#this is probably bad but i woke up with a brain disease and the only treatment was this

[glazemedaka]

the study of motion.

welt / reader (1.3k) sfw. GN reader. implied age gap (reader is vaguely implied to be younger than welt)

Welt has a hard time capturing your likeness in his sketchbook.

It’s how your hands move, he thinks.

They’re precise, but not delicate. When you grab things, you hold them. You don’t do anything in half measures, and certainly not that. When you flex your fingers, rolling your knuckles, ready for the next strike of a fragmentum blade, he knows it won’t move you. Unyielding.

But they’re gentle, too. How you hold a coffee cup; two fingers hooked through the handle, your little finger curled under the base. Or cradled in both hands, palms folded around it as steam rises to warm your face.

It’s hard to capture them, your hands. Too many lines, too messy. He wastes pages on them, dissatisfied with the outcomes. He was making them too classically pretty; neatly formed nails, perfect lines and perfect shapes. Scratch that; it doesn’t suit you, not at all.

You’re not perfect, and neither are your hands, and that, that, is what he wants to catch. Your little fingers are shorter than they should be; stumpy, you call them, wiggling them in your gloves, where the standard-sized material sags around them. The faded scar on your middle finger that always comes with a different story.

Oh this? I punched some idiot once. This one? I think it was a can opener. Ah, this little thing? Not big deal, it happened a long time ago.

Scars are tricky things; proof that something left its mark in you. Someday maybe you’ll wind back around to the truth. He can wait. He can take his time.

Ah, that’s how your palm folded, two lines bending toward the center. A lifeline? A heartline? He wasn’t overly familiar with that form of divination. A fantasy— in another life. Maybe in this one it was real, another prescient matrix to chart fate. He didn’t need precognition to know your hands were destined for something great, something wonderful; he knew just from watching you in motion that your trajectory will arc higher than the stars.

He realizes he’s getting lost in details; it’s the shapes that matter. The movement. How the ball of your thumb rolls as you tuck it under. It’s been a long time since he was in the studio, and it’s easy to forget when all he has time for these days are studies. It’s not about capturing the perfect single frame; your hands— like you— are never at rest, so there’s no way to capture them in stillness. Animation is the study of motion, after all.

Like when you hook them under his arm, and drag him whole-body toward the magazine stand. Or when you rest your palm to his shoulder, looking out over the Luofu’s projected skyscape. Or when you tap two fingers on his sketchbook, head on your other hand, smiling. Ever gonna show me what you’re always so focused on in there?

Someday, he says, tucking it away. When I’ve got it right.

Don’t make me wait forever! you laugh.

Sometimes, he can barely wait through now. His studies devolve when you’re on a mission elsewhere. Of course. There’s no model to work from, after all. No one to puzzle over their tablet, fingers flicking past pages. No one to lean against the parlor table, hands hooked around the edge.

Well. That isn’t quite precisely true. There are several someones, but they aren’t you.

But it doesn’t stop him from drawing from memory, all the same. Holding a pencil. Steepled in thought. Balled up in anger, frustration in the firm line of your wrist. Careful, petting something soft.

Fingers intertwined with another hand, one he knows far better, one he can study whenever he likes. He wonders if you’d tuck your little finger under the edge of his palm, like you do with your coffee cup, curled close.

Scratch that, scratch all of it. He’s not ready to think about that. Or, no— he is, unfortunately, thinking, but he shouldn’t be. You’re too bright, still burning. He’s going to gutter long before you fade. And you think of him as a friend, a mentor, maybe, if he’s lucky. Someone trusted, familiar, safe. You’ve got other hands to hold, more suitable, less worn, less creased, with no ugly bump from years spent holding a drafting pen too tight.

Better to keep things ideal. Distant. Lines on paper. Sketches on the page.

“Welt, can I ask you something?”

You’ve been loitering in the parlor car with him between missions. You’ve been restless all day, unable to settle on something, picking at loose threads on your coat and removing them with your trademark precision. He has a handful of rapid studies of it, the way your index finger and thumb form an oval, but he’s had some trouble with conveying the tension as you tug the thread free.

“Certainly,” he says, paging through his tablet absently, sketchbook set aside for the moment.

“What’s the bump on your middle finger? Is that a scar?”

“Ah. Something like that. It happens over years of work with traditional pens. Writer’s callus, though artists get them, too. A bit unsightly— ”

Before he can stop you, you’re leaning across the table, taking his hands in yours. Firm and direct. Sturdy. Warm.

“Not at all,” you disagree, thumb smoothing over his palm, running over those unfathomable lines. “It’s like with a good tool. You work with it every day, and eventually you wear it down and leave a mark. I think you’ve used your hands well, Welt.”

“Thank you,” he says, and tries to pretend it doesn’t go straight through him. He knows that now’s his moment to pull back, his moment to let go, before he makes you stand still for a beat too long, but he’s dreamed of this for so long, surely a single moment can’t be too much— ? But no. Bodies in motion should stay in motion. He loosens his grip, so you can move away.

“Heh. Sorry for being so forward,” you say, before he can fill the silence. “I’ll let you get back to what you were doing, then…”

But you don’t move away. Instead, you stay there, as you are, hands in his hands, long after he let go.

Oh.

“… actually,” he says, thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands, feeling the fine bones just beneath the surface. Sturdy. Gentle. “Perhaps you might stay.”

Your grip goes tighter, and you side around the table, closer to him— close enough to feel your breath, close enough to smell your shampoo, close enough that he can hear it when you breathe it out.

“Finally. It only took forever for you to notice.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. It’s not enough, but you’re so close, so real, so present, hand in hand, he can’t quite form the words he’d like to use. It seems untethered from reality, some kind of fiction. But no; he would know your hands anywhere, and they are firmly in his, exactly where you seem to want them to be.

“Well,” you say, still there, still real. “I’m glad I finally caught your attention.”

“You’ve always had it,” he says, softly. “I just… didn’t think you were looking back.”

You pull back, only slightly, giving him a half-lidded look. “Really? All these months? And you never once noticed how much I was hanging around bothering you? Watching you draw?”

“It seems I was looking in the wrong direction.”

“Yeah? And what had you so transfixed, Mr. Yang?” you say, playful, gentle, an invitation, as your fingers slide between his.

“Perhaps,” he says, as your bodies press close, as he lowers his mouth to yours, as you pull him gently into your orbit, “I should show you my sketchbook, sometime.”

#welt x reader #welt yang x reader #honkai star rail #x reader #me fics #this is probably bad but i woke up with a brain disease and the only treatment was this

[per1shed]

hey ive also been following u since idk at least when i was in high school and im 21 now and i just wanted to say that your blog has always given me a lot of hope. despite how terribly you have to struggle, you're always doing everything you can trying to get better. you try to go on walks and you try to watch movies and you try new medicines even if all of that scares you. you like reading and music and beautiful things. you try and you love and you appreciate. no matter what happens, to have that as your legacy is something to be extremely proud of. its so upsetting that anon chose to project their shitty mindset on you. it's a pitiful quality to not be able to look at the immense suffering in the world and not also see the beautiful hope and kindness and resilience of those within it. the lotus flower is an important symbol in my culture bc it's something beautiful that only grows from the mud and because of that, it represents purity and strength. you always remind me of that. i hope you know that their bitterness doesn't reflect on you. it's always good to see your posts, even the sad ones. i'll follow this blog until you delete it or tumblr goes away, regardless of your mental/physical state.

you are incredibly kind and i’ve been crying for 20 minutes thinking about how what i want to reply to this. i didn’t think anyone would ever pick up on the “good” parts of me. my issue is that i want to love the world and i’m trying so hard to find things to get me going, it’s just that i have an incredibly hard time talking about them to ANYONE. ever since i started becoming physically sick and woke up one morning unable to walk, to eat, to talk, to listen to music or even laugh, it was so traumatizing to me that the only way my brain knew how to cope with it is to never talk about anything that means something to me ever again bc im scared it will be taken away from me. that’s why i never talk about bts even though they mean the world to me, bc im scared that if i do they’ll die or something. and that’s how it is with EVERY single thing that means something to me. i have very little things left (reading, the 30 minutes of music a day that i can bear, sitting outside when my body lets me etc) so i can’t risk having them be taken away. but im trying to post about them every now and then to challenge my magical thoughts bc i know rationally that they’re just in my head. (probably).

people with me/cfs have the lowest quality of life out of many other major diseases tested so i find it astonishing on my part that i’m still holding on. life has not been good to me and i think people don’t realize that sometimes it just doesn’t get better no matter how much help someone has or how much someone is trying. your message means so much to me i don’t think anyone has ever said something kinder. i will keep it close so i can read it whenever i’m sad so i can remind myself that i’m not only bad. thank you so much really ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#sorry i can’t stop crying this is just so kind #anon #happy tag #healing #i will also look up the louts flower thing you mentioned #also now i want to buy something lotus flower related to remeber this and that somebody thinks of me this way

[resmarted]

alright fine, is this what you want? here it is, the weirdly sincere version of me that comes to casually haunt you late into the night, she's right here. did you want me to tell you how i'm scared this is just another trick or too jaded to believe in the niceties of others, that i am beside myself over how pretty you are and that something that once seemed fairly easy to ignore has made its way through the floorboards pounding at my conscience with such ruthless fury? i don't know exactly when this happened, i think it started in very small flickers that i could easily smolder without much thought. i think surely you must interact with everyone this way, that you're just very nice and everyone sees these same shining eyes and has to protect their own hearts accordingly, that perhaps it has been like this since you were a kid and that your mother probably has stories for days about what that was like for all the sweet stupid girls and boys that got overlooked and left behind. i try to make sense of it, water it all down with pure logic, like surely you must feel bad for me or want to put me at ease in some sense of duty as any nice caring person would. surely you knowing me by my government name has hindered your ability to really see me and i can rest easy knowing it's just an extension of grace and generosity with good manners mixed in. i woke up randomly from a dream a few weeks ago where we were talking and could only manage to think huh, that was weird. i didn't want to keep thinking about it. i can't keep doing this to myself, the whole reading too much into things that are not there and overinvesting energy better spent elsewhere. this always happens when i am already stuck on someone else that doesn't give me the time of day, when i am wrapped safely in the cocoon of a delusion so refined that i couldn't possibly make room for anything new. i can never just be normal about things. i need obsessions to keep me going and it usually takes a new one to snap me out of the old, like some strange autistic train hopping from one infatuation to the next, lest i feel dead inside with nothing or no one to aimlessly yearn for and pine over. i can obsess over work and find things to do and people to bide my time with, but i can't unsee you. not lately, anyway. you are invading my thoughts and filling the space in my brain that is usually reserved for dead air and practical affairs. i keep thinking it's still early enough to get a grip, that i can simply meet someone new or find something shiny in the nick of time, that life isn't so bland to the point where i need a constant source of disassociation to mend the wounds of reality - not yet anyway.

jealousy is a disease and everyone around you is dying. you don't even see it. it's a pattern i see in all my favorite people, their humble nature always blocking their sight from all the ways in which people are out to get them, the subtle nonverbal cues and the small minded mentality unbearable to witness by those that actually do care for them. i can't help but suspect people have sabotaged you in similar ways all your life, how envy has wreaked havoc on you in ways you still haven't quite grasped as you're never competing with those determined to beat you at any cost. it's too presumptuous to think someone could be so calculated and vile, and that it only sounds crazy because it is and they are. but what do i know? i've been kept hostage in this cave my whole life while reverend henry kane siphons and harvests my light for personal gain. i've only ever known betrayal and alienation, it's the pure love that is difficult to navigate. it's the unabashed kindness and the rorshach of angelic whimsy all around me all the time, how did that happen? i am trapped in a prism, warm gooey blackberry dreams melting over me and vague memories of summers spent in westerly reading novels that took place in the same towns, wondering how strange it felt to be surrounded by such seemingly normal and decent people. i've lost so many versions of myself over time, so many variations and talents that were suppressed for survival, jumping from timeline to timeline until i can't seem to figure out my age anymore.

people scare me for various reasons, mainly the ones who come too close and want to stake claim, to feed off my energy and hoard it for themselves. i can't deal with anyone else trying to own me, i am still trying to wash the slime off from prior experiences. i am safe in solitude but i can come out to rage and party in these wildly extreme ways before disappearing for lengths of time, and i forget all the time that i'm not a kid anymore. which is weird because i am constantly insisting i have everything handled and i don't need any help! i'm fine i'm fine no really i'm okay it's fine!! it's literally never fine and hasn't been for so long but if i say it out loud then it becomes real and i can laugh off a thousand problems until it eventually becomes funny; a fake it til you make it kind of thing. it is very likely true that i am the evil narcissist monster people love to paint me as, because how dare i like myself, right? how dare i carve a place in this world and defy all odds when it would be easier for everyone if i just crawled back into the hole and stayed put, fall in line and act oh so grateful for anyone to ever possibly give me the time of day, oh my! i didn't survive this life to stay silent and if anything the ones that have tried to keep me in this space for so long had better find a new god to pray to if they know what's good for them. i am not here to bore you with the gory details of a life spent growing up in hospital beds or the disdain with which grown adults would look at me and still do, how people must think it was easy for me to get this far or underestimate all the burning buildings i crawled through on my way here. i hold no resentment about it, nor the desire to relive any of it. i just wanted to tell you i forget i lived through any of it when i look at you and something softens inside of me in a way that is both terrifying and thrilling. i can barely remember the hatred in their voices or the violence or the mockery or the way they thought i never caught on to any of it, how gallantly they cackled like the most pathetic coven of washed up pseudosorcerers as they feigned so poorly a threadbare kinship. all of it washes away when i look at you and for a moment i actually believe in something other than the corruption of tethered souls and the enigmatic greed that only the most clueless pawns in spiritual warfare could succumb to. i look away before i get too lost because i don't really think i can believe it, your charm far too sugary sweet for any of it to be real or reliable, but god do i wish to be fooled.

i hate that i felt my heart drop to my feet or that i even cared enough to let it be more than what it was. i guess if i could go back i wouldn't change anything, and i probably wouldn't go back at all, even if only to look at your face up close once more. i can't handle the obsession, it's not good for my fragile little psyche. i managed to be so good at not caring and then you had to go and fuck it all up and look at me like that. i tell myself you do this shit to all your hoes and that there are likely a dreadful amount, that i am being the exact version of silly according to some sick plan and falling into the trap just as designed. but then you act like a shy idiot and i am into it, i want more even though i hate this stupid game, i hate these little techniques used to reel me in like a beta fish and i want to knock you off a very high horse for daring to get me lured in this far. and i want to stare at you for a while and listen to you talk in that uncontrollable way where you do the thing starting on one topic only to wind up in fifteen other places, and i'm there along for the ride. i am following to every single rest stop, taking every little note, and watching every slightest glimmer in your eyes as you light up like a little kid in emphatic fervor. i can't tell if i want off this ride or if i want to just crash and burn and get it over with already. can't stand not knowing how long this is supposed to last but when i review the omens they seemingly all lead back to you. i was so sure it was someone else back when i wanted so badly for it to be them, and now i can't tell if i'm making it out to be you for the same reason, but the descriptors are eerily accurate and things have already happened as predicted which could not only suggest that this isn't an intricately built snare but perhaps even a safe haven where i am to finally rest my head and sleep soundly without fear for the first time ever. they say there are false twins that will mirror back the things you want them to be, that can mimic the true soul mate and deceive you into falling for the wrong one. i can't help but notice everyone that came before was just a bad imitation of you, terrible actors in a low budget cable movie in hindsight. i don't know if i can handle another fully formed entity posing as all the things i want, i'd rather turn you off completely before anything can even get started. but then what if i throw away the only person that could ever feel like home? all because i'm a superstitious dummy afraid of getting hurt. i am hurt all the time, i suppose there's not much more to be afraid of at this point. but i do know if you were to look away now it might kill me, and even worse, i might enjoy the decay.

#long reads

[makesmewishiwasyou]

I finally listened to everywhere at the end of time and holy SHIT there's so much i need to say.

(I know this isn't isn't type of stuff I usually post but I thought it'd be good to share)

1. the music is terrifying but also amazing at the same time and I was literally shaking as I was listening and I was paranoid for the next 4 or 5 hours but you know what it's okay.

2. I absolutely love how it's made and it's more than just some doot doot little saxophones. it portrays the effects of dementia and Alzhimers disease and its effects on people..and having somewhat experienced it by watching someone else's memory and brain just deteriorate (I will get into the story here in a sec) its so scary to know you could lose everything and die not even knowing who you are anymore

3. the story

my grandfather was diagnosed with dementia and my mother made me and my sister stay down at their home for what seemed like months. it was when shit started to go downhill..now. when we first got there he was doing okay and he was still walking around and he still remembered some things it was all just jumbled together. I was staying in the living room on a chair at this time and, as the teenager I am, I was the only one awake till 4am..sometimes my grandpa would walk in and just start talking about random stuff..and if I didn't pretend like I was asleep, he would try talking to me. one of the times he did this he asked me "hey [my mother's nickname], how's your dad doin?"

I was honestly baffled because 1 he was referring to my mom and he's her dad and 2. my dad died the year before this so it was a little unnerving to see how bad he was getting. as time went on while I stayed there, I heard what sounded like a record player in the distance. even tho yes they did have a record player it barley operated..it was super super old. one of the first ones w the horn yk? anyways. I also saw things. a lot of shadow figures in the bathroom or the hallway..this is more important in a little bit.

as he got worse and worse, they brought in a hospital type bed and he stayed in the living room and I got moved to his bedroom. there I started having sleep paralysis nightly and one of these nights there was a shadow dude staring at me in the doorway smiling as I heard talking and crying in the other room. I decided to just force myself to go back to sleep. the next morning when I woke up..or actually afternoon cuz I woke up at about 1pm..I went into the living room and the bed was gone. the living room was rearranged. and after a bit of thinking and talking to the rest of my family I realized I was having sleep paralysis the same time my grandpa died. wow. then my mom said we should stay longer for the funeral yk? and so I was forced to stay on the couch which was moved to where my grandpa's bed was. I had sleep paralysis there too. there would be shadow figures looking over the couch and watching me, the record player, etc. this even started happening during the day. I'd see shadow figures in the corn fields and sometimes other figures but that was probably just a SW if yk what I mean. I was scared shitless. I can't stay down there anymore due to how bad my sleep paralysis gets and just the overall vibe. there's something really bad happening on that property man it's not good.

[priortoallthoughts]

Bad Batch Cuddles

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: gn!reader x bad batch

Warnings: None, just fluff

Summary: Reader is a medic for the Bad Batch who suffers from chronic nightmares. The Bad Batch learns that cuddling helps and they are on the job. This is how that came about.

[Part 2]

Masterlist

Nightmares are nothing new to you; you’ve dealt with them for as long as you can remember. It’s tiring, the constant interruption of any sleep you attempt to get. Your coping mechanisms, ones you’ve learned through hard experience, only do so much night after night.

When the war starts you join as a volunteer medic. You figure why not put your skills to use where they were needed the most? It did nothing to help you sleep, the nightmares are only that much more vivid now, but you think it’s a fair trade for the lives you save every day. It’s your passion, and you wouldn’t give it up for anything.

The GAR moves you around at any given moment depending on what it needs. Sometimes you’re on a Venator-class star destroyer serving under a Jedi general. A few times you work on one of the Republic medical stations with the Kaminoans (you weren’t sure how to feel about them if you were being honest.) But your longest stint anywhere, and where you were still, is working with Clone Force 99. They tell you to call them the Bad Batch.

You think it’s a bit funny, but you do it anyway.

They’re the ones who help you discover that nothing works to keep you asleep through the night quite as much as cuddling with someone else.

The first time you have a nightmare around them, you wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, in the little cot set up for you in the Havoc Marauder.

You slip past the boys still asleep in their bunks and make your way to the cockpit.

It’s cooler in there, causing you to shiver when you step through the door. The blur of stars in hyperspace is as mesmerizing as ever, and works to calm you down.

You sit it in the copilot seat. It’s always a good idea to leave the pilots seat open in case something goes wrong. And considering the Bad Batch’s propensity for things going wrong, it’s more likely than you care to admit.

Hours later, when your eyes are dry and hurting, you finally feel like you can go back to sleep. A quick sneak back to your cot and you lay there for the rest of the night.

Hunter asks you about it the next morning.

“Oh man, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Curse your inability to be stealthy! Of course you would wake up the one with enhanced senses!

“No worries,” he assures you with a smile. “You we’re getting restless before you woke up, wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You gave him an awkward smile. “Nothing to worry about, it was just a nightmare.”

Should you tell him that it’s normal? It would probably be a good idea. But what if he thinks constantly being woken up is too much of a hassle and wants a different medic? You were supposed to be helping them, not making them loose sleep too!

“I figured as much; it happens to all of us.”

He claps your shoulder and walks away before you could say another word.

Since then, one by one, the rest of the boys all find out about your nightmares. Wrecker is sitting up in his bunk one night when you jolt awake in your cot and end up meeting his eyes. Crosshair stays back with the Marauder during a short resupply where you proceed to fail miserably at taking a nap. Tech is tinkering with something in the cockpit when you come in one night.

You’re not actually sure if he’s been to sleep at all yet, which only makes you feel a little better about accidentally disturbing him.

“You know,” he starts as soon as you walk in, “there are many studies about the psychology of chronic nightmares and their causes in nat-borns. Do you know if you have any hereditary diseases or other underlying sleep disorders that could contribute to your condition? If we scanned your brain, we could see if there’s a physiological reason for it. As a medic, it would be simple for you to do.”

You’re so astonished, both by his concern and the heat crawling up your face, that you can only giggle before going to sit on the floor next to him.

“Hate to say it, but I’ve done that. Nothing physiological,” you sigh.

“Then it is psychological?”

“Not that I’ve ever discovered.”

Tech looks up in surprise. “I find it quite fascinating that nat-borns can have something wrong with them for no discernible reason.”

You snort. “Suppose being a genetically enhanced clone has some perks then. At least you know exactly how and why you’re different.”

“I’ve never heard someone say being a clone is a good thing.” Tech’s voice goes soft, and your heart breaks a little for him.

Being a medic has let you see the humanity in the GAR soldiers, that they’re so much more that just clones. You also see that you are one of a few who think so.

You lean your head down on his shoulder, causing him to perk up.

“Perhaps what you need to alleviate your nightmares is to sleep with someone.”

“Tech!” You sputter, trying to keep your voice down. “You can’t just say that!”

“You misunderstand, I did not mean that in a sexual sense, though that would also work.”

The sound that leaves your throat is absolutely mortifying.

“The sensation of touch releases oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin. These hormones make you experience feelings of happiness, relaxation, improve your mood, and lower levels of depression. In your case, theoretically, it may help alleviate your nightmares enough to sleep soundly through the night.”

Once again, you felt astonishment flood through you. It’s hardly a lot of research that Tech did, but the fact he did it for you had you feeling warm and fuzzy inside.

“So you’re saying I should cuddle with someone?”

“In layman’s terms, yes.”

“Are you volunteering?” You’re hoping you didn’t sound desperate, because if cuddling is the answer after all this time you’re gonna hold onto these boys like a gundark does it’s next meal.

Wait, that’s morbid.

“If you feel like it would help, it will also make a good experiment to see how such a release of hormones could affect us clones and you differently.” As he stands he offers his hand to you. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

When you follow him back to his bunk you have no idea that it will be the best night sleep you can ever remember having in your life.

It only goes uphill from there when the others find out what helps you, touch starved as they are.

Tech likes to sleep on your chest, partly for his own comfort, but you’re also convinced he documents your heart rate and respiration for his own study. You notice that he changes small things about the way he lays depending on how well you sleep some nights, like he wanted to see what brings about the best results. And if you cuddle him just a bit more when you catch on, well neither one of you says anything.

Wrecker is the most enthusiastic about this turn of events. He is the most tactile out of the four of them, so nights with him are the cuddliest. With him, he loves to be the big spoon, and you’re not complaining in the slightest. You feel so small in his arms. It’s the warmest and safest place you can ever be, and on the odd night you still wake up he’s holding you just that much tighter and assuring you that he’ll fight off every nightmare you have and keep you safe.

Hunter has to figure out which position sets off his senses the least, but he learns for you. It’s slow going, but eventually you both figure out that you laying on top of him is the best. You get a nice body pillow that hugs you back, and he gets a person shaped weighted blanket that actually manages to calm him down. The night you try that position you both sleep so well that it takes Hunter a few minutes to let you go when he wakes up, which is lovely since he usually has to move during the night.

Crosshair….

Well, Crosshair makes it perfectly clear that he doesn’t want any part of cuddling with you. The rapport you have already built with him as a medic is not ideal, but at least he’s civil with you now. You didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, so you leave him be.

The others take turns sleeping with you each night if they can. You rotate around their bunks so much you hardly sleep in your own cot anymore; the only times you do now is when they're off on a mission that you can’t join them on, even if you do double as a field medic for them.

Everything changes one night, though.

It’s another resupply when Crosshair stays behind that the others are trapped in town for the night because of a sandstorm. As capable as they were – a sandstorm wouldn’t have slowed them down much, honestly – Hunter didn’t want to needlessly risk it. So, he, Tech, and Wrecker stay in the town, leaving you and Crosshair alone in the Marauder.

You’re nervous for it, though you’re not certain why exactly. Maybe it’s the antsy feeling that grows in you the closer it came to go to sleep. You knew a nightmare will come tonight.

“Hey… Crosshair?” You stand a few feet away from where he cleans his rifle.

“No.”

You almost wince. You suppose it’s a bit obvious what you want to ask him.

“Right, sorry.”

You putter away to the bunks and proceed to strip away Wrecker’s, Tech’s, and Hunter’s (not Crosshair’s; never Crosshair’s) blankets and pillows to toss onto your cot. It’s something you do when they’re all away – a poor approximation to being in their arms, but it smells like them and it’s warm, so you make it work.

When Crosshair comes in from locking down the Marauder he takes one look at you and scoffs. “You look pathetic.”

You crack your eyes open. “Better pathetic like this than pathetic because of a nightmare,” you mutter before closing your eyes again.

“You’re going to give us a bad name if you keep looking this pathetic.” You hear before the blankets are ripped away from you.

“Hey!” You jolt up and try to grab them back but he’s already tossing them on the floor.

You freeze when he pulls the last remaining cover up and slides into your cot next to you. You’re staring at him in shock when he scoffs again and practically manhandles so you’re tucked into his front, chest to chest.

When your hands shakily move around to hold his middle, slowly in case he pulls away, he puts his around your back and pulls you closer.

You let yourself melt into it, lest you miss your chance to accept what he’s never offered before. Whatever has come over him, you’re going to take full advantage of it. Your legs tangle with his and in Crosshair’s arms you can finally sleep knowing no nightmare would dare to disturb either of you.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his chest as you drift off.

“Don’t mention it,” he whispers back, voice softer than you’ve ever heard. “Ever.”

And after that night, Crosshair is one of your favorites to sleep with.

#prior writes #bad batch x reader #bad batch x you #gn!reader #platonic cuddling #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #bad batch #the bad batch #star wars #clone wars #writing #fanfic

[bangtanpromptsfics]

pyxis.

dialogue prompt #9: “Cheer up it's Christmas Eve, sweetheart”

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: christmas au, brother's best friend au, fluff, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 3,412 (oh no)

warnings: reader is a lil sad but nothing angsty tho

summary: christmas was always an eager wait. less for the tree decorations, family dinner and the fuss of toddlers. more for your childhood best friend who you kissed under a mistletoe years back.

a/n: ahhh!!! I'm not completely satisfied with how this turned out to be. the inspiration was from a few christmas themed fics I read here and the movie ‘It's Christmas, Eve’. anyway this was my attempt though it's nowhere near christmas time. one of my personal goals is to celebrate a christmas like the west, the snow, the fuss and the commotion ;-;. Also I lost sense of time and space and this turned out to be 3k ;-;

masterlist

“Cheer up it's christmas eve, sweetheart”, your mother chimes as she pours brown batter into little cupcake moulds.

You simply smile at her, the festive mood not really getting to you because of exhaustion. Uni was tough, and enjoying this Christmas when you know you have tons of essays due in a few days was hammering inside your brain every now and then.

“Is that chocolate?”, you ask, leaning your tired body on the counter where she is at work.

“And orange”, she smiles, turning around to preheat the oven.

“Where's Jin”. Though you hated the routinely flicks against your forehead, the absence of your big brother felt weird.

“He went with Jimin to get the Christmas tree”.

The mention of Jimin brings a smile to your face. His soft features and captivating grin filling your head. If there was one of the few things you enjoyed coming back to your hometown for holidays, it's chocolate cupcakes your mom bakes and Jimin.

His family are friends with yours after all. You, Jin and Jimin attended the same school until college and other priorities in life drift you apart. Though the bond must have rusted a bit, you can't deny the fact that you still have that crush which started somewhere in middle school, on a chritmas eve like this when he kissed your cheeks shyly under the mistletoe. Your friends and family, and even Jimin himself must have seen it nothing more than platonic, but you still find yourself relieving the moment in your head however crazy it may sound.

Standing up straight, you decide to fix your bed hair and complete the skincare routine before the said duo drops.

“Mrs. Y/L/n...”, Jimin softly kicks the back door. He is carrying one end of a huge fir, and your brother on the other end, grunting from the freezing snow outside.

“Oh dear place it right there”, you mother is quick to her feet helping the boys and doing her usual commentary on how well the tree looked.

Jimin looks more handsome than ever, especially with his nose and cheeks dusted in scarlet from the cold. He looks really huggable in his fluffy sweaters and red beanie. Jin is busy commanding around so you choose to sit back, a very typical sibling energy and the size of decoration boxes and the tree itself not really appetizing to your will to find any strength.

“Hey Y/n!”, Jimin stares back at your eyes in a split moment which has your lashes fluttering suddenly. You probably look like you are carrying a disease and right now you become very hyper aware of that.

“You alright? You look tired”, he comments. You feel his eyes carefully studying the black under your eyes and worrying his mind because that's what he is like. He cares about everyone and everything, has a heart so soft it hurts to even think about it.

“Jet lag...”, you say, “I'll be fine”. You shoot a little thumbs up on his way to reassure.

“Why didn't Jin get the tree earlier? It's Christmas in a few hours”, you dodge the focus around you and walk near in an attempt to closely examine the tree for no reason other than feeling Jimin’s eyes a little too long on you.

Your brother gets visibly annoyed seeing you start a very unnecessary talk. So he is completely obliged to shoot back with, “Because you were in charge of Christmas decorations this year but your lazy ass flew down here only yesterday”.

“You know I was busy with Uni!”

“Whatever”, he shrugs, getting back to the box of tree decorations. You feel a little bad seeing yourself not being helpful during a festive season. It felt like you were procrastinating on your responsibilities as always.

“Um...is there any way I can help?”, you ask softly, earning a mischievous grin from Jin and your mom fills in the answer.

“We need more baubles. Also I missed out gifts for Aerum and June, so maybe you can get them”. Now this was already tiring and you were not lying earlier either, the jet lag was still choking you alive. You wonder if the huge pile of stars and glitters beside your foot aren't enough but then maybe it's true because this is the largest fir you ever saw for Christmas in your house. And speaking of the five year old notorious duo, your cousins-- Aerum and June, you have no other option than to step out into the butt numbing cold and get something for the sake of not getting your brains eaten.

While you stand there doing these calculations, Jimin puts a two and two and immediately suggests to tag along with you.

“That'd be great! Thanks sweetie”, your mom chimes, her fine lines of face gathering around her eyes while she does so and you catch her throwing a wink to your side and you pretend you never saw that.

“Thank you Jimin”, you smile in all honesty while he reciprocates the same.

“No problem. I'll get my car. Will you be ready in an hour? I think you just woke up”

“Uh...yeah”, you fake a laugh, “Yes I'll be ready in an hour”

Jimin still lives here in your hometown, attends a community college nearby and his house is just a few steps away from your own. You remember how you had the same analogy in your mind as well. You like living here. You like Jimin’s company. The lake Park and the annual ice skating competition in December and the bookstores and coffee shops at the outskirts of the town. And you can't seem to clearly remember when and where that feeling started to become foreign. Maybe it was a teenage quirk to explore the world that you are now a three hour flight away from all of this. It wasn't a deep regret, but seeing Jimin, it almost felt like it. It felt like you betrayed him. Because he seemed to be keeping his word to this day.

This year, it's a few degrees lower than what it usually is and you find yourself chattering your teeth together as you walk to Jimin’s house.

His footsteps rush to get the door as soon as you ring the doorbell and he greets with the same wide grin as if he hasn't just saw you an hour ago.

“Let's go?”, he asks immediately, getting house keys from his coat pocket and locking the front door before stepping out making you confused.

“There's no one home? Where are your parents?”

“Oh well didn't Mrs. Y/L/n tell you?”, he studies your features and gets his response so he continues “They went to New York this year for Christmas. It's some elder people thing I think...so I'll be spending Christmas this year with your family”

“Really!?”, you chime, and then immediately notice a very childish jump you did with tiny fists and all, feeling a little embarrassed at yourself, “Ah... uh I mean that's great”.

“Yeah”, he giggles, sounding like a twelve year old who is still waiting for his growth spurt, “Get in the car it's freezing in here”.

Since it's been six odd months you've spoken to Jimin, you figured it would would be strange and awkward to be with him, but his demeanor states otherwise. He could effortlessly begin conversations and build momentum with you and by the time you are at a thrift store, he is aware of the little gist of student life and the dramatically exaggerated history research paper still due.

“What are you getting for the twins?”, he asks, seeing you checking out the kids toys section with absolutely no idea and that's exactly what you reply to him.

“How about this puzzle?”, he brings a big jigsaw to your glance and you figure it's a great thing to have their little brains engaged and give yourself time to breathe.

“It's perfect!”, you add, immediately placing it your cart with a few decors you picked up from earlier aisles.

Jimin places an extra pack of Christmas candies in the cart, and you send him a questionable look knowing it's his way of bribing the kids coming this evening. He puts too much effort into people's happiness, something you wish you were capable of as well.

The shopping went smooth. It was therapeutic to get hot chocolate with extra marshmallows afterwards like he insisted followed by that very cliche movie scene where one of them develops a creme moustache and the other notices and dabs it off.

You want this moment to linger a little longer, but your whole family arrives in less than two hours and the decorations were due. If Jin doesn't have you in the next thirty minutes he might as well eat all the cupcakes your mom is baking as revenge.

“I had a great time”, Jimin states as he stops the car in front of your house, stealing the words from your mouth and warmth hugs your cheeks immediately.

“Me too. It's been long since we spent time with each other”

You hear a lone sigh with white fogs coming out of his plump lips while he does so, as if he were suddenly sad when you mentioned that.

“Are you okay?”

His grips tightens around the steering, “I've missed you”, he says, eyes meeting slowly. And as if he was suddenly pulled back to earth he conjures another sentence to not sound so vulnerable.

“I uh... It's just--”

“I've missed you too”

Even with the gear box painstakingly blocking the way, you throw your upper half towards his body anyways and you find him hugging you back. His hugs still feel the same from years back; safe and warm and filled with love.

If it wasn't for the constant reminder that your brother is probably plotting a murder against you, you would've stayed much longer in his embrace. Maybe the hug was a big straightforward for a bond still gradually blooming, but it didn't feel weird at all and when you pull back he is smiling down at you.

“I thought you two lovebirds flew off”, a very annoyed Jin states from above you. He is balancing himself on a chair to attach the mistletoe to the ceiling.

“Sorry hyung”, Jimin says. And somehow now you are getting super aware of the way your family is low key shipping you both. Not that it's an irritating thing of course though you seem to act like it. But you have no idea what's going on with Jimin, what if he said he missed you as your childhood friend? It's a lot difficult to segregate his priority of giving affection. He seems to be giving justice in terms of care for every living being he knows.

“The circus is on its way so I hope you both hurry with putting up everything together”, the voice above states, now lowering himself to ground after putting up the twig.

Three of you giggle at the mention of your family as a circus. Well in a way it definitely was. You have a bunch if uncles who crack awful jokes, a trait Jin himself as picked up from a tender age of ten. Then their wives and kids who share certainly the same braincells in comprehending things. You bet they'll ask you again about your major and your dating history once they walk in through that door amidst clearly stating everytime that you are a history major and yes still very single.

In the hallway there is a half decorated tree. A thread of fairly lights wrapped around the green and very few baubles hanging here and there.

“I'll put up the star and join you”, Jimin says, digging out a golden star from the carton. Though now he doesn't know why it was a good idea for him to announce that when both of you were almost the same height. He is just a few centimeters taller than you and the top of the fir is still very much way above your heads.

So with a chuckle you both figure Jin has to do it.

“This is your final year right?”, Jimin asks stepping closer to you. He seemed nervous about something. Or was it anxious?

“Yeah...you?”

“Yeah...”, his sweet tone was drawn almost like a whisper and you sense you should ask him further about what's wrong. But before you had to deal with a starter he continues,

“Are you planning to work in Chicago as well?”

“Sweetheart help me clean up the kitchen please”, your hear your mom's voice overpowering through the house. Which is good. Because you don't know what you are supposed to answer. It was as if he was almost hopeful that you'll choose your hometown all over again. But you aren't sure. So you take the opportunity to step away from the situation excusing yourself.

And while you are clearing the blobs of batter stuck on the counter, your mind is a haywire. What are you going to do? Though you know your whole family wants you to stay, it's still a foggy place to be in. Four years apart in another city as a college student has not provided much, except caffeine addiction and sleepless nights. Things were not even as fun as everyone told you.

A few steps away Jimin silently prays that you stay, because he had truly missed you. Even though you have outgrown from the eighteen year old shell as he had known, he finds himself actively choosing to be with you. Even when other things in life occupies his mind, there's an element of it which goes back to you.

“They are here!”. You groan silently, while your parents are throwing their hands in air, giggles and chatter fills in as your uncles and aunts and the taunting toddlers welcome themselves in.

“Y/n! You have grown so much!”, the older aunt comments, and you supply a manufactured smile to tag along. Other comments follow by soon, about how tired you are, gasps about not having a partner and future plans, all of which are not completely answerable at the moment but you manage to get through them all and finally excusing yourself back to the garage convincing there are more decor supplies in there.

Families are nice. They make festivals brighter and lives less lonely. But yours was just hard sometimes. Not that you completely loathed the people now fueling themselves off the cup cakes your mom bakes, you were just merely lost, still yet to come up with an answer to what your stance is after graduation.

“Hey...”. Jimin has joined you now which you notice feeling a warmth against your shoulder when he sits, with an extra scraf knowing the garage is still comparatively chilly than the house, “you okay?”.

“Yeah...I was just...thinking”

“Is this about earlier? I'm sorry if I made you anxious”, he quickly adds.

“No!...I mean yeah but, it's high time I find a ground with this. What are your plans?”

“I was thinking about teaching at Jefferson High”, he shifts rather uncomfortably. He is talking of the school in your town, your school, where you have lots of memories with Jimin, “You know...like we said during Junior year in high school?”

“I'm sorry Jimin”, you feel the guilt inside you growing, “I never kept my promises”.

“Hey...that's okay! Everyone changes. I just want you to be happy. I...I hope you are happy Y/n”, he reassures, taking your hand from your side and squeezing it between his soft palms.

“I don't know about that either...”

As much as you hated showcasing vulnerability to another person, you know Jimin is an exception. You had cried to him about everything during school days and he had never invalidated a single thing, even when you were visibly dramatic over a downpour during a family picnic when you were five.

Jimin is frozen on his seat as if he can't find the words. He was never good with words so instead he hugs you, a little longer than the last time till he is sure you have calmed down. Grateful for not ending up crying, you smile up at him and remind yourselves to get back inside to avoid suspicion, especially from the kids who take humiliating people as an important milestone to achieve.

When you enter back inside and get immediately surrounded by a million questions and chores thrown at you, you find your answer. Maybe your heart belongs back to everything your younger self had blabbered about. Not to mention, this fairly good reunion with your crush feels nice, though, he might still see it as platonic. Maybe he makes things less daunting.

By the way Jimin was owning everyone's heart in the house, it felt like he was family. Well in a way he is. But to put more clarity, he bought things together and his actions bought so much peace and love within everyone. Even the notorious twins listen carefully to him and help the uncles and aunts in the kitchen.

He is again by your side, two cupcakes rests on his palms and you take it with a silent ‘thanks’.

Seeing no signs of him beginning a talk now, you think of coming up with something. Maybe a memoir from today? Or about how absolutely handsome he looks right now? Wait.

“They are under the kissing twig!”, Aerum screams like the house caught in fire, her sibling joining by the side to provoke the habit even more.

“It's called a mistletoe Aerum”, your aunt corrects before pasting a smug across her lips.

Nothing changed. They are the same people. Hyping you and Jimin to kiss just like when you were thirteen. If the factor of time is removed, this is the exact night. Both of you cemented to the flooring as if you forgot to exist.

Both of your necks snap together to the mistletoe Jin had attached to the ceiling earlier. And when you lower your gaze back, face gawks at each other eye to eye. It's the same. He has that blush, the shyness from years ago. It's going to be platonic. Yet again. And this moment will only ever be romantic and flowery in your head.

June was the first to squeak, and Aerum shuts her eyes the moment Jimin is leaning his mouth towards your lips. It was difficult to relax under the stares of many, but when he ghosts his mouth over your again and leans in for a second kiss, you are fixated on him. Hands holding each other, the plump of his lips so soft it felt like you were biting into a fluff of cloud.

Maybe he'll have an explanation to your family for this. Not like anyone in the audience was disappointed. Your mother was almost in tears? And Jin looked hardly surprised with any of this. As if it was all swell according to his plans.

“You both are so cute”, one of the aunts awes and your mother is quick by her side, completely agreeing to it.

“Jimin...”, you return your gaze to the equally flustered man who just kissed you and he sounded almost breathless,

“I'm sorry if this was wrong it ju--”

“I like you”, you immediately snap in and his face is a void for an instant. Fully processing the words, his eyes disappear when he grins, “I like you too...a lot”.

“Are you two dating?”, the twins haven't dropped the case yet, running to your feet to help their curious brains.

“Yes...”, Jimin responds, looking up at you for a reassurance, which you quickly supply with a nod, “Yes we are dating”.

When the kids are satisfied they go away snickering to themselves.

“I decided to stay”, you say.

“Really!?”, his disbelief was comical, yet wholesome considering how much he wished for this, “I'm...I'm so happy!”.

Giggling at him, this time you lean forward and peck the corner of his lips.

“You lovebirds better get a room”, Jin announces and thankfully not loud enough to catch everyone else's attention.

Usually Jin expects a punch to his arms from his sister, but he sees how grateful you are for his mistletoe decor. He leaves the couple, satisfied that there won't be any more ranting about how much Jimin likes you.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡♡

Original Content of ©bangtanpromptsfics

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts ff #fan fiction #fluff prompts #bts jimin #park jimin #jimin #jimin fluff #jimin scenarios #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin ff #christmas au #genre: f2l #bts f2l #bts fic #writing prompt #otp prompts #soft fic #jimin fic #park jimin x oc #park jimin x reader #park jimin x you #park jimin x y/n #park jimin scenario #park jimin fluff

[expectingtofly]

What It Means to Love, 3k

established dean/cas, hurt/comfort, post 15x20, human!cas

day 2 of @thiscastielhasflown and i's follower celebration

prompt: hurt/comfort

“Dean, I am perfectly fine, I—” Cas paused, face scrunching up, then he sneezed before he could finish his sentence.

Dean took a step backwards. “Dude, gross! Seriously? Sneeze into your elbow. That’s like preschool 101.”

“Oh, then it’s so great that I went to preschool,” Cas said, managing to sound sarcastic even with his nose stuffed up. Dean winced as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his trenchcoat. “It’s not like I haven’t been a human for only three months.”

Right. “Yeah, well, guess this is the perfect introduction." How the hell did Cas manage to still look so adorable slumped against the kitchen counter, clothes wrinkled and nose red? “Welcome to humanity, you have a cold. Here, stop that.” He couldn't watch Cas wipe his nose on his sleeve again. They didn’t have tissues in the kitchen, but he grabbed a napkin and handed it to him. Dutifully, Cas took it and blew his nose. “What you need is to get in some comfier clothes, lay down, and get some sleep.”

Violating the few feet he'd put between them to stay clear of the germs, he stepped closer to loosen Cas' tie. Cas let him, saying, "I can still help research—"

"No, no." Cas leveled him with a glare, but it had lost its bite now that Dean knew he couldn't strike him dead with his angel grace. Okay, it was still pretty menacing. "I'm trying to save your ass. Sam will kill you if you sneeze on his laptop or precious books. Come on, take off the coat, you gotta be burning up."

He was helping Cas slip it off when Sam walked into the kitchen. “Ew, gross," he complained, covering his eyes with his hand, and Dean realized he was essentially undressing Cas in front of the kitchen island. "Get a room."

"Grow up," Dean said, draping Cas' coat and tie over his arm. Okay, so maybe they’d given Sam a reason to be on-guard now, but, "It's not what it looks like."

Sam lowered his hand, then frowned at Cas. "Woah. What happened to you?"

"I'm sick," Cas answered, as if that wasn't obvious enough by his glassy eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Well, uh, wash your hands," Sam said, stepping back as Cas started for the door, Dean following. "Don't wanna spread any germs. And try to stay out of the library."

"Told you," Dean whispered to Cas as they went down the hallway. In their room, he gestured for Cas to sit on the bed as he rummaged through their dresser. “T-shirt and sweatpants,” he said, handing them over.

Cas unbuttoned his white button-down which was identical to the dress shirts he always wore as an angel. Apparently old habits died hard—in this case, an affinity for business casual. Actually, maybe Cas getting sick and out of his old clothes was a good thing. Dean didn't know the last time the trenchcoat had been washed.

Collecting Cas' shirt and pants, he said, “I’ll get rid of these disease-ridden clothes.” He thought he caught Cas rolling his eyes as he pulled Dean’s sweatshirt over his head. "You watch TV or something, I’ll go see if we have cold medicine.”

After starting a load of laundry and raiding the medicine cabinets in the bathroom and cabinets in the kitchen, he returned to the room to find Cas sitting cross-legged under the covers of the bed, remote in his hands.

“Here, you go,” Dean said, handing over a warm mug. Ancient Aliens played on the TV; one of Cas' favorite pastimes was refuting every crazy claim and theory the show presented with his own recollections of the ancient times. “Sam said this tea will help. He ran out to get some medicine.”

Eagerly, Cas took the mug from him and took a large gulp, then coughed. "Ow. It's hot."

"Drink it slowly, idiot."

Cas took a more hesitant sip, then squinted up at him. "This tea is incredibly flavorless."

Dean snorted. "’Cause your nose’s clogged up. And you probably burned your tongue. Another joy of being human."

Groaning, Cas dropped his head back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. "Why is being human so difficult?"

Dean inwardly winced at that. Or thought he did so inwardly, but his expression must've revealed something because Cas glanced over at him, then straightened up, nearly spilling his tea. "Dean, I didn't mean anything by that."

Clearing his throat, Dean shrugged and sat down on the other side of the bed. "No, it's fine. You're right, being human sucks."

"And I wouldn't trade it for the world," Cas said.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Cas seemed about to say more, but then he sneezed. Into his elbow this time. Progress.

Ancient Aliens finished, and they got halfway through an episode of UFO Hunters before Cas started to nod off. Dean took the mug from him, and his eyes fluttered open, head jerking up. "I'm fine," he said.

"I know you're tired because you missed them saying aliens created the lost city of Atlantis."

Cas sniffled. "That's ridiculous. Everyone knows Atlantis was formed by—" He was interrupted by a yawn, and Dean made a mental note to return to that subject later.

“Come on, take a nap.”

“I am not a small child, Dean,” Cas protested, but he settled down anyway. Dean couldn’t resist adjusting the covers, essentially tucking him in. He wasn’t trying to baby him, but it was second nature seeing how miserable the guy looked. Turning off the lights, he went to the door. "You good? Need anything else?"

"No." Cas squinted one eye open to look at Dean over the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, and, fuck, if he wasn't still the most beautiful man Dean had ever seen, even sick as a dog. "Thank you."

A tiny alarm went off in Dean's brain about germs, but he returned to the bed to kiss Cas on the forehead anyway. True love, and all that. God, he was getting sappy in his old age.

Cas looked marginally better when he woke up from his nap. If marginally better meant pillow hair and pillow lines on his cheek. Well-rested, at least. He swallowed down the cold medicine Sam had brought home, complaining that he could taste enough to know the flavor was not, quote, "similar to anything occurring organically in nature."

"Whaddya wanna eat?" Dean asked him as he drained his glass of water. "And don't say PB and J," he added before Cas could speak.

Cas set his glass down on the nightstand and slid further down under the covers. "Anything that won't make my throat hurt more."

"My, uh, mom used to make me soup when I was sick."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Whatcha making?" Sam asked, coming into the kitchen. He lifted the lid of the pot on the stove and Dean snapped him with the towel.

"That's for Cas, back off."

"Wow," Sam said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "Look at you."

"Look at me what?" Setting aside the pot lid, he scraped the celery he'd been dicing from the cutting board into the pot.

Sam shrugged. "Taking care of Cas, making dinner, you're almost domestic."

Dean turned red and scrambled furiously for a comeback. "Yeah, and you're, you're still a little shit." Nailed it.

Sam laughed. "Wasn't an insult. Just meant, I don't know. Different for you, I guess."

Dean eyed him, stirring the soup. "Don't have much of a choice. Poor guy just turned human and he's already going through it."

"I think he's dealt with worse than a cold before."

"Yeah, well, wish he didn't have to deal with any of it." Any of it meant plenty. Between Dean’s own fuckups, world apocalypses, and near-death and actual death experiences, Cas had been through the ringer several times over. And now he was human—which, by all counts, wasn’t the worst thing he’d been through, but it wasn’t ideal. It’d been a rough transition, anyway.

Cas seemed better recently, though, since getting somewhat used to being human. And things were going well between them. Getting sick was just one tiny wrinkle compared to everything they’d been through, right?

He stared at the soup and startled when Sam straightened off the counter with a comment that Jack was out with friends, he was leaving for Eileen’s, have fun giving Cas a sponge bath. Dean flipped him off as he headed out the door.

When the soup was finished, he ladled a bowl full and returned to the bedroom. Cas looked up from his phone when Dean entered with the bowl of steaming soup. “Hear from Claire?” Dean asked, nudging the door shut with his foot.

“She says she and Kaia have almost closed up the case." He set his phone aside. “They’ll be able to visit soon.”

“You tell her you’re sick?”

“She was incredibly non-sympathetic—thank you." Cas took the bowl from him. “She seemed to find it amusing that I once ruled garrisons and now can’t go five minutes without sneezing.”

Dean tensed, hoping Cas wasn’t hurt by the comparison, but Cas didn’t look offended. “Sounds like her.”

"Yes.” He breathed in the steam coming from the bowl. “This smells incredible.”

"Family recipe," Dean joked, sitting down next to him. "Well, someone's family. Straight from some blog online. Think it's pretty close to what my mom would make." He watched Cas pick up his spoon, and added, "Don't tell Sam." He'd never hear the end of it if Sam knew he was reading mommy blogs.

"Your secret is safe with me."

Dean picked up the remote as Cas ate, wondering if he should give Claire a piece of his mind. Sure, Cas was pretty easy-going about the whole giving up his grace thing, but no need to rub it in his face. Becoming human had to feel pretty pitiful after ages of being an angel.

He was trying to make it better where he could, though. “You wanna watch a movie tonight? I'll let you pick because you're bedridden."

"I am not," Cas protested, though he looked more than a little pleased at the idea of getting to choose. Dean braced himself for whatever ridiculous romance or musical Cas insisted on watching now—to date, he'd been subjected to La La Land , the ending of which had reduced Cas to tears for the rest of the night; Pride and Prejudice, okay not too bad, though he'd never admit it; and You’ve Got Mail, dammit not bad enough for him to hate either.

Instead of suggesting a movie, though, Cas said, "You're very caring, Dean."

"Uh." Dean turned from cycling through the movie options on the TV to look at Cas. He felt himself turn red under the look Cas was giving him, head tilted, that fond almost-smile he got. "Yeah, uh. What I do."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "It is what you do. You're very good at taking care of others."

"Oh, God, don't start that." By that, he meant the long compliments Cas so shamelessly gave him now, like he'd been storing them up for a long time and was finally able to hand them out. It was like the dam had broken that night when Billie and the Empty—

But he didn't want to think about that. Not when all the events since that day had led to Cas now sitting in bed blowing his nose, the trashcan by the bed overflowing with tissues. Poor bastard; he'd gone through one whole Kleenex box already.

"I'm only going to stop because talking hurts too much," Cas told him, tossing a tissue at the trashcan and missing sorely. Dean grimaced.

They nearly got through Mama Mia before Cas dozed off, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position and Dean’s arm was half-asleep, but he refused to move. The mere fact that they were sitting together in bed, pressed against each other, was still enough to send him into shock anytime he thought about it too much. Cas—a literal former angel—had fallen in love with him. It was almost too good to be true.

But Cas was currently slumped against him, drooling on his shoulder, so he guessed it really was true.

As the credits rolled, he turned off the TV and touched Cas’ forehead with the back of his hand. Not as warm as before. At his touch, Cas blinked awake.

“It’s over already?”

“Whaddya mean, already? I just had to sit through two hours of singing and dancing.” It hadn’t been that torturous, but he couldn’t admit that—he had a reputation to uphold. Straightening, Cas rolled his eyes. “Feel any better?"

Cas’ expression turned thoughtful, as if taking stock of every physical sensation in his body, and Dean had to grin at his seriousness. He nodded. "Yes."

"Great.” He glanced at the time on the clock and realized it was later than he’d expected. “You probably wanna get some rest.”

Cas nodded with a yawn. "You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to."

Dean froze in the middle of pulling back the covers, mind immediately spinning out. "What?" They'd only started sharing a room a month ago, oh God, he'd known it was too good to be true, Cas was sick of him—

"I want you to," Cas said quickly, as if sensing Dean's downward spiraling. "I just don't want you to get sick."

Oh. Oh. Feeling a little sheepish for immediately jumping to the worst conclusions—one of his greatest talents, if he did say so himself—he shook his head. "Nah, I have a great immune system."

Cas' expression turned guilty and Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"About that..." Cas started slowly. Dean gave him a look. "Well, uh... Your immune system isn't quite as healthy as you think. I've been giving it a boost for the past several years, every time you started to get sick."

"What?" Looking back, it was pretty remarkable that he'd never gotten even a common cold with all the other shit they dealt with. "Fuck."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I should be thanking you. So, uh. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Of course Cas had been taking care of him for years, Dean thought, when they settled in bed and he turned off the lights. Cas told him he was caring, but it was Cas who was the caring one. He’d sacrificed his life for him, for Christ’s sake. Then gave up his grace to return to Earth because he wanted to be with Dean and Jack and Sam and everyone. The guy didn’t have a selfish bone in his body.

The thought should’ve been a comforting one, but instead he felt antsy, unable to stay still, shifting under the blankets.

Turning onto his side, he nudged Cas, whose eyes had fallen shut. With a grunt, Cas opened his eyes and looked over at him.

“You alright?” Dean asked, which wasn’t really what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“I was when I was falling asleep,” Cas grumbled. But he shifted to face Dean. In the faint light coming from the bunker hallway, Dean could see the concern in his eyes. It sent a pang through him. Cas had given up so much, and Dean was doing all he could to make sure he never regretted it, and Cas told him all the time that he was content with his choice, but still the worry sat heavy in his stomach.

"Listen,” he started. “I just wanna let you know that being human isn’t all bad. I swear it won’t be miserable forever. I know you've been introduced to the bad shit first, but—"

"That's not true," Cas interrupted, touching Dean’s hand resting between them. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Dean, being human has been the single most rewarding experience in my entire life second only to raising Jack. It started with you rescuing me from the Empty and revealing my feelings weren't unreciprocated like I thought. I would say that's far from miserable.”

"Yeah, but you had to adjust to living without your grace, and eating food, and getting sick..."

"It's been difficult, yes. I won't lie and say I enjoy bodily functions or sneezing or headaches. But I do enjoy being with you and eating chicken soup and watching absurd TV shows. I wouldn't change this for anything. Whatever happened in our lives, it led us here. And I’m happy with where we are.” He studied Dean for a moment before asking, quieter, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Dean hastened to say, because it was true. Fuck, it couldn’t be truer. “Of course. Just feel bad, I guess. That you gave up your grace and all that. Feel like I’ve hardly done anything.”

Castiel’s expression softened. “You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever dreamt of. And anyway, it’s not a competition, Dean. I take care of you, you take care of me. That’s what love is.”

Throwing that word around, love, still made Dean’s heart skip a beat. But it was true. He loved Cas and he’d do anything for him. The same, he knew, was true on Cas’ end.

Cas said it best, so he settled for lifting Cas’ hand and kissing his knuckles.

“I would kiss you," Cas said, smiling, "but I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Screw it," Dean said, and propped himself up on an elbow to kiss him. Then he shifted, turning over and pulling Cas’ arm to wrap around him. Even if the bastard was sick, Dean was making him be the big spoon.

"For the record,” he said, feeling Cas curl around him. “I wouldn't change anything either."

And he meant it. Even when he woke up the next morning with a sore throat and stuffed up nose. Cas—who seemed to have gotten over the worst of his cold—took only one look at him before declaring it was his turn to play doctor, throwing extra blankets at him and demanding the chicken soup recipe in a flurry of activity.

He’d take care of Cas, and Cas would take care of him. It sounded like a good life, Dean thought, settling back against the pillows with a smile. He wouldn't change a thing.

#j&kcreatorfest #destiel fic #fluff #hurt/comfort #human!cas #established dean/cas #post 15x20 #destiel #cas likes watching romances and musicals i decided for this fic #and history channel shows too #dean and cas' love language is forcing each other to watch shows and movies the other dislikes (or pretends to dislike) #expectingtofly writes

[shadowgeist-stars]

Ren x Gakushu: Nightmares

Ren was standing in the Chairman's office, watching the man pace around him, Araki, Seo, and Koyama with practiced, measured steps. His words were almost entirely unintelligible, but his voice was just like always. The same eerie, low tenor that made his skin try to crawl off his body, like he suddenly had some kind of flesh-eating disease.

Suddenly the monster struck. A huge fleshy mass with eyes so big that they overlapped one another on its face. A mouth so wide and sharply fanged that it could swallow anyone whole and shred them apart in its jaws anyway. Before he knew it, there was an agonizing sting at the back of his head and the better part of his back. Ren was somehow thrown against the wall, pain tearing against his sternum and surrounding ligaments making it nearly impossible to breathe. The others were no different, as if they were flung just as woefully unprepared into the same MMA fight that he was in.

Then he realized all of their bodies hadn't even moved.

For all intents and purposes, their minds had been violently punted from each of their bodies, leaving them as empty shells that did nothing but chant an insatiable desire to kill E-Class. If Ren didn't have trouble breathing before, he was all but suffocating now. It only got worse when Gakushu reentered the room, only to call out to Ren and the others in horror. The mix of anger, disgust, and outright fear with which he stared at his father and his pet beast nearly wrenched his racing heart clear out of his chest.

“Gakushu, please… I'm right here…”

He forced his ghostly form to stand up. Dizziness spun his vision every which way. His shaking feet didn't feel anything close to steady as he tried to stumble toward his friend. The monster over the principal's shoulder only pounced again, painfully crushing his throat in its clawed grip as he could only face that menacing, unnatural grin. Darkness was beginning to dot his vision as it blurred with tears. He reached helplessly for his best friend with whatever vanishing strength he had left, as it all went cold and dark and --

Ren's eyes shot open with a gasp, heart pounding and breathing as if he'd just endured one of Gakushu's soccer games. He lay frozen and tense in his bed, clutching his bed covers and staring at nothing but his own bedroom floor as he slowly willed himself to calm down.

After he finally deemed himself calmed from the nightmare, (and telling himself that No, panic-brain, my blazer that I keep hung on my door is not a monster that's here to kill me) he sat up in his bed and checked the time on his alarm clock.

Only a few minutes after 3 o’clock, in the morning.

Ren grimaced to himself, running a hand through his stupid bedhead. Either Seo or Koyama would probably laugh about some kind of joke related to the time that he’s almost certain he’d rather not hear. However, he just thought it was too darn early to be up, even with something like a very graphic memory/nightmare to blame.

The principal monster from his nightmare flashed behind his eyes, in its own twisted "speak of the devil." What better way of being told by one's own brain that going back to sleep at that moment was not an option?

…Maybe a cup of tea or something warm (and uncaffeinated) would settle him down enough to help.

With a sigh, he got out of bed, pulled on a shirt, and headed to the kitchen.

He knew the house well enough that he didn't have to turn on the lights. He knew every place where the floors creaked, exactly where to stick to the walls and where to simply keep a light foot. The tiny nightlights in the halls kept it just visible enough that one didn't have to stumble around in complete darkness.

Many years ago, traversing his house at night was a game to Ren. One where his eyes sported beams of light to help him see. A game in which the dark wasn’t a monster to fear, but his playmate.

When he reached the kitchen, he breathed a soft sigh of relief. He grabbed a mug from the dish cabinet, but before he could do anything else, he noticed a light.

Light that was coming from the living room TV, partly shadowed by a figure on the couch.

Ren had a feeling he knew who that was. Guess I’m not the only one having a rough night.

With that in mind, he grabbed a second mug before pulling the jar of dried chamomile from the back of a different cabinet, fixing some tea with it.

The person on the couch didn’t respond to any noise he made, which meant one of two things: he was either quite aware of his presence and simply waiting for Ren to reveal himself, or he was out of it to the point of somehow not noticing the brunette was even there.

With someone like Gakushu Asano, there was no in-between with those two possibilities.

The moment the tea was ready, Ren poured it into the two mugs, a small voice in the back of his mind reminding him to put some sugar in Gakushu’s mug. He likes his tea sweetened a little. It’ll help him calm down more easily if he’s tense or had a nightmare, and right now he's possibly both.

He glanced at whatever he was watching on TV, which was turned down so low he couldn’t quite hear it. A documentary: his go-to for calming down from a bad dream. Crime or historic ones usually mean something relatively tame. But this one’s a nature documentary; he only goes to those things when it’s really bad.

The taller boy took a deep breath before heading over, humming a familiar tune and making sure to seek out the one floorboard he knew would creak. A word of advice from a friend, so as to not scare him once in his line of sight.

The redhead made an almost unnoticeable jolt before bright purple eyes met his. (So he really was out of it to a point he didn't know I was there, or at least hyperfixating on the TV.) He was wrapped in a throw blanket and had his legs laid across the length of the couch; he was probably planning on sleeping there if he was able to calm down enough.

“Ren… How long have you been up?” he asked, shifting around to sit properly on the sofa.

He chuckled, setting down the mugs on the coffee table until he was sitting down beside his boyfriend. “Obviously not as long as you.” His smile became a frown when he got no snarky response. “Nightmares keeping you up, too, huh?”

The shorter boy only nodded once, taking his mug when it was offered. “I hoped to be able to sleep again, after getting my mind off of it… And I didn’t expect to be discovered."

Ren hummed, sipping his own beverage. "…It was the brainwashing incident on my end… Araki saying it felt like an out-of-body experience was pretty accurate."

The ginger didn't seem too surprised. "…It was partially that exact incident for myself… and also the immediate aftermath of the pole-toppling match. I still find it hard to forget how badly Kevin and the other exchange students were injured, because of him… it was so severe that they all had to return to their home countries, once they'd recovered enough to do so."

The others didn’t hear much of that when it happened beyond when the paramedics showed up at the school. At the time, they all knew better than to ask while the wound was still fresh. Then again, it wasn’t like he would’ve been coherent enough to elaborate on the situation anyway, given how he fell asleep on the ride home.

"Least they don't have to worry about him hurting them again now…" he replied finally, "or anyone, to be honest. Especially not you." He pulled the strawberry blond boy into his side. "I think you remember well enough… how worried I was when he hit you in front of everybody."

The shorter boy’s exhale reverberated with exhaustion as his head drooped on his lover’s shoulder, followed by the sound of him emptying his mug. “Not as much as I wish I did… but at the same time more than I care to admit. It’s exhausting just thinking about it.”

The brunette smiled sadly at the sheer amount of fatigue in his tone, giving his shoulder a squeeze before finishing his own drink. "All the same, we can say that we're safe from him, and that in itself means a lot… By the way, I would've been alright with you coming over to my room after you woke up from your nightmare."

That only earned him a sleepy, yet sour look. "Why would I do that? I'm not a toddler, Ren."

The brunette snickered, using a thumb and index finger to get the other to face him. "Maybe not, but it's not childish to be afraid or need someone else, even for just a little company. Haven't you felt any better since I came out here?"

Gakushu tried to avert his face. "I suppose you could say that…"

Begrudging victory; I'll take it.

He smiled as he leaned in to kiss the shorter boy. He slipped his tongue in easily, tasting the chamomile's aftermath and practically feeling the remnants of Gakushu's tension and traces of his own nightmare disappear into the documentary's white noise. The ginger all but melted into his arms, the long and lazy kiss bearing down on his eyelids with sleep in a wave of honeyed warmth. Pulling away showed a pair of hazy purple eyes struggling to open again, on an adorable, blushing face.

“I love you, Gakushu; sweet dreams.”

The shorter boy gave a slow, cat-like blink, snuggling further against the taller boy. “Hmm… love you too… Ren…”

Ren chuckled at his slurred speech as he took Gakushu's empty mug from his hands, placing it and his own mug on the coffee table. Afterwards he turned off the TV, pulling Gakushu along as he shifted them around, until they were now both laying sideways on the couch, with a red-haired head on his chest. He managed to resituate the throw blanket over them both, draping long arms over his beloved; one settling across his waist, the other scratching his scalp in rhythmic circles.

He leaned into the crevice between the couch cushion and backrest with a contented sigh. With the weight and warmth of his boyfriend in his arms and the steady whispering breeze of breath in his ears and over his chest, the image of the former principal and the big-eyed monster was nothing more than a fading memory. They were both safe here, in this homey little bubble. Pressing a final kiss to his boyfriend's crown, he laid his own head down and closed his eyes, letting sleep carry him away on a far more welcoming cloud.

It wasn’t the first time they had such nightmares, and it may well be far from the last, but for now, they could sleep without fear, and that was enough.

#assassination classroom #gakushu asano #ren sakakibara #ren x gakushu #rengaku #asaren #asano gakushu #sakakibara ren #ansatsu kyoushitsu #i like rarepairs okay?

[anthropwashere]

thank u for the tags yelling at us youths to sit up straight. im only 23 but disabled and my back is about the only part of me that ISNT fucked up yet, so i will attempt to not destroy my spinal cord in your honor (•̀ᴗ•́)و

Gonna take this as an opportunity to go off on a tangent and emphasize how out of nowhere your health can 180 in ways that will have a lasting impact for the rest of your life, and that this can happen at any moment no matter how careful or healthy you try to be

-I grew up poor enough to not have regular access to medical/dental/etc. for years at a time, avoided serious issues by sheer fucking luck and an extended family that did not sign up to raise another kid but thank christ they stepped up for me.

-managed to stay healthy enough to join the Air Force at 18. this was good news because the alternative was being homeless (again), which gosh got old fast. free medical? fuck yeah, uncle sam! my teeth are a mess and it sure would be nice to have glasses again!

-knees started acting up in BMT. slowly got worse as the years passed. haven't needed surgery yet but they make some wild gristly sounds when I go up stairs these days and anything more than a casual running regimen is immediately vetoed

-deployed when I was 22. wearing body armor was Not Great for my upper back. lost ability to pop anything in my spine from the shoulder blades up, gained some truly unsexy shooting pains in exchange

-several years of severe headaches i ignored because lmao childhood trauma and also not wanting to be seen as weak due to being just about the only enlisted woman in almost every unit/office i worked in.

-marriage imploded at 26 which gosh, did NOT do good things for the mild anxiety/depression i'd been staunchly ignoring for like a decade at that point. i used to think commercials for anti-depressants were like, rude satire. nope. that really is just how shitty a brain can get!

-apropos of FUCKALL I woke up one morning just before I turned 27 with a headache that has varied in intensity and location but has never gone away. latest diagnosis is a type of headache that's so persistent and resistant to treatment that there are known cases of people having this type for 30+ years. i could be one of those unlucky fucks! or it could go away tomorrow! we just don't know!

-spent 2018-2021 making EXTENSIVE USE of that free medical trying to figure out what the hell was going on or to at least find literally anything that will help reduce/control it. I have at this moment within arm's reach something like $2k worth of medical devices I got for free to help with the migraines.

-they don't.

-one time i tried to do a tally of how much I would have had to be pay out of pocket for all the primary care visits, the specialty care visits, the physical therapy, the stupid fucking useless acupuncture, the Botox, the ~16 different medications, the ER visits from bad reactions to medications, etc. etc. etc. if i hadn't been in the AF and I decided to go lay down in a dark room with an ice pack and not think about it instead.

-i did spend thousands out of pocket on a chiropractor, massages, and gas to keep driving to all those fucking appointments.

-during all this the constant migraines wreaked havoc on my neck, jaw, and shoulders, which in turn contributed to a vicious cycle of pain where doing anything beyond boiling myself in a dark shower 1-2 times a day did not only seem more trouble than it was worth, but WAS more trouble than it was worth.

-i was also diagnosed with fibromyalgia at 28. the rheumatology clinic gave me a pamphlet that was less informative than a google search and a politely phrased 'you're young and you still have all your limbs, why are you complaining? go away.'

-fibromyalgia diagnosis was given despite more evidence pointing to Sjogren's syndrome, which is an actual autoimmune disorder that sure, won't kill me, but it WOULD explain why my teeth have only gotten worse despite extremely thorough annual workups. it can cause all sorts of fun organ dysfunctions too. i could also go blind! either way neither is curable and whatever i've got showed up a decade earlier than is typically expected for my demographic!

-it wasn't any of the squillion medical experts i saw but literally just some other woman in my squadron who suggested i put my name on the Airborne Hazards and Open Burn Pit Registry, because she developed all sorts of autoimmune fuckery after her deployment. all of That is still being researched and debated and such, and has been for decades. maybe breathing too much sand and burning garbage gave me brain damage! maybe not!

-also during all this i lost half my hair due to damage caused by using Devacurl products. if you use that brand there are currently multiple lawsuits going on! you or your loved ones may be entitled to compensation, etc.

-anyway i turned 30 this year and a month later the Air Force kicked me out with 90% disability pay, a couple anti-depressant/anxiety prescriptions, and 0 fanfare.

-things could have gone so much worse for me and STILL COULD AT ANY MOMENT. I never considered myself invincible when I was younger but my good fucking gracious chronic pain isn't something i'd wish on anybody. i am terrified of the state my body might be in when i'm 40, never mind when i'm actually old. i am terrified of tomorrow. this is probably the severe anxiety talking.

-at least i've managed to avoid the heart disease rampant in my family? so far????

IN CONCLUSION, TO THE YOUTHS:

sit up straight, do some stretches, go for walkies, eat a vegetable, turn the music down a little, clean linens are the best gift you can give yourself, however much water you typically drink in a day it isn't enough, therapy does actually help, it's okay to be mad sometimes but i'm begging you to find at least one thing to laugh about every day, please take care of yourselves, and most importantly ENJOY your bodies while the going's good. this meat is expiring fast and there are no refunds.

#chronic pain #chronic salt #migraine hell

[nevermindirah]

I am but a sad little trans man who absolutely wants to know your thoughts on immortals capabilities to transition because I have thoughts and they make my depressed little trans heart hurt because how in the world could they transition if their bodies heal everything?

Hi! Sending you hugs because I've been struggling with the exact same thoughts! I wrote this lil meta last month but I don't like it and my brain keeps interrupting things like my job and trips to the grocery store to get me working on this puzzle.

From what we see in the movie, our elderly friends have regular-human healing, just faster and MORE, plus magic. We have canon evidence of how this works with wounds/injuries and can infer from there about how their immortality would handle infections, genetic/physiological/autoimmune/etc disorders, malnutrition/dehydration/etc, mental illnesses, and dental stuff, as well as things that bodies do that aren't necessarily bad but often need medical care — like pregnancy and gender transition. (I’m not a medical professional, just a nerd who loves a good Wikipedia rabbithole.)

Let's start with an easy one. Nile's hand healing after she stuck it in the fire is just a lickety-split version of what would happen to a regular human with a small skin wound: clotting, inflammation, rebuilding, healed.

When Nile yeets herself and pharma bro out the window of the topmost tower, we see the same thing happen again but bigger, plus we see several of her bones pop themselves back into place, and presumably any blood vessels that got torn up magically correct themselves under her skin. Humans have been surviving injuries like major bone fractures for a very long time but a bone that heals without medical intervention to realign the fractured pieces might heal at a new angle, meaning it doesn't work as well anymore, and it might cause damage to surrounding organs/tissues and leave a lot of scar tissue or a chronic wound. But Nile only needs Booker and Nicky keeping her upright for barely a minute and then she's walking around on her own just fine.

A large wound that breaks deeply through the skin, like Nile's sliced throat or Booker's exploded abdomen, can be survivable for a regular human if it doesn't irreparably damage critical organs and if you can get medical attention before you bleed out, but even with modern medical intervention the results are rough. Jay and Dizzy aren't wrong for being deeply weirded out by Nile's flawless neck: even with the best plastic surgeons in the world on the case, closing up a wound like that will leave scar tissue that affects both appearance and function.

So, we've got immortality magic moving bones back into place, restarting stopped hearts and lungs and brains, rebuilding major structures like arteries and intestines, healing up wounds without scar tissue, pushing out bullets, and otherwise handwaving the big stuff. But it's not a magic wand, it’s a process, and bigger wounds take longer. It's like these people's mitochondria have little gnomes in there with schematics to rebuild their bodies to factory default.

From how these bodies handle wounds we can infer that they'd handle pathogens / infectious diseases the same way: inflammation, white blood cells attack, byebye plague see you never. And if these bodies are resetting bones and rebuilding organs, they're probably also correcting genetic disorders and shifting around physiological problems like bone spurs. So let's keep on inferring.

What if, instead of every death erasing hormone replacement therapy and gender-affirming surgery and leaving a trans immortal detransitioned over and fucking over again, what if the magic that governs immortality considers dysphoria-causing body parts just like any other wound to heal?

What if Booker is a trans man, and he's got that sweet muscle mass and that height and that beard that comes all the way up his cheeks because he's been on the wonder drug that is testosterone for over 200 years? What if immortality was all "we see you've been hung from the neck until dead, and your eyes have been pecked out, and also you have all these hormones that turn your body into a shape that makes you miserable — we're gonna fix all that" and then regenerated his pecked-out eyeballs and unsnapped his neck and undid the results of months of insufficient food AND ALSO started pumping him with the fantasy version of HRT so his chest started to reduce and his fat redistributed itself and his beard started coming in?

Who's to say that's not how it works?

All my dysphoria is social — I'm fine with my body for the most part and I CANNOT STAND when people assume things about my gender, because of my body or for any other reason. We see pretty clearly with Booker that mental illness isn't magically healed the way physical injuries are, and I think that's because the causes of mental illness are a combination of physiology/chemistry stuff and things like our beliefs about ourselves and the world, our experiences of trauma, and our experiences of getting our needs met or not. If I were immortal I could maybe break up with my SSRI, but it wouldn't stop me from getting misgendered — I'd still have to find a way to cope with the ongoing trauma of that. Having to navigate hundreds of cultures' ideas about gender when my gender is "uhhhhh" sounds like absolute hell for me, no thank you, do not want.

But for my fellow trans people whose dysphoria is primarily body-related, and for my social-dysphoria pals whose gender is something nearly every human being would recognize and all they need is to pass, how about let's make an executive decision that immortality includes HRT for anybody who needs it, with no psych eval or begging your insurance company or poking yourself with needles, and just like with wound healing it's like regular HRT but faster and more. HRT so powerful and so magical that it gives you the best possible version of the results you want and none of the results you don't. If I had the option to go on HRT for just like one or two changes but not the whole battery of things I would fucking do that, and if I were to join our elderly friends, maybe I could.

This might be easier on transmasc immortals than transfeminine ones, because testosterone's effects are basically impossible to reverse. But also you can't just keep waking back up after repeatedly drowning for 500 years, so fuck it. We're making an executive decision here.

Estrogen that grows your breasts and softens your dick but doesn't lessen your ability to orgasm. Immortality magic that makes your beard go away and maybe shrinks your height an inch or two or six. Maybe Quynh is trans and one time a few thousand years ago she got injured in battle worse than Booker's grenaded belly and she woke up an hour later with a vulva and a uterus and now her body is just like that. Factory reset.

I subscribe to the "God made wheat and grapes but not bread and wine so humans could share in the act of creation" model of transness and I personally feel very weird about the idea of immortality magically giving a trans immortal cisnormative genitals the same way it resets bones. There's no one right way to have a pussy or a dick, you know? Maybe Quynh woke up from a catastrophic gut wound in like 800 BCE with a constructed vagina rivaling the best our modern money can buy, without a uterus but with a clit that's just as magical as anybody else's.

I've been thinking about writing a Book of Nile fic with trans man Booker, which is why the two of them are most of my examples here. It would include porn, because apparently I can't write more than 1500 words about them without writing porn, so I need to think more about what's going to feel good for me and other trans people who might read it and won't accidentally facilitate cis people objectifying us. Like, I've thought in a lot of detail about what a clit enlarged by that many centuries of testosterone might look and feel like, and that specific experience is not mine so I'm treading carefully.

Cis people are welcome to reblog this! Fellow trans folks are welcome to join me in the act of creation on this post ;)

#trans things #fandom friends #tog meta #tog #book of nile #fic ideas #transphobia #dysphoria #gore #long post #mine

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (part 10)

A/N: Part of this chapter is inspired by the song 2 Years by Thomston. Thank you to the lovely anon that told me this song reminded them of this fic! I highly recommend listening to it! 

word count: 3.9k 

tw: mentions of childbirth, slight season 9 spoilers, otherwise fluffy 

masterlist: “A few months later we were in Boston, on that strangulation case. It’s a pretty hard case to forget, I mean, you delivered a baby. A real human baby, that you brought earthside with your own two hands. You delivered him, and she named him after you. Baby Spencer. 

Morgan and I dragged the unsub out into the street, hearing that poor woman scream and cry as you brought her baby into the world, but you did great, and he was beautiful. Just like his namesake. When I walked back inside I saw you give her the baby, and my heart just about melted into a puddle on the floor. You and kids, it just does something to me. It feels like my heart comes out of my body and into your hands like putty. It's an odd feeling, like you’re physically poking around in my chest. In a weird way I’ll miss it. 

Then I saw JJ give you a side hug, and put her arm on your chest. She even leaned into your neck, with a soft, sweet little nuzzle. You probably didn’t notice it, but I did. I always noticed. A million little ways to say ‘I love you’ without actually saying ‘I love you’. Right?

Yet again, I said nothing. I had no logical reason to be worried. She was married. You told me daily how much you loved me, how special I was, how beautiful, how amazing, how lucky you were. It’s a shame you didn’t feel like that at the end. But I made it okay. I told myself I was just overthinking it all, like usual. I buried it all down. Again, and again, and again. 

That night we went to that bar Rossi loves and everyone was happy, talking about how you delivered a baby. 

Alex asked you, “How on earth did you know what to do?” 

You explained how you memorized all the delivery manuals when JJ was pregnant, just in case. I often wonder if you’d do half the things you do for her, if it were for someone else. Or are some things just for JJ?

I just smiled and laughed, still pushing the feelings away. It was a night to celebrate and I was determined to not be a party pooper. Instead, I went the other way. I was the life of that party. We all got on stage and sang ‘Piano man’ karaoke, and if anyone was making love to a tonic and gin that night, it was me. Many, many, tonic and gins. I stumbled into an Uber with you and ended up at home. You helped me into bed. You wiped off my makeup and undressed me, putting one of your large shirts on me, leaving a bottle of water, two advils, and a note that said “i love you, love” for me to see when I woke up. Stuff like that makes me wonder if you’d only ever do some things for me. It sounds selfish, but I hope wiping my makeup off and putting my moisturizer on for me is something reserved for us. I know there are many things I have reserved just for you, Spence. No one will ever be that kind to me again, and that’s a fact.”

Are some things just for JJ? Really? He was irritated for a passing moment, why were you mad about him caring about his best friend? Before he had even met you?

But then that anger was soon replaced with confusion. Why’d you never mention it? In all the fights you had, you never once mentioned JJ. You never once threw the feelings that were so clear to everyone in his face. Why? Why not? 

Every word made him feel like he didn’t really know you, but also made him wonder if you even knew him? Because if you did you would’ve known he did nothing for JJ, but everything for you. 

“I immediately fell asleep.

 I woke up at some point, maybe around four am, and you weren’t in the bed next to me. I remember patting the sheets, looking for you as I usually did at night. To sleep, I needed to feel you pressed up against me. I didn’t. I panicked. I looked at the note, and for half a second I thought you left. It did look a little like a goodbye note, Spence. I yelled your name a few times, and when I didn’t get a response I really started to worry. I got out of bed and stumbled around; my head was still fuzzy. I walked around the house calling your name. You still didn’t answer. I finally found you on the balcony. 

It was warm for April, and you were sitting on a chair in your pajamas, staring at the stars. 

“Talking to the moon again?” I said, and you turned to look at me. 

The moon was a waxing crescent (thank you for that) so I couldn’t see you well. If it had been full, maybe I would’ve seen your sad eyes. 

“Hey, what’re you doing up?” You whispered.

I sat in the other chair, “I woke up and you weren’t there, so I came to find you. You scared me half to death, Reid.”

 I was looking at you but you wouldn’t look at me. I needed you to look at me.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Only if you come with me.” 

I was trying to be funny, but the pit in my stomach was insane. I really felt like I was staring the end in the face. That was the first time I ever saw you like that, completely shut out from me. You were always forthcoming with me, no matter what was going on. Your voice was rough, like you were getting a cold. You cleared your throat. 

“I think I want to stay out here a while longer.”

“Okay, then I’ll stay with you.”

“Y/N...” You were warning me, I should’ve listened. 

I stood up to walk back inside and I patted your shoulder. I disappeared to get a tub of ice cream and two spoons. We both knew your stomach would hurt afterwards, but we didn’t care. The comfort that binging on ice cream when you’re sad brings is well worth a tummy ache. And even in my half drunk brain fog, I could tell you needed it.”

Spencer chuckled, remembering how you always kept two tubs in the freezer “just in case.” Whenever one of you was having one of those days, the other would grab a tub, and you’d sit in silence and eat. That was back when each other’s company was enough. He still kept one tub in his freezer, hoping in some weird way that you’d be back and the two of you could sit and eat in silence, and somehow that would make it all okay. 

“We sat in silence staring at the sky and taking turns grabbing spoonfuls of cookie dough ice cream. It was comfortable, domestic, calm. 

“So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

You shook your head, “Nothing’s bothering me.”

“You only talk to the moon when you’re upset, Spence.”

You sighed, knowing I was right. The ice cream was for bad days, but the moon was for when you needed to think. And think alone. You said staring up at the moon helped you feel grounded; it reminded you how important we are. It always reminded me of how small I am, how I am literally a speck of dust on a planet that’s a slightly bigger speck of dust that’s hurling through time and space. It reminds me of how small we all are in the grand scheme of the universe. Then you’d tell me: “Everything that makes up us is from those stars. We’re literally made of stardust.” Then I’d feel important too, because you made me important. I mattered because I was in this place at this time with you. You’d tell me about the big bang and the million miracles that led to us being here, alive in this moment. You’d say it reminded you how lucky you were that you got to exist in this world with me. I don’t know if I believe in God, Spence, but if there is one I thank him for letting me exist at the same time as you, even if it was only for a finite time.”

He had to remind himself to breathe. How could words suffocate? How could ink take his breath away? Spencer wished it was nighttime, so he could talk to the moon again, so he could feel important again, so he could feel lucky. 

“You didn’t answer.

“Was it the case?”

You just nodded slightly, as if to say ‘sort of’. 

“This is literally as good as it can go. We got the guy and you brought someone’s baby into the world. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a happier ending.”

“No.”

That’s all you said, and I let the silence fester. We both just kept eating the ice cream. After about fifteen minutes you said, “The world looks different from here.”

“From the balcony? Yeah I guess, the city looks small, tiny ant people.”

You chuckled, “No, like from where I am right now in my life. I just see the world different than I did yesterday.”

“And I’m sure we’ll look at it differently again tomorrow.” I was trying to help, but it was 4:30 in the morning and I was still slightly buzzed. No amount of ice cream or an existential crisis was going to get rid of that. 

“I held a human being in my hands as it took its first breaths today, Y/N. I was the first thing he ever saw. I literally held his life in my hands.” 

“I know. Maybe you should take up obstetrics.” Another failed attempt at a joke.

 “It just made me think.”

“About what?”

“I just, I always thought I wanted kids,” you said it doubtfully and with a shrug. You looked at me in my eyes finally, and wow did it hurt. 

“But now I’m not so sure.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw almost dropped. How did delivering a baby make you no longer want a village of kids on Christmas morning? I thought it’d have the opposite effect. I thought it’d ignite your baby fever, like it ignited mine. My heart sank, “Why?” 

“I-I don’t know.”

I tried, again, to lighten the mood, “Is it because of the actual birth part? Because I promise I can handle it. No epidurals for me.”

You half smiled, “No, no it’s not that.”“Well then what is it?” I had this dreadful feeling that you were going to tell me that it was me. That I was the reason. That you wanted kids, but you didn’t want them with me.

 “How am I supposed to pass on these genes?”

“Your super smart, tall, handsome, magnificent genius genes? C’mon Spence,” I scoffed. 

“I meant schizophrenia.”

The air went cold between us. 

“You don’t have it though.”

“Having a grandparent with the disease increases your chances of developing it by 5%.”

“Yeah, and I have bad eyesight and terrible allergies and had braces as a kid, which our kids will inherit.” 

“You don’t understand what I mean.”

I rolled my eyes, “No, Love, I don’t. But I do know that you can’t be scared of what ifs.”

You ran your hands through your hair, and just groaned. You sighed, but I kept rambling. I blame my loose lips on Rossi. He kept buying, and I kept drinking.

“And there’s so many what ifs. What if they do get schizophrenia? But what if they don’t and you didn’t have kids because you were scared?”

“It’s not just that it’s—”

“It’s what Spencer?”

“I-I didn’t have a dad! I don’t know how to be one.”

We sat in silence. I didn’t know what to say. 

“I just don’t think it’s for me anymore.”

I felt tears sting my eyes. If we weren’t on the same page, this conversation was going to end horribly. “

But if you don’t want them then—“ I stopped and shakily wiped my face. 

“Then what?” You sounded scared.

I stopped myself from saying something that I’d regret. I wanted to say ‘then I can’t do this.’ Thank god I didn’t. 

“I just, I always thought my kids would be your kids too. I don’t think I want to be a parent if you aren’t there with me.”

Your eyes were shining from the tears and the sliver of moon when they met mine, “Really?”“

Yeah, I’ve told you this a million times, love. You will be the best father because you know what it’s like to not have one. You become better than the people before you.”

You dropped the spoon into the almost empty tub, “I know, I know. I just got in my head about it all.”

“Stop thinking about years ahead, Spence. All you have to think about is right now. I know it feels like we’re running out of time, but don’t rush life.”

You smiled watery and I went to sit on your lap. You rubbed your hand against the small of my back and we watched the sun start to rise. We were done talking to the moon. I dragged you inside, the new day’s sun was coming in through the windows. 

“Do you really think you’re running out of time?” You asked me, holding me close.

 I nodded, “Yeah. I always feel like I am. I thought I’d have two kids and a golden retriever by thirty-one, but I have none of that and I’m getting close to thirty-two. Twenty-four hours just feels shorter and shorter everyday.”

“That’s because each day is a smaller and smaller fraction of our memories. Time feels quicker and quicker every day.”

There you were. There was my love. My you. 

I squeezed you, “I know. It’s just scary. I feel like I’m behind.”

“I feel like that a lot too. You know I thought I’d cure schizophrenia by twenty-five?”

I smiled, “Even you can’t do everything, love.”

“Do you want to catch up?”

“How so?”

“We could get a golden retriever.”

I laughed, “Sure, and next you’ll be saying ‘let’s have a baby.’”

You shrugged and swooped me in front of you, “Why not? Me, you, a baby, sounds pretty good.” 

You said it as a joke, but it didn’t feel like one. “

You mean that?” I looked up at you and could see that longing in your eyes. You could see it in mine too. Always so pensive, Spencer Reid. 

“I didn’t mean like right now, but we can soon. We have to get married first.”

I rolled my eyes, “Who says we need to get married first? JJ and Will didn’t get married until Henry was four. They’re perfect.”

“Henry wasn’t planned.”

“And?”

“And, I’d like to marry you before knocking you up,” you said it like a joke again, peppering me in kisses. 

“We don’t need a stupid piece of paper from the government, Love.”

“So you don’t want to marry me?” There was amusement in your voice. 

“Oh, I want to marry you. I want to marry you so hard, Spencer Reid.”

We laughed, “I want to marry you so hard too.”

You kissed my forehead, and then my lips before moving away from me. 

“So, we both know we want to marry each other and we just agreed to have a baby, like soon?” I clarified. 

“Yes. We did. So, what’s stopping us from doing it right now?” You started milling around in the book case, looking for something. “

Don’t you dare get down on one knee right now, Spencer Reid. I told you already, I am not getting engaged without my nails done.”

You smiled, “I wasn’t! I wasn’t! I was just going to put on some music.” You held up a CD, and I smiled. You came back and pulled me close, and we started to sway back and forth. I always wanted to dance in the kitchen with the love of my life. That morning I did.

After the song ended, we went up to bed finally. I remember laying down and kissing you, going to the place we usually went. Afterwards, you held me against your chest again, “Did you mean it?”

I nodded, “Every word.”

You sighed happily, “So did I.”

I looked up at you, grinning, “So does that mean puppy Reid and baby Reid are coming soon?”

You rolled your eyes, “Puppy Reid, I can handle. But baby Reid is after Mrs. Reid. Call me old fashioned, but that’s how I want to do this.”

I toyed with your hair, “I can handle that.”

While I was packing, I found the CD you were rummaging for. I put it on and danced around the kitchen again. It wasn’t the same. ‘Your Song’ by Elton John is a love song, and love songs just hurt when you’re alone. I swayed in the sunlight, imagining you were swaying with me, talking about having a baby and getting married. I miss that feeling. I miss talking to the moon. I miss ice cream. I miss dancing in the kitchen to Elton John. I miss baggy tee shirts. I miss little notes. I miss the way “How wonderful life is when you’re in the world” felt when I was in your arms. I miss late night kissing. I miss the way you feel with me. I miss us. I miss you, but I miss that you. 

You’re probably wondering what your souvenir from that night is. I thought about giving you the CD, I thought about giving you some ice cream and a spoon, I even thought about giving you the moon, but I decided on the note. “I love you, love.” 

The note was badly wrinkled and his pencil chicken scratch was faded with time. He smiled, remembering the hundreds of notes he probably left you. They always ended in “I love you” with a little doodled heart. He remembered dancing in the sunlight and looking at engagement rings and rescue dogs. He missed you, and not just the version of you from that memory. He missed the version of you from the end. He hated that you didn’t miss that him too.  

“I thought going through all of this would bring me some closure, and now that we’re halfway through I realize that was a mistake. Instead of stitching me up, this opened wounds I thought I had long since healed. This brought it all back. I hope this doesn’t do that for you. I hope it’s the period on the end of this run on sentence. I hope this is closure for you. We both need that.”

He took the letter and the note and walked to his bed, flopping on it and staring at the ceiling fan. It was soothing, in a weird way. He fell into a trance. 

His phone ringing tried to snap him out of it. He didn’t reach for it and waited until the vibrations died. They came again, and he forced himself to look at it. 

JJ. 

Great, first Derek, now JJ. He knew they were just being good friends, but it was getting tiring. He wanted to just be alone, and he especially didn’t want to hear from JJ. His relationship with her was a point of contention with you and he didn’t even know. Between what he had just read and the photo from her wedding, all the old feelings he had for her were brought back to the surface and made him feel gross. He now realized the way your face would turn sour whenever he would pick JJ up in a spin and your off remarks when he’d mention going out with her. In hindsight, you were being jealous but somewhat reasonable. Before he met you, he wondered if he was just waiting for an alternate universe where he could be with JJ. One where there was no Will and no bad Redskins date, where he could look at her without it hurting. Now he knew he’d only be waiting for an alternate universe where he could be with you. 

The phone buzzed again and he finally decided to grab it and answer. 

“Hello?”His voice was groggy and hoarse from not being used. 

“Spence? Hey, it’s me, I just wanted to see if you were okay?”

He didn’t answer, eyes still trained on the fan. 

She cleared her throat, “I just talked to Derek and...”

“What’d he say?”

“He told me about the letters, little dramatic huh?”

He could hear her roll her eyes. JJ was the sweetest person alive, but when it came to Spencer the claws could come out. 

“Yeah, I’m up to number ten,” he kept his voice steady and almost bored, not wanting to reveal anything to her. 

“Out of how many?”

“Fifteen.”

Spencer stood up and walked to the window by the chess table.

 “How are you doing?”

“Did you know every seven to ten years our cells regenerate completely?” Spencer spoke into the phone, staring out the window. It was mid afternoon by now and the snow had stopped. The cars on the road had ruined the innocent white snow, leaving dark gray slush in their wake.

“Every cell?” JJ said back, the phone making her voice crackly and hard to hear. 

“Yeah, skin cells live two to three weeks,” He swallowed thickly, “So the skin she has right now is skin I’ve never touched. Those cells don’t know who I am. My lips are already on the second cycle. They’ve never kissed her. Eventually I’ll have a body that doesn’t recognize hers and she’ll have a body that recognizes someone who isn’t me.”

JJ didn’t speak, just sighed, “You know that isn’t true.”

“It is, Jennifer,” He ran his hands through his hair, “I’m going to be stuck here and she’s going to move on and it’s killing me.” His voice cracked at the end.

 “Then don’t think of it as being stuck, think of it as a turning point. You get to choose a direction now. You’re at a crossroads, Spence, you can choose to move on.” 

She sounded earnest and he knew she was right, but he couldn’t help the feeling. It’s like he was in quicksand and no one could pull him out. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. 

JJ sighed, “Do you want to talk about the letters?”

“No,” he said harsher than he intended, “I just want to finish this and then figure out what I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, if you need any help, you know where to find me.”

He nodded as if she could see him and whispered, “Bye.”

He hung up before she could respond. He threw the phone on the window sill and walked to the bathroom, splashing cold water over his face. He stared at his own reflection in the mirror. It looked foreign. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, his skin looked pale, and his hair looked like he had just rolled out of bed, which he kind of had. He felt like his whole body was bruised. He toyed with his hair to get it to a tolerable place and sat back down on his bed, grabbing the tenth letter.

part 11!

taglist! (just let me know if you’d like to be added!)

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#spencer reid #spencer x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer #reid #reid x you #reid fic #cm #cm fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #mgg #fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

[siempre-pedro]

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Pedro Pascal x Reader 

Summary: Everything is blissful when Pedro asks you to be his dance partner for a dance lesson he has to take for a new role, until you catch a contagious illness and have to cancel. Pedro finds a way to still dance with you and confess his feelings. 

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I’m obsessed with those songs but in another room videos/audio! I wrote this inspired by Paul Anka’s song...but in another room. I recommend listening to it while you read. 

Requests are OPEN

A gentle knock of your apartment door interrupted your glamorous dinner one Monday night. You folded the corner of your magazine and took one final bite of your Lucky Charms before getting up to answer it “Coming,” you shout, your mouth sill full of cereal.

Once you open the door, you swallow your food as fast as you can, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of your hot neighbor. You’d known Pedro for years, he had moved in next to you and sent over a plate of baked goods and a note apologizing in advance for any noise. Both of you were smitten since that day. “Did I interrupt you again?” Pedro asks, grimacing at his awful timing.

“Nah I only got to the who wore it best section this time,” you chuckle, leaning on the cold door frame and tugging your knit sweater up on your shoulder. Pedro ran his fingers through his messy brown hair and then cooly put it in his front pocket “What do you need?”

“A favor,” he responds simply, “when was the last time you danced?” You squint your Y/E/C colored eyes and your lips pucker in thought.

“Senior prom. Why?”

“I signed on to do a project, and I have to learn how to waltz,” he explains, a pink tint rising to his tanned skin. You smile softly and cross your arms over your chest, motioning him to continue. “I found a class on Friday in Midtown, will you please be my partner?”

“Why me?” you ask, trying to hide a giddy smile that was threatening to make an appearance. The man of your dreams was inviting you out and all you do was stand there and look like an idiot! He looked so nervous and precious, standing there fidgeting on his spot.

“You know I have two left feet, I trust you not to laugh at me too much,” he laughs. That was fair, he did, hen he invited you to a friends wedding you got to experience that first hand. “Please, Y/N. I need you,” he begs looks at you with pleading eyes.

“Fine, fine, fine,” you agree “Friday.”

He sighs in relief and pulls his hands from his pockets “You are my savior, Y/N. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll see pick you up at 5 and we’ll take the Subway, yeah?” He plans excitedly, almost bouncing. You bit back a girly laugh and did your best to keep your calm composure.

“I’ll see you then.”

Except you wouldn’t. Tuesday and come and gone and when Wednesday came you woke up with the worst headache of your life. Your neck was so stiff it felt like you were tied to a board, and after some back and forth with yourself, you made an appointment and thankfully, they were able to see you right away. Pedro was texting you nonstop for updates and made silly jokes to calm you. Some made you giggle and others made you groan from second-hand embarrassment.

Those jokes didn’t help when your doctor stood in front of you, his clipboard under his arm, and his eyes looking stern down at you. The older looking man takes a deep breath before giving you the diagnosis “Its meningitis,” he tells you bluntly.

You blink a couple of times, cocking your head as far as it could go without it hurting…which wasn’t that far at all “Meningitis?” you repeat confused, you’d never heard of that before.

The doctor leans against the old counter and uses his free hand to press against the back of his neck “You have an infection that’s causing swelling of the membrane covering your brain and spinal cord, ” he begins to explain, and this is where your daydreams came to a rough stop “It’s highly contagious and often deadly, seizures, brain damage, hearing loss.”

Your eyes widened at the amount of emphasis he used in ‘highly’ “Oh,” was all you could say. Fuck now you were afraid you were going to die! You couldn’t tell Pedro you liked him if you were dead. “H-how bad is my case?” you ask meekly, your eyebrows turning upwards in worry.

“Thankfully we caught it early and the infection is only bacterial, I’ll be giving you the best antibiotics I can and you should come out of this with no side effects,” he tells you, taking his clipboard from his arm to start writing down a prescription. Here comes another kicker “You need to be quarantined for at least a week, no face to face interaction with other people.”

“I have a date Friday,” you say without thinking about what you just blurted out. The doctor looks up from his clipboard and gave you a look that said ‘are you serious?’

“Do you want them to get infected?”

“No.”

He laughs “Then stay home and rest. I’ll supply you with a few masks to get home, then no going out. You go to the pharmacy and go home. Got it?”

You smile at him “I do. Thank you, Doc.”

Telling Pedro you couldn’t go dancing with him may have been the hardest thing you’d ever have to do. You imagined it was going to crush him as bad as it did you. You lean back in your seat on the train, passengers saw your blue medical mask and creating a bubble around you, at least you were alone-ish. Sliding your phone out of your pocket you begin to text him ‘I’m on my way back.’

He replies almost instantly ‘How’d it go? Are you ok?’

‘I have meningitis. A brain infection basically.’

‘Jesus Christ. Are you going to live???’

‘lol yeah. I have to be quarantined for at least a week. I’m HIGHLY contagious. I can’t go with you Friday, I’m so sorry Pedro.’

Pedro’s quick responses ceased. You were constantly checking your phone every few seconds to see if he texted back. You watched your screen intensely, no pop-up messages were appearing, and when it did it was just an Instagram notification that gave you false hope. It took the actor 7 minutes to finally respond.

‘Fuck. Please don’t worry Y/N, I just really want you to get better! I’ll go to that bodega down the street and get you a few things so you don’t starve and stuff.’

Fuck this guy for taking care of you, fuck him for being sweet and nice and everything you wanted him to be. Too bad you were breaking both your hearts, you think. No Pedro was fine you assumed, just helping out a friend.

When you got back to your apartment you found two grey plastic grocery bags filled with Gatorade, semi-healthy snacks, and Tylenol you assumed. On the bag was a neon yellow sticky note ‘I hope I got you everything you needed. I’ll see you in a few days : ) – Pedro’ it read. You smiled softly to yourself and picked up the bags, ready for the lonely week ahead.

Thursday you were in the worst pain of your life, it was like that scene if Ferris Beuller’s Day Off when Cameron was in bed telling Ferris that he was dying, unable to move. That was you, 80s music and all as you laid hopelessly in your bed, surrounded by clear bottles of Gatorade and snacks that Pedro provided. Pedro himself was only adding to your pain, his constant texts asking how you were and trying to make you feel somewhat better was backfiring, you still felt terrible about the dance class. In the evening Pedro would knock on your door, leaving your mail in front of the doorstep.  Too bad you couldn’t move to get it.

Friday you were able to accomplish getting out of bed and slowly moving around your apartment. You were leaning on your kitchen counter, chicken noodle soup near boil in a silver pot in front of you. You checked the clock on your microwave ‘4:58’ it read in glowing blue letters, Pedro would be leaving at any moment. That is if he was really going of course.

He was, the door to his apartment closed loudly and a light giggle rang through the walls. You stood stiff, that was a female voice. You rushed to grab a medical mask in the living room, tugging on your gray oversized sweater and a good excuse in your mind.

Your door opened in a rush and you stood in the hallway, the speed of everything got Pedro and the woman’s attention. God she was beautiful, tall and bronzed with silky long black hair, if they needed a new Miss Universe it would’ve been her. She was your foil, you were there in sweatpants and your hair greasy hair pulled up into a high bun, a blue medical mask covering your frown but they couldn’t conceal your dark bags. “Y/n,” Pedro speaks cautiously like a man in a relationship getting caught with another woman. The tall skyscraper of a woman scans you up and down disapprovingly and you didn’t miss her taking a step back when you coughed. “This is Katerina. Kat this is Y/n.”

“Hi,” she sighs, and you simply wave at her before crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Katerina, you hated the way he said her name with that accent of his. Your heart was shattered, would rather dance with her. Your mind quickly flashed to him leaning in to kiss her while they danced, their bodies pressed together.

“What are you doing outside?” he asks you with concern.

You bit your quivering lower lip and replied in a faltering tone “I just came to get my mail.”

Pedro’s dark brown eyes look at you sympathetically “Do you need it right now?”

The tears started to form in your eyes, she probably thought you were ridden with disease “N-no.”

“Please go rest, I promise to bring it to you tonight,” he pleads.

“Pedro we need to go, the Uber’s out front,” Katerina interjects.

You didn’t say anything as he offers a guilty smile before walking off with her. Once their figures disappear down the hall you take in a sharp breath, tears falling down your cheeks. Why did you have to get sick? Why did it have to be contagious? Why did he choose her? You were so angry and jealous and it going to the window in your bedroom to watch him help her into the Uber fueled the angry green fire in your soul.

Later that night you sat on your couch brooding, that night’s rerun of Entertainment Tonight providing background noise as you angrily flipped through Vogue. Pedro would be back any moment, and you were just waiting to hear Katerina’s obnoxious giggles. Soon enough Pedro’s front door opened and shut, no exchanges of words or laughter could be heard. Maybe he did come home alone and you were worrying for nothing.

Music started to play from the apartment next to you, the 50s song you recognized from your father's collection and that one all the kids were into these days. Why was he playing it this loud? You could hear Paul Anka’s voice over Kevin Frasiers on the tv, the bass gently thumping the wall behind you.

Your phone started to ring, Pedro’s name and goofy face popped up “Pedro you’re going to have to pay another fine if you keep it this loud,” you say playfully as you answer it.

“How are you feeling?” He asks lowly.

“Better.”

“Good, stand up,” he instructs.

“W-why?”

“Do his for me Y/N, please,” he sighs.

You shrug and oblige, putting your magazine to the side and standing up in the middle of your apartment “Now what?” you inquire.

“Can you hear the music?”

“How can I not… I’m sorry, yes, yes I can,” you laugh.

“Good, now close your eyes and imagine I’m with you…we’re dancing,” he tells you and you do what he says. You smile and start slowly swaying to the song “I really wish you were with me tonight.”

“You didn’t like what’s her name as a partner?”

Pedro chuckles and closes his eyes “No she was fine. I just wish it was you… my first choice.”

“First choice?” you question.

“You’re always my first choice, Y/N.”

‘put your head on my shoulder’ you cock your head to the side and imagine your putting your head in the crook of his neck, the smell of his cologne bringing a sense of comfort. “I didn’t mean to get sick,” you confess.

“I know, I know… I’m not upset at you or anything. I just had bigger plans for this evening,” he admits, a pink tint rising to his cheeks.

“Which are?” you hum.

“I wanted to tell you that I liked you. More than a friend.” Your eyes open and you snap out of the fantasy, your heart ready to burst from your chest.

“Pedro,” you breathed, wishing he could see the blissful smile. “I’ve liked you since you moved in.”

There’s a silence on both ends, the romantic song filling the void but soon he speaks “Once your better you’ll dance with me?” he wonders.

“I promise,” you say, and the fatigue sets in, “I-I’m getting tired, I did too much today”

Pedro hums in contentment “Go to sleep, I’ll bring your mail and slide it under the door. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Pedro,” you whisper. As you hang up the song ends, your eyes look at the wall that divided your apartments and smiled all the way to your bed.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fluff

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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[saltlampsasuke]

Unfortunately, You Are Experiencing Symptoms of Falling in Love: Part 5

Having your long-term boyfriend cheat on you is pretty bad, but you're lucky enough to have a rich, pro-hero best friend who lets you move in with him until you get a new apartment. Except lockdown happens. And you can't look for a new apartment anymore, and you can't go anywhere anymore, and neither can your best friend, and you think you might be falling a little bit in love with him. Or maybe you've been in love with him all along.

The story of how it takes a nationwide lockdown for you and Bakugou Katsuki to finally get together, part 5!

warnings: Coronavirus mentions

wordcount: 1,936

taglist: @stargazerunlimited @luna-bloodrose​ @lov4kbg

So I am so so sorry for how long I took to update this, I don't really have a good excuse or explanation so I'll just once again say how sorry I am. But in good news, the plot setup is FINALLY over and now we can get to that good fluffy stuff! So thank you for bearing with me and please enjoy!

One morning, you woke up and saw that it had been two weeks since you moved in with Katsuki. You were a little surprised to realize how much time had passed without you noticing, and how easily you had integrated yourself into Katsuki’s life. Or rather, how much he had forced you to adapt to his ways of living. Not that you were complaining. You had been eating fantastically ever since you moved in, though Katsuki would refuse any thanks, and would often outright deny that he had made the food for you. And the apartment complex took care of your laundry for you, and you never really had to clean much either. It was almost like you were on vacation.

A typical morning for you would follow along these lines:

1) You wake up to the sound of Katsuki’s blender and your breakfast is waiting on the counter

2) You enjoy said breakfast and Katsuki says that he “doesn’t know why it’s there, now shut up and eat or you’ll be late for work”

3) You finish eating and get ready for work, which involves darting in and out of Katsuki’s bathroom, which causes you to bump into him with embarrassing frequency. Nothing terrible has happened yet, and you always knock and wait, but there’s always some part of you curious worried to catch him in a state of undress.

4) Katsuki gets fed up with your constant presence in his room and kicks you out so he can get ready (sometimes he will threaten to kick you out of his entire apartment, though you know he never means it)

5) You finish getting ready in your room and wait by the door for Katsuki to drive you to work

6) Katsuki stops by your favorite coffee shop, which now always has your order ready and waiting (who could have made that happen, I wonder)

7) You and Katsuki would have an argument over who would pay for your coffee (spoiler alert: it was never you who paid)

8) Katsuki would drop you off at work and demand you tell him when you need to be picked up, and no matter how much you tried to evade him he always was there once you walked out the door.

It was kind of embarrassing to admit, but the longer you spent living with Katsuki the happier you felt, and the more regret you felt as well for having let yourself become so sad and complacent with Takumi without even noticing. But you also had to pat yourself on the back for growing and moving past him. You rarely even thought about your ex now, and though part of you wondered what his reaction had been when he returned to a much emptier apartment, you didn’t have any time to think about him. You were too busy, between dealing with Bakugou at home and the destruction he wreaked on his gear in the field (as well as a special surprise you were cooking up for him as thanks), and you didn’t want to waste any mental space on such a waste of a man either.

Living with Katsuki was also so much nicer than living with Takumi had been. You two now had regular movie nights, would eat lunch together on the weekends, and sometimes, if he was tired enough from patrols, you could convince Katsuki to go swimming with you at night. The wide windows would let in the soft light from the moon and you could just relax. You felt so relaxed, all the time now. You felt safe. Of course, as soon as you had finally gotten truly settled and were ready to start looking for apartments again, not wanting to bother Katsuki for any longer than you already had, your life was once again upended in a way you could never have expected.

The first few things you heard about the virus came from the very man you roomed with. As a high-level pro hero, it was his job to be aware of threats to the citizens he protected, and while there wasn’t a way for him to blast a virus to bits, he still tried to stay informed. And of course, as a pro hero, he also had access to information from upper levels of government, and so he would always know about big developments before you. Still, initially, he didn’t seem worried. The only way you could tell that something was wrong was how he began to grow skittish at the idea of you moving out. Of course, that could have been for other reasons as well, but you were certain it was because of the virus.

To tell the truth, as days passed, you were also starting to worry about moving out. Getting a new roommate, or even a new apartment, could potentially be risky. You wouldn’t know the area, and you would be stuck with either a smaller, less nice apartment, or roommates, because you weren’t about to spend half of your paychecks on rent. And the situation was devolving quickly. To be honest, you would also miss having a in-house personal chef, even if he did yell at you.

Making matters even worse, the housing market seemed to have dried up completely. All the apartment listings you saw had something wrong with them; if you didn’t see the problem at first Katsuki would, and he wouldn’t hesitate to point it out. Dangerous neighborhoods, records of noise complaints, general ambiance, the minute you saw a halfway decent listing he would search it up and report back to you on why it wouldn’t work. Not to mention that all of the places that managed to pass his scrutiny were way out of your budget range.

He was just looking out for you, or as he put it “making sure he didn’t have to go to the trouble of moving your dumb ass back into his apartment again after your new places backfires”. And he was right every time about the problems. You were thankful he was taking the trouble, because otherwise you might have ended up in a real dump. But the days without a new place slowly grew in number. As did the number of cases. You knew both things were an issue. But you simply didn’t realize how much of an issue they would become until it was too late for you to do anything.

The morning you realized that your life was about to get even more different than it already had was the morning you didn’t wake up to the jarring screech of your best friend/temporary roommate’s deluxe blender, but rather to the smell of French toast. This wouldn’t by itself be light years past normal, but a quick look at your phone informed you that it was 9:37 on a Thursday morning. You slowly pulled yourself out of bed, confused. Katsuki would never let you sleep in like this unless it was some special occasion, and even then he would probably have woken you up eventually, calling you lazy to boot. As your brain began to wake from its fog, you headed towards your bedroom door. Katsuki was in the kitchen, you knew he had to be since you smelled him cooking, but nothing else about him seemed normal. He wasn’t in his sleeping clothes, but rather the kind of outfit he reserved for press conferences and major meetings, but the jacket was tossed on the floor and the clothes were rumpled like he had been doing hard work. His hair had lost it’s trademark spikes, flopping forward into his eyes, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. Worst of all was when you finally saw his face. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept the entire night. Come to think of it, considering how he looked, he probably hadn’t.

“Are you alright?” you said as he met your eyes. As he moved, you could see the exhaustion in his body, and you pulled him over to the couch, forcing him to sit down. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Let me make the damn breakfast, princess,” he grumbled from his seat, yet not moving.

“Breakfast can wait,” you replied as you turned off the burner. There was no way you could eat anything right now, not before you learned what was going on. “So talk.” Katsuki sighed heavily.

“Shit, where do I even start?” He ran his hands through his hair, causing it to lose even more of its shape. “I got a call last night around 8. Said it was an emergency meeting. I put on the fucking serious suit and everything, that’s how bad it sounded. Thought they were maybe gonna tell me that One for All had escaped or something. But this was… something else.” You held your breath as he explained. It was rare for him to be this serious, not exhibiting any emotion except determination. This was his battle face. You just had to wait for him to tell you what he would be fighting.

“I know you’ve heard about the virus that’s been going around, but it’s gotten real bad, princess. Turns out some higher-ups were downplaying it, thought it was maybe some weird quirk that they could shut down or something, but it’s not. We’ve got a real disease on our hands, and nobody can stop it. It’s gonna go global.” You blinked rapidly, trying to grasp the magnitude of what he was saying.

“Ok, but there has to be some quirk or something that can stop it, right? We can fix this?” you asked nervously. Katsuki shook his head.

“Hold on, princess. I’m getting there. We all talked about it. Everyone was there. All the big heroes, all the heads of whatever departments, anyone you can think of whose job it is to take care of the public. And there’s nobody. Healing quirks are rare as is, and with the way the virus has been spreading, no one quirk would be enough.”

“So what do we do then?” Katsuki placed a hand on your knee in an attempt to comfort you.

“Bet you’re wondering why I look like shit.” You nodded slightly. “We were out all night coming up with a strategy. We’re gonna get all our science guys on this, use whatever quirks we have to study this virus, and then do whatever we can to get a vaccine going. But for the time being, we have to shut down. The whole country has to stay home.” You stared at him in shock. Part of you had been wondering what would happen if the virus wasn’t a quirk, or if it couldn’t be stopped, but you hadn’t actually thought it possible. And now the entire nation had to be put on pause.

“Only essential shit can stay open. Grocery stores, hospitals, you get the idea. But everyone else has to stay in their house. There’s gonna be a more detailed plan later. But you won’t be leaving this building unless absolutely necessary.” Katsuki paused, clearly preparing to drop an even bigger bomb than the one he had just dropped. “And neither will I. I’m number 2. We’re hoping for a drop in crime if everyone takes this as seriously as they should, but they want the big heroes to avoid getting sick in case they need us to take out big villains if they try anything. They don’t want us out of commission if they need us. So it’s gonna be you and me in here. And it looks like it’s gonna be a while.”

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

Please forgive me for how short this is honestly I just wanted to be done with this chapter I know it's bad but now that I'm past it hopefully things will get better. And I think I’ll be remaking this blog because I apparently accidentally made this my side blog so I can’t reply to people so please keep an eye out for an update/post about that! I’ll also tag the new blog in all my posts so sorry for any trouble!!! Thank you for your support!

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #pro hero bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou x you #katsuki x you #yes finally an update #i am so sorry #please don't be too mad #many regrets and one of them is how long it took me to post an update

[new-tella-us]

Aight, so this is a very long Komahina Oneshot.

I'm gunna milk the freak out of the popular shiet!

Anyways couple of warnings before we start.

This oneshot is not happy. It contains:

Character Death

Swearing

Illness

Mentions and attempts of suicide

If any of this stuff upsets you then skip this chapter. I'll be making happier stuff in the future.

Bittersweet Ending

"Hey Komaeda! Wanna visit Hajime and Nekomaru with me?"

That was the first thing Nagito heard after leaving his house. Akane was at his door and seeming pretty anxious.

"Oh..uhh sure. I wanted to talk to Hajime, I guess I just never had the time,"

It was still strange to see Akane being nice to him. He always expected something bad to happen to him around her but, lately she's been pretty docile. Though, she still doesn't want to call him by his first name regardless of how many times Nagito has said that it's fine. Nagito quickly got ready and left his tiny cottage with the girl.

...

The walk was long. Nagito offend wondered why Nekomaru and Hajime were put so far away from the rest of the group. Some actually moved closer to them so they wouldn't have to take such a long walk but, not Nagito. He was just...too busy. His mind started to wander as he walked. Where did his story start? Maybe when he woke up.

When he first woke, he couldn't believe it. He was back in reality. A hand reaching out to him snapped his attention right back to reality. He sensed so much hope radiating from the person reaching out that he confused him with the Ultimate Hope, Izuru Kamukura and while, the person was the Ultimate Hope, it wasn't Izuru. Hajime Hinata was his name. His warm smile finally pulled Nagito out of the lull he was in. So he stood up, ready to take on a new world.

...

Two months had past, the fifteen students were able to move to the original Jabberwock Island and live there in peace. Of course, occasionally, the Future Foundation would ask for assistance from Hajime but, other than that, it was quite peaceful. So peaceful, in fact, that Makoto Naegi decided to slightly dampen the mood of the island by building a graveyard for all the student of Hope Peak that got killed in the Tragedy. Each set of areas were separated by class and for everyone that died, they would build a ginormous, well more like life size, statue of the person.

That ended up pissing a lot of people off for obvious reasons, since there was only one death from class 77. Chiaki Nanami, she would stand alone in a sea of statues that threatened to drown her in the meaningless names and monotonous stone gray.

Hajime also brought up a pretty good point.

"Makoto, this is our home. If you put every class, every Ultimate, all 78 of them here, our island would become a travelers island,"

"We'll make sure to moderate that but, this just the best area we can put these and respect our dead, plus this is probably going to be where we bury you guys and I would thing you would want to be near friends,"

No one had much of an argument. Hajime sighed and agreed to the plans on the condition that Makoto keeps visitors to a minimum and never does overnight stays. Makoto agreed and it was settled. They decided the graveyard would take up the entire fifth island to keep it as far away as possible. After all, the group didn't need a constant reminder that not everyone got out. Nagito didn't need a constant reminder that he got the last bit of her killed for his idiotic plan and now she'll never come back.

Never.

...

More months past and life was normal...well, their version of normal, at least. Through out these months, he and Hajime have gotten closer than ever. Hajime seems to be the only one who cares, Nagito likes it when they hangout...he always does this. He always gets attached despite it never ending well. He did it with his dog;the dog got ran over, his parents; they died in a plane freak accident, Chiaki...yeah... He knows he always gets attached to the ones who will die and yet, he still gets attached.

...

He caught something...Oh not Hajime, Nagito. Nagito got sick, really sick. He could barely move out of bed. People kept visiting him, Mikan kept checking up on him and Hajime, unlike with the Liar Disease, actually stayed. By the end of the week, the group had given him flowers that he couldn't take care of (Mahiru did so instead), and all sorts of candies that he didn't have the appetite for, even Hiyoko gave him her favorite brand of gummy bears. Throughout the few weeks, he fluctuated between good days and bad days.

On one of his good days, he was hanging out with Hajime. He insisted that they hang out somewhere other than the house. Hajime furiously declined saying that Nagito need to rest and, as per usual, he was right but Nagito just didn't want to sit in bed any longer.

"Fine, I'll just go somewhere by myself" Nagito said in a huff. Hajime's face changed from a "what the actual hell??" Look to a defeated one. Nagito knew Hajime would never leave Nagito alone while sick on this island so, Hajime agreed.

Nagito decided that they were going to the cemetery that finished it's construction very recently. Hajime didn't put up a fight and they both headed there. Once they arrived, they had to walk through class after class to find the class they were looking for. Nagito started to feel his "good" day going bad but, tried his best to keep a strong face. They finally made it to the class 77 area and there she stood, alone. Stone eyes staring down at her Nintendo DC. Nagito briefly wondered what game she would be playing to be so intensely staring down at the game without looking up before he remembered that this was a statue.

"So, why here of all places? Did you want to mourn Chiaki?" Hajime asked, blunt and to the point as always. So Nagito answered with all equally blunt question.

"When I die, do you think they'll put my statue next to hers?"

Hajime seemed caught off-guard, he didn't seemed to know what to say next.

"Umm, supposedly? It would probably be in death order. Y'know, like who dies first?"

"Exactly, when I die, which should be soon-" Nagito couldn't hold back the sickness anymore and doubled over coughing. This, of course, panicked Hajime as he tried to help as much as he could. When the coughing died down and Nagito could breathe again, he commented; "See? I told you tha-"

Hajime cut him off, "You're being delusional. You're not going to die, Nagito"

"You don't know that and I'm not getting healthier"

"It's a cold.."

Now, Nagito was the one to interrupt, "Colds don't last weeks Hajime"

"It's a fuckin' bug" Hajime cursed

"Now look who's being delusional, it's my sickness. It's finally coming to tak-"

"Enough with the with the fucking death talk! You're not gunna die Nagito!" His voice was louder but, he didn't sound as certain. "You're...not.." his voice was shaking, pleading for Nagito to stop. Of course Nagito had to take it so far. He always takes it too far and ends up in these kinds of situations.

"...Sorry"

"Let's...get you home, you're not feeling well"

...

Turns out, Hajime was right, it was just a cold but with his immunodeficiencies, it made it much harder to fight off. With the right medicine and another four days, Nagito started to improve. People were still cautious, now that every had seen how a common cold could affect him, they were more hesitant to let him do the common housework that he used to do on the regular. They all collectively decided thatNagito would take regular check ups to keep his health in check. He agreed to keep them all from panicking too much. Hajime insisted that Nagito does a blood test and a brain scan.

"Just in case of something serious.."

Why? Hajime should be the last person to say that. He is the only person that knows about Nagito's condition...was it to let everyone else know? He gave Nagito a look, a look that was hard to decipher. It almost seemed like Hajime knew something that Nagito didn't.

...

.........

....What?

This is....

That's impossible...

Maybe the tests were flawed? Maybe there was a mix up....

Nope, these are his results but, that's impossible.

These tests say he's anemic.

Just anemic. Not any of the other illnesses he was diagnosed with as a teen. Vitamin Deficiency Anemia. A chronic but usually treatable condition. The worst part? It matches up with how Nagito has been feeling since he got the disease. The pale skin, the weight loss, the inability to fight of the smallest of colds without weeks of treatment. It all lines up. This is...some really good luck. Life saving good luck...that means, the next surge of bad luck might be...Life ending. No..NO! Nagito refuses to lose anyone else and certainly not because of his luck!

...

"That's amazing, Nagito!" Hajime said.

Hajime was the only person Nagito could go to about this. He knew so much already, it made it easier to tell him more...and yet, now Nagito felt guilty. His relationship with Hajime got slightly strained with the graveyard talk and now Hajime has seemed to almost completely forget that. He even seems happy, genuinely happy. Did Nagito really want to ruin that? ...He had to.

"Uhm, yeah but, this surge of good luck is sure to come with harsh repercussion," Nagito said nervously.

Silence...

"Nagito...please, just this once. Can you just be happy when something good happens to you?" Hajime's voice was a mixture of annoyed and worried.

"Not when this could kill someone. Sorry," Nagito might have to reconsider if telling Hajime things is a good idea anymore...

"...Okay, how about this? If we tell everyone to watch out for something bad and keep on their toes, will you at least try to enjoy yourself?"

That didn't feel good enough but, there wasn't much Nagito could do. "Fine"

...

A couple weeks had passed by. Nagito became more and more restless with everyday that nothing happened. Recently, the Future Foundation called some of them to a small mission on the main land. To gather intel on a rebel group that still stands by the complete extermination of Ultimates. Nekomaru, Nagito, Hajime, Mikan and surprisingly Hiyoko were tasked with this. Throughout that time, Nagito tried his best to trigger his bad luck. Walking through the most dangerous parts of town everyday to see if something would happen...Nothing did. He tried everything to cause any form of bad luck to ease his mind, from dangerously unstable platforms to rebel infested areas. Nothing happened. Nothing but Nagito constantly worrying his group.

"Nagito, you can just come with us. You know that right?" Hajime mentioned, worrying flashing in his heterochromatic eyes. Nagito liked to stare into them but, now is not the time.

"Oh, I would never dream of disturbing the presence of you with mine."

Hajime started to look pissed off.

"Listen Nagito, is you are still worried about your bad luck...I understand but, you can't force it to activate. Just let the inevitable happen."

Okay, now Nagito's pissed off. Let the inevitable happen? Does Hajime not care that the 'inevitable' could be death?

"You're acting too casual about all of this. This is something big and you're acting like it's nothing. Do you not care? Not care that someone on our island could die? After all we've been through?"

"Of course I care but, what am I supposed to do? Let you get yourself killed? If you have forgotten, you are also someone on our island. I can't just allow you to die! I have to at least try to save everyone as I always have!"

"....I'm not that important, I caused a good portion of this. It's not like anyone would truly care too much if I was gone. It's fine to let a nobody like me die," Nagito said. Did he mean it? Maybe but, he didn't want to be the cause of anymore pain or death...

Hajime was steaming, he looked like he might actually hit something in anger but instead, he grabbed Nagito's shoulders and pushed him up against a wall. Now, Nagito couldn't ignore him. Couldn't try to push his concerns aside.

"I care dammit! Can't you see that?"

Nagito's heart raced. His face was so close to Hajime's. He felt like something bad was bound to happen with them so close. A part of him, really wanted to just lean in and kiss Hajime while he had the chance. The part that wanted to possible keep some form of a friendship with Hajime, however, knew not to.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have spent days getting you out of that coma. If none of us cared, we wouldn't have spent time, energy and money to help you get better and to give you gifts while you were ill. We all care about you. So please...don't...don't leave me like Chiaki did.." Hajime plead, desperately. He seemed near tears, tightening his grip on Nagito. It's rare to ever see Hajime so scared. It hurt Nagito, since he couldn't honestly promise that. At that moment, he truly did wished he stayed in that coma or..no..further than that, he just wished he was never lucky to begin with. His luck caused so many people pain, include the man that's now pleading for Nagito to live in front of him. Despite Hajime's pleading, Nagito knew what he had to do to make this awful cycle stop.

"I...I promise," Nagito lied, "I'm sorry"

Hajime's grip loosened then he hugged Nagito.

"Thank you..." Hajime's voice was shaky but, genuine. Nagito couldn't say anything to that.

...

It's time. Nagito made sure to spend time with everyone he could. It was the end of the investigation and nearly time for everyone to go home...Nagito wasn't going to make it home. On one of his investigations, he found a very tall skyscraper. The tallest one with the exception of Hope's Peak. He wasn't going to jump from there, not when Makoto is trying his hardest to repair the place.

He stood on the roof of this broken building. The railings that once stood there, probably to prevent what Nagito was about to do, rusted and withered away. He stood at the edge, looking on at the city that he helped destroy.

He was about to step off when he heard someone.

"Nagito?"

Of course, of all people, it had to be him. Nagito turned around to see none other than Hajime standing at the doorway next to Nagito's shoes that he removed to confirm that this wasn't a murder. Nagito turned back to the city. He felt no reason to hide it anymore and repeated a question he asked a long time ago.

"Do you think, when I die, they'll put my statue near her's?"

Hajime answered the same too.

"That depends on who dies first in the group. They'll probably organize it in death order..."

Nagito said nothing. He knew that if that's the case then, he would be right next to her.

"You really aren't going to turn back, are you? You are that afraid of your talent that this is what you think you have to choose?"

Still nothing.

"Can you at least give me an answer?"

Nagito couldn't. He was so focused at looking on at the city, he didn't realize that Hajime had made it next him.

"Just turn back, go on without me," Nagito turned to Hajime and smiled, "You'll forget me eventually,"

Hajime said nothing but eventually turned away and started walking back. Nagito was a little surprised but was also glad that Hajime understood. He went back to looking at the city.

"If I can't convince you. I guess..." Nagito heard Hajime walking back and felt his hug. Nagito turned to face Hajime and maybe question something, before he could say anything, Hajime continued,

"I can at least make sure you don't die alone."

Hajime pushed himself forward off the edge, taking Nagito with him.

Now, they were falling. Falling fast. It didn't feel fast though. It felt like the world slowed down, everything was noisy but, silent. Nagito couldn't believe it. It was really happening. That's when Nagito started to question the things he should have thought about before choosing this way of ending it. What if he didn't die on impact? Would it hurt? Would it burn? Would he just feel numb? How long can you even last after a fall like that? But, those questions are useless to ask now...

He wanted to tell Hajime how he felt. He knew he was going to die so, it wouldn't matter. He might as well. Plus, Hajime would probably not hear him over the pressure threatening to burst their eardrums in its might.

He screamed to the top of his lungs the words he wanted to say since the Neo World Program.

"I Love You, Hajime!"

He didn't expect much. He didn't any response. So he certainly didn't expect what was said next.

"I Love You Too!"

Hajime...loved him? He didn't expect that at all. This, somehow, made Nagito feel better and worse at the same time. He hugged Hajime tighter, they should be close to the ground soon so, Nagito can die without much regret.

"And I told you," Hajime continued, "I'm going to try and save everyone. Including you."

Immediately after that, Nagito felt shift in positions. Now, it was Hajime under Nagito. Nagito realized what Hajime was going to do. He was going to take to brunt of the landing on the chance that Nagito would live. If Nagito was lucky, he could live.

And, of course,

Nagito was lucky.

...

"We're here! Finally!" Akane's voice snapped Nagito back into reality.

"Y-yeah, that walk took a-a lot out of me..." Mikan followed. Wait, when did Mikan get here? She must have joined their walk while Nagito was spaced out.

"A-are you o-okay Nagito-san? You s-seem spaced out.."

Oh right, he probably seems very out of it on their walk, he should say something.

"Yes, I'm okay, I was just...thinking."

He looked up at the cemetery entrance and prepared himself when he entered.

75...76...77. Class 77...

All the way to the left is Chiaki Nanami, the first to go. She was the hope of Class 77 and thus Junko Enoshima, the Ultimate Despair, had her executed. She was a kind girl that did her best to help and protect everyone she could. She will always be remembered. Her plaque says:

"I'm going to get out with all of my friends"

To the right is Nekomaru Nidai. He was a victim of trial four. But he made it out of that world alive. How did he die then? He, unfortunately, had a life-threatening illness and ,unlike Nagito; it wasn't a misdiagnosis. His illness took his life about three weeks ago. His plaque says:

"Keep fighting, the only way to success is to try"

And in the middle, despite the fact that he was not a part of class 77, everyone insisted that he'd be put there. He was family to them all.

Hajime Hinata.

He was the person who saved the class multiple times and never gave up hope. He fought for everyone and, in the end, he died to keep his message. His plaque says.

"I'm going to save everyone, that includes you"

Nagito looks at Akane who was standing there crying but silent. Akane has always had trouble expressing negative emotions so this is a start.

He then looks at Mikan, who was on her knees sobbing at Chiaki's grave. She wholeheartedly blames herself for Chiaki's death, we're trying to convince her that it's not her fault. Maybe one day they can convince her. Then he looks at Hajime. He just stares. It, at first seemed like appropriate weather for this occasion. Rain. Until Nagito realized that sky, though dark, is clear. He wiped his eyes to find that the 'rain' was really tears. He was crying and yet, he wasn't broken. He was sad but, felt weirdly happy.

"Inevitable, huh? At least, I'm glad I got to know you before the inevitable." Nagito said, out loud. "This is such a bittersweet ending."

Allll right! This is finally done. I am literally about to cry. This is the saddest thing I've ever written. 😭 The next chapter is gunna be a lot happier.

Thanks for reading.

#danganronpa #danganronpa2 #danganronpa3 #hajime hinata #sdr2 hajime #sdr2 nagito #nagito komaeda #komahina #oneshot #sad

[bethansfandoms]

Hi! Prompt for you: Wolfstar experiencing the Hanahaki disease.

Hanahaki Disease - an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient coughs up flowers or flower petals.

Remus got it first.

He woke up one morning feeling like absolute hell, which he considered odd because the full moon was still three days away.

He rushed out of his bed and into the bathroom. But he didn’t throw up. Instead, he coughed out a single petal.

He stood there looking at it and shaking his head in disbelief. It had to be some sort of joke. Maybe they’d jinxed him or something.

Because the only other explanation was Hanahaki Disease. And he wasn’t in love.

Another petal.

Okay so maybe he was in love.

He groaned in frustration because this was not happening. Developing a slight crush on your bestfriend was bad enough without coughing up petals.

Remus had had this crush on Sirius for a while. But he wasn’t in love he was just- no okay, he was in love. He almost punched the mirror but decided it probably wouldn’t help.

So Remus was faced with two options. Tell Sirius in the hope he feels the same way, or die.

He chose the latter. The petals show unrequited love. If Sirius loved him, this wouldn’t be happening. And so Remus shouted at the others that he felt ill because of the moon and wasn’t going to lessons.

They tried to come in and see him but he refused. He sat there on the bathroom floor and accepted the fact that he probably deserved this. Because which idiot falls in love with their bestfriend. A Male idiot with his Male bestfriend. A Male werewolf, actually, with his probably straight bestfriend.

He wasn’t quite sure how to keep these petals a secret but he decided he’d work on that another time. Namely, an hour later when Sirius ditched history of magic and found him curled up in his bed.

“Are you okay, Moony?” He asked softly, sitting next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m just ill,” he croaked. He could feel more petals working their way up.

Sirius gently stroked his hair back from his forehead and ran his fingers through it soothingly.

And that was about all Remus could take because he bolted upright and covered his mouth with his hand.

But there was no use in hiding it anymore. So he sighed defeated and opened his palm.

“Are those... are those petals?”

Remus nodded.

“Oh.” And then Sirius stood and walked out. Leaving a rather confused and upset Remus sat in his bed.

Sirius left the room and slumped against the other side of the door. Remus was in love. And it can’t have been with him because-

No, no he wasn’t in love with Remus anyway. It was just a small crush, that’s all. But the thought had already crossed his mind because it was then that he realised for the first time that yeah, he was actually in love.

He thought it’d feel better than this. And now he was just waiting for the flowers to come because now that he knew that he was actually in love, they would start. Because Remus was in love with someone else.

He managed to avoid Remus for the rest of the day, and only when he was sure that the other boy was asleep, did he sneak into the dorm room and close the curtains around his bed tightly shut.

But the next morning, there were no petals. Sirius sighed with relief slightly. Maybe he’d been wrong, maybe he didn’t actually love Remus, he just sort of fancied him.

Remus’s bed curtains were already open so he’d gotten out of bed. He knocked on the bathroom door to see if maybe he was in there. But his knock was answered by James’s voice.

Slightly confused and concerned, Sirius walked downstairs and sure enough, Remus was sat reading in the common room. His eyes practically lit up when he saw Sirius.

“They stopped! The petals!” He announced, grinning.

“What? How?”

“Well... well that’s how Hanahaki works isn’t it. It stops when the feelings of the person you love are returned.”

Sirius smiled. “Oh. Okay, I’m glad.” He was, actually. If he had to choose between a dead Remus or a Remus in love with someone else, he’d have to choose the latter. “Who is it?”

Remus looked at him dumbfounded, “uh... are you joking?”

“What? No? How would I know who you’re in love with?”

“Because... Sirius I-” he was almost laughing now. “Sirius who are you in love with?”

“Me? Uh, no one? It’s none of your business!”

“Merlin, Sirius, use your brain!” He snapped. “If you were in love and they didn’t feel the same way, you’d have it too. Wouldn’t you. So they must love you back, yes?”

“Yeah but-” oh. Oh. “Uh, Remus? When did your petals stop?”

“I think you know the answer to that one.”

And Sirius felt incredibly stupid but he didn’t have long to wallow in self pity because suddenly Remus had walked closer to him and grabbed a fistful of his robes and then he was kissing him.

Sirius immediately kissed him back and placed his hands on Remus’s face to try and pull him even closer.

They both eventually ran out of breath and pulled away, panting slightly and grinning.

“You could’ve just told me! You knew you were in love with me and you just decided to, what? Die?” Sirius exclaimed.

“I... shut up.”

#hanahaki #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar prompt #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar hanahaki #remus lupin fanfic #sirius black fanfic #remus lupin x sirius black #marauders #marauders era #marauders era fanfic #wolfstar drabble #sirius black x remus lupin #harry potter #hp marauders

[to-boldly-nope]

Dreams and Disasters

Pairing: TOS Bones x Reader

Words: 2453

Plot: Taking place after the events of “The Empath”, the reader keeps on having nightmares about what happened. She can’t sleep and Bones does everything to make her better.

Warning: Just uh really bad writing ig, too many words, Bones being an absolute sweetheart...

I’ll be posting imagines I have already written about our favorite southern doctor while I work on your fic @emily-strange​ but I hope you like it 

You woke up crying. It was the fourth time this month and the same nightmare from a past experience where some alien held you and Bones captive and did experiments on the both of you. The bed was empty and cold beside you and you feared that it wasn't a dream. You slipped on one of his medical scrubs and went to Sickbay. If he wasn't there or on the bridge, then it wasn't a nightmare.

There were only a few people in the hallways of the Enterprise. Most of them were sleeping peacefully in their cabins. It must be nice for them. The doors to Sickbay opened and you looked inside. Nobody on the biobeds. Nobody almost dying from a weird space disease. You turned around and went into the office, where you let out a sigh and tears of relief.

"(Y/N), what are you doin' up?" Bones asked while standing up from his chair.

"I noticed that the bed was empty," you whispered.

"If you wanted to know why the bed was empty, then why are you crying? You're not gonna bug me, darlin', you can tell me."

"Remember what happened a month ago? With the alien and the experiment?"

"It's about that, huh? Come 'ere."

You slowly made your way to him. You were scared that he would disappear as soon as you touched him. You were scared that this was the actual nightmare.

"Darlin', you don't have to be afraid."

And that sent you over the edge, you ran to him and he hugged you. "Make them go away, please," you cried, "please, Len."

"I'll try everything I can. Why don't we return to my cabin so you can sleep? I'll go with you if that's what you want."

You nodded into his shoulder and he placed his hands near your elbows. "Come on now."

You nodded again and stepped away from him. You wiped your tears off with your arm. "I'm being overdramatic," you sniffed before laughing.

"No, you're just being emotional over some old country doctor."

You laughed again as he took your hand and lead you back to his cabin.

"You know, blue suits you quite well, dear," Bones said softly as you both walked down the corridor.

You suddenly remembered that you were wearing his scrub and blushed. "I forgot I put this on, sorry, Bones."

He let out a small laugh as the door to his room came open. It was different from what you heard a month ago, his laugh was light, soft, happy.

"I want you to go lie down, I'll be there in a moment."

"Ok," you told him as he brought your knuckles up to his lips and planting a soft kiss there. You stayed there for a moment, feeling the warmth of his hand and the ghost of his kiss.

"I'm not going to leave you again. I just had to do some last-minute paperwork."

You nodded as you took your hand back and crept your way to the bed.

"You should probably take some time off," Bones told you as he went behind the barrier between the bed and the next room over.

"I'll be fine."

"As the man courting you, I want you to take time off, as your chief medical officer and doctor, I want you to take some time off. It's the fourth time this month. Your file says that your performance level has dropped since everything has started."

"I can't argue with my superior officer, can I?" You sighed as you stared at the wall where a painting of a vase with flowers was hanging.

"It's not recommended, but hell, that never stopped anyone on this ship. I think you're the first person who hasn't argued with me when I told them that they needed rest," he said while laying next to you.

You laughed and looked at him and he looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes.

"I'll send a report to Jim early tomorrow for some time off duty. I don't want to see you in sickbay unless I ask or you're dying."

"Aw, Bones," you whined.

"No, you need rest."

You sighed again, "You're right. A few days to sleep won't be too bad."

"No, actually, it wouldn't."

"Will you be here if something happens again?" You asked.

"Of course," he reassured softly, "Either go to sickbay or call me and I'll be there."

"You have such pretty eyes," you sighed.

"Now you're just trying to sweet-talk me," he muttered.

"Why would I do that?" You asked innocently.

Bones only shook his head. "Goodnight, darlin."

"Goodnight."

~

You woke up again, the nightmare wasn't as bad, but it was there. Bones was still asleep next to you, snoring softly. You got out of bed and went to the observation lounge. Nobody was roaming the ship by this point. You walked into the room and went to open the panel over the window. You pressed yourself against the window, watching the stars fly past the window.

"I thought you would be here," Kirk said, making you turn around.

"I plan on returning before Bones finds out I was here. I already worried him tonight. He already told me that he wants me to take a few days rest."

"I'll be getting a report in the morning then," he chuckled.

Silence fell between the two of you.

"Captain, what happened a month ago, I wish it never happened."

"We all do, Lieutenant."

He was now standing next to you, also looking out the window. "I'm just glad that we were able to save McCoy."

"I'm glad also, Captain, now I have an old southern doctor by my side constantly," you laughed.

"Go back to your cabin, I feel like he's looking for you by now."

Kirk then left and you stayed there, your eyes slowly closing as you passed through another system. You felt a blanket drop on your shoulders and you snapped out of it. "If I knew this was a game of hide-and-go-seek, then I may as well microchipped you."

His voice was deep and tired. You felt bad for him because you didn't mean to wake him up. Hell, he even looked tired.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lead you on a wild goose chase, I couldn't sleep."

"I could give you a hypo to knock you out for a few hours," Bones smiled as he stood beside you, his shoulder pressed against the glass. "Or a few days."

"I'll get better with some time," you told him while you hugged the blanket tightly.

"If I knew better, I would've thought that you fell asleep standing up."

You chuckled, "You're a very funny man, Doc."

"Oh god, you've gone insane, you called me doc."

You sighed and continued to look out the window at the millions of stars and other space objects. "It's funny how we're here. It's not the same as we're on earth, we're experiencing things nobody will believe. I just wanted to know that we're not alone in the universe, and I learned that we're not. I just wished that it wasn't the way it was."

"But I'm sure you had some good times, too."

"I did. I'm on the best ship in the federation, I haven't died yet, I have some really good friends."

"Is that all?"

"Of course not, I'm sure there are more good things to come. I'm not optimistic, but I got to be hopeful, right?"

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

"How long until your shift?"

"A few hours, at least. You slept for quite a while."

You now looked at him. "You being serious about that hypo?"

"Oh god no," he chuckled, "Maybe for a few hours, not a few days."

"I hate the fact that I still remember everything that happened. Emotional trauma at it's finest, is it not? Sometimes I get scared that this is the nightmare and you'll disappear as soon as I touch you. I still remember the captain carrying you into sickbay and Nurse Chapel and Doctor M'Benga doing everything to stop you from dying. I requested leave from my shift for a few days as you got better and I spent every minute in sickbay. Nurse Chapel had to tell me to leave every day, she was concerned that I would be affecting your recovery."

"Did you leave?"

"I did for a few hours, then I snuck back inside. She wasn't happy."

"She means well."

"Aren't the stars pretty," you sighed as you looked out the window.

"I guess they are."

"You guess?" You laughed in disbelief.

"We've been in space for two years now. Everything looks the same."

"But there's always something different. You might not see it at first but you'll find it eventually."

"I think I already have," he whispered.

You looked at him again and realized that he wasn't looking at the stars. No, he was too distracted by someone else.

He took his finger and placed it under your chin. He noticed how you saw the reflection of the stars in the corner of his eye.

"Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatcha doing?"

"This," he said softly while leaning in. He planted a kiss on your lips, the first one you ever had.

You closed your eyes and placed your hands on his chest.

"I'm sorry," Bones apologized while cupping your face.

"No, don't be, it was the perfect setting," you reassured him before yawning.

"And it's the perfect setting for you to return to my cabin. Come on get to bed, maybe I can shorten your rest days if you get better."

"I'll only get better with time Leonard. We can only decide then."

"Are you sure you're not a doctor of some kind?" He asked as you two walked into the hallway, your arms were linked together.

"No," you laughed tiredly, "Just a security girl who's in love with a doctor and only has some basic medical knowledge."

"Like what?"

"Um, the skull is called the cranium, duh."

"You have basic anatomy knowledge, that's good to know." He laughed as you got into the turbolift. "I have to go to the bridge and drop off something to Jim."

The turbolift heard the word bridge and it started to move.

"I'm really sorry about leading you on a chase earlier. I just had a feeling to go to the observation deck."

"Did you have another nightmare?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't as bad. It was one of those ones where you're falling forever."

"I may have to do a brain scan. Maybe some neurological stuff, you know, the usual," he joked while slightly bouncing.

"I think I just need the constant reassurance that you're not dead or dying."

"I'm not going to die in space, heaven forbid I do."

You threw your head back and laughed, covering your mouth in the process. The turbolift opened and you both stepped onto the bridge.

"(Y/N), I see that Bones found you," Kirk said while turning his head to look at you two.

"I forgot to drop some reports off. I have them right here," Bones said while giving Jim a chip.

"Ah, thank you, Bones. I'll see the two of you tomorrow."

"Good night, Captain," you said while you and Bones went into the turbolift.

"You know, I can't wait to sleep for like three days straight."

"Neither can I, no offense, but you-"

"Look like trash, yeah, I know. No feelings were hurt."

"Just trying to be a southern gentleman."

The turbolift stopped and you looked at Bones, who stopped it. "I need to tell you something," he spoke softly.

"Yes? What is it?"

He stopped and looked at the floor. He acted the same way he did a month ago, he couldn't get what he wanted to say out. He continued to look at the floor, blinking a few times while pursing his lips. He sightly bounced again. "I want you to take care of yourself."

You smiled a caring smile at him. It was his way of saying that he loves you. He never actually said those three words but he found other ways to mean the same thing. He would say "Take care of yourself" or "Be careful" or he'll tell you to eat when you've forgotten or he'll try to help you sleep when you couldn't. It all meant one meaning to you.

And when he said something like that you would always smile at him and say, "I love you too, Bones."

He smiled lightly and opened the door and stepped out, you followed behind.

"Sleeping for three days, here I come!" You cheered while running past him and into his quarters.

You jumped on the bed and it bounced and you removed the blanket from your shoulders and covered yourself up with it.

Bones came in after you and saw you already in bed. He had four hours until his shift so he decided to stay awake, but instead, he laid next to you.

"Goodnight, Bones," you told him cutely, "See you in three days."

"Three days without you would be hell, darlin," Bones told you before he kissed your forehead softly, "Goodnight."

{Extended ending but in bullet points}

• Bones came in every two hours

• He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, happy that you were still asleep

• He would hold your hand until he had to leave

• Just Leonard being a caring doctor boyfriend ™ like he is

• He would only wake you up when he thought that you needed to eat

• Bones would come in with a tray from the cafeteria and set it down on the counter before waking you up

• His ways to wake you up is as follows: shaking your shoulder, trying to talk you into waking up, then kissing you. In that order.

• "Well good mornin', darlin'. I brought you lunch because you're the only one who hasn't eaten yet."

• You would sit in bed and eat and talk to Bones

• "Any nightmares?"

• "The opposite. I've been having good dreams."

• "What about?"

• "The two of us. In the observation deck, when you kissed me. How shameless of me being this romantic."

• He would sometimes come in and see you reading a book or sketching something

• When he kissed you awake you would complain and tell him that you're not Sleeping Beauty

• He kinda pouts and tells you that you are a princess and then kisses you again because he be like that all the time

• After a few days, he finally lets you return to work :)

#bones mccoy #bones mccoy tos #deforest kelley #star trek #bones x reader #leonard mccoy #star trek imagines #to boldly no imagines

[ecoamerica]

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