was about to happen.

There was a deafening silence as you stood in front of her desk, watching as she flips through your designs, and you felt yourself disassociating for a second, in a daze as your eyes gloss over while staring at her crossing out everything with her wretched red marker.

A slam of the compiled prints against the ceramic floor broke your daze, and you found your designs by your feet, on the floor.

If you were pale from sleep deprivation then, you were now pale from pure fear.

“What the hell is that?”

“I-it’s the revised designs you asked of me,” you stutter, internally beating yourself up for sounding so scared.

“Are you sure? Because I asked for designs, not pure rubbish, Y/N,” she insults, her words laced purely with venom as she stares you down. Not knowing what to say, you stayed quiet and she took that opportunity to berate you even more. “I don’t understand what Mr. Kim had saw in you, but it sure as well wasn’t anything good, because how is that you have worked in this department for so long, and yet, are incapable of providing compelling designs, hm?”

“I’m sorry, Hyunhee, I will work on it and fix everything I did wrong,” you quickly apologized, kneeling down to pick up the papers.

She leans forward, resting her chin atop her hands, as she glares at you. “I want them today, before you leave the office—even if that means you have to spend the night here, I don’t care.”

“I-I understand,” you muttered, ducking your head.

“Leave.” She didn’t have to tell you twice before you dipped out of her office, tossing the paper onto your desk and slumped into your seat. You wanted to cry. You wanted to cry and scream, but you didn’t want to give Hyunhee the satisfaction that she actually broke you apart. All eyes were on you, however, everyone knew better than to bother or ask someone after they had faced the devil incarnate. Yeeun found it difficult to turn a blind eye on your obvious disoriented state, from both sleep deprivation and having faced Hyunhee so early in the morning, but she knew you’d snap if she even poked you.

You wanted to leave, walk out of the office because you believed you didn’t deserve to be treated like that unwarranted, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring your feet to stand up and walk out that door knowing well enough that you can never come back in. You would have lost your job—all the work that you put into this job for the past year would be thrown out the window because a woman that has barely sat in that office feels that she has power over you, and your future. In a way, she did. Her words will always go against yours, and hers—backed by the connections that got her this job with minimal experience in graphic design—would always prevail.

So, all you could was listen and work on the revisions she had given. No word had left your lips since you had left Hyunhee’s office, and no one bothered you as you put on earphones and focused on the project opened. Your break times consisted of staying seated in your chair, opening YouTube to watch some video that you couldn’t pay attention to, watching it for five minutes before closing and continuing the project.

Before you knew it, shades of orange had begun to bleed through the blinds of the office, people were packing up and sparing pitiful glances as they bid each other goodbye, their wary gaze not unnoticed by you. Nonetheless, you paid them no mind, completely set on finishing everything before the day ends. You were lucky enough to gain at least thirty minutes of sleep because Hyunhee had left the office early, allowing for you to close your eyes with no fear of being woken up by the she-demon.

You were tempted on sleeping, anyway, knowing well enough you’d wake up with an ache in your neck and an unfinished assignment. Your eyes were closing slowly, your screen blurring as you felt sleep take over you, only to jump, a scream exiting your lips when you felt a hand grasp your shoulder.

“Oh my—I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Seungcheol profusely apologized when he noticed the tears brimming at your eyes from the genuine scare. “I called you earlier, but I didn’t see you wearing earphones.”

Too tired, too angry, you couldn’t muster up a comment, only shrugging off his hand as you turned your head to your computer, the jolt from Seungcheol giving you a bit of energy to work off of.

“Hey, I heard, by the way, from everyone that Hyunhee gave you an earful,” he stated, sitting besides you.

You couldn’t help but scoff, “An earful? That’s an understatement.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

Aggravated, you removed both earbuds from your ears, spinning with a sharp turn on your chair to face Seungcheol, your brows furrowed and fury running through your veins. All you ask is to not be disturbed until you get this stupid, cursed project done, was that so much? “Do I look okay, Seungcheol?”

Noticing your hostile behaviour, his expression mirrored yours, with a touch of worry found in the glint of his eyes. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay, Y/N. I don’t mean to be rude, if that’s how I come off right now.”

“Well, you do, alright?” You lifted your earphones, waving it in front of him. “If I have these on, it’s a universal sign that I don’t want to talk to anyone—you noticed them, why are you bothering me right now?”

Taken aback by your words, he was stunned—his mouth opened then closed, unsure on how to react to your sudden behaviour. He has never seen you this angry, not even when ranting about Hyunhee. You watched as his jaw clenched, momentarily looking away as if that would allow him to cool down, before he clapped his hands on his knees and stood from his chair.

“You’re obviously exhausted, Y/N, Yeeun told me you barely slept that might be why you’re being the way you are right now,” Seungcheol pointed out, “I’ll leave you alone, alright? I’m so sorry that I actually give a shit about you, and wanted to make sure you were okay.” Before you could take back all you had said, Seungcheol was out the door, leaving you in your office alone, the darkness encompassing you, seeping deep within to your bones.

The one person that genuinely was there for you, only ever cared for you, and put him on the receiving end of your shitty day. Way to go, Y/N.

Rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palm, whatever energy you had to work on the project was thrown out the window, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to continue clicking the mouse or tapping the keyboard, not with the guilt from how you spoke to Seungcheol still plaguing your thoughts. You weren’t going to get anything done at this point.

Packing your things, you quickly rushed out to your car, praying that he didn’t completely hate you as you drove to his apartment. You weren’t sure what you were going to do once you got there, but what you were sure was that you’ll grovel, and hope he forgives you for being such an ass, unwarranted. Upon arrival, you practically jumped out of your car, rushing up the evacuation steps to his floor, and reached up to knock, but paused.

What if he doesn’t forgive you? It’s not like your friendship with him was more than as acquaintances. He didn’t have anything to lose with losing you, but you felt you had everything to lose with losing him. He was the first person you got to know in this stupid company—as he mentored you during your internship in the company. Then, after you graduated college, you reached out again, and applied for the Graphic Design division. Seungcheol guided you ever since, and admittedly, you’ve grown fond of him—you admired him as a role model, and more.

He’s not obligated to forgive you, but you already came this far, might as well give it a try?

Taking a deep breath, you gently knocked on his door a few times, hearing rustling on the other side before the door swung open, revealing Seungcheol already out of his work clothes, and in a plain white tee and grey sweatpants. “I thought I said just leave it by the— Y/N?”

“Sorry, I forgot your delivery at the restaurant,” you improved, causing Seungcheol’s thick brows to furrow before he chuckled, your joke successfully amusing him.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s definitely not to deliver your food, that’s for sure,” you awkwardly smiled, feeling your heart race from seeing him in such a laid-back outfit. You had never seen Seungcheol wear anything other than the button-ups and slacks you were used to seeing at the work, so seeing him look so… cozy, was a sight you wish to never grow tired of.

The corner of Seungcheol’s lips tilted upwards, but he didn’t laugh. Leaning against the frame of his door, he crossed his (muscular) arms over his chest, waiting for an explanation as to why you suddenly appeared at his front door.

“Look, Seungcheol—”

“Delivery for Choi Seungcheol.” A new voice caused you to jump, both your heads turning to see the delivery boy appear from the turn, his eyes looking questioningly at both you and your acquaintance. “Choi Seungcheol?”

“That’s me, thanks,” Seungcheol uttered, reaching out and taking the plastic bags from the delivery boy, the latter leaving with a tilt of his hat towards you and disappearing past the corner.

“As I was—” You turn to face Seungcheol again, but he, too, disappeared. You peeked into his apartment to find him pulling out his order, arranging them on his coffee table before sitting on the floor. He glances up at you, wordlessly waving for you to come in, and unsure what else to do, you obliged, closing the door behind you and slipping your feet out your shoes.

“I didn’t expect company, but dig in if you want,” he uttered, handing you a pair of chopsticks. It was only then did you realize that you barely ate today, too occupied with the stupid project. “If it’s not enough, we can always order more.”

“Seungcheol, I’m trying to apologize to you,” you spoke up, head tilted down at your knees. “I’m really sorry for taking my anger out on you… You of all people didn’t deserve it…”

When Seungcheol didn’t respond, you looked up to find him slurping up jjajangmyeon, eyes trained on his TV. “Are you serious?”

He glanced over at you, stifling a laugh before wiping his mouth with tissue, “I thought you were going to go on a full rant, at least three paragraphs.”

You pouted, “Me coming here was on a whim, I didn’t really prepare anything.”

He found your defeated expression adorable, couldn’t help but chuckle as he pushes a bowl towards you, adding the noodles onto the empty space before tapping the rim, gesturing for you to eat. “You’re really pale, Y/N, did you eat anything today?”

“Probably cup noodles,” you mumbled, eyes glimmering at the sight of the thickly coated noodles. “I couldn’t really do anything other than work on that stupid project.”

“Hyunhee made you stay late again?” You nodded, your cheeks full of the noodles. “Look, Y/N, I know you love being a graphic designer, but do you really think it’s alright to work under someone like her? This seems like she’s abusing her power as team manager, and overworking you.” As he spoke, he reached out with a tissue in hand, wiping the corner of your lips. Why did he look so nonchalant about it, too?

“I don’t want to quit, though, I’ve been here longer than she has, why do I have to leave?” You complained once you swallowed the noodles. “I just… I hate it, you know? I’ve just been trying so damn hard, yet nothing ever works out… Especially since she came into the picture.”

There was a brief moment of silence.

“How about transferring divisions?” Seungcheol quipped, continuing, “I’m sure if you make a letter of intent to the department manager, you could be moved to a different division where Hyunhee doesn’t exist.”

“Is that possible?”

He nodded. “Did you think I was always in the Marketing division?”

“I honestly thought you’d be a finance guy.”

“I was.” Your widened eyes caused him to laugh. “Then I moved, it was a few months before you came in as an intern.”

“Really?” He nods, and you thought about it. “You think I’d be allowed to move divisions?”

“Yeah, why not? If you give a good reason to why you should be moved, then it’s possible.” You pondered over the suggestion, the two of you letting a few minutes of silence pass while eating before you spoke up again.

“But I don’t want to leave the department.”

“Then ask to be transferred to a different division.”

“What about your division?” Seungcheol stares at you with bewildered eyes, genuinely surprised at your suggestion. “I mean, it’s less work for you since I already have experience working with you, and I won’t need a mentor—I already know the head, so that’s also less work.”

“No, not mine, Y/N,”

“Why not?”

“It’s a violation of our code of conducts, Y/N, don’t you know?”

“What about me moving to your division violates the code of conducts?”

“Employees from the same division are not allowed to fraternize with one another,” he explains, “if you move to my division, we’ll be co-workers.”

“So? It’s not like we’re dating.”

“Not yet.”

“Sure—” You froze, the chopsticks you raised to your lips dropping back into the bowl. “—What?”

“What?” Seungcheol asked, nonchalant. His tone might’ve been nonchalant and unbothered, but you could see from his cheeks to the points of his ears were flushed a bright red under the warm lighting of his living room.

“You like me?”

He shrugged, “Why do you think I walk by your office every day?”

“I thought you only did that because the janitor was cleaning the floor.”

He inhaled a deep breath, releasing the heavy sigh before standing to grab water from the kitchen, ruffling your hair on the way. “You’re very oblivious, Y/N.”

“S-so, all this time?”

“Not all this time, Y/N, I just know that I see you more than just an acquaintance,” he explains, tossing you a bottle of water. “But that’s not important right now. Right now we need to get you out of Hyunhee’s team.”

How… How is he able to continue this conversation after admitting to having feelings for you? How is he so calm?

He wasn’t. If you looked closer, the only reason why he tossed you the bottle was because if he handed it to you, then you’d most likely notice his shaking hands. The only reason why he changed the topic was because the longer you talk about him and his feelings, the redder he’ll be and to be honest, he likes to come off calm and collected to you, despite being the complete opposite when it comes to being near you.

“You’ll help me with that?”

Seungcheol nods. “Of course I would—just think of me as a helping hand now, Y/N. I help you, and you can help me when the time comes.”

“And what would you need help with, Choi Seungcheol?”

“I have two tickets to movie Saturday night, I’ll need help to make sure the other ticket doesn’t go to waste, Y/N,” he proposed, causing your cheeks to ache from the smile on your face. “But right now, I need help finishing this food. Are you up for it?”

You chuckled, nodding, “I’ll gladly give you a helping hand.”

#choi seungcheol #seungcheol #scoups #seungcheol seventeen #scoups seventeen #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol imagine #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol angst #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol x you #seungcheol scenario #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen #heartsfromia writes

[headkiss]

I have a chronic illness (POTS) that makes me prone to passing out from my heart rate dropping super low. Maybe have a little fic about Eddie taking care of the reader after a bad flare or Eddie’s first time seeing the reader get sick? Please and thank you!

🥺🙏

hi lovely!!! tysm for the request i hope u like it! <3 please let me know if anything’s inaccurate | 0.6k words

The day started with a headache, which wasn’t rare for you in the slightest. Your pain relief was reminding yourself that you had plans with Eddie. Though, that only went so far.

He’s an incredible boyfriend. Sweet and patient, understanding. You’ve had to cancel plans on harder days time and time again and not once has he complained.

Sometimes, you can’t even believe you’ve found him.

You missed him, and you wanted to see him, so you knocked on his door just as planned.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greets you with that grin of his.

“Hi.”

“Feeling okay today?” He asks.

“My head hurts. It’s not that bad.”

He nods, but he knows you’re probably downplaying it for his sake. He ushers you inside with an arm thrown over your shoulders and a kiss to the top of your head.

“How about we stay in and binge movies?”

“Depends,” you say. “Will you cuddle me?”

“Will I- who do you think you’re talking to?” He guides you to the couch once you’ve taken your shoes and jacket off, leaving you to grab some blankets and coming back with his arms full. “Yeah, I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you.”

Being with Eddie is easy, a no-brainer. He brings you the sort of stability that’s hard to come by in your life, and you could never thank him enough for it.

The first movie is his pick, one you’ve both seen a bunch (mostly together). The lightheadedness doesn’t come until about halfway through. Again, it’s not uncommon, so you try to breathe through it.

It doesn’t work for long, and you reach weakly for Eddie’s hand. He gives it to you without question.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I might faint,” you warn him.

You’re not sure how Eddie hasn’t seen you have an episode yet, but it’s very, very likely that he’s about to.

He’s nervous. Of course he is. You’ve told him what to do, how to help you best, and he’s known about your POTS since your first date, but he’s still nervous. Eddie doesn’t want to do anything that might hurt you.

He squeezes your hand in his.

It’s not long after that your eyes are fluttering, your hand loosening its hold. Your body leans forward, headed off the couch, but Eddie uses his free hand to catch you as gently as possible, redirecting you so your head rests on his shoulder.

His hand strokes over your hair softly, smoothing it away from your face. Through your episode he’s whispering quiet ‘you’re okay’s and ‘I’ve got you’s. He’s reassuring himself and you.

Eddie can’t help but think of how strong you are. To be such a bright person dealing with so much. He turns his head and kisses yours for it.

It’s only a couple of minutes, but to him, it feels like hours before you rouse, blinking your eyes open slowly and grasping his hand back.

“Hi, baby,” he says quietly.

“Hi. What happened?”

He knows about the brain fog, too. He simply continues to pet your hair and says, “you had an episode. I’ve got you, though.”

“Okay.”

It takes a bit longer for you to come back to him fully, but he’d hold you all day if it helped.

Eventually, you push yourself up to look at him, your head off his shoulder but hand still stuck in his. His grasp isn’t tight, but it’s unfailing.

“You okay?”

“Mhm. Thank you.”

You feel like a simple ‘thank you’ isn’t enough. Eddie’s the best person you know, and he’s supportive in a way you never thought existed in a boy. You bring his hand to your mouth and press a kiss into his knuckles.

“No problem.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson boyfriend #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson requests #eddie munson request #eddie munson reader insert #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things eddie #stranger things x reader #eddie stanger things #eddie blurbs

[weemssapphic]

Do you think you could do a fic where the reader has a chronic illness? I don’t have a preference for which Gwendoline Christie character you choose, they’re all lovely. Any genre 💗💗💗

A/N: thank you SO much for this request. as a chronically ill girlie i love the idea of writing more fics like this - both hurt/comfort style but i guess also just reader having an illness and it being apart of their every day life. huge thank you to @eveymay for helping me brainstorm characters and settle on jan stevens - i think she'd be the most considerate, sweetest person to comfort someone. and thank you so much to @milfsloverblog for helping me to beta - i trust her as my number one source for everything jan stevens. anyway i hope you enjoy 💖

slow down, you’re doing fine

Jan Stevens x reader

Words: ~2.8k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: hurt/comfort, discussion of chronic pain and illness (symptoms such as fatigue, pain, dizziness, brain fog, nausea), migraine

“Hurry up! We’re leaving, you’re going to be late.” Elle’s words were accompanied by a knock on the bathroom door, and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw. 

“Just go ahead without me, I’ll catch up,” you replied - you heard a huff, and then the shuffle of footsteps moving away from the door. With a sigh, you directed your gaze into the mirror, regarding yourself carefully as your lips settled into a deep frown. You looked tired. Fitting, considering how poorly you’d been sleeping this past week. So not only did you feel like shit today - you looked like shit, too. Cool.

You’d started your residency at the Sonic Catering Institute with your group a few months ago and so far it had been like a dream come true. You finally had the time to devote yourself 100% to the pursuit of art - nearly all your time was spent rehearsing, experimenting and performing. Every day was dedicated to your craft, and it was your version of bliss.

But even bliss was hard to enjoy with a chronic illness - you constantly felt as though you were seconds away from crumbling, as though one bad day could take away everything you’d worked so hard to achieve. You’d been having a flare-up the past few days (as you seemed to have every few weeks lately, almost like clockwork) - every evening you would go to bed and pray that, come morning, your body would afford you some brief reprieve. It never really did, of course - today was no different.

A dull throbbing could be felt behind your eyes - ever present, but no less painful or frustrating - and your joints ached before you’d even moved a muscle. You’d briefly considered staying in bed today - getting up meant facing the day, meant facing your body. But staying in bed meant having to call in sick - it meant curious looks from your bandmates, it meant disappointing Jan Stevens.

Oh, Jan - infamous, enigmatic director of the Sonic Catering Institute. Your relationship was still fairly new and, well… undefined. She flirted with you relentlessly, and you flirted back, though neither of you had made a move yet. Sometimes you caught her watching you, or staring at your lips a bit too long as you spoke, but someone else was always there to interrupt the two of you. Still, you found yourself dying to impress Jan, to get closer to her, to be with her even.

So, no, staying in bed wasn’t an option. It’s not like it would magically make you feel better anyway. You’d still feel like shit - you’d just be in bed instead. 

After a few minutes of just holding yourself up on the edge of the sink, you went about your morning routine, mechanically half-assing all the necessary steps - brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, splashing water on your face.

Getting dressed was a little more challenging - it was the more exhausting part of your routine, and it was on days like today that you wished you’d chosen some stupid work-from-home job at a computer instead of your current career, if only so that you could show up to work in your pajamas and no one would care. A small (or maybe not all that small) part of your mind wandered to Jan, however, so you grimaced as you attempted to look your best for her.

~~~

Getting through the day was more of a challenge than you thought it would be. During your weekly meeting to go over notes and changes to performance techniques, you were seated directly next to Elle as she engaged in a heated discussion with Jan - Elle’s raised voice directly in your ear was enough to make your head pound viciously. You wouldn’t take pain meds yet, though - you didn’t want to risk them wearing off before the concert tonight. 

Every so often, Jan’s impenetrable gaze would flick over to you. She seemed to be able to tell that something was off - red lips pursing in thought, deep blue eyes regarding you curiously under heavy black lashes.

Elle ended up storming out of the meeting, with Lamina close behind, already beginning to argue with her. Stones excused himself, one hand on his stomach as he rushed out of the room. That left you and Jan as you slowly packed your things, feeling her gaze upon you.

Jan flashed you a smile and stood from her seat, walking over to your side of the table with her voluminous white skirt swishing behind her. She perched herself on the edge of the table in front of you, placing a hand on the papers you were about to pick up, effectively stilling your movements.

“Well, well, I finally have you alone,” she said playfully as she loomed over you - her height was as intimidating to you as it was attractive, and you swallowed visibly.

“Jan Stevens.” You tilted your head in acknowledgement. Normally, you would have thrilled at such an opportunity - right now, though, you wished you were curled up in a ball in bed.

You attempted to slide your papers out from underneath Jan’s hand - her eyes dropped to the table and she placed her hand over yours. “They’re so pretty - your hands, I mean. Here, let’s compare sizes.” She lifted her hand and nodded eagerly at you - mesmerized, you couldn’t help but place your palm against hers - it was larger than your own, her fingers longer. It was surprisingly warm and oh so soft and you felt a spark of electricity go through your body when your bare skin touched hers.

“Oh! Look how well they fit together.” Jan’s lips pulled into a wide grin and she batted her lashes, her fingers curling slightly around yours. “A perfect match!”

You flushed, feeling a warmth rising in your face, and you pulled your hand away with a timid smile. “Y-yeah.”

Perhaps, if you’d felt a little better, a little less like complete garbage, you might have had the energy to flirt back - but it seemed your traitorous body couldn’t even let you have that much, unable to summon up the effort for a witty comeback. 

Jan’s brows knit together, her lips parted slightly as she searched your face. “Are you alright?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You offered her a weak smile. Jan looked skeptical, watching as you stuffed your papers into your bag and stood - too quickly, apparently, as you swayed slightly and your vision became hazy around the edges. You tipped forward a bit, catching yourself on the table and taking deep breaths, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

Jan pushed off the table in an instant, standing behind you and placing a hand on the small of your back - you couldn’t help but shiver.

“Are you not feeling well, darling?” she asked, her voice gentle and breathy.

“What?” You gave her your best doe eyes, hoping she wouldn’t probe you further. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Will you be alright to perform tonight?” You could sense the anxiety radiating off of her in waves - you knew how much pressure she’d been under lately, and it was one more reason why you couldn’t let her down.

“Yes, of course.” You used all the effort you could summon up to beam at her, hoping it would set her mind at ease. “Please, don’t worry about me.”

Jan looked slightly unconvinced, but she nodded and smiled all the same.

“Then I’ll see you tonight,” she murmured. With a curious glance and a moment’s hesitation, she leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your skin tingled pleasantly where her lips had been moments before, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. She reached out a hand to help you stand, watching as you left the room.

~~~

The rest of the afternoon passed by torturously slowly as you attempted to avoid all human interaction and wait for your pain meds to kick in - they never did. The concert was even worse. Your body was screaming at you to get some rest, but you couldn’t risk your residency - and, most of all, you didn’t want to let Jan down. So you tried to smile through it, pretending like the sound of the flanger wasn’t making your head pulse and like standing for an hour and a half wasn’t making your body ache and like the stuffy air, filled with the scent of various cooking foods, wasn’t making you feel dizzy and extremely nauseous.

And then there was the orgy after the concert - the mere thought of attending made you feel ill. You wanted to - you knew Jan would be there watching, and you would do anything for Jan. But a wave of nausea hit you just before entering the room, so you rushed to the bathroom instead. You left the bathroom door open - everyone else was at the orgy, surely no one would even notice you were gone. You sat on the floor in front of the toilet, a cool, damp washcloth pressed to your forehead. The nausea had begun to settle, but you were so tired and the bathroom tiles were pleasantly cool, so you stayed there, eyes closed, head leaned back against the wall.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the clicking of approaching heels - it wasn’t until you heard a voice in the doorway that you jumped a bit, your eyes snapping open.

“You’re not feeling well.”

Jan Stevens looked down at you, eyes flooded with concern. It wasn’t a question - rather, it was a statement - and you almost tried to deny it - then your eyes flicked to the toilet in front of you and you realized you couldn’t hide from Jan any longer. 

“Yeah… I feel like shit, to be honest,” you admitted quietly, not quite able to meet Jan’s gaze - afraid of the disappointment you’d surely see there.

The taller woman surprised you by stepping towards you and sliding down the wall until she was sitting next to you - close enough for her scent, light and floral, to fill your nostrils, but not close enough to touch you. You looked at her curiously.

“I’ve been missing you tonight. I was wondering where you’d gone.”

The thought of Jan Stevens - the Jan Stevens - missing you made your stomach do a somersault, your heart beginning to pound violently.

“I had a date with an old friend,” you joked, tilting your head towards the toilet. Jan’s lips curved up into a smile, before she turned serious again.

“You’re ill. You could have told me.” Her voice held no reproach or anger - it was soft and gentle; if anything, she sounded worried. “You could have stayed in bed today, skipped the concert.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint or- or worry anyone. Especially you.” You added that last part quietly but from the way Jan’s eyes widened, you were certain she’d heard you loud and clear.

You chewed your lip as you searched for the right words - a way to convey how you felt without giving cause for too much concern. “If I stayed in bed every time I felt like this, I don’t think I’d ever get out of bed.” You tried to keep your voice light, chuckling slightly - one of your biggest fears was always being misunderstood, not being taken seriously, being seen as useless due to your illness.

Jan reached out for your hand, threading her fingers between your own. 

“What is it? Can you describe it to me?”

No one had ever really asked for details about your illness before - some people asked to be polite, but Jan seemed so sincere, like she really cared. You cleared your throat nervously. “Well, part of it is chronic migraines. They’re, uh… not really treatable. I get nauseous a lot, and sometimes I get dizzy when I stand. I’m also really, um, tired all the time? Tired isn’t the right word, it’s more like exhausted. And it’s not just my head that hurts, it’s everything, all the time.”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “Doctors haven’t figured out why yet, it’s kind of hard to be taken seriously. But sometimes it’s bearable, you know? Like, it’s there but I can deal with it. But sometimes I flare up and that’s… harder.”

Jan nodded along as you spoke, her eyes scanning your face with great interest - when you finished, she was silent for a moment. Just as you began to wonder if you’d said too much, she stood and reached out her arms to you. 

“Come with me,” she said. You furrowed your brow but allowed her to pull you into a standing position, and then she took you by the arm and escorted you out of the bathroom - you didn’t realize where she was leading you until you were ushered into her bedroom, the door closing behind you.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable here tonight. It’s just me here, you know. And you won’t have to worry about the others getting back late and disturbing your sleep.” She regarded you carefully, some emotion you couldn’t quite identify swimming in her cerulean pools.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, nerves washing over you as you looked around the spacious room, eyeing the large, luxurious bed. “You’re right, that does sound nice. I just…”

“What is it?” Jan asked, suddenly looking utterly nervous. 

“I don’t want to impose, is all - this is your private space and-”

“Is it imposing if I want you here, darling?” Jan cut you off, her lashes fluttering as she watched you drink in the space.

“Uh… no, I suppose not.” You smiled hesitantly - Jan’s smile matched your own.

“Then you just stay right here, darling. I’ll get you something to wear.”

Jan left you standing at the center of the room to head to her walk-in closet, coming back with a pair of silk pajamas and directing you to her en-suite bathroom, where she pointed out an extra toothbrush. Soon you were ready for bed and, at Jan’s insistence, you settled back on the plush mattress - it was large and comfortable, and you found your fatigued body sinking into it, your eyes fluttering closed in momentary bliss.

When you opened your eyes, Jan stood at the edge of the bed watching you, a small, adoring smile playing on her lips.

“I suppose you’d like to go back to the orgy then?” you asked quietly, feeling a familiar gnawing sense of guilt at taking up too much of Jan’s time, at asking too much from her and taking too much.

Jan hesitated, stepping even closer to the bed. “What if I want to stay here with you? Will you have me?”

“Of course,” you breathed, your stomach fluttering and your eyes widening.

A wide smile bloomed on Jan’s face, and she left the room for a minute, her hips swaying and her dress swishing back and forth. She came back in light pink, silk pajamas with a matching bonnet that had two long bunny ears dangling from the sides, perching herself on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t help yourself - you pushed yourself up and ran a hand over one of the silky, dangly ears and let out a giggle.

“What?” Jan eyed you curiously.

“Nothing,” you said sheepishly, your face flushing. “I just find you very endearing, Jan Stevens.”

That remark earned you the warmest smile you’d ever received.

After such a long day, lying in the warmest, most comfortable bed you’ve slept in in a while, you allowed your body to go limp. The aches and pains were still present, of course they were, but exhaustion was slowly taking over and your eyelids were beginning to grow heavy as Jan tucked you securely under the duvet. Jan’s scent surrounded you - it was everywhere: on her sheets, her pillows, her clothes, clinging to the air. On her, as she snuggled in next to you, eyeing you intently - those deep blue irises sparkling with adoration.

A question formed on the tip of your tongue, one that suddenly began to nag you as you felt the pull of sleep, one that you couldn’t leave unasked: “Will I still be welcome here in the morning?” It came out a low mumble as you tried not to let your sudden apprehension become too apparent.

Jan furrowed her brow, her face falling slightly as adoration and awe morphed into confusion and concern in equal parts. “Of course, silly.” She gave you a reassuring smile and placed a warm hand on your arm as she scooted closer to you, daring to rest her head on your chest. “You know, I’d like to have you in my bed when you aren’t in pain, too.”

Your belly tingled pleasantly as a shy smile spread across your face. “I’d like that very much.”

x

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[mik0rin]

are we still friends? status: pending…

kuroo tetsuro x black fem reader genre: college au, angst w/ happy ending, childhood best friends to strangers to best friends to lovers, smut (eventual) warnings: cussing, really bad case of pride word count: 2,453

m.list next -> a/n: if you listen to beach song by leonie biney it fits so well taglist open sign up -> here

A familiar ringtone pierces through the silence of your bedroom and you roll over with a groan, your hand fumbles across your nightstand as you look for the device. Once you find it, you answer it without checking and sit up. 

Sleep fogs your brain and coats your voice, “Hello?” 

“Hey.” 

The person on the other end resonates with a part of your heart that hasn’t been active for a while. And as the sleep starts to fade away, your brain finally connects the ringtone and the voice. 

“Tetsuro?” You can hear his breath hitch and faint noise coming from his TV, but you’re still confused. It’s 2 a.m. and it’s been two years since you last had a full conversation with him. 

“Hey,” He repeats.

You don’t respond and he doesn’t say anything else. The silence is awkward with a twinge of former comfortability. 

It never used to be like this. The silence was never uncomfortable and your phone calls were full of energy that comes from friendships with the strongest bonds. But now it seems like everything has fizzled out and you’re only left with fading memories. 

What happened to the two of you? 

The easiest and least painful answer is to blame it on college (especially since you don’t go to the same one)  on a new and challenging environment. And it’s natural for friends to drift apart in this stage of life but it’s something you thought you two were immune to, and why wouldn’t you be? Your friendship was eight years in the making at the time, and you understood one another on a level that was otherworldly. But no one is immune to time; it’s the cruelest element of life because it's the only thing you always lose and never gain back. 

And the more painful answer, the one the two of you didn’t want to address because it means facing your pride and those haunting thoughts in the back of your mind. During the height of the tensions between the two of you; the missed calls and canceled hangouts, both of your emotions that could easily be simplified into stress and the need to see your best friend, came out in a way that was angry and hurtful. 

You barely remember what you said to each other but you remember that it was mean and nasty, nothing like the tender or playful way you usually spoke to each other. And when you hung up neither of you said anything to each other, you were waiting for the other to concede. That stretched into days, weeks, months of not talking, and then suddenly it seemed shameful to even say anything at all. 

So you didn’t.

And now here you are. 

You shift the phone to your other ear, pushing those memories out of your mind, and break the silence with a soft, “What’s up?”

Kuroo lets out a nervous laugh, “Happy 10th friendversary.” 

You let out a quiet laugh, somewhere between disbelief and shame. 

You forgot. 

“I haven’t heard that in a minute.” 

“Yea, it’s been a while hasn't it?” 

You chuckle awkwardly, unsure of what to say next, and as you think about what your conversations used to sound like, your mind is suddenly flooded with memories of what you used to do every year on this eventful day. 

“I wonder if that older lady who worked at the ice cream shop is still there?” 

“She always gave me a hard time, always telling me that a man is responsible for paying for things.” Kuroo huffs, even though he always paid for you. 

“Remember when she flung a cone at you because you forgot your wallet that one year?” You laugh, the memory replaying in your head. 

“Bro, I was so pissed! I was picking crushed waffle crumbs out of my hair at the arcade.” 

Tears well up in your eyes, your stomach clenching at your attempt at keeping your giggles silent, “And that random mom thought you had lice!” 

“She didn’t think I had lice. You fake screamed ‘LICE’ and started to back away from me.” 

You feign innocence, but that teasing tone is still evident in your words. “Are you sure? I don’t remember that.”

Tetsuro rolls his eyes, not caring that you can’t see him. “I wonder how you conveniently never remember anything… it’s like that huge head of yours is going to waste.” 

You sputter, “Hey! Don’t start. My head is normal-sized, thank you very much. Which cannot be said about those flippers you have for feet.”

Kuroo gasps and a giggle leaves your lip at his dramatics. 

He’s always like this. 

“That only means my di-”

You interrupt him immediately, “Ew, Tetsu! How many times have I told you I don’t need that image in my head?” 

He chuckles, and you can practically envision the smirk that paints his face right now. “Probably as many times as girls have told me that I’m the best they ever had.” 

“Okay, so never.” 

“You suck.”

“And-” 

“Do not put that disgusting image in my head, Y/N.” 

The two of you bust out into a fit of laughter, the previous awkwardness gone like it was never there in the first place. But, something lingers in the back of your mind; there has to be a reason for him to call, especially at 2 a.m. on a Wednesday night. 

You let your laugh fade out before getting a bit serious, “Are you gonna tell me what's wrong? And before you say ‘nothing,’ I know you, so don’t even think of lying.” 

Do you really know him anymore? 

You’re running off knowledge and emotions from a time when you were inseparable. You have no clue what he’s like now, and you want to hope he’s the same Tetsu who taunts and teases you like no tomorrow but two years is a long time. And it provides a lot of room for change. 

Your friendship is a prime example of that. 

However, Kuroo is unwavering when it comes to certain things and he does the same shaky sigh whenever he’s emotional. 

“I’m just worried.” 

“Worried about what? Volleyball?” 

“I quit volleyball.” He mutters and you almost fall out of your bed. 

“You what?!?” You scream but quickly quiet down, praying you didn’t wake up your roommate down the hall. 

He shrugs his shoulders, “It’s not a big deal, I wasn’t feeling it anymore.” 

You shake your head violently, if there was one thing that boy loved besides his family and friends, it was that damn sport. 

“Oh, that’s bullshit. Did you get hurt?”

There’s genuine concern in your voice and Kuroo feels pathetic, how does he tell you the real reason he quit? 

His voice is so small and it borders the line of broken “No.” 

“Then what is it, Tetsuu? I know you didn’t want to go pro but you always said you wanted to play until you graduate college.”

You’re met with no verbal answer, only something that sounds like a sniffle that comes right before the tears. And your heart breaks- no, it shatters like fine china and you wish you could wrap your arms around him. 

“You don’t have to answer, you know?”

Your words are the perfect mix of soft, sweet, and understanding; and Kuroo missed this so much. 

He misses you. 

And he wants to answer, he really does. 

Tetsuro wants to tell you that he began to feel this overwhelming loneliness; that regardless of the bonds he created with his teammates it wasn’t the same. All his wins didn’t feel like how they used to, and his losses only hurt so much more. Kuroo knew the reason why he felt so empty: his heart had developed a void that only one person could fill. 

“If it isn’t volleyball, then what is it? A girlfriend?” You tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

“Not surprised.”

Kuroo lets out a very offended, “Hey!” 

You ignore him even though you want to laugh oh so badly. 

“Seriously, what's going on?” 

“We’re still friends, right?” 

The question erases every single word from your vocabulary and your heart sinks. You want to say always, you want to make some joke about how he knows too much and he’s stuck with you. 

But, can you?

Even if you guys fell into familiar comfortability, it doesn’t deny there’s tension and unspoken grievances between the two of you.

“I hope so.” You whisper, tears pricking your eyes. 

Tetsuro recognizes that whisper, he knows it’s how you keep your voice from wavering when tears threaten to fall. And he realizes that he isn’t the only one harboring this fear, that regardless of the almost no contact for the last two years; you still thought about him in the same way he thought about you. 

“Me too.” 

Kuroo feels his throat tighten. 

Why is this so hard? 

If you both want to be friends again, you could do just that. But, it’s not so simple and he knows it. Your friendship has always been this precious thing and now it seems like the most important parts are broken. 

Silence blankets the call and you stare up at your bedroom ceiling. It hits the two of you like the first harsh wind of autumn. How can people go from talking like time doesn’t exist, to two years of not even so much as a whisper? 

And as much as you want to blame it all on Tetsuro, you have to shoulder your share too. He wasn't the only one who forgot to call or left a text buried under other messages. He wasn't the only one who canceled hangouts and slowly began to pull away. 

You did too. 

That fight was far from one-sided, you said things you desperately want to take back. You could’ve swallowed your pride and reached out first, Kuroo could’ve too and this whole mess wouldn’t have escalated to this. But when it was creeping up on months of no talking, it seemed shameful to even try. So you held back and didn’t say anything, even when you were missing your friendship. 

When you were missing him.

“This is the longest we’ve gone without speaking to each other. It feels weird.” Your voice is barely above a whisper because there’s a fear that if it were any louder, those words would shatter everything you two have left. 

“Yeah…” 

Neither of you know what to say, before this whole mess you barely had arguments that lasted more than a few hours. All you can do is skate around the issue, hoping one of you starts the painful conversation. 

But with every passing second the silence starts to weigh heavier, pressing down on your heart in ways that you’ve never felt before, and your mind doesn’t know how to alleviate the pressure. 

“I forgot what today was.” You blurt out, and the tears start to break through your attempt to keep them away. You’ve been ignoring the hurt, redirecting, and even erasing it because you weren’t ready to tell yourself that it was no longer the same. Because if you were to acknowledge that, then it becomes all too real and all too painful. 

And Kuroo has been doing the same, because no matter the distance or the time, the two of you were always on the same wavelength. Even when it came to unintentionally hurting each other. 

“I know.” His words are pillowy-soft and they contain no blame. And they teeter on the edge of something more. 

Tetsuro exhales a shaky breath, “I’m sorry. Everything I said I wish I could take it all back, I wish I apologized sooner. I’m sorry for waiting two years to finally call you. God, I’ve been suffering without you and I kept telling myself you would call or text and it would all go back to normal.” 

Your voice is thick with tears, “I was waiting too, I thought that you would call me and everything would just go back to usual. But, I think I really hurt you too and I’m really sorry, Tetsuu. I’m really really sorry for everything, especially for forgetting.” 

“It’s okay.” 

He’s trying to reassure you, something he’s always done. But, It’s okay to acknowledge your wrongdoings; sometimes friends hurt each other, no matter how close you are. In fact the closer you are, the more it hurts and sometimes the more it takes to mend. 

“It’s not okay. Tetsuro, we fought and didn’t speak for two years. It’s okay to say I hurt you and you hurt me. I know we are so used to nothing ever going wrong between us but something went wrong and it’s okay to say that.” 

There’s a millisecond of silence and that’s when you hear it: sniffles and quiet cries from a man who’s been holding everything in for way too long. That’s all he needed to hear, that it was normal to feel hurt and for it to stem from you. 

Kuroo’s voice cracks towards the end of his sentence, “Never knew you could be that mean.” 

He’s referencing the fight but there is a playfulness about his words, one that tells you that he’s ready to put the whole ordeal behind you.  

“Yes, you did.” You let out with a soft laugh. 

“I did,” He corrects, “I’ve witnessed you say worse to other people, but-”

“I’ve never been like that to you.” You interject, guilt creeping up on you. 

“I was pretty rude too.” 

“You definitely were.” 

Silence comes along again and now instead of tears, you both bust out into laughter. The whole situation seems more dramatic by the minute but you’re happy that you got the opportunity to fix it, to get your best friend back. And Kuroo is happy he got to hear your voice again, that he can hear it anytime he wants, and that you’ll smile with him once more. 

Sleep starts to hit the both of you and you yawn through your next words. 

“Are you free next weekend?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“We have to celebrate our friendversary, duh” 

Kuroo smiles, bright and wide, and it's evident in his tone. 

"Ice cream?" 

"Don't forget your wallet this time, it would be a shame if you got lice again." You tease. 

"Fuck you." Kuroo says, his smile never leaving. 

“I’m sure you want to.” You giggle, happy you can still get on his nerves. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hmm?” You’re expecting him to hit you with a line of his own. 

“I missed you.” His voice is ten different types of tender and sweet, and you can’t believe you went two years without this.

“I missed you too.”

more sad stuff but with a happy ending !! and more shit to come with it 😋 hope you liked it !!! taglist is open, link is at the top !!

#haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x black reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #saturn’s masterlist #mik0rin’s masterlist #kuroo testuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo x black reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro smut #haikyuu

[meabh-mcinness]

In Sickness

Humans do not have 'Evil Cycles' it's true. However, they can bend under stress in other ways. Some lose their minds and others present more physical symptoms. With all the stress of parenting, working as a teacher, and doing your best to make sure no one figures out either your or Iruma's rather human status, it's no wonder you fall victim to a stress fever. Luckily for you, the resident gargoyle demon is more than happy to help nurse you back to health once he discovers your ill state.

This was originally created/inspired for @snippychicke because I love their Balam x reader story "For Sake of a Smile". While not finished yet it's incredibly well written and I would highly recommend it, also for Sleepylilacfox who writes "New Start: The Beginning of a Beautiful Life" on AO3 and wattpad which is a well-written FemIruma x Everyone story I highly recommend!

No TriggerWarnings! I think.

You quietly groaned at the massive headache that had made itself known to you the moment you had woken from your alarm. Head pounding, all you could do was curl into yourself just that much tighter. Pulling your blankets up further to block the almost nonexistent light from daybreak, you did your best to give the impression that you did not exist. If you did it well enough, perhaps you wouldn't, and then all your pain, physical or mental, would be gone as well.

Of course, you knew you couldn't. There were people who depended on you, Iruma depended on you. Never mind the entire school body of both students and teachers who needed you to do your job. And yet you just couldn't make yourself move, your brain just felt so slow and your body so heavy. Perhaps one day off wouldn't be so bad.

Right?

No, you needed to get up. There was paperwork to be done, you were supposed to supervise that new library project for Professor Farbas, and Professor Stolas was expecting your help with the greenhouse as they deconstructed the Harvest Festival. Slowly you started to undo your burrito wrap, mind racing with both nothing and everything you needed to do; like your classes needed teaching (who would have thought you'd be such a natural at your field) and you needed to –

"Fall back asleep, my lady." An even voice broke through the fog, and a cool hand placed itself gently onto your forehead, startling you. Red and yellow eyes stared unwaveringly into your hazy ones, slowly getting further away as you were gently pressed back down. When did they get here? There couldn't have been that much time spent after your alarm, and you hadn't even heard your door open, much less seen them come in.

"But Opera, I need to-" You started to get out and tried to push back up but were quickly silenced when they easily overpowered you despite still feeling like they were only barely touching you. Seriously, were you just that weak, or was the Cat demon just the embodiment of excessive strength?

"While I am not often in the business of disobeying my masters," that was a straight-up lie, they disobeyed Sullivan all the time, "it is my belief that what you need is a couple of days rest. You have been overworking yourself, the same as Master Iruma does. Had you been a demon, you would have already entered an Evil cycle, even now I worry you still will." Opera stated while fixing your blankets to lay over you properly again.

"Humans don' evil cycle," you tried to protest, slurring the sentence out. They only had mental breakdowns, and you did far more things at once in a shorter amount of time in the human world than here while staying completely sane. Honestly, you felt as if you had barely any work here and were taking advantage of Sullivan's kindness. For the most part you just spent your days reading, keeping an eye on the school library, and teaching classes. And when you weren't working you were hanging out with your family or the other teachers. You did occasionally (often) help others out as well, but not enough that you felt you had taken on to much.

"Royal one." They rebutted easily, cutting through your thoughts, causing you to flinch.

Iruma's overnight personality change had thrown you all for a loop. Though you had come out of your shock far quicker than anyone else seemed to; you were certain Sullivan was still traumatized. After all, Iruma was a teenager and more than deserved a rebellion or two after the life he had!

You also may or may not have let slip to the janitors that you were worried Iruma wouldn't know Kalego meant all the faculty employed at the school and not just the teachers.  Your own personal rebellion against Kalego when he tried to bully you into not helping the misfit class, but that was another story, and therefore another thought that needed burying at the moment.

After all, you had a feline to bargain with right now. Or make that felines, when you barely made out the faint pitter-patters of small feet coming into your room. The resident hellcats making their way in to back up their leader.

Before you could even open your mouth and try, though, Opera successfully managed to wrap you up in a sheet under the comforter so that you couldn't even try to get up. And on top of that, the two resident hellcats have decided to jump up and lay on top of you. You blinked in confusion, you hadn't been that deep in thought, had you? Still, you were determined to try, even if the blankets were so warm and heavy with the hellcats' weight, and you could just make out a light circling pressure on the edges of both sides of your temporal.

You tried to struggle but you barely even wiggled and succeeded only in making one of the hellcats readjust itself with a yawn and close its eyes again.  You were close to joining it, but still, you tried to hang on.

"O-per-a," you slurred out slowly before your traitorous body gave in to the persistent demon. Your eyes closed and you knew no more.

**********

You were quite rudely awoken by a quiet knocking sound later.

At first, you weren't even sure you had heard knocking or if it was the hellcats moving on. Still feeling the warmth but lacking a good amount of pressure made you decide it was simply them leaving and curled back up under the blanket. Until the sound returned, rousing you slightly more.

Groggily, you poked your head out of your blanket-made cocoon. You fully expected to have to shield away from the daylight, only to find the room pleasantly dark, curtains drawn shut.

You vaguely remembered Opera coming in and putting you back to sleep; one turn of the head confirmed that it wasn't a dream. A small tray with a kettle, two different-sized glasses, and what appeared to be a note sat on the bedside table. You would bet your life that the kettle and smaller cup were filled with steaming hot 

Hell-gray tea (Opera's specialty, for they never seemed to make anything else, though to be fair you wouldn't know what to ask for), and the taller of the two glasses with cold water. They must have closed the curtains as well on their way out. You would have to thank them later for their thoughtfulness, though you still felt this was all quite unnecessary.

You were drawn out of your thoughts once again by a third knocking. Still faint and barely there, though more easily heard now that you were more awake. You were tempted to drink some tea and bury your head, never to be seen again, but the knocker seemed quite persistent. Steadily getting louder and faster with each repetition. So, with a tired sigh and great effort, you heaved yourself out of your comfy bed, only to flinch at the cold floorboards.

'Whoever was at the door better have a good reason for being here,' you thought as you made your way out of your room towards the front door with heavy steps.  It surprised you, how slow you were moving. It was as if every muscle in your body had been replaced with lead and were still expected to move.

'Was the front door always this far away?' Perhaps it was a good idea you stayed home. If you were this slow and a student got into some kind of trouble, you would never be fast enough to help them in this condition. And after all, Opera hadn't said you couldn't do paperwork from home.

But first to deal with this intruder.

You swore, as you opened the massive front doors, that if this was some delivery Sullivan ordered for the nth time since you and Iruma came, you were going to tear him-

"Balam-sensei!" you choked out, surprised at the massive demon standing on the other side. This was most definitely not who you were expecting as your bleary eyes did their best to make out his pale skin and white hair from the blinding noon sun. If it wasn't for his recognizable dark clothes and eyes, your blurred vision might not have noticed him at all.

Squinting, you tried to look him in the eyes as best as you could, but the shine of his metal mask reflecting the already bright sun made it hard to look even close to his face, much less that high up it. You ended up settling on staring at his fur collar, watching it sway in the slight breeze. Just high enough to see his face in your preferential vision but low enough for his own body to block a majority of the rays.

To be honest, you did expect a delivery demon or even Kalego to drag you to work as one of the few people the misfit class voluntarily listened to. Not the resident biologist, whose happiness for the two humans' existence in the Netherworld could probably rival Sullivan's. Considering his rather high paranoia of discovery where you and Iruma were concerned, though, maybe this shouldn't have been such a shock.

And, oh, his eyes were crinkling with furrowed brows. At least you thought they were, it was hard to see the white eyebrows against his skin on your best days. Oh no, had he been talking this whole time?

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" you croaked out, wincing at the way your voice cracked. You had to focus! What if he was here to report a serious issue, and you were just standing there zoning out?

"Ah, I was just saying hello and how I noticed you weren't here today. Opera told the staff you were on the verge of an evil cycle," he started to fidget here, one hand raising to rub at his no longer shaved neck. You blinked, was it just you, or was his hair several inches longer than when you last saw him a few days ago?

"But when Iruma stopped by during lunch, he mentioned that humans just didn't have those." He eyed you questionably as if asking if his information was correct as he continued. You nodded in confirmation; it was true after all.

"We don't," you added verbally to his unasked question, "even if Opera is entirely convinced otherwise." You tilted your head to the side in confusion. You may have been a bit slow today, but "that doesn't explain why you're here, though?" The words slipped out before you could stop them. Never mind, you were slow today.

A matching set of flushed skin appeared on both of your faces, though for different reasons. Yours was for embarrassment for not being able to keep control of your own mouth, his for being called out. It was true, when you later thought about it, he could have simply phoned or even just asked Opera or Sullivan privately.  The hand rubbing his neck pulled away before awkwardly pushing his two index fingers together, eyes staring down at them as they pushed against each other repeatedly.

"I... may have gotten a bit anxious that it was something more serious and decidedly human, so others couldn't know. With my classes done for the day, I rushed over after Iruma left, to make sure you were okay."

You felt your heart clench a bit at his words. Seriously, how did this being exist? He was the literal embodiment of a giant teddy bear, and quite honestly, you wanted to give in and squeeze him in a hug. Thankfully, though, your brain hadn't left you behind that much, not yet at least. The longer you stood here though the more certain you were that it would.

"Thank you for rushing over to see me, but I can assure you I'm fine. I'm sorry for worrying you. The only reason I skipped today is that Opera trapped me in bed and lulled me back to sleep." You spoke nonchalantly, despite being slightly irritated at the whole thing. You were determined to get on Opera about this. Even if they were slowly being proven right, it didn't mean you were happy to admit it.

Some clouds flew overhead blocking the sun, leaving you in the blissful shade, almost as if the Netherworld itself could feel your frustration at the feline demon. Sighing in relief for your poor eyes you looked up at Balam properly and froze. Or, perhaps, the clouds had been a warning.

His entire body was tensed up and his eyes were zeroed in on you with such focus you honestly felt a bit like prey, much like the first time you encountered him. It took everything in you to not slam the door and hide in the deepest darkest corner you could find until safety arrived, or the threat left. You mentally shook yourself; this was Balam, he would never hurt you. Even if he could be intense at times, he never meant harm from it, often seeking the opposite result even.

"Ba-"

"You lied." He stated bluntly. Huh?

"I-Wha?" You were so startled by what he said you couldn't even form a sentence. Lied? When? Everything you stated was the truth as far as you knew. Opera had essentially trapped you; they had made it quite clear that you would not be leaving that bed even if they had to tie you down. While they hadn't physically said it, you could just tell that they would.

"You lied," Balam repeated, "Just now."

You shoved yourself off the door-frame you were leaning on (when had you leaned on it in the first place?) and stared indignantly at him. "What part of what I just said was a lie? I would expect you of all demons to understand Opera's strength especially compared to a normal demon much less-"

"Not that part." Balam interrupted, short-circuiting your brain. Not that part? But what other part was there? "When you said you were fine, you were lying," He took a step closer to you, hands reaching out to grasp your shoulders so lightly that if you didn't see them, you wouldn't have known they were there. "Where are you hurt? Was Opera too rough? Do you need medical attention?"

"I'm not injured though?" You blinked incredulously at him. You were certain you were not lying about that. Sure, you may still have a crazy strong headache and you felt dizzy just standing here, and your muscles did still feel like lead. Or maybe concrete the longer you stood here, or was it the other way around? It had been so long since your physic class days and your head was getting fuzzier by the minute. Regardless you were fine. You've experienced far worse things and still worked; this was nothing new.

His head tilted slightly and moved closer to your own. So close, in fact, that you could see that what you once thought were tiny irises were actually pupils, surrounded by incredibly light grey rings that made up his actual irises. To be honest you thought it was very pretty and slightly memorizing, especially in your current non-focusable state. So memorizing in fact that even though you watched them move back and forth across your face as if searching for something, you barely processed it.

"That's good, I believe you" You let out a sigh of relief at that, "however."

However?

Eh?

"Ehhh!? Balam-sensei!" you couldn't help but shout in surprise at suddenly being lifted into his arms. Your legs were thrown over one of his arms and his other arm supported your back easily, even lightly pressing you to lean against his chest. You gripped his tank top right under the fur collar tightly and closed your eyes in both shock and to protect yourself against sudden vertigo that plagued you from the unexpected fast movement. A furious blush spread across your face as you tried to comprehend what exactly was happening.

"Sorry, but you're swaying as if you're about to fall over. Even if you're not physically injured, you're clearly not fine." He apologized while walking into the mansion and shutting the door behind him with one of his feet. "Not to mention your eyes are glazed over and your face has been getting paler and paler since we've started talking. Where's your bedroom? I can't believe Opera left you alone in this state, I can feel the heat radiating from you more than normal and it's upstairs, is it?" Balam continued without stopping for breath even once, barely even acknowledging when you weakly pointed towards the large staircase in the center of the room, still dazed and flustered from your sudden position in his arms. If he was worried about you being pale, that problem had been fixed with the searing hot blush that covered your entire face to your ears and refused to leave.

Ah, you suddenly realized. This must be one of those famous Balam scoldings Iruma warned you about. You buried your face in his chest, silky fur collar tickling the top of your head like the feathers you saw in those ear-cleaning videos back in the human world. Briefly, you wondered if they had the same practices here. (Later you would find out that they did in fact do them and that Opera was trained in it. You obviously did not put this knowledge to use later on. Not at all.)

Pressed against Balam like this you could feel, more than hear him lecture. A low rumble in his body worked in tandem with the strong beat of his heart and gentle steps. Despite his grumblings, he was extremely delicate with you, with barely enough pressure from his arms to keep you in place and slow methodical movements as he made his way upstairs without jostling you. You could feel yourself starting to relax and zone out again as he continued to berate both you and the absent Opera. Who knew being chastised could be so relaxing?

He found your room rather easily, despite your lack of help after your initial point. While it wasn't the only, nor the first, room open on the second floor, it was the only one with both a strong smell of fresh tea and something undeniably you. Entering it almost cautiously, Balam gave it a cursory once over, unable to deny this small piece of instinct in unfamiliar territory while holding precious cargo. Deeming it safe he quickly laid you back in your bed and moved to pull your blankets back over you, fussing to get them just right. Once he deemed it good enough, he kneeled by your side and brushed some loose hair from your face, before settling his hand on your forehead.

Despite the mask covering half his face, you could tell there was a huge frown marring it. You wanted desperately to wipe it away. He had become too precious to you to have anything other than a smile.

"You're so warm," he mumbled, seeming to have stopped his tirade for now. That was nothing new. As a human, you had discovered that both your and Iruma's bodies ran hotter than the average demon's. To the point that you had even been mistaken as a fire-based demon by multiple others, which you had found quite funny considering your affinity for water and ice runes. You even laughingly reminded him of such before dissolving into a fit of coughs, body curling in on its side.

Oh. Oh no. No, you refused to believe it. You weren't sick, you simply must have choked on some air when laughing.

.....

That sounded weak even to your addled brain. Especially since the longer you laid here the more you could feel just how off you were. Seriously how did you not notice? Was the Netherworld so much better that you had forgotten what it felt like to be sick? The resounding yes in your mind was very loud and you chose to ignore it.

Well, you counseled yourself, at least you could tell Opera that they were wrong about the possible evil cycle. It was simply your body betraying you to whatever was infecting it. And oh, you were not looking forward to the simply insane fest that was going to occur when Sullivan found out you were sick. You mournfully resigned yourself to his hysterics already.

When the last cough rattled out of your chest you breathed harshly while unfurling your body again. Bleary eyes focused on the sudden appearance of a glass in front of your face as you recognized a sensation fluttering in circles on your back. You gave the panicked-looking gargoyle in front of you a grateful smile as you carefully leaned up, grasped the drink, and took a sip.

Cold water traveled pleasantly down your throat, spreading its soothingly frosty touch throughout your chest. Once you had your fill you handed back the glass and flumped fully down again. The pressure on your back never lets up once and you take a minute to fully savor the feeling. How long had it been since you enjoyed the touch of another like this?

The longer you laid here, focusing on feeling the ministrations on your back and just trying to breathe, the hazier you could feel your mind becoming again. Almost as if a fog was just rolling through your mind, blowing away any conscious thoughts and leaving only a mess behind. While you heavily disliked not being all there, never truly feeling safe enough to zone out, you much preferred it to the pain of the migraine you had woken up with.

Sullivan's desire for you to have the best of the best meant the fluffy bed you were laying on took away the weighted feeling of your lead filled limbs. Combined with your increasingly hazy mind meant you felt something similar as to floating in space kept grounded only by the feeling of the gargoyle's hand and the itchiness slowly growing in your throat. 

You could feel sleep trying to claim you again and you were honestly more than willing to answer its call. Now that you acknowledged you were sick it was easy to want to stay in bed and just sleep through it all. You were well acquainted with what would happen next and had no desire to actually be awake for it. As much as a tiny voice in the back of your head yelled that you should push through it, it was just as it easy to squish it when your brain went all fuzzy.

Until it abruptly stopped as Shichirou pulled away and said something. You didn't even bother trying to understand him and simply whined at the loss of contact, reaching out blindly towards where you thought he was. Briefly you wondered when you closed your eyes but just as quickly threw the thought out. It wasn't needed. What was needed you had decided, making grabby motions at him, was for the contact to continue.

One eye squinting open you found, quite frustratingly, he wasn't even looking at you. Instead he was moving things about on the tray as a sudden vine reached across the wall from your bedroom holding a small container. You watched him screw up the container and shake a small amount into the tea cup. Swirling the cup to mix the powdery mess with the tea Opera had left behind, he eyed it critically before nodding to himself and turning back to you.

Finally you had his attention, making another whining sound and reaching out for him again you ignored the cup and grabbed the outer part of his hand instead. A low chuckling sound hit your ears as his other arm wrapped under your side and gently hauled you up. With the cup now close to your face you couldn't help but wrinkle your nose at the off putting scent rising from it.

"Just drink this darling and I promise you can go back to sleep." You threw him your best (most pitiful) dubious glare before relenting and opening your lips just a bit. The slightly thick liquid that poured into your mouth reminded you of pepto bismal, if pepto tasted like oranges that was. When the cup was drained, he carefully laid you back down again, smoothing your hair out of your face.

"As promised I'll leave you be to sleep," he pushed b back one last stand and started to rise to leave. Leave? Well that certainly wouldn't do. You hand lashed out faster than it had any right to and gripped his again. Eyes widened in surprise as he looked at your combined hands before locking with yours with a question already on his lips.

"Stay?" You asked, a pout already forming on your lips at his possible refusal. "Please? Just till I fall asleep at least." His face softened immediately and nodded his consent.

Tugging his hand closer to you, so that his knuckles were tucked directly under your chin and the length of his arm ran down your body. Legs pulling up so his elbow was just barely locked in between your knees. You never fully realized how tiny you were in comparison before. The length of his forearm alone was the same as your torso's. Logically, in a different situation such a size difference would frighten you. But here and now, curled around something that could easily harm you brought only the feeling of safety.

It was rather easy to drift off to sleep in that position as his other hand came up and started petting your head, rubbing away any potential headaches before they could even start. When you were better again you might regret this (highly unlikely, you were going to treasure this feeling forever) but for now you would fully relax and just drift off.

**********

A shuffling followed by a quiet chuckling-like noise drew you out of your sleep. Groaning you opened your eyes to try to find the source of the disturbance in your sleep yet again. You were facing the wall with your vanity against it and able to, rather blearily, see your room door through it. 

Through the mirror, you could see a pair of bright red ear-like horns poking through a crack in your vine-covered door along with a blue scythe-like antenna just underneath it. Opera and Iruma your mind supplied and judging by the pale clawed hand far higher up the door, Sullivan was there too. But that wasn't what caught your mind addled attention.

Just behind you was an incredibly large moving lump sharing your blankets. It was only then that you realized that you were not only laying on something long and hard but that something of the same shape and size was carelessly tossed over your middle as well. Arms. You were being held by someone. That woke you up quite a bit. As your mind frantically raced to remember what happened before you fell back asleep again you felt said arms tighten around you fractionally as a muffled groan came from behind you. A groan that you were quite familiar with, even in its sleepy form.  

Balam Shichirou.

Was in your bed.

You were almost positive your head was going to explode from how hard you were blushing. Your hands drew up and covered your face as you fought the squeal demanding to escape your throat. As your memories came back, you vaguely recalled grabbing him and asking him to stay, but you didn't think he would join you in bed too! 

As if sensing your plight in his sleep, his large arms drew you further into his embrace, nose nuzzling into your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You didn't want to admit how much it made your body relax to feel it but as the tension left, you could feel sleep calling you again. Resolving not to deal with this when you were still in the throes of whatever sickness had claimed you, you resolutely turned away from the mirror and into the safety of the wall of flesh and feathers behind you.

"愛してる Shichirou...." You whispered as you fell back asleep, nuzzling back up against his warm chest as his arms unconsciously wrapped around you even tighter.

*At a later date *

"Thanks for the book, Balam-sensei!" Iruma said, antenna wagging happily as he held the new book to his chest. Unlike the heavy textbooks the human boy usually got with his classes, he quite enjoyed the picture books he got from the gargoyle teacher.

Said teacher leaned forward and patted Iruma's head, ruffling the blue hair about as he smiled at him.

"It's my pleasure, really. I'm just glad that you enjoy them and that they're so helpful to you." Balam said as he drew his arm back. "How are your studies coming along by the way?"

Iruma's eyes sparkled in pride, "I've gotten far better! I'm getting an average of seventies thanks to everyone's help! You, Kalego-sensei, Mom, Azz-kun, Clara, and everyone else. You've all helped me come so far, and I can't wait to go further!" Iruma clenched one of his fists in determination.

Shichirou looked at the small human boy and felt something akin to parental pride. To a demon ambition was everything, and to see this child who had such a big disadvantage in the Netherworld giving his absolute all to see his goals through, and manage it. It was amazing and reminded him all the time why he found living things so beautiful.

Among other beings. Which reminded him...

"Hey Iruma-kun," Shichirou started, as he unconsciously drew the boy into his lap to pet him some more, "I have another human question if you don't mind?"

Iruma tilted his head in confusion, giving a rather devipup image in his mind, before nodding his head in consent.

"What does 愛してる mean in the human language?"

"....Eh? EHH!?!"

___________

*Fun fact; 愛してる (or ai shiteru in romaji) translates roughly to I love you and is only used when the person is absolutely certain in their romantic feelings for their partner. The meaning is so strong that it's actually very rarely used in real life, even between married partners!

Or at least that's what my studies say ^u^'/ If you're native Japanese please correct me if I'm wrong!

This turned out way longer than I expected it to, which is part of the reason it so long to get out(it was supposed to be out in Nov ಥ ͜ʖಥ). The other is that I actually fell into a stress cold, because of course I did, while in the middle of writing e.e and then life struck. But hey, it's out now!

Also I may or may not make Kalego and Opera versions of this

#mairimashita manga #mairuma #mairimashita! iruma kun #mairimashita iruma kun #opera mairuma #welcome to demon school! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #welcome to demon school #balam shichiro #balam sicirue #balam sensei #balam shichirou #balam #balam shichiro x reader #balam shichiro/reader #balam sicirue x reader #balam x reader

[genderlessghoul]

Sad Phantom hc ahead, proceed with caution.

(TRIGGER WARNING, MENTION OF SA, TRAUMA AND PANIC ATTACKS )

Despite being part Quintessence ghoul himself, Phantom has a hard time trusting other Quint ghouls. He grew up in one of the worst habitable parts of Hell, surrounded by bad people willing to use any means possible to take advantage of younger ones.

He had met someone, a very charming Quintessence ghoul who was nothing but kind to him. They were older than Phantom and very eager to teach him how to use his powers when he was still struggling with it. They would start small, showing how to connect with his element, how to feel it in his own body, how to transfer it to his fingertips to be able to pass onto to someone else. They taught him how to cure headaches very fast, slowly moving on to other types of physical injuries. They showed him how to slip into other people's minds to help with anxiety and panic attacks, how to fog someone's brain just enough to get them pliant.

He doesn't remember much of what happened to him when they practiced it on him, not physically or mentally. He remembers the quintessence-induced numbness, not being able to move his limbs, only being able to emit sad protesting whimpers. He remembers hands on his body, touching him in places he knows they shouldn't have. He remembers waking up after. Alone. Naked. Used.

Broken.

That was the last time he ever saw them. It's probably for the best, all things considered. He isn't sure they would both walk away from this encounter, were it to happen.

He stopped trusting other ghouls to use their quintessence powers on him after that day.

Phantom was hesitant about Aether at first. The feeling subsided slowly once he realised how much the older ghoul cared for all his mates, acting very much like a father towards all of them. He started going up to him for advice on various tasks more and more and Aether gladly took the younger ghoul under his wings.

One day, Phantom woke up with a head-splitting migraine that kept him in bed all morning. Completely unable to process anything from the outside world and his only thoughts being "hurts, hurts, hurts".

Aether found him curled up on himself under a pile of blankets after he missed lunch. He tried to talk to the newly summoned ghoul but that one only replied in pained grunts. He reached out to him and put two fingers on his temple, sending out a wave of quintessence into Phantom to sooth his ache.

The younger ghoul practically jumped off the bed in response, cowering in the corner of his room like a beat dog and spiraling into a full blown panic attack. Aether didn't know what to make of it and just stared at him, completely shocked. The one thing he always used to make his mates feel better had just made the situation about a thousand times worse, what was he to do?

He brought a blanket to Phantom and wrapped him in it as best as he could and then just sat on the floor a few feet away from him until the panic attack faded. It took a while to get him talking but Phantom finally spilled it all out on Aether. The older ghoul apologized profusely to him, he truly did feel terrible about his faux-pas.

When he gets headaches, Aether fixes him a cup of hemp tea to help now. It's still very efficient and it doesn't trigger any panic attacks. Phantom goes to therapy to deal with his trauma, it's going fairly well. He now allows the other quintessence ghoul to graze him with his magic, just enough to send shivers across his skin.

They'll push a bit further eventuallyand it'll go well then, he knows it. Aether is so patient with him.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #phantom ghoul #phantom ghost #aether ghoul #aether ghost #nameless ghoul headcanons #sad headcanon #meerkat writes

[chronicpaingirlie]

Do you have brainfog or anything like it? As a disabled person my mind is just very foggy and hazy, and can’t focus on things for too long on top of the chronic pain and tiredness. Do you have any tips? Things to avoid? Hope you’re having a low pain day 🫠

I do get it yeah :/ I tend to get it most when my pain/fatigue are particularly bad or overwhelming. i tend to get pretty bad brain fog & often have temporary speech loss with it.

tbh for me it’s mostly a “gotta go through it to get through it” type thing, so my best advice is just to try to be gentle with yourself, both with and without brain fog. try not to push yourself too hard if you can help it (but i know how hard that is when you’re disabled) & if possible try to allow yourself at least a small chance to rest when experiencing brain fog.

i like to do mindless stuff such as color by numbers, simple/familiar video games, or listening to instrumental music to let my brain wind down a bit while i physically rest my body. it doesn’t always fix stuff / get rid of the brain fog, but it’s better than pushing myself to do more than im mentally or physically able yknow?

wishing you a gentle day & a clearer mind very soon 💗💗💗

(followers please feel free to chip in if you have any advice!!)

#asks #gonna tag for visibility for extra help: #chronic fatigue #chronic pain #disability #brain fog

[leggerefiore]

we already know how the submas brothers deal with a s/o who's sick, but how about author's choice of headcanons for characters taking care of their s/os? (the recent cold weather in my area has caused me to develop an ear issue, tbh i know cyrus probably wouldn't help but the image of emotion man failing to heat up soup in a microwave makes me feel a little better,,)

ear pains are the worst. my sinuses clogged and my ears wouldn't pop and I wanted to Die.

characters: Cyrus, Volo, Elesa, and Irida

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Terror after you begin to show symptoms. His emotions come flooding back to him, and you are being notably avoided. Cyrus knows he seems cruel, but he wants to avoid getting sick. The very idea would set him back by who knows how much and annoys him. He is kind enough to buy you whatever you request, but it is left outside your bedroom door in a basket.

☄️ As stated, he's buying you whatever you want. If you, for whatever reason, wanted some food dish that is insanely expensive and doesn't require him preparing it, you'll have it. He just won't hand it off to you directly. Poor guy approaches you in gloves, mask, and goggles if he has to. He procures all kinds of medicines for you. Too much. You are certain to be bought every form of ibuprofen for some reason.

☄️ After he notices your lack of appetite, be it from being unconscious for many hours or just being too exhausted to do anything, he sighs and accepts his fate. People avoid the canned soup aisle as he stares at the options intensely. He has no idea which of these works best. You wake up to a knock on the door and French onion soup in a bowl. You wonder his plans.

☄️ Even if you're crying in front of him (his literal one weakness), he is refusing to touch you. The Team Galactic Boss does not want to be ill. Ever. The idea of his admins funnelling into his apartment annoyed him. Though, he does feel awful for your condition. You get a Weavile or Crobat to cuddle with, depending on your preference. (Crobat makes a great pillow, but Weavile's purrs help with headaches. Choose wisely.)

-----

Everything felt bad. Your head pounded, your throat tickled, every time you coughed or sneezed you felt more and more upset. The stuffiness allowed no more blowing your nose for now. Tears blurred your eyes as you felt alone. Hiccuping quietly to yourself, you reached for the tissues. A knock suddenly rasped from the door, a deep voice called out to you, “I am home and I brought more medicine.” You sighed. Cyrus did not seem to grasp that you had more than enough. The sound of a pokeball opening rang out, and a familiar cry soon followed. “Once more, I am apologetic that you have fallen ill. I hope my pokemon is a nice enough substitute for me in this time,” Cyrus spoke with finality before waking off. You laughed until you coughed.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ Gross, he says, stepping away from you. He immediately tells you that you pushed yourself too far for Team Galaxy and demands you rest for a day or two. His friendly demeanour is always there, but always made you remember everything that happened between you both. You do as he says and wake up to a steaming cup of tea beside you alongside a warm rag on your forehead. It's obvious this was either his or Cogita's actions.

⭐️ He brings you whatever he thinks can help you with your symptoms. There's little in proper medicine during this period of time, but you get meals cooked with medicinal leeks and oran berries quite often. His concern is oddly apparent. You then remember that even things like the cold had a decent fatality rate in this time period. You're gifted little trinkets, too, that he thinks may help make you feel better.

⭐️ He's no cook, but having been on his own for a while, he does know how to make things that at least fall under edible. You awake to more of his medicinal soup at your bedside and start feeling a strange warmth in your chest despite the fog in your brain from sickness. Volo can be oddly sweet in his own way.

⭐️ He's not cuddling with you, even if you're begging him to. Volo will, however, sit near you and speak with you. You're updated on goings-on in Hisui and wonder how he manages to get this information despite having “vanished.” Sometimes, his hand drifts near yours and holds it for a moment. The soft warmth from him is much appreciated. You do swear that you wake up and feel a warm spot in the futon beside you, but Volo never is around for you to question when it happens.

-----

You woke up from a nightmare, desperately gasping for air. The sudden amounts of air triggered a coughing fit and had you leaning forward as your head throbbed from the sinus pressure swelling in your head. The door to your small, shared home slid open, and a hand rubbed your back. Volo's hair was down and running over his shoulders gorgeously as his stormy eye gazed at you intensely. The emotional high came down, and you managed to regain your breath. Laying back down, you sighed as he ringed out a rag to lay across your forehead. “… If only this happened after you received the last of the plates,” he sighed, “Do get better, my angel.” You nodded and sneezed into a hand cloth. He grimaced. His face almost made you laugh.

⚡️Elesa🌟

⭐️ Panics when you start showing symptoms. Immediately searching whatever could be wrong with you while also forcing you to lay down. A humidifier is plugged and tissues are left on the bedside table. Her next thoughts are if she needs to take off work and what to do if she gets sick, too. She tries to recall what she knows about sickness and debates asking help from her friends.

⭐️ She goes to buy medicine and returns with a distressing amount. The idea of seeing you in pain bothers her too much. She's quickly concocting a potion of medications, but you'll likely need to ask her to slow it down a little. She's just worried for you, in the end, but her panic results in a potion of bone hurting more than a cold cure. Small gifts of chocolates or similar things are left for you, too, as a surprise.

⭐️ Her cooking is not… the best. She's a busy woman that doesn't have the time to settle down and cook, but she does know a guy. A certain train adjacent man comes over and helps her make soup for you, to which she eagerly gifts you while offering to feed you. If you're feeling lethargic enough, there probably won't be a question, just your girlfriend making sure you eat something. (She also aggressively makes health teas for you to drink to help you stay hydrated and get some extra vitamins you might be lacking).

⭐️ She knows she shouldn't, but seeing you so ill and pitiful, she crawls into bed with you and cuddles you. Elesa tries to massage your temples to help with any head pain and presses a sneaky kiss or two to your cheek. The gym leader coos over your weakened state while trying to make sure you feel comfortable. She also leaves her Ampharos to keep you company as a cuddly friend when she has work.

-----

You coughed so hard that your head pulsed with pain during each nearly involuntary actions. It was unknown where you caught this vulgar affliction, but when you found out, you would attack whoever passed it along. Ampharos nuzzled into you with a quiet bleat. Electric types always held a pleasant warmth. Just as you were drifting off from the soft comfort of your girlfriend's pokemon, the door of the room opened. Elesa peered in carefully, steaming bowl of soup in her hands. “Oh!” her face grew flustered, “Sorry, sweetie… Ingo brought you some more soup, since he was worried when I said you really weren't eating a lot.” She held the bowl forward. You smiled. Her friends were extremely kind. “It's okay,” you managed to respond, “His cooking is really nice; I'll have some.” She giggled and took a seat beside you, setting the bowl on the night stand. You managed to raise up from the embrace of the sheep and enjoy a nice meal with some banter from your lover.

❄️Irida🦪

⚪️ Poor thing is heavily concerned when you get sick. Obviously, getting sick in this time period isn't something preferred. Especially when you're a member of a rural clan in a region that has had little to no modern development. She demands that you take time off from your Survey Corps work and rest. Irida will go to Kamado if you don't request it yourself. Preferably, too, she can keep you in the Pearl Settlement, but she also acknowledges the benefit of the Galaxy Team's more advanced medical knowledge.

⚪️ Medicine isn't exactly the same as it is modernly, so you're more likely given herbal teas and ground up spices to help with your affliction. If you need to be cooled, she leaves her dear Glaceon at your side, but if you need to be warmed, you're given her Flareon. There's little she can do outside of keeling you company and hoping you get better. She may start hunting for a Blissey if her concern gets bad enough. The legends of their caring natures and healing capabilities aren't unknown to her, after all.

⚪️ You are often shaken awake from your sickness induced slumber to be offered a warm bowl of soup with plenty of medicinal leaks and oran berries inside to help with your health or a tea that's made from herbs that are believed to help manage pain and sickness. She's incredibly soft in these moments, chiding you lightly about not getting proper nutrients. The Pearl Clan leader knows she's seen you go against Noble pokemon at their most powerful, but she can't help but worry. Maybe using all your energy against them left you vulnerable. She'd try to ask the Sinnoh for help, but you captured it. (This helps her believe you'll get better. After all, no ordinary person could capture such powerful pokemon and wield them.)

⚪️ She does maintain a slight distance until you're seemingly getting better. Irida would remain at your beside during the worst parts of your sickness, but during the more manageable moments, she let you rest your head in her lap and stroked your hair. Often, she suggests you sit in the hot springs, but you jokingly ask her to join you in that case. Her face is deadly serious when she says she will. In the end, you would say her kindness and conversation made you feel better than any of the medicines, admittedly.

----

You pressed the small ice fox closely to your head and sighed. Glaceon let out a small sound, but ultimately adjusted herself to lay comfortably near your forehead. There was some irony about using the ice type to help with your cold while in the middle of the most frigid place in Hisui, but that was currently lost to you. The door to the hut opened and revealed your girlfriend covered in a slight layer of snow. “How are you feeling?” she asked, coming to sit by your bed. This had become a custom since you became sick. Glaceon cried out a greeting to her beloved friend, which made you whine. Too much vibrating. “I think I'll take you up on the hot spring offering,” you managed, “After I stop feeling so cold…” Her hand reached forward to press against your forehead. The back of her hand brushed against your cheek as concern filled her eyes. She already had so much to worry about, and you just added more to her plate. “I'm sorry, Iri, you don't have to worry about me so much, I'll be fine,” you told her. Irida shook her head. “I'll get started on a good healthy meal for you,” she said dutifully, standing up proud, “You will be better in no time.”

#pokemon x reader #cyrus x reader #volo x reader #elesa x reader #irida x reader #cyrus/reader #volo/reader #elesa/reader #irida/reader

[sparksnevadas]

Hewwo its me sparks, a little bug that hasnt been feeling well for the past x amount of time. I wrote a little angst/comfort drabble thats not really canon to gihasm but it fits where you want it to fit after last chapter. Its not my usual quality but it seems lots of people are not doing great so im just going to share. I hope you all feel better. <3

(tw: negative thoughts)

===

The alarm bell rang and Grian knew it was going to be a bad day.

He had had the dream again, the one about flying high above the clouds before something changes, and he plummets to the ground. He’d kept dreaming as he hit the floor, pain a distant thing (shock, his sleep-brain reminds him, shock can make things hurt less).

On the floor, he was twisted up, broken and civilians gathered immediately. He can still hear the disgusted murmurs of them, see their pointed fingers and see their sneers.

“Someone put it out of its misery.”

Grian forces himself to turn off his alarm through the fog. His body feels tense, his wings are tensely held on his back. He doesn’t feel like moving at all, and barely manages to curl back up when his energy leaves him again. The wings on his back feel like a burden, their ugly state makes Grian want to go into hiding and not see another person. He was broken, trash that someone forgot to take to the curb.

Amidst dark thoughts and the blankets, Grian slips in and out of restless sleep. When he’s not asleep, he stares at the wall. He feels like a broken computer, repeating the same ideas over and over, feeling worse and worse as it gets harder to quiet the thoughts down.

“No one cares about you if you can’t help them,” his brain reminds him. “You're nobody if you're not Apollo. No one trusts you.  No one cares.”

He covers his head in the blankets, upset and angry at himself. “I'm useless, if I can't help people or make them safer, what's the point of it all? Why do anything at all?”

Pressure builds in his chest, something heavy and disgusting. “Im pathetic, worse than…”he hesitates as he realizes he can’t insert the name of his former nemesis, not after the past months. He lets the sentence linger.

Grian both wishes for and hates the idea of Scar or Mumbo noticing his lack of presence today. Maybe theyll realize how much of a burden he is to keep around. Will they realize it's better to drop him off at a random bus stop, send him back on his way to be dealt with by Pearl?

Mumbo would know. He left for a whole year and didn’t need him at all.

Grian surprises himself when tears burn through his eyes, forming fast enough that he doesn't process he's crying until he's struggling to catch his breath. It still hurts to remember that Mumbo did not trust him enough. Maybe he had been right to not trust him. Grian was an idiot, a fool who had to have his eyes pried open to actually see the reality of the world around him. The world was cruel, it hated him and it was right to-

Distantly, Grian hears some sort of sound behind his cries. It's only when a door is being opened that he realizes it was knocked.

“Grian?” Mumbo calls out cautiously. “Are you sleeping in?”

“Mm,” Grian hums noncommittally. Something must sound off to Mumbo, because he doesn’t retreat.

“Grian?”

“I’m fine,” Grian chokes out. “Give me a moment, I’ll- I’ll be back to-“

“Grian?” Mumbo closes the door and immediately steps further into the room, coming to kneel at his bed. “G, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Grian frowns, face still hidden from Mumbo. He shakes his head emphatically so Mumbo can see his answer. His throat is swollen, he won't be able to talk like this.

“Are you sick?” Again Grian shakes his head. Mumbo pauses. Slowly, like a person approaching a wild animal, he asks. “Are you not feeling well?”

Grian doesn’t respond.

Mumbo waits for a long moment, before taking a deep breath.

“I can imagine what this might be about, mate, we should talk about-“ Mumbo says, and Grian curls up further into a ball. Mumbo pauses. 

Tense quiet fills the room. Grian tries to suppress a sniffle but doesn't succeed. He grips his arms, trying to hold himself together, at least while Mumbo sticks around.

Mumbo shifts, more of his weight pressing against the mattress.

“Y’know what usually makes me feel better on bad days?” He asks Grian. Something light touches the bed beside him. Grian hesitates to peek at it, but Mumbo tells him what it is. “Holding a friend’s hand.”

Grian tears up again at how considerate his friend is. Consideration even for someone as undeserving as himself. He pulls away the blankets, revealing himself in the process of taking Mumbo’s hand into his own. He doesn't look at Mumbo as he sniffles and silently cries. He's overwhelmed again.

Mumbo’s hand is warm and heavy. Grian holds his hand tightly, almost scared that Mumbo will disappear. Mumbo’s thumb caresses his own idly, his hold more loose, but still caring. Grian lays there, holding Mumbo’s hand tightly until the wave passes him, his head coming up for clear air after an indeterminate amount of time.

Grian slowly, almost cowardly, looks up to find Mumbo’s face, only to see that Mumbo is already looking at him. He looks saddened, but not angry. Grian isn't sure why he expected Mumbo to be angry. Mumbo was not an angry man by nature.

“I think it works a little,” Grian says, his voice a little stronger now. He squeezes Mumbo’s hand even tighter for a beat. Mumbo smiles and sighs through his nose.

“I'm glad,” Mumbo says. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Shame fills Grian’s mind as he shakes his head. Mumbo doesn't press further

“Then, Is there anything else I can do?” He asks sincerely. “I don't like seeing you like this, Grian, it hurts me.”

“Im sorry,” Grian apologizes quickly. “You don't have to stay-“

“No, that's not what I meant,” Mumbo cuts him off. “It's just… Grian you’re my best friend,mate, I don’t want you to ever feel bad. I… y’know I really care for you. You're one of the most important people I've had the luck of ever meeting, much less become friends with, yknow?”

The words almost fall on deaf ears, Grian’s brain twisting the words against him. How unlucky, Grian mentally corrects. He means how unlucky he is he's stuck with me.

Grian struggles to quiet his brain, something Mumbo likely notices in his face. He looks conflicted, almost lost as he leans closer to Grian.

“It’s true, you're my best friend,” Mumbo insists. Grian’s mouth twists, feeling himself tear up again.

In an impulsive moment, Grian lets go of Mumbo’s hand and throws his arm up, looking at Mumbo. Mumbo hesitates for only a second before climbing into the bed and wrapping his arm around Grian. With his weight against him, Grian suddenly feels like he can breathe.

He tucks his forehead against Mumbo’s neck, soaking in the warmth of his best friend's body. It warms him where he hadn't realized he had gotten cold, something human replacing the mess of tangled emotions in him. Grian presses his entire body into Mumbo’s, clinging onto him, feeling relief in every touch Mumbo easily offers.

Mumbo’s heartbeat is loud and clear, heavy and smooth. He presses closer, almost suffocating warmth in Mumbo’s embrace.

“I love you,” Mumbo whispers into his ear. It's not the first time he's said it at this point, but it's still rare to hear this soon. “You are so, so important to me. To scar too. He told me to check on you. Wouldnt tell me why.”

Grian nuzzles him, throwing a leg over Mumbo’s. He can feel Mumbo’s heartbeat through his neck, and he concentrates on it, closing his eyes. 

Scar knew he was feeling bad but hadn’t wanted to come in. Was Grian that much of a burden? Or was it that Scar knew Grian would more likely kick him out than let him close like he would Mumbo when he felt this terrible? Grian isn't sure. He feels himself starting to shake, his wings shifting and rustling. Mumbo reaches for them, but Grian pulls the betraying wings away, shaking his head. Mumbo relents, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.

“Can we lay down like this for a while?” Grian chokes out through his guilt. “Or-“

“As long as you like,” Mumbo nods. “I don't mind.”

“…You're too nice,” Grian whispers. “I don’t deserve you, do I?”

“Grian…” Mumbo answers softly. “Don’t say that. You mean the world to me.”

It only makes Grian want to cringe more. It made him feel guilty. “You deserve someone as kind as you. Someone good.”

“You’re good,” Mumbo insists, hugging him tighter for emphasis. “Grian, you don’t understand how happy I am that you’re in my life, that you cared enough to keep looking for me after I left. It takes a good person to assume the best in others, even if we did nothing to deserve it.”

Grian frowns. “Still,” he tries to enlighten Mumbo. “That’s just the bare minimum of what you deserve, you should be with-”

“Stop it,” Mumbo’s hold loosened. “Stop talking about who deserves what. I love you. I don’t care about anybody else,” His hold shifts, one of Mumbo’s hands reaching into Grian’s hair as he pulls the avian against him. “Only you and Scar. I’m going to love you no matter what, Grian, stop trying to convince me not to!”

And Grain can’t help it. He tears up, feeling like a child. He whimpers and sobs and wipes his tears on Mumbo’s poor shirt, holding onto the shirt for his life. He’s so undeserving of this kindness, but he wants it so badly. Mumbo holds him through it, whispering little reassurances into his hair, gently combing it with his fingers. Intense and burning fondness for his friend rears its head in Grian, making him catch a sob in his throat as words spill through.

“I love you too,” Grian sobs into Mumbo’s neck. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” Mumbo kisses his hair. “I love you just as much.”

And to imagine this much  love and adoration flows through Mumbo like it does Grian breaks him a little inside. Mumbo deserves so much more. He deserves a nice set of partners, with a normal home and a normal kid. Or maybe it would still be Grumbot. But if this is the life he wants, all Grian can do is count his luck and love him back more.

Grian tilts his head up and kisses the underside of Mumbo’s jaw. Mumbo leans back, tilting his chin down to look at him. The angle gives him a bit of a double chin, which Grian eagerly obliges with another kiss. Mumbo smiles at him. Grian can’t quite replicate a smile on his own face now, but he leans up and gives Mumbo’s cheek a kiss. He kisses across Mumbo’s face until the two are forehead to forehead across Grian’s pillow.

“I don’t like my wings,” Grian says quietly. 

“Do you want to bleach them?” Mumbo asks.

Grian hesitates. “I’m not Apollo anymore.”

“You can still bleach them if that’s what you want, Grian,” Mumbo answers calmly, still playing with Grian’s hair, softly kneading Grian’s scalp in a way that makes him want to sigh dreamily.

“I don’t know,” Grian closes his eyes against the sensation on his scalp. It tingles pleasantly.

“Or we can dye them another color. Not white, but something different,” Mumbo suggests. “You’ll still be nice with any color of wings.”

“Pretty?” Grian asks, smiling a bit. He opens his eyes to see Mumbo roll his eyes.

“Yes, very pretty,” he corrects. “And very handsome, Grian.”

Grian smiles, leaning forward to press a kiss to Mumbo’s nose. Mumbo huffs.

“Can you stop missing already,” he says with mock annoyance. “I want to be kissed by my very pretty best friend.”

Grian smiles for a second, leaning in incrementally before the guilt makes him freeze. Mumbo closes the gap, pressing a kiss to his unmoving lips. Mumbo pulls back.

A few seconds pass before Mumbo leans up and kisses Grian’s nose. “It’s not just the wings, is it?”

Grian frowns, not meeting his eyes. Mumbo nods anyway. 

“We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. But Scar and I are here when you want to,” he reminds him. “We love you, you know.”

Grian sighs. “I know.”

“We love you a lot,” Mumbo nods, pressing his nose into his hair. “Do you want to cuddle until Scar misses us and comes looking?”

Grian rolls his eyes but tucks himself into Mumbo’s shoulder, closing his eyes. His dry eyes find relief in the darkness again, this time a lot less heavy than before. Before he knows it, he starts to fade into dreamless sleep.

—------

Grian wakes to hands combing through his wings, the sensation of a loose feather being pulled giving him relief. He finds himself laying on his stomach, warmly tucked against Mumbo’s heart. More than a pair of hands make their way through his wings, bringing him pleasant warmth. He spreads his wings further with a soft groan. Mumbo stiffens under him. Scar has the opposite reaction; he laughs delightfully. The sound is full of love, especially when it gets closer, and Scar presses a small kiss to the back of Grian’s neck. Grian tenses, feeling a warm wave wash down his spine from the feeling.

“Go back to sleep, birdie,” Scar coos. “We got you. We’ll take good care of you. We’re right here.”

And for the moment before Grian falls back asleep, Grian believes him and smiles.

#mumscarian #gihasm #grumbo #theres a few typos sorry

[anexperimentallife]

Life/Health Update

The thing we've been most worried about is the damage to my heart from COVID and anti-inflammatories. BP has been slowly going down over the past few months, so that would seem to indicate that at least SOME of the damage to my heart is healing. Let's hope. Need to get all those tests done again to know for sure, but for now they've taken me off one of my BP meds, so that's promising. (This was the main thing we were considering trying to get back to the states for, so I could use my medical benefits.) The rest of the stuff impacts quality of life, but isn't directly life-threatening, so if the other issues have to wait, they have to wait.

The hole in my throat still needs closed up. That will probably be the priority once we get my mouth issues (below) sorted. This one is kind of dangerous, as food, medication, and liquids often get stuck in there, and can throw off med dosages and sometimes cause me to choke. Been lucky so far, I guess.

One place in my jaw still pokes through inside, and another is threatening to. If those places don't start reabsorbing within the next few days, they'll have to open up the inside of my mouth AGAIN to file them down. So I'm gumming my food for at least another eight weeks before we can do anything about new teeth.

We're able to get the eye drops that take down the swelling in my retina fairly regularly now, so here's hoping that if I keep using them for three more months they'll have some kind of permanent effect. Probably still need surgery on that eye, though. Sucks that this happened to my formerly good eye--it used to have 20/10 vision. Temperature seems to play a role in the amount of fun-house-mirror-vision, but we live in the tropics, so not much to do about that. (We live in the mountains, so it's not as bad as the lowlands, but AC is rare up here.)

I don't think the cataract in the other eye has gotten too much worse, but that's obviously going to need surgery eventually, as well. If I can come out of this with one good eye, I'll consider myself lucky.

Brain fog (combination of long COVID, ADHD, Autism, and a traumatic brain injury) is still bad, but not as bad as it was. Nothing to do about that but wait.

My spine injuries are still an issue, with occasionally arm cramping/paralysis that used to be JUST in my right arm, but now sometimes spreads to my left. At least the cramping keeps the muscles toned? (Trying to look at the bright side here.) Neck exercises and stretching help with that, as does ice. (I mean, yeah, there's the constant pain, too, but that's the least of my concerns.)

Still need that second foot surgery, because the cauterization didn’t completely take from the last one; not only am I open for another infection (like the two-year one that an infectious disease specialist finally cleared up for me), but walking is pretty painful, too, even if I’m not talking about joint injuries.

Joint injuries... Hoo boy. Definitely gonna need a hip replacement eventually, and probably both knees.

I have chronic fatigue now, plus every pre-existing condition and old injury I had has been exacerbated by long COVID. It sucks. My stamina is improving little by little, though.

Treatment for all of the medical stuff has to wait for one thing at a time to be affordable. My health was stable until COVID, but now... Damn. Unfortunately, COVID came around around the time we found out we were having a baby, and four bouts of COVID have left my health completely fucked and exacerbated all my old injuries.

(If you're new here, you may not know that the licensing contract to convert some of my old fiction to a game--which, fortunately, did not count as "work income" for social security purposes--got canceled just weeks after El was born, meaning our income dropped way down, and that a snafu with Eleanor's birth certificate made her stateless, which took every bit of our savings plus the proceeds from a fundraiser to correct. If not for the combo of COVID and El's birth certificate snafu, we'd be fine both medically and financially.)

I'm working on plotting out more Quiet World and Alex And stuff, which I'll be shopping around, but frankly, even if it sells, it probably won't be much. (If you were here in 2013, you may remember that I had just started to have success selling my fiction to pro markets when my sons died, which threw me for a loop for several years, so I have to start over building a reputation.)

We've considered a move back to the US to use my medical benefits, but a) that'd be expensive af, and b) the US may be on the edge of becoming a military dictatorship, so even if we had the money for it, we'd want to wait to see what November holds.

So yeah, that's what's been going on with my health and our finances. As always, @thesurestthing and Baby El bring me joy, and my sort-of-adopted niece @geniussheepworld is a great help to all of us.

With so many people in the world suffering so much, I am reluctant to post a funding link. We are MOSTLY financially stable--it's just that we have to save up for my medical stuff while we work to finish paying off about 11K USD of debt from El's paperwork thing and all the medical whammies (and thank you to everyone who has helped already)--but if you want to help with that, the best link is either our paypal donation link or Ko-Fi.

#rob gets medical #rob gets personal

[crowborn666-writes]

I have two scenarios for you, one from mha and one from kny 😌

let's go with dabi/touya first because he's mad cool (and traumatized but we vibe with that here): heroes are getting suspicious that someone probably must be helping touya, and since you've helped him on multiple occasions as his lover (whether it was to get away from heroes, patch him up when injured or similar acts of assistance), as much as you don't want to leave him on his own, you come to the conclusion it's better you disappear for a certain while just in case, plus it's better that way. In the case where you'd be caught, they'd take you away and you could not help him at all anymore, whereas if you left for a little while you'd still be able to help him, which is what you think is best, despite having to say goodbye for some time. So, one evening, while day shifts to night, you ask him to meet you in a secluded area to explain that to him and also say goodbye, which I can imagine the dialogue ending somehow like this: “don't be too careless while I'm gone, yeah?” “who do you take me for?” “I knew you'd say that... well anyway, you better be waiting for me” “your wish is my command, my love” etc. but the thing is, the whole time, he looks laid back, almost aloof, but deep down he really doesn't want you to leave, and he hopes having that demeanor and joking/flirting it out will attenuate the pain but it doesn't really, although I do believe their parting scene would be beautiful.

then I'm thinking of muichiro (still amnesiac) coming back from a mission and having this irresistible urge to go see someone but without knowing who, and that really frustrates him until he sees you and everything suddenly makes sense, you were the one he wanted to see so bad, and that's when he realizes how much you mean to him <3

hope you like these, and good luck with the rest!

(I was gonna write them both, but when I started Dabi’s my brain said “no :)”, so that’ll for a later date maybe ^^)

(First time writing for Muichiro too, so he may be ooc!)

Remembrance

Muichiro x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Platonic

Summary: Muichiro knows he wants to see someone, but he just can’t remember who.

~~~~~~

Muichiro shuffled through the gate to the Butterfly Estate, wincing slightly at the wound in his side. As soon as he set foot through the gate, he could feel it.

He needed to check on someone.

…Wait, but who…?

He shook his head. He’d… figure it out, somehow.

It wasn’t long before a nurse came rushing to his battered form, guiding him inside and immediately setting out to dress his wounds.

That feeling again, it was nagging at him.

Another shake of his forgetful head, hands taking the cup of medicine and bringing it to his lips.

Hands balled into fists, Muichiro was struggling with that nagging feeling. Who did he want to see so badly?!

He walked through the garden slowly, originally taking a calming stroll before his mind began nagging at him. His eyes lifted at a clash of swords, spotting Sanemi and Rengoku sparring together a ways away.

He let out a soft sigh, continuing his walk with furrowed brows.

“Muichiro!”

Said boy lifted his head, eyes landing on you.

Immediately, it was like the never ending fog was lifted.

You.

You were the person he wanted—needed to see.

An easy smile overtook his face, all previous frustration immediately forgotten.

“Hello (Y/n).” He greeted once you were close enough, watching as you dig into your pocket.

“I’m so glad to see you’re back safe and sound! I had found this pretty blue stone just after you left and I’ve been dying to give it to you!” You rambled on as usual, your voice welcome to Muichiro’s ears as you passed on a blue and white stone to his awaiting hand.

“It looks like the sky.” He was grinning now, eyes full of warmth when he looked back up to you.

You smiled back just as brightly, happy to see his smile.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #muichiro tokito #muichiro x reader