#I tried to walk to any store that might have cold medicine

[bobthebenevolentpirate]

I NEED everyone in the notes to know that Denver is not cold year round?? They can get up into the 90s and even 100s (fahrenheit) in the summer???

Let's run this Hypothetical Again With 12 new cities

NYC, Boston, DC, Baltimore, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Chicago, Minneapolis,New Orleans, Pittsburgh, and Philadelphia were all in the original polla ND therefore aren't eligible for this poll

[karlachismylife]

Thots on how they would react if you got sick?

(totally not self indulgent right now)

Oh no, my lovely spouse is sick :( Get well soon, lovie, and here are some little speedrun headcanons for you ahead of everything, as a treatment!! Beware, there are some NSFW parts under the cut :) So MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT I swear I get so upset every time I have to block some ageless blog. If it's so hard to put your age in the bio, just DO NOT TOUCH THE POST!! I'd rather keep you around to read my SFW pieces than block you altogether.

Okay sorry for yelling, here we go

CW: gn!sick!reader, reader is somewhat being stubborn about getting treatment at some points, sickness unspecified, but I wrote with something cold-adjacent in mind since we're in the cold season, a bit of controlling behavior from Ghost and Price.

Soap is Mister Indulgence. Any cravings you get, be it three kilograms of crisps for breakfast or his Mam's soup you suddenly want to taste at 2 am, he's getting his ass out of bed and runs to the store or puts on an apron to make the soup. You want some tea with sugar and lemon? How much teaspoons of sugar? What, you tried it and turned out you wanted a teaspoon less? No worries, he'll make it again. You wanna binge your favourite show? Listen to "your" song fifty times in a row? Cuddle and nap on his hot chest for eight hours? Whatever you want, bonnie, his Maw always said that good mood is the most important step in getting better, so Johnny would rather die than not keep you satisfied during sick time.

He might not be the most well-versed in medical stuff, but he definitely uses his Mam's knowledge (and she is one wise woman, I tell you) and whatever experience he has himself to get you both real treatment and some homemade remedies. Swears he doesn't get sick (ever, bonnie!) when you try to shoo him away worried he'll catch whatever you have.

Drops sick the very next day you finally are all good again (and behaves as if he's actually dying, even though he has like three times lighter symptoms than you cuz that man has an immune system of a beast).

Ghost is mean about it, cruel and ruthless. At least that's what you tell him when he wakes you up to make you drink some medicine or, even worse, change you out of your sweaty pjs, help you bathe and (this one is almost breakup-worthy betrayal) take you to a doctor. No amount of pleading, whining and pouting can deter him from making sure you're getting appropriate treatment.

Truth be told, he's probably blaming himself, because under his care you should've never gotten sick in the first place. This means he's probably checking your wardrobe and adding some warmer clothes and shoes (no more wearing old sneakers when it's already rain season!) to it, probably inspecting all the food you've eaten recently in case it was bad, proofing all the windows against drafts... and somehow he still finds time to be around you all the time, holding you in your fever-induced sleep, changing cold wet towels on your forehead and caring for you.

Might or might not catch the sickness from you, which reveals that he's an even worse patient than you, constantly grumpy, wrapped in three blankets and trying to put an indifferent face, but so, so pathetic when the fever gets actually high. He will be good if you promise to hold him in your lap and stroke his hair with cold fingers.

Gaz isn't as indulgent as Soap, but he gives you a lot of autonomy and trusts that you know best what treatment helps you. So if you say you don't feel like you need to call a doctor, he won't force you; he'll buy the medicine you tell him to buy, and if he thinks it's not the best choice, he'll just suggest an alternative, leaving the final decision up to you. Also has some homemade remedies ready to go if you're willing to try them, but leans heavily towards scientifically proven treatments.

He definitely tries to keep you if not active (no hikes or something, but maybe little walks around the apartment once the worst wave passes) then at least entertained, and not in "200 episodes of a dumb sitcom watched alone" way. Of course, if that's what you're feeling, get your sitcom fill, angel (he's not one to judge, he is keeping up with like a hundred series somehow), but if you're up to play some games, Kyle is more than happy to. Puzzles, card games, board games - maybe not so much computer games, since he wants you to be mindful of your eyes health, but a little bit? Sure. If you don't wanna play games, he still wants to keep you company so that you don't feel like you're missing out on life alone in your bed.

Probably the one who is the least likely to catch your sickness, because he ACTUALLY never gets sick, that pretty boy possesses some magic, I'm telling ya. Buf if he somehow does, he's the best patient who doesn't even need your help (but will accept it since he doesn't want you to feel guilty and it's just nice). For the three days that he's sick before he's healthier than ever.

Price is also very insistent on you getting proper treatment, but he doesn't go about it in Ghost's stern manner - no, he's a sly, smart dog, he's sweettalking you into thinking half of it is your own idea and he's just there to provide. If he needs to, he plays up his worried behavior and voila, you're already taking your medicine and days off from studies or work, simply because you don't want to worry your John's bleeding heart. Drops casually something like "good thing doc's office is on the way to the base, I can drop you off before finishing that bloody report they're wanting my head for and then pick you up, lovie" - and when you note that you actually don't feel like your sickness is doctor visit worthy, he sighs and tells you that he'll stay with you then. Of course now you have to agree, you can't let him get in trouble with the report simply because you didn't want to go to the doctor!

In all the other aspects he is absolutely doting and spoiling. Will casually look through fifteen stores until he finds the exact type of natural juice gummies you once mentioned your parents got you when you were sick. Absolutely no smoking around you or even in the apartment - and he also makes sure he doesn't smell too much of tobacco before coming into your room. Will baby you in whatever way you want (yes, he will read you your book aloud) or simply stay at your side to assist you with different things if you're not into that. But god forbid you try to get back to work or studying before John Price deems you recovered enough...

Probably catches the sickness, but pretends he didn't until it's too obvious to deny. Will do all the things he reprimanded you for: try to work, keep smoking, avoid doctor etc.

Hyena!141 bonus: they absolutely cuddle you in their hyena form and do not shift into humans when you need them to fetch something like a pillow or more paper tissues. They're your fluffy cuddle buddies that are there to grumble and purr for you soothingly, keep the chills away and lick your forehead, nape and wrists to cool the fever down. Shove their snouts in different places on your body to check the temperature (no thermometer needed!) and tickle you, give you paw massages if your muscles ache and suddenly get on their best behavior (yes, even Soap). Furry menaces who? Not them, they're the sweetest boys!

NSFW under the cut, once again, minors and ageless blogs DNI or I'll block you (and cry about it!)

CW: gn!reader, oral sex, fingering, brat tamer Ghost (so it's consensual in case I didn't make it clear enough), penetrative sex with Gaz (bottom!gn!reader).

Soap is also number one advocate of "sex is proper treatment", so if you're not feeling too bad and have some energy to spare, he'll gladly eat you out and unleash his oral fixation on you. As treatment, of course. Also maybe because you're so hot that you're practically burning his tongue and it feels as if he dipped his face into the sweetest, freshly-baked pie, when you squeeze his mug between your overheating thighs. He'll do more if that's what you want, but if all you want is to come on his face, he'll lick, suck and rub as much as you need - yes, he spilled in his sweatpants just from pleasuring you and grinding against the sheets, but can you really blame him for enjoying a warm meal a little too much? Will probably compare your "sick" taste to your "healthy" one. No, he does not know what the word "shame" means.

Ghost is reluctant to have sex when you're sick, because, well... you're sick, you shouldn't exhaust your body, because it needs all the strength to fight whatever it is you caught. But once you start getting better (and as a result much, much brattier, since now you have the energy to not just whine and pout, but also to be a little defiant shit), he is absolutely using his fingers to reward or punish you for complying or resisting the treatment. Are you being good, taking your medicine, measuring your body temperature and doing whatever else doctor told you to? Good, you deserve to cum on his fingers, lovie, just lean back and let him do all the work. What's that, you don't wanna drink your medicine, because it tastes bad, and you hid the thermometer? Well, love, he hopes you don't mind getting your temperature checked a little more old-fashioned way. And if you don't like your medicine, maybe having his fingers in your mouth, muffling all your protests, will change your mind. After all, that's what you wanted to achieve by being a brat, didn't you?

Gaz is already the king of gentle sex, but if you ask him to indulge you while you're sick, he'll be as tender as only molten marshmallow fluff can be. Caressing your feverish skin with his soft palms, making sure to avoid possibly hurting joints or muscles, going down on you with his sweet, honeyed mouth before even trying anything else. Can actually give you a perfect massage (even the normal kind) and add some lightweight petting and fingering to it. If you want to have penetrative sex though, he finds the best position (probably spooning, his arm cradling your head so it doesn't spin or hurt, and your body resting without any extreme stretches or strains) and takes you slowly and carefully. Doesn't let you worry about his orgasm at all, but if you feel like cockwarming him, he won't say no, that's for sure :) let him soak in some of that heat directly from you, angel, eh?

Price will probably need the most persuasion to engage with you sexually during your sick time, he is worrying about you too much, so the best you can get is probably his fingers and mouth closer to you already getting fully healthy again. He's just scared he'll go too rough on you regardless of how careful he's trying to be, lovie. But if he ends up catching you masturbating (and failing probably, since you're still too weak for such activities), he'll have no choice but to help you finish, careful tongue strokes and finger movements along with soft grumbling about him "leaving you just for five minutes, and you're already up to no good, love!" Don't let him fool you, he's the happiest man, because he both gets to pleasure his partner and because this means you're getting better.

[morosluvbug]

let me take care of you - haikyuu characters

ft. kita, osamu, bokuto

⊹ genre - sugary fluff hcs

⊹ gender neutral reader

⊹ synopsis - reader is sick ohhh noo

⊹ A/N - period cramps are kicking my ass so im projecting my haikyuu faves taking care of me please help.

. shinsuke kita

"Your troubles are mine, let me take care of everything."

he is the best at taking care of you no contest, and knows exactly what to do and what your recovery timeline will look like.

he is a tiny bit scared of getting sick. the man has a routine he needs to follow and cannot allow himself to get sick!

still so attentive though, he will just be approaching with a mask. loves you too much to stay away!!

has tea constantly running, a meal schedule planned out, and will not let you leave the bed unless it is crucial to your health to go on walks to rebuild strength.

still has to attend to the rice farm!! but makes sure you are okay before he leaves and frequently checks in when he gets the chance.

very honest about the timeline of your recovery, especially if it's a nasty virus. but praises you so much, will constantly soothe your worries and tell you everything will be okay.

he just loves you so bad. he will soothe any muscle aches, prepare any cold/hot pads, do anything to make sure you are as happy as possible, and just wants to comfort you in any way he can.

runs you warm baths and will wash your hair and scrub you down, even going as far as helping you with your skincare (oh I need him). leaves you with his shirt since he will be gone most of the day.

will be giving you a sad puppy look when you're feeling particularly horrible. he just wants to take it all away :(

. osamu miya

"Give me your hand, we'll get through this together."

you tell him not to come near you, he still has a restaurant to run and can't afford to risk getting sick and serving people!

this man. he is not scared of getting sick. he definitely built his immune system through eating dirt with atsumu or something when they were little.

trust he will be glued to your side, he's the boss of Onigiri Miya! he's gonna take the time off and leave a detailed list of how to do everything for his employees, with his number left ONLY for emergencies.

if he does end up having to run to Onigiri Miya, he will be speed running getting down to the store, getting the issue solved, and running back home with anything you want as an apology.

you might be able to catch him on the phone with his mom while you're fading in and out of consciousness. he's trying his absolute best to treat your ailment :(

he will cook anything you want, tries to stick to a strict plan of soups and proteins but if you really want something specific he will fold automatically.

sits around and watches any movies or tv you want. he is so whipped he will run to get any sweets or takeout you want.

he will definitely call kita if he is really stressed about your health. he just wants the best for you and that comes before everything, even his pride.

not scared to kiss you or cuddle you, despite any protesting on your side of things to stay away.

he is so firm about you resting up as much as possible, this man will be sprinting down the hallway for anything as small as a cup of water.

overall, he makes the whole process really easy. will not allow any tears to be shed and wants his partner to be happy

. kotaro bokuto

"let me ease your worries, we'll beat this in no time! "

oh, poor bokuto. he has no idea what he's doing.

sad bokuto on the phone with akaashi and kiyoomi every five minutes. he loves you so bad but probably has 1) never had to take care of someone 2) has never had to take care of himself

if you live together at this point, he has anything that you've bought in the past. but if you're spending time at his place. oh, good luck!

he’s just a bit silly is all. knows nothing about medicine or foods you should be eating.

he is not scared of getting sick and DEFINITELY gets sick with you. but he isn't bothered at all, it does just mean more time with you after all.

he tries his best overall, will carry you everywhere (even when he gets sick) will try to cook and will entertain you as much as possible.

you might. have to sit with him in the kitchen while he cooks for you both. even if it's just him heating up canned soup and pouring it into a cup. please help him.

kisses you and holds you and and and

similar to osamu, he is wrapped around you the whole time, this man is glued to your side. he has molded himself to your very being. if you leave to go to the restroom he will be pouting. throwing a fit every time you leave.

he just tries to make you laugh and tries to comfort you :( capitalize on this moment because he spoils you so bad while you’re sick !! if you thought he spoiled you before oh no. he will be buying you any plushy he even thought you might like.

you want him to read for you? done. want your nails painted but are too weak? consider it done. want him to juggle random household objects for you? they might end up broken but he'll try.

overall: wants you to be happy. he’s so silly but so love-stricken that anything you want from him he will do.

reblogs notes and replies are appreciated!! <3

A/N. first fic in a long time hope you enjoyed my shitty hcs ^_^

[fearlesshades]

A non-exhaustive list of Things Jason Todd Does because he is The Mom of Crime Alley:

Carries a fanny pack with Hello Kitty and Power Rangers band-aids, snacks of various kinds (gluten free, vegan, peanut free, etc.), those little single dose packets of pain killers and cold medicine, cash, business cards with the phone numbers and addresses of actually good shelters and clinics, and etc. I feel these are self explanatory. But also in the fanny pack are luxury things like doctor’s-office-prize-box style toys and trinkets, hotel sized shampoos and body wash and lotion that actually smell good and not just basic bitch scents, single load laundry detergent packets, and probably a bunch of other stuff that I would never think of (since I’ve never been homeless) because he remembers never being able to get his hands on stuff like that despite how important those kinds of things are to feeling like a human and not a Street Rat.

Reads to/with kids in the one nice-ish park in the area at least once a week, more whenever he can manage. Just sits himself down on a bench with a stack of books covering all reading levels and hangs out for a few hours. Sometimes the kids that gather around him are homeless kids just looking for somewhere safe to be for a bit, sometimes desperate parents leave their kids with him so they can grab a power nap, sometimes they’re kids whose parents are just at work but they were lonely or sad, whatever. Some kids just grab one of the novels and plop down next to him but Jason will always set his own book aside and read aloud when one of the littler ones (or the ones who haven’t been able to go to school for a while and can’t read very well) ask him to.

Multiple restaurants in and around the Alley have ‘prepaid meal’ programs that allows for any kid to walk in and get food. They’re not fancy meals, they might not even be the healthiest meal, but they’re filling and always available, any time day or night. What’s the point of being the estranged son of an emotionally distant and guilt-ridden multi-billionaire if you don’t exploit it for all its worth?

This one is unrelated to the ways Jason actively tries to make life for the kids in the Alley better but I 100% believe that his ‘dad’ reflex is off the charts. A kid has never so much as scraped a knee while within 20 feet of him because he just...yoinks them out of danger without so much as thinking about it. He’ll just be walking down the street minding his own business, blinks, and suddenly has a kid in his arms that was about to be hit by a speeding car.

He’s really good at stopping tantrums. Like, really good. Like, he’s just doing his grocery shopping and comes across an exhausted parent trying to drag a screaming toddler in full melt-down out of the store, and he just crouches down next to the kid and starts talking to them in a really low, soft voice. It doesn’t really take more than a couple sentences before the kid goes from screaming to sniffling to giggling. He usually then pops a squat by the door and plays with the kid for a little bit so the parent can finish their shopping.

(Same goes for calming kids down while he’s Red Hood on patrol too. He just has a very soothing presence that kids respond really well to. Though it does admittedly take a bit more than a few sentences to calm a recently-traumatized kid down but he has lots of little tips and tricks for helping with that.)

Being Robin might have given him a magic that was destroyed when he died but there are some things you just can’t destroy.

[sorserah]

Mechaniacs - Kirin Jindosh x OC - Chapter VI

Summary The story of Dr. Addison Lynch, a neuroscientist who played an important role in the past and will again in the future. (fic from 2017) _________________________________________________ tags: 18+, unethical medicine, blood, violence, neurology, neuroscience, dishonored universe usual type of stuff, first person _________________________________________________ ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598001/chapters/21284621#workskin

I had stored all my notes into my backpack „So about your clockwork soldiers...I might have an idea...“ I said carefully to Jindosh right before Meagen appeared. Shit the window. „I thought I made the conditions clear.“ She commented, her voice cold. „I am sorry, I, I just needed some air, I haven‘t been out in weeks.“ I lied. „Then I have great news for you, while she stepped over Jindosh, kicking him aside, and closed the window „Emily is on the deck, she wants to talk to you.“ I nodded and left immediately. Hopefully Jindosh was safe, as long as I was gone. I liked him. 

I ran up the stairs and through the door. The warm and soft wind hit my face. The smell of the ocean was a relieve. For a moment I felt free, like I didn‘t the last few years. We were pretty close to the land again, I could see the clockwork mansion from here on the top of the mountain. Emily was sitting about fifteen meters away. 

„Ah, you are here. Please, have a seat.“ Emily was sitting on a wooden box, next to her was an open hatch - I think it is Sokolovs room - in front of her, a table and another box. On the table a can and two cups with a steaming liquid. Green Tea, I noticed as I took a sip. „So. How is your hand?“ Emily nodded in the direction of my left hand. „Well, it is better, but...“ „You are right-handed?“ she interrupted me „Yes.“ „You know that I saved your life. And you know that you owe me?“ I don‘t know where this was going, but I didn‘t like it one bit. „Yes.“ „Good. I want you to remember that.“ she emptied her cup and stood up „Enjoy your tea and then you can leave.“ I swallowed, but took my time to finish the tea. 

I found my room empty when I stepped back into it. I asked myself where they brought Jindosh, but then I remembered, that no one is on this ship for a relaxed vacation, so most likely he is interrogated in this moment. I had to admit I got used to him very fast, now, it felt like something was missing. Aimlessly standing in the middle of the room I thought about what I should do. I kneeled down and checked my backpack. Everything was sorted alphabetically. I could search for some papers and ink and rewrite them, but so far I haven‘t seen any of it on this ship. My bandages were in a pretty good condition as well. Maybe I could go back on the deck and enjoy the sun a bit? Good idea.

I went back the way I came and tried to open the metal door that leads to the deck. Blocked. Okay. Well, maybe some air? Back in my room I stepped over Jindoshs mattress. His window blocked, as well as mine. In the kitchen and every other room I checked as well. Now it was my time to feel claustrophobic. Right before I was ready to give up and about to trot back to my bed and just sleep, I saw a small beam of the setting sun shining through the bottom of Sokolovs door. 

„Addison?“ Emily appeared with a serious facial expression. „We need you in the machine room.“ I nodded and followed silently. Emily opened the door for me and I went through, she was walking down the stairs behind me. The room was dark, only some red light lit the room. I walked around the corner and saw Jindosh sitting in a medical chair, both arms and legs chained to it, his head sunken down on his chest, unconscious. As I stepped closer to him I recognized his shirt and pants were soaked with blood. It hurt me seeing him like this. Next to him was a medical tray, on it a scalpel, a drill and some syringes with liquid. Meagen was standing next to it. I was horrified and pretty sure what was about to happen. She grabbed one of the syringes and handed it to me „Wake him up.“ She ordered. I looked at her, then to Emily, who blocked the stairs. I didn‘t have a choice, did I? 

I injected the Adrenalin and waited for Jindosh to wake up. My hands resting on his thighs, I squat down. He knit his eyebrows and let loose a moan. When he was rising up his head I could see the damage they had done to him so far. His nose was probably broken, his lips swollen, blood everywhere on his face. His left eye bruised and as he opened them, I could see it was bloodshot as well. I was shocked, why would they do this? What did he know? Jindosh needed a few seconds to realize where he was and who was in front of him. As he recognized me, his eyes widened in terror „Addison?“ he whispered „No...“ and his eyes filled with tears. I raised my hand to put it on his cheek, but Meagen slapped it away and pulled me up „It is time to work. It must have been ages since you had a test subject and even a living one. I bet you are eager to start experimenting again.“ No, no I really was not. I could not move. Suddenly a searing pain on my cheek, Meagen hit me. „Meagen no!“ Emily was at my side now. „Don‘t hurt her. Addison, you remember what we talked about on the deck?“ I wasn‘t able to speak, but nodded. I was looking at Jindosh unwavering and he at me. 

I wasn‘t sure how far they would push me, if this genius will ever be able to see, speak or move after I am finished with him. Killing would be the nicest option. We both knew that. I had so much to say to him, how inspiring I think his work was, how much I wanted to work with him, get to know him, but it was too late for that now. „Addison?“ Emily asked carefully, „please begin.“ I saw Meagen looking at Emily and her look told me, I should not waste more time. I formed ’I am so sorry’ with my mouth and turned away, moving behind Jindosh. 

I lift up the drill and waited for an order. Emily was back at the stairs, Meagen now in front of Jindosh „So, do you have anything to say? Anything interesting I mean.“ He didn‘t answer. Meagen leaned down on his arms, her face pretty close to his „Alright then. Lets see what we remove first? Your eyesight? I think you won‘t need that to answer anything. Or maybe we can make you say the truth somehow?“ She moved back and looked at me questioning. Lie, just lie I thought. But what options did I have? The closest areas without killing him was the cortex and his cerebellum. Occipital lobe? Destroying his vision. Parietal lobe? Permanent dysfunctions in his motivity and somatosensory. I might could try...“Lynch? I want you to start now, and tell me what you are going to do!“ Meagen ordered angrily. 

I moved around to Jindoshs front and marked a spot on the right upper side of the forehead. As I started to talk I was surprised on how calm my voice was, internally I was shaking „I am going to drill a hole into his forehead, leading to his frontal lobe, hoping to make him change his personality and tell us the truth, about what you need to know.“ Meagen smiled „Very well. One last chance Jindosh, how did Delilah do it? What is her secret?“ He didn‘t answer, just stared at the wall behind us. „Please start.“ I nodded and added „After I drilled through the skull, he won‘t feel any pain, so we have to wait for a change in his behavior or drill a few more.“ I explained to them and hoped Jindosh got the hints. 

My right hand - calm as ever - on the drill, my left one supporting it, I positioned it on the marked spot and started drilling. His skin ripped open, he wanted to pull his head away, but the metal construction prevented him from doing it. Blood was streaming out of the hole now, I hit the skull bone and Jindosh started screaming in pain. „Tell us Jindosh, tell us everything!“ Meagen screamed over the drilling sound. Why wasn‘t Jindosh talking? What could be more valuable than his life or more terrifying than this situation? He whined loudly, while I kept drilling, my eyes filling with tears, I closed them. I am sorry, I am so, so sorry. Tears streaming down my face. 

This never was difficult for me, but I never saw my test subjects as human beings. And now, I have drill someones head open, who is a genius, an inspiring example, a potential friend. The drill rocked forward, I opened my eyes, I drilled through the skull. Jindosh must have felt that too, his whining and screaming, stopped abruptly. Either he was a pretty good actor or the adrenalin numbed his pain, or maybe both. „Wait!“ Meagen ordered and I removed the drill. Blood was constantly seeping out of the hole in his head. 

Jindosh opened his mouth „Duke Luca Abele.“ he said uninflected and stiff. „What else?“ Emily asked „Duke Luca Abele.“ he repeated again in the same tone. „Yes, but what about him?“ „Duke Luca Abele.“ He simply said again. I didn‘t even touch the brain with the drill, his show was impressive. Emily and Meagen seemed to believe it. Meagen asked again, increasingly angry „What did he do?“ „Duke Luca Abele.“ She looked at me „What did you do?“ „I did what you told me, complications can happen, you have your name, what else..“ She hit me again, harder this time, I fell and hit my head on the metal post, a piercing pain and something hot and wet on my forehead. Emily was at my side „Duke Luca Abele. Mansion. Inside.“ Jindosh added, and we looked at him „Inside. Secret.“ „Is that all you need?“ I asked and broke free from Emilys grip and lurched away from them. She seemed upset „Yes. Meagen bring them upstairs, give them some painkillers and bandages. We meet in my room after that.“

She opened Jindoshs locks and I allowed him to use my shoulders for support. We made our way back to the room, Emily in front of us and Meagen behind. Back in there she chained him up again and threw some bandages, alcohol and painkillers in the room before she left. I grabbed them and downed some pills with alcohol, Jindoshs hand already waiting for me to share the items, ready to mimic my action. I prepared two bandages and securing one around my head before I turned to him with the intention to subserve him. „Jindosh? How are you?“ I asked him.

He pulled me close by my shirt, his face one hand width apart, I could smell his blood „Kill me!“ „What?!“ „Do it. Trust me. Drown me!“ he whispered. He must have lost it, maybe I did drill too deep. I teared away from his grip, still looking at him, questioning his sanity, when he quickly removed his handcuffs - when did he crack them? - and attached the ones that were around his ankles to my wrist and the other one to his. „What are you doing?!“ „I am saving our lives.“ he spat out. „Is there a way we can leave this ship? As far as I saw, they locked everything up.“ „Yes,“ I whispered, „I saw a beam of sunlight under Sokolovs door and there is a hatch in there.“ „So the only way out is in Sokolovs room?“ „I guess...“ „Okay lets go.“ He stood up, took my hand, I quickly grabbed my backpack, he opened the door and started running towards Sokolovs room, dragging me behind him. 

We entered and locked the door behind us, Sokolov was sleeping, the bloodflies humming. Jindosh looked at me, I understood and nodded to the top, 2 meters above, where the hatch was open, we could see the stars. We searched the room, no ladder, nothing, just a small chair. We put it on the table, it was still not high enough. I checked under the bed but all I found was a can with spirit. A sudden hard knock on the door behind us let us spin around. „Sokolov?“ Shit, well seems like Meagen didn‘t check on us yet. Sokolov was moving around in his sleep. Jindosh and I looked at each other „We need to leave.“, he took a small pillow and pressed it on Sokolovs face exactly when he was waking up. His scream was suffocated by the pillow, but still quite hearable. „Sokolov? Everything alright?“ Meagen asked, louder. Jindosh was pressing harder now, both arms and muscles shaking, but Sokolov kept moving. The elixir, I made was next to him, but no syringe. I climbed on top of him, sitting on his chest, pressing down his arms with my legs and looked at Jindosh, showing him the flask. He nodded and lifted up the pillow. 

„HEL..!“ Sokolov screamed before I was able to ram the whole flask in his mouth. He coughed. „Swallow!“ Jindosh ordered and held Sokolovs nose. „Hello?? Sokolov?? Who is in...No“ Meagen was banging against the door. Sokolovs eyes rolled back, finally. 

I stood up and climbed on the table then onto the chair, I could reach the hatch with my hands, but it was too high to pull myself up. But he could and did. He was stronger than he looked. Jindosh pulled me up, until I could kneel on his shoulders and pull me up outside. 

A second voice appeared on the door „What is it? Where are Jindosh and Addison, Meagen?!“ We both held our breath „No...the hatch.“ and one pair of feet ran away, while Meagen seemed to have found a second key for the door. I tried to pull Jindosh up, but he was too heavy. We needed more time. Maybe...

„Give me the can!“ He reached down and I almost fell through the hole. I opened the can and poured it over Jindosh. „What the fuck?!“ he spluttered I didn‘t answer and poured the rest over me and the deck. „Lighter?“ was all I could say to him, the spirit burning in my nose and eyes. I heard glass shattering, a door burst open and saw Emily running towards me. The bloodflies gave Jindosh a bit of time - seems like my bloodflies don‘t like the smell of spirit theory was right - he handed me the lighter which I threw onto the deck. A wall of flames rising up next to me, crawling in our direction but separating Emily from us. 

I collected all my strength to pull Jindosh up. We were both panting on the deck now, looking at each other. A shooting pain on my back, the smell of burned clothes and hair, I screamed in pain. „No, not now!“ Jindosh pulled me up and carried my burning self to the railing throwing us into the cold darkness. 

The cold water was a relieve, but I could hardly keep myself on the water surface. „We have to swim, just a bit, about 10 meters in this direction.“ he showed me. I tried my best, but waves of fatigue were breaking over me now. I was so tired, but I kept swimming. I must have been too slow,because Jindosh supported me about five meters before his strength left him as well. He pulled me close, I rest my head on his shoulder and we sank down into the ocean, the water pressing against me. We sank deeper and deeper, until I felt nothing.

[mlmxreader]

I’ll Look After You | Sierra Six x m!reader

Anonymous asked: “I didn’t mean to wake you up” and “I thought it’d be a nice surprise for when you got back” (but sarcastically) so Sierra Six gets back from a mission and sees m!reader in bed with a really bad cold and he has to take care of him bc reader is refusing to drink any of the medicine bc it tastes gross

i’m really sick rn, just want some comfort :(

summary: you don’t want Six to worry about you having a cold, but when he comes home to find that you’re really sick, he knows he has to look after you, and he can’t help but to worry. 

tws: swearing, sickness/illness

word count: 1174

It was always a fact of life that Six could come home at a reasonable time or he could walk through that door at the most fucking stupid hour of the morning depending entirely what he was doing, where he was doing it, and what time the extraction team could get to him; it was just a fact that he could walk through the door at any given moment, from the second he texted you to say that the job was done, he could be home whenever. This time, though, a couple days after he had left for the next job, you had fallen sick, and although you did manage to find the strength for the daily phone calls and texts with him, you had felt like shit every single day; it wouldn’t have been so bad if you had been able to stomach anything but Red Bull, but with the constant urge to vomit and the sticky phlegm that kept splattering up in balls whenever you coughed into a tissue, it wasn’t exactly a great time. You could hardly breathe, your nose completely blocked and your throat clogged and mucous making the sides of it stick together, the coughs were rattling and made your chest ache, but the worst of it was the fucking headaches. It seemed like your head would not stop fucking pounding, like the fragile bone that made up your skull was being hammered away keenly. 

You didn’t want Six to worry, though, so when he asked why you stopped accepting calls, you lied to him and said that the microphone on your headphones had stopped working; he seemed to accept it easily enough, after all, there was no reason why you would lie to him. The thought of him being a million miles away and worrying about you wasn’t something you could stomach - even if that was an ever growing list - knowing that he would probably get himself into even more shit when he tried to rush the job and get home to you; you knew he cared, you didn’t need reminding of that, but he didn’t need to worry about you, either, he didn’t need to worry about you when you could take care of yourself. It was just a cold, after all, the worst case scenario would be that it would go away on its own eventually; colds always did go away on their own eventually, they might have lasted less time if you took the goddamn medicine that you had stored in the cabinet, but it tasted like shit so you weren’t about to try and stomach it. Still, Six had told you he would be home soon enough, he had promised that he would be home soon; you just had to sit back and try and relax, although all the Amon Amarth songs in the world wouldn’t take your mind off of the fucking banging cold that you had. 

When Six did come home, though, he couldn’t help but to smile when he heard the familiar sound of ‘The Way of Vikings’ by Amon Amarth blasting from the speaker you kept by the bed, he could hear it by the front door as he took his shoes off and listened keenly for the sound of you singing along as you always did; but he couldn’t hear a thing other than the music, and he wondered if you were still asleep - it wasn’t like you to keep the music on when you were asleep, you usually turned it off, but then again, you could have forgotten. 

With every step they take in this fight of iron wills, one man takes a knee, the other goes for the kill like an enemy, faster, stronger, fight until your dying breath, fiercer, harder, this is matter of life and death, full on fight in training, it’s the way of the Vikings, every muscle straining, it’s the way of the Jomsvikings, these men aim to shatter, it’s the way of Vikings

The music drew louder as Six made his way to the bedroom, and he found you on the bed, cuddled up with the blanket and with tissues strewn about everywhere, he frowned. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

You shook your head, although that proved to be more painful than you would have guessed, and you winced as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut, letting out one of those awful rattling coughs that made Six realise that you did lie to him earlier, but he couldn’t be angry, not when your voice sounded so broken and so fucking weak. “You didn’t wake me up, it’s fine.” 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and placing the back of his hand against your forehead; you weren’t running a fever, that was something at least. He clenched his jaw. “You should have told me you were sick.” 

You shrugged, which again, proved more painful than you would have thought. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise for when you got back.” 

He didn’t think it was funny, grumbling as he went to the medicine cabinet and grabbed what he knew would at least help a little bit; the song had switched to ‘Treat Me Like the Dog I Am’ by Mötley Crüe and he couldn’t help but to nod his head along a little as he sat at the edge of the bed and practically chucked the contents of the medicine cabinet at you. “Take this one first.” 

You shook your head, pushing his hand away when he offered you one of the bottles. “It tastes like shit and makes me wanna vomit.” 

That probably worried Six more than he could tell you; seeing his boyfriend sick was one thing, but the fact that he had said that medicine was too hard to stomach because of the way it made him want to expel the contents of his stomach was another. Sure, Six was more than happy to look after you, he always was, he always made sure to take care of you when and where he could, but he couldn’t help the worry in his veins as he frowned and gently ran his finger along your jaw, frowning. 

“You have to,” he told you gently. “It’s gonna help your body get rid of the cold faster, puppy.” 

You winced and looked at him with such fucking pain in your eyes that it reminded him of a wounded fox. “It tastes fucking disgusting.” 

“I’ll make you a deal,” Six said. “Every time you take it, I’ll give you a kiss.” 

That was a little too tempting to say no to, although you couldn’t help but to grumble softly. “Aren’t you worried about getting sick?”

“Not really,” he shrugged. “If I do, I’ve got the best boyfriend to look after me anyway… do we have a deal?”

“Fine,” you muttered, gesturing for him to give you the bottle. “Deal.” 

“I’ll look after you,” Six said softly. “It’s the least I can do for the guy I’m gonna marry one day.” 

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

[valwentinefics]

Instincts - Helmut Zemo x F!Reader (omegaverse) 18+

Plot: Y/n, an unmated omega, forgets to get a refill of her suppressants, sending her into her heat while at work. Luckily for her notorious criminal and alpha Helmut Zemo is hiding out in the backroom. (Takes place after episode 4 of tfatws)

A/n: First of all I’m sorry, second of all I’m sorry, third of all, You’re welcome. This is my first time writing omegaverse so it’s probably not the best and I haven’t read an omegaverse fic in a hot minute. Sorry my smut is always so short, I really gotta work on that.

Warnings: smut, normal a/b/o things, possessive dirty talk, mentions of omegas being harmed, mentions of fear of being assaulted. (if i missed anything please let me know)

As an unmated omega, Y/n knew well of the dangers of the world. Everywhere she looked alphas lurked around looking for their own omega, a rare thing to have in this society. Although omegas were coveted and prized they were still at the bottom of the hierarchy and were expected to be subservient to whatever alpha marked them, a thought that terrified Y/n. Stories of alphas that harmed omegas were sickeningly common, and with everyone plastering on fake kindness in hopes to place their mark on her neck, Y/n was terrified she would end up a statistic.

Suppressants were Y/n’s saving grace, an illegal method to mask her true nature from the world and pose as a beta where she could live her life peacefully, something she could never do as an omega. If she were to get caught she could face serious time in a correctional facility built just for omegas to learn their place in the world, and so every day was filled with caution and fear.

“God I look like shit.” Y/n’s heavy eyes looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, the bags under her eyes deep and only looking worse due to the harsh fluorescent light buzzing away above her. The illegal suppressants had many side effects ranging from life threatening to mildly troublesome, but the one that affected Y/n most was the inability to fall asleep. Each night was spent tossing and turning, her body feeling restless. 

Sluggishly Y/n grabbed her concealer, dabbing it on beneath her eyes, her hands shaking with exhaustion. She finished with a sigh, running her hands through her hair to remove any major knots. She didn’t have the energy to fully go through her hair, not seeing the point. She was hidden as a beta anyways, no one would give her a second glance. Y/n opened the medicine cabinet, looking for the white box of suppressants, only to not find it anywhere. Her stomach sank as she realized she forgot to get her refill yesterday. It would be fine though, she hoped. She had gone without them before and hadn’t gone in heat, surely it would be the same thing this time, but for some reason there was a nagging feeling in her mind it wouldn’t be.

Y/n grabbed her perfume, spraying it on herself. The scent was cinnamon, similar to her natural scent as an omega, but it had the slight acrid scent of being a perfume. She hoped that would be enough to convince the alphas she passed by that she was just a beta wearing perfume. It wasn’t something she used often, only when her overtired brain didn’t remember to get the refill of her suppressants. 

“That's good enough, I hope.” Y/n mumbled to herself. She smoothed out her short sundress, the light flowy fabric ending at her mid thigh. It was her favourite dress, she felt and knew she looked cute in it. Y/n didn’t like to wear things like this often, she didn’t want the attention of anyone, but frankly she felt like shit and needed the joy looking nice brought her.

The walk to the flower shop had Y/n’s body feeling hot, however she assumed it was the warm weather, not wanting her paranoia to make her miss work. The flower shop she owned was Y/n’s only source of income and it wasn’t a bad one at that. It was common for alpha’s to come in and buy bouquets to give to the first omega they see on the streets in an attempt to woo them. That was another reason Y/n refused to accept her status as an omega. Every bit of romance was just disingenuous. Alpha’s only wanted to have the honour of being chosen by an omega, they didn’t care about who that omega was. However, Y/n was happy it paid her bills.

-

The day went by smoothly until closing time when Y/n turned off the open sign, the neon light no longer lighting up the darkening street outside. As she grabbed her keys to leave a sharp pain went through her abdomen, causing a gasp to escape her throat. She rested a hand on the painful area, eyes wide. She should have listened to her instincts, she should have stayed home, but she didn’t and now she was going into heat in her store. Y/n paced, her mind running at a hundred miles an hour as she tried to figure out what to do. She couldn’t go home, walking would be near impossible for her with her heat approaching fast. She would have to wait it through in her shop with no relief. 

“Oh fuck…” Y/n groaned in pain, leaning against the wall. She knew she had to find something to eat to get the strength to get through this. With shaky steps she headed to the back, her hand glued to her abdomen as if that would alleviate her pain. As she approached the door to the back room her blood went cold, her nose picking up the faint scent of an alpha through the thick door. 

She debated opening it. Her instincts were telling her to open it and get his help with the heat, her brain told her it could be dangerous. Eventually decided to confront him, to ask what he was doing and maybe for his help getting home if he didn’t seem too awful. With her keys clutched between her fingers just in case, she slowly opened the door, her body almost melting at the scent that wafted to her.

A man dressed in a long coat with a fur collar stared back at her with shock, the scent of pine trees wafting off of him. “Omega…?” He spoke with a Sokovian accented voice. It took Y/n a few moments before the identity of the dangerously handsome man registered in her mind. She had seen him on the news. He was Helmut Zemo, the man who almost single handedly destroyed the Avengers.

Y/n shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate. “You’re Helmut Zemo… What- what are you doing here?” She asked, fixing her posture to appear assertive and trying her best to resist the urge to submit right there. A mixture of fear and arousal was filling her body to the point where she thought she might explode.

“So you’ve heard about me?” He tilted his head slightly. “I needed a place to hide for a bit, I’ve been scoping this place out. You’re the owner, Y/n, correct?” Y/n gulped but nodded, worried about why he was hiding out. “That doesn’t matter right now. Why are you here? It’s not safe for an omega in heat to be out in public.” He scolded as if Y/n didn’t know that. It was odd, having the notorious criminal seem to care about her safety. She wondered what he was trying to achieve, if anything.

“It wasn’t my choice okay?” She snapped, a wave of pain washed over her and she slumped against the door frame with a groan. Zemo got up, moving to her quickly but stopping once Y/n had flinched, worried he was going to try something.

“You need to get home, where’s your car? I'll escort you there.” He said, his voice was strained and Y/n’s eyes couldn’t help but land on the growing bulge in his pants. He was going into a rut which explained his current caring and protective nature. Her mouth watered at the thought of having his cock in her mouth but she tore her eyes away, looking to the side to avoid him. 

“I don’t have a car… too expensive.” She groaned out, her breaths growing to pants as she started to overheat, fanning herself with her hand.

Zemo let out a staggered exhale, running his hand through his formerly perfectly done hair. “What’s your address? I’ll bring you there myself.” Y/n was impressed at the amount of self control this alpha had. Even as his rut was beginning he managed to stay calm and collected for the most part, but Y/n knew it was hard for him, sweat ran down his forehead as he strained to keep control.

Reluctantly Y/n told him her address knowing he was her best bet at getting home safely. A whimper escaped her throat as she felt her slick begin to drip down her thigh. She clenched her legs together, desire seeping into every part of her. She wanted the alpha’s knot more than anything she had ever wanted before. She could hardly focus on what Zemo was doing, not noticing he had draped his coat over her and picked her up until they were already out the door.

Zemo didn’t breathe as often as he needed while he walked, trying not to inhale Y/n’s scent as he moved at a quick pace, shooting piercing glares at every passerby that dared look their way. He felt protective over the little omega. His cock strained uncomfortably against his pants as his mind filled with thoughts of mating with her, but he pushed them back, not wanting to take advantage of her. Arriving at the apartment building he used her keys to unlock the door to the humble apartment, locating her room and placing her down on her bed. Y/n took off his coat and offered it back.

“You can keep the jacket for now, I’ll come back for it once you’re done with your heat.” He said, quickly turning around. Y/n’s hand shot out, grabbing his gloved hand.

“Please alpha, don't leave, help me.” She whimpered. Y/n didn’t know where that had come from, but she didn’t regret it, knowing it wasn’t just her heat talking. He was powerful, respectful, not to mention handsome. Everything a good mate should be, even though Y/n knew mating with a dangerous man like him was out of the question. Y/n found herself liking the man despite knowing what he had done and not knowing him long. She knew he would treat her well during her heat, if he accepted.

“Are you sure omega?” He asked, not facing her in fear that he would pounce on her as soon as he saw the desire in her eyes. 

“Yes alpha, please…” Y/n whimpered again, giving his hand a small tug. “I need you”

That was all he needed to lose control. Zemo turned around to face her, stalking to the bed as he removed his shirt, straddling Y/n’s warm needy body. Her smaller hands reached out, undoing his belt and palming Zemo’s cock through his pants. Y/n couldn’t help the filthy thoughts that flooded her mind, desire for the dangerous man’s knot consuming her.

Zemo let out a groan, taking off his pants and boxers, letting his painfully hard cock free. Y/n’s eyes were clouded with lust as she leaned forward, mouth open and ready to suck it. He tapped the side of her cheek with his cock, running his hand through her hair and gripping it.

 “No liebling, this is about you. I can wait for another time.” He let go of her hair and Y/n laid down, watching the alpha as he took off her panties and put her legs over his shoulders, running his cock slowly up and down her folds and coating itself in her slick, the tip teasing her as it came so close to going in. Y/n let out a little whine, letting him know she was growing impatient. “I apologize omega, it’s rude of me to tease.” He smirked before shoving himself all the way in easily.

Y/n’s toes curled as she let out a loud gasping moan, throwing her head back in pleasure as he began to thrust in and out of her, the position they were in allowing him to reach every part of her with ease. His hands ran up and down her waist as he let out a deep moan. Y/n’s eyes were locked on him as he fucked her deeply, causing her to let out a whimper of pleasure with every thrust.

“Look at you little omega, taking my cock so well.” He reached over to cup her cheek in his hand, rubbing circles into the soft flesh with his thumb. “Does it feel good?” His hand dropped from her cheek and began to rub her clit with just enough roughness to send her over the edge, a loud moan escaping her as she came.

“Yes, fuck! harder, please!” She said between moans, her hands tangling themselves in Zemo’s hair and gripping it as she panted.

Zemo moaned as he re-adjusted her legs on his shoulders, picking up the pace. “This pussy of yours, it’s mine now. I’ll fuck you through this heat and every heat you have next.” He growled, hitting Y/n’s sweet spot, making her cry out in ecstasy. 

Y/n felt warm inside at his words. Her pussy clenched around his cock as the stimulation from him rubbing her clit and pounding into her sent her over the edge again, panting as she came hard. He was good at making her feel good, and for once Y/n was glad she was an omega.

“Fuck, you feel so good clenched around me. Do you want my knot in you, little omega? Do you want me to fill you up with my cum?” He asked cockily, receiving a desperate whine from Y/n.

“Please, please, please!” She begged, the only thoughts filling her mind were those of need for his knot buried deep into her. 

“How can I refuse... when you’re asking so nicely, liebling.” He spoke between grunts. His thrusts slowly became more sloppy and deep and Y/n knew he was about to cum.

With one last deep thrust Zemo buried his cock all the way into Y/n’s pussy, his knot trapping the two together as he emptied his cum into Y/n. She felt so full in a good way, her breaths heavy with exhaustion as she internally frowned at the thought of Zemo pulling out of her. His knot alleviated the worst of her heat and as she laid there sore and sweaty, her now clearer mind had no regrets about what had happened. 

Zemo pulled out after a while, his knot going away. A smile danced on his lips as he saw the cum dripping out of her as he pulled out his cock. Y/n’s eyes fluttered closed as she moved to a more comfortable position on the bed. Zemo grabbed his jacket from the floor, dusting it off and draping it over the omega’s tired form. Hesitantly he hovered over her before pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head, deeply inhaling her scent. 

Not wanting to intrude any more, he got dressed and walked over to the couch, exhaustion filling his body as he slumped down onto it, closing his eyes with a smile. He could tell he would need all the rest he could get while he rode out the omega’s heat with her. He was so happy he decided to hide out at that flower shop.

-

Tags: @peculiar-monstar​ @lovelyzabrak-meadow​ @captainsherlockwinchester110283​

[cazimagines]

Hold on I still need you

Author's note: This was a request from anon, I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get to it but here you are. I hope you are also doing okay and have a lovely day. If you ever want to chat, any of you, my DM's are always free. I've also decided not to tag anyone in this fic as it deals with triggering themes and I don't want to tag people if it could potentially trigger them. Oh and if for some crazy reason you want to be even sadder I based the plot also on the song 'hold on' by chord oversheet so uh listen to that if you wanna be in the feels.

Synopsis: Request from anon: Can I request a sui*idal reader? Like they have thudding thoughts, the whole day her head is buzzing. Then they decide to do IT (you can decide how) and Zemo walks in and becomes heartbroken and floooooofff pls

Word count: 2k

Warnings: MENTIONS OF S*ICIDE, if you don't think you'll be okay reading it then please don't, your mental state always comes first, lots of angst followed by slight fluff, overdose

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

They wouldn’t miss you

You’re just an inconvenience to them

He doesn’t care for you. It’s all a huge prank.

It would be better if you leave

You groan in anger, hitting your head slightly to get those thoughts out of your head, but no matter how much you willed it, they would not leave you alone. Each time you tried to resolve one thought, reflecting on reasons why they do like you, your mind instead found persistent reasons for why they didn’t. Every small thing they have done which seemed off weighted down on your mind. Especially Zemo. Why didn’t he kiss you goodbye this week like he had done other weeks? Your logical side tried to argue that he simply forgot, but your paranoia always got the best of you. There is more. There has to be more. Another reason for him to avoid you. To hate you.

You didn’t want to be one of those girls whose entire life revolved around their boyfriend. You had your independence, your responsibilities, your hobbies. But these days they seemed so bland. They didn’t excite you the way they once did. Things you did for fun now felt like a chore to you. Doing anything these days felt exhausting. You knew it was annoying Zemo by how much time you spent in bed, how you stopped organising dates. But how could you find the will to do anything when you were so exhausted of life? It wasn’t as if you wanted life to end for you; it was just that you needed a break from being alive.

If you thought about it, it was the best option, right? You would finally get your peace. Your friends didn’t have to pretend to care about you anymore. Zemo could move on to date someone he actually loved. He wouldn’t feel like he only dated you out of pity. This was the best outcome. It had to be.

One of the worst things was the last walk. Your footsteps echoed along the pavement as you walked to yours and Zemo’s house. It was almost as if everything was going in slow motion for you. The corners of your eyes were blurred as you just concentrated on the path ahead. The usual outside sounds were faded, muffled to you. Instead, that singular voice inside of you rang out clearly.

‘I’m going to do it,’

Just that, again and again inside your head, unrelenting. It was as if you were still trying to convince yourself to go through with it by repeating it. Your legs felt like stone as you forced yourself to continue to walk to your resting place. Your breath quickened as you approached the door.

Walking in, you were barely coherent. Zemo was still out. He should be gone for the next few hours. That’s plenty of time. You felt a pang of guilt in your heart as you thought about him. How would he react to seeing you? You didn’t want to think about it and thankfully if all goes to plan you would never would.

You manage to find yourself in the bathroom, locking the door behind you. By the window was the medicine cabinet. Stored full of many painkillers for the headaches Zemo often got. Often his past would come back to haunt him. Shakily your hand reaches up to grasp the door handle and open it up, your eyes focusing on all the orange pill bottles that cluttered it. You weren’t focusing as you reached to grab them, your hands instead accidentally knocking them to the floor.

Swearing under your breath, you rush to pick them up, feeling your eyes water up. Finally, you felt you had enough. Swallowing one last time, you open your mouth and down the hatched.

-

Zemo’s hands clutched the bouquet. The smell of sweet roses floating off them. Roses were typical, but always one of your favourite types of flowers. His hands gently graze against the box held in his trousers pocket. A reminder of the task that had been making him nervous for the last month. To propose. No matter what happened, the time had never felt right. He wanted it to be meaningful, for it to be special. After losing his last family, he wasn’t ready to let someone like you go away.

Still, he worried for you. Your behaviour had changed over the last few months and though he tried to ask you about it, you had always shrugged it off. It was nothing. You were fine. It wasn’t nothing. You weren’t fine, and he hated that you didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth. That is why he was determined tonight was the night. He’d show you just how much you meant to him, and maybe then you would trust him enough to open up.

“Y/n?” he called out as he walked into the house. He’d taken the afternoon off for this moment, preparing it down to the tiniest detail, and finally, it was all falling into place. Now he had to just find you.

“Y/n?” he called out again

He paused, waiting for a response, but furrowed his eyebrows when none came. That was odd. You were always back by this time.

He started to walk around the house, checking in every room for you. As he found every room empty, his voice rose higher as he became more panicked.

Reaching the final floor, his eyes focused on the closed bedroom door, dread pooling into his stomach. The roses slip from his hand and the petals broke off as they hit the ground. His feet were already rushing to the door, his hands reaching for the handle, but no matter how hard he would push it wouldn’t give away.

“Y/N!” he shouted, hitting his fist against the wooden door in a desperate attempt that you might still be awake. He pushed his shoulder against the door with all his strength. The lock strained, giving crack to a single strain of hope for him.

He pushed his weight against it again, and then again, and finally; it broke. He stumbled, almost falling to the floor as the door burst open. He glanced around and his skin went cold as he saw you laying there surrounded by empty pill bottles. His legs folded as he collapsed beside you, pulling you close to his chest. His ears were ringing and his eyes were blurry as his fingers rested against the pulse in your neck, his head resting against your chest as he prayed for something, some sort of life.

A sob echoed from his throat, whaling coming deep from inside his chest. “Please,” he cried out, “Don’t you leave me. Not you too”

The tears streamed down his cheeks, falling on your pale, clammy skin. “Y/n” he whispered, his fingers still pressed against his pulse.

And then if by a miracle he felt it, hardly there, but he felt it, he’s sure he did. A beat.

He had already gathered your body in his arms and was racing you to the car. Ambulances would take too long. He had to get you to the hospital now. He was driving well over the speed limit but fines could easily be paid, your life couldn’t.

He swerves in and out of other cars, desperately trying to avoid any traffic, almost causing traffic by how carelessly he was driving. He could hear the cars honk at him, the expletives shouted, but none of that phased him. All that mattered was getting you to that hospital and thankfully, it paid off. He was at the hospital in a matter of minutes.

Grabbing you off the seat, he runs into the hospital holding you bridal style, screaming for help. The poor receptionist looked traumatised as she saw your ghostly pale head swinging as Zemo rushed towards the desk.

Quickly nurses had grabbed a hospital bed, and Zemo carefully placed you onto it. As they carted you away, Zemo grasped your hand, determined to follow you. He was instead forced to let go of you. He argued relentlessly to them that he needed to be there; he had to be there with you. Didn’t they know who he was? He got everything he wanted if he so asked but now he was forced into the waiting room along with everyone else. He couldn’t be with you, and it was killing him.

He paced around the room anxiously. People watched his stressed-out self as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. Occasionally his hand would flicker down to his pocket where the ring rested and a lump would come to his throat. Every time a nurse came into the waiting room, he would instantly turn to them, hoping that it would be about you. But it wasn’t and so he was left with his thoughts again as he went over in his mind what he had done wrong for you to ever want to do that. It must have been something he did. The way he treated you. Something he said. The blame rested solely on him.

Finally, the nurse came in, looking for him. As soon as she said the words, he was rushing to your room. As he reached it, he burst through the door, his eyes focusing on the bed in front of him.

There you laid peacefully.

Asleep.

But alive.

The next few hours he spent sitting beside you, just staring at your peaceful face, his hand grasping yours. The nurses tried to get him to leave, claiming you would be asleep for a few hours, but he refused. He had to be there when you woke up. He couldn’t imagine leaving you to wake up on your own.

After a few hours, your eyes finally crack open as you awake. As your senses come back to you, you could feel something holding your hand. Moving your head slightly, you saw Zemo beside you.

As soon as you moved your head he perked up and a wave of relief washed over him seeing you awake.

“Y/n, oh thank god,” he whispers, squeezing your hand tightly.

“Zemo? Where am I?” You ask.

“You are at the hospital after you… well,” he trails off, the word getting chocked in his throat as he thought back to what happened.

Your eyes started to swarm with tears as you feel guilt wash over you, knowing what must have happened for you to end up here with Zemo.

“Zemo, I’m so sorry”

“Please don’t apologise, you don’t need to apologise” Zemo instantly says, sorrow deep within his eyes, “But please, tell me what I did wrong. I can’t lose you y/n, so whatever it is, whatever lead you to that tell me”

“Zemo, it isn’t your fault. You’ve been perfect, you always have been. It’s me, it’s all me. It was so stupid of me Zemo, I shouldn’t have put you through something like that”

His grip on your hand tightened as he leaned over to put his hand on the side of your face, making you turn to look at him. “Don’t say that. You are not stupid. Far from it. Now please, tell me the real reason”

You sigh, leaning into his hand. “I didn’t feel worthy of you. Of anyone. I’m tired Zemo, I’m so tired and you deserve someone who can give you their all. And that isn’t me. I don’t feel alright and I’m not sure if I ever will again”

Zemo’s thumb strokes your face in comfort as he looks at you before deciding to get up and get on the bed next to you, pulling you into a hug in the tight space you two had. “I love you y/n, if anything I do not deserve you. I understand how you feel and I know you will feel better in time, with help you will be. I will ensure you get the best help and will be with you every step of the way if you will have me”

He clasped you as you cried into his chest, his whispers of comfort and reassurance settling deep within yourself. You knew things would be hard; you knew you would doubt yourself again; you doubt him. But a part of you knew that with Zemo beside you, helping you, loving you. You could pull through.

A/N: If you made it to here I salute you for getting through the angst. Just remember you are never alone and if you are ever feeling in a bad way don't be afraid to reach out, I love you all 💕

[saraforsnailqueen]

Finally, content! Sorry for the long wait, I got school and it’s awful. Anywho, here’s something for my two favorite streamers. GeorgeNotFound and BadBoyHalo! Who would you like to see next!

ᗰᗴᗴTIᑎᘜ ᒪᑌᑕKIᗴᔕ/ᑭᒪᗩYᗴᖇᔕ ᖴᖇOᗰ Tᕼᗴ ᖴᗩᒪᒪ!

Includes: GeorgeNotFound, BadBoyHalo

Requested: No

Warnings: Slight mentioned injuries but not descriptive.

GEORGENOTFOUND

You quickly learned that stealing would be the only way to stay alive during the apocalypse.

You hated taking from homes and stores when you knew that someone once lived or worked there, when you knew someone else might need it more than you. Unfortunately, you didn’t have much of a choice. Where would you get food from if you didn’t take what you could? But it made you feel so greedy in a way, even though you knew that was stupid. You had to live somehow.

The apartment complex looked extremely inviting. You could see how nature had started to reclaim the building over time. It seemed more intact than most buildings in the area, maybe you could settle there for a while. It would have lots of supplies too, you won’t have to feel so guilty about taking from separate homes.

The apartment looked much better outside than it did inside. The floorboards were destroyed and nature had claimed most of the furniture. You didn’t let that stop you from escalating up the stairs, however. Even if a few steps were missing, it didn’t matter too much. They were mostly safe besides the occasional half-broken board. There were 6 rooms on each floor, most of which seemed ransacked already which was quite disappointing but you held your head high.

The higher you went, the more supplies that seemed to be around. However, there wasn’t much good food left. A few closed cans of soup here and there, but most everything else was rotten or molded over already. The amount of medicine made up for it though. With you having to constantly wander, sickness was quite common.

You had just made it up to the third to last floor. This was where nature had really taken over. You could see where plants had started to grow on the floor above you through the ceiling. Most people probably wouldn’t go up to that floor, which meant most supplies were probably up there. Part of you didn’t want to go up any more floors. After all, many poisonous plants had come alongside the mobs and monsters. You took a deep breath and began exploring the second to last floor.

The plants seemed to only be in one room, and as much as your mind screamed you not to, you were curious. So you took a slight peak in the room, not actually planning to go in. The plants seemed to sprout from one source that was close to the furthest wall, there seemed to be either a huge flower bud there. The plants were also all blue. You told yourself not to go in, you knew better than to go in, but you had seen a box of waters in the corner closest to the flower bud. You could probably just have found a water purifier from a store, you could have done anything else other than go near the flower, but you seemed to have forgotten what kinda world you were in as you carefully tiptoed across the room, trying your hardest to not disturb the plant life.

There were around 8 waters in the box, which made the trip seem worth it at the time. You put all of them in your bag before slinging it back over your shoulder. You only took one step when the flower bud began to open up. You watched in terror as the flower bloomed to reveal a male slowly sitting up in the middle. He had brown hair from what you could see, but then again that wasn’t much. He seemed to have mushrooms growing from his hair and he wore a brown cloak which you could see his tail sway as he rubbed his eyes. He looked around and made eye contact with you, as you both just stared at each other.

When you went into the plant infested room, the last thing you had suspected to happen was meeting a very tired mushroom man that came out of a flower. But fate had different plans.

BADBOYHALO

When the apocalypse had started, you thought that your life would end very quickly. After all, you weren’t very athletic and had almost no upper body strength. Yet, here you were in. Almost two years later, bandaging up an injured demon.

You had met him while rummaging through a store.

You had just made your way to an old town you didn’t recognize. Then again, you weren’t able to recognize much anymore with everything being mostly ruined and you having terrible eyesight. Most buildings had been overtaken by nature and eventually collapsed under the pressure of everything. You weren’t able to find much to eat during the apocalypse, besides stale bread and cold soup. Nothing you couldn’t handle, but still, it would be nice to have something else for once.

The store must have been looked through once because most of the canned soup was already gone, not that you minded much. The store had a lot of candy, noodles (they taste good uncooked, fight me.), and water. There wasn't much medical stuff either, just some bandage wrap and rubbing alcohol. It would do for a while, at least until you could get something better. You decided to grab duct tape as well.

You were heading to the drinks in the back to see if you could get something else besides water, just as a good job staying alive this long when you heard a loud crash and the sound a cat would make when it fell.

Your first response was to pull out a pistol from your backpack and slowly approach the sound. You had quickly learned that not everything in this apocalypse was out to kill you and your kind. One was the villagers. Very kind human looking creatures, yet also hard to find. Villagers made an array of sounds and it was somewhat believable that they would or could make that sound.

‘Definitely not a villager’, you decided when the sight of a player came into view. You only knew what it was from books you had come across from the villagers. They were dangerous to the villagers, so the thoughts of what they could do to humans were terrifying.

The player in front of you seemed to be some sort of demon. You couldn’t make out much of them due to their black clothes and black skin, but you were able to make a black and red cloak of sorts as well as a gray and black scarf. They had wings that seemed to be bleeding, however, you couldn’t be sure. Two sets of horns came out of their head while two tails waved from under the cloak. Ontop them was a movie rack that had tangled their tails and trapped their horns, as well as capture one of their legs.

It must have smelled you or heard you coming somehow because they turned their head in your direction as much as they could. He - as you observed - had more than 4 pairs of white eyes and… whiskers? He seemed almost ecstatic to see you, blabbing away in what may have been latin. His tails tried to sway more yet couldn’t due to the movie rack.

You carefully approached, putting your gun away as you noticed he wasn’t much of a danger. You crouched and observed his face while he continued to blab on and on. He had a cut on his cheek, but that was it for facial injuries. His wings had many tears and rips, however. You stood back up and walked to his side. He tried to turn his head towards you but couldn’t as his horns were held tight in place.

The first thing you needed to do was free his wings from the movie rack, which was much harder than it seemed to be. You were most concerned about the tails, which would wrap around your arm the best to their ability. You tried to communicate with him, saying he needed to stop moving his tails if he wanted help. All you got was a confused hum and him trying to move his head more which would strain his horns.

You looked around and came up with a plan as your eyes landed on some duct tape on a shelf. You left the player’s side for a moment to grab the tape which made him struggle more much to your disappointment. You walked back over to him and wrapped the ends of his tails together which most likely wouldn’t hold for long, but it would be enough. You carefully pulled his tails out of the rack, only leaving his horns and leg. As expected, his tails quickly tore through the tape after.

His leg was easy to release, but you had spent half an hour on his horns. He kept turning his head and it would put you back at square one. But you had managed. He seemed extremely grateful to be free from the rack, standing to his full height and bouncing on his feet. You noticed he had similar feet to a bird with only four claws with one in the back supporting him. You began looking over his wings which made him do the same. He caught some hair in his hand and carefully brushed his claws through the tangled mess.

What a strange day it would be.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Change Of Plans

Summary: As the reader and Dean begin their romantic weekend away, mother nature decides to visit the reader a week early and throw off all of their plans. Dean however is intent on making sure the reader feels okay and is still enjoying their time together...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, period talk, nudity, implied planned smutty times

A/N: Because we all know how much it sucks when a period drops by early unannounced. Enjoy!

______

“Of fucking course,” you said as you sat on the toilet at the cabin. You’d glanced down and grumbled, stomping your foot on the ground.

“Y/N? You okay in there?” asked Dean from the other side of the door. You rested your elbows on your knees and put your head in your hands. You let out a shaky breath and heard him crack the door. “Sweetheart?”

“I got my stupid period a stupid week early. I’m never early. This was supposed to be a romantic weekend away and I feel like shit and I’m bloated and I don’t even have supplies,” you said. Dean stepped inside and squatted down beside you. He ran his hand over your head and you peeled your hands away from your face.

“There is no reason this still can’t be a romantic weekend. We don’t need sex for romance or long sweaty hikes or any of that stuff. We will still have a great time. I’m going to run to the store in town and get you some stuff. How about you take a hot shower and I will be back by the time you’re all done?” he said. You nodded and he kissed your forehead as he stood. He waggled a few fingers and he dashed outside, the roar of the impala echoing through the house. 

You wadded up some toilet paper in the meantime and were able to go back out to the bedroom. You flew open your bag and groaned. There was a brand new pair of lingerie that would not be used along with two of Dean’s other favorites. It wasn’t like you two regularly dressed up. Dean’s birthday. Valentine’s Day. Your anniversary. Your back from Purgatory anniversary. There were spur of the moment times when you would put on something sexier than your usual stuff under your clothes and tease Dean. There were times like when he wore the tightest, most drool worthy pair of boxer briefs in a pretty green that matched his eyes. 

You went over to his duffel and zipped it open, sighing to yourself. Those freaking boxer briefs were sat right on top and he never, never wore them unless he was planning on you taking them off of him. Underneath there were new condoms and lube. A cramp rumbled low across your abdomen and you groaned.

“Why do you have to ruin everything? One nice weekend with my boyfriend with no hunts and no stress and you have to come along early and fuck it all up,” you said. You shut his bag and grabbed sweatpants, a pair of clean plain bikini underwear and his hoodie. A few minutes later you’d washed out your underwear and jeans as best you could and had them going in the washer with some cleaner sprayed on them. You stood under the shower, your cramps stronger now but the heat from the water was helping combat it for the moment. The first day was always the worst.

“Y/N, I’m back,” called Dean. He came into the bathroom after a minute and you looked over to him setting some things down on the counter. He put a package of new pads and tampons down along with the thicker ones for sleeping. A bottle of pain medicine was set next to it before he opened it up. He filled a glass with water and walked over to you. He dropped it in your hand and you popped them in your mouth before they could dissolve, quickly swallowing them down.

“I know we don’t got your heat pack but I found something at the pharmacy I hope works pretty good,” he said. 

“Thanks, babe.” You gave him a kiss, sprinkling water droplets all on his face. “You want to come in? We could still have fun with you.”

“You feel like shit, sweetheart. Relax, don’t worry about a thing. I got the heating thing warming up out on the couch. I’m gonna see if that restaurant we were going to go to tonight does delivery,” he said. He pecked a kiss to the tip of your nose and you smiled before he skipped out.

He was still happy, happier than was normal for him. It wasn’t faked or forced. The two of you still had a quiet weekend to yourselves. 

By the time you were exiting the bathroom is some comfy clothes, the pain meds had kicked in. The dull throbbing lingered but it wasn’t as bad as it would have been. You found Dean in the open kitchen and family room area. He’d changed into a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve henley and was humming to himself as he worked at the counter.

“What are ya up to handsome?” you asked. You wrapped your arms around him from behind and ducked your head under his arm.

“I my dear am making us some Boulevardier’s,” he said.

“Oh. We haven’t tried that one yet,” you said. 

“I think you’re gonna like it. That little cocktail book you got me for my birthday has come in very, very handy,” he said. You nuzzled his back as he finished up. A burst of pain shot through you and you grunted quietly into his shirt. “Go rest, sweetheart. I’ll bring this right over.”

You nodded and went over to the giant couch. Dean had shoved the ottoman up against the jutted out portion of the couch giving the two of you the equivalent of a king sized bed to sprawl on. You crawled onto it and picked up the large rectangular blanket-like pad with a cord that was sat on top. Instantly you felt the heat coming off of it. You laid back and rested it over your lower abdomen, warmth creeping into your skin. You sighed and shut your eyes, Dean quietly taking a spot beside you. He put his arm over your shoulder but didn’t try to move you. He knew for whatever strange reason you needed to be still, let the heat burrow deep down and ease the pain for a bit before you could shift comfortably.

“I fucking love this thing,” you mumbled against his shoulder fifteen minutes later.

“Yeah?” he asked. “I can feel it on my leg. Feels nice and toasty. I bet we can use it for when your feet get cold in the winter too.”

“You’re a saint, Dean Winchester,” you said. You scooted closer to him and opened your eyes, Dean smiling as he sat there with you, one arm resting against the couch end and holding a glass, the other keeping you safe and close. “This works way better than my heating pad at home.”

“Good. I can’t imagine what a period feels like. I know how tough you are. It’s gotta suck.”

“You get used to it,” you said. “Can I try my drink now?”

“Here you go,” he said as he swapped his glass for the other one on the end table beside him. He handed it to you and you took a sip. 

“Oh I like that. This one is on the make again list for sure,” you said. 

“Hey, watch this,” said Dean. He picked up a remote and hit a button, the fireplace under the tv coming to life.

“Mmm, it’s gonna get so warm in here you might have to take off your shirt,” you said.

“If you promise to wear it to bed I will,” he teased. You sat together quietly, the mixture of medicine, heat and alcohol lulling you into relaxation. The cramps were still there and your stomached was bloated but it was tolerable, faint echoes in the back of your mind. “You awake sweetheart?”

You peeled open your eyes and turned up to face him. You tried to get a kiss but you couldn’t arch much farther without moving. He bent his head down and did it for you, lingering his lips against yours. There was nothing behind it. No sexiness. No desire for more. Just slow and gentle and warmth.

“Let me know whenever you get hungry and we’ll order dinner,” he said. “Oh and they have chocolate icebox pie. We are getting minimum of two for dessert.”

“Sounds yummy,” you said. You lifted your head up when you heard a rumble. The sky was pretty dark for only four in the afternoon and big fat drops of rain were coming down fast. “That storm got here quicker than they said it would.”

“Doesn’t really matter. I don’t plan on leaving this place again,” said Dean. He rubbed his hand gently over your core and you smiled. “Pain better?”

“Much more manageable,” you said. “Thank you. For taking care of me today.”

“You don’t gotta thank me for that. It’s my job,” he said. He kissed your forehead and shut his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind a quick cuddle nap before dinner though.”

“That sounds absolutely perfect, Dean. Just what I need right now.”

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

________

[spencers-renaissance]

storm-darkened or starry bright

Summary: Spencer contracts HIV. It all falls apart after that.

Tags: angst, illness, hurt!spencer, hurt/comfort, worried derek, depression, mutual pining, getting together, angst w a happy ending

TW: vomit, implied/referenced sex and addiction, disordered thinking, depression as a result of medical diagnosis

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

(I've tagged my usual moreid taglist in this fic, but I won't be offended at all if this is too heavy for you!)

Title from "Where All My Books Go" - W.B. Yeats.

Originally inspired by J_Ballinger's Swift, Fierce & Obscene which is just a brilliant piece of art.

you said I could have anything I wanted, but I just couldn’t say it out loud — richard siken, litany in which certain things are crossed out

It starts with the flu.

He calls into work sick and he makes himself comfortable in bed, preparing to ride it out. It is the middle of January after all, and their last case saw them in Ann Arbor, shivering their way through each crime scene and a police station with abysmal heating.

His lymph nodes are swollen, and he’s running a moderate fever — 102 the last time he checked — and the cough he’s had for a couple of days is definitely getting nastier, but he uses the time to catch up on the documentaries he’s had stored on his DVR for the past couple of months. He tries to see it as a positive: he never gets time to rest like this. Warm soup, chamomile tea, and some Nyquil should be the end of it.

He makes the most of it. He gets better. He goes back to work, and life goes on.

“It’s not like you to get sick, Reid.”

Emily doesn’t mean anything by it, it’s about as innocuous as a comment can possibly be, but something about it makes his heart stop for a second. Because the thing is, she’s right. The last time he was actually sick was the anthrax poisoning three years ago, which can hardly be blamed on his body itself. He hasn’t been sick with a virus since he was a child — certainly not anything more than a mild winter cold.

His world turns upside down in the middle of a Tuesday, a couple of them gathered around Derek’s desk laughing about nothing in particular, the easy camaraderie of a close-knit team without a time-sensitive case on their minds.

Three and a half weeks ago: a night heady with alcohol in a gay bar in downtown DC, a charged encounter with a man just Spencer’s type, a whispered invitation back to his place, not making it past the bathroom…

He pales, suddenly feeling violently ill at the prospect of what’s happened, how badly he’s fucked up this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” Emily asks, suddenly noticing his appearance. “You look really pale… maybe you’re not ready to be back at work yet.”

Forcing himself out of his stupor, he manages to open his mouth without vomiting. “I don’t feel so good,” he says, and even to him his voice sounds weak and distant. Blood roars in his ears, and all he can think is what that blood could very well be tainted with.

Far away voices discuss something he doesn’t pay attention to before Derek’s placing his hand on his shoulder, drawing him back into the discussion. “I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Emily isn’t standing at the desk anymore, but he doesn’t think to look around for her, just locks eyes with Derek: noticing his brows knit deeply in concern, worry clouding his dark, striking eyes.

He lets himself be led down to the garage. Later, he won’t remember any of the winding car journey home, Derek’s worried sideways glances, his attempts at making conversation, tucking him into bed, his hesitancy to leave and go back to work. He’ll just remember the weight of his realisation, the sinking acknowledgement of what this means.

What it makes him.

⭐️

The next day, he wakes up ravenously hungry. He doesn’t remember anything after the dreaded realisation, but he remembers that he came to it only minutes after eating lunch: meaning he’s gone over eighteen hours without food. Somehow, he manages to pick himself out of bed and stumble to the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. He finishes it all and doesn’t taste a single bite.

He texts the group chat Penelope had made for the whole team last year, ignoring the dozens of anxious messages from his team already filling his phone. Won’t be in.

Almost on auto-pilot, he gets dressed, picks up his phone, wallet, and keys, and walks to his nearest metro station. He counts four stops, gets out of the carriage and walks up the stairs onto the street, weaving through exactly three streets until he finds himself staring at the sign for his Urgent Care clinic.

Words — not ashes, as some small part of him anticipates — manage to spill from his lips as he tells the doctor everything from the unprotected sex he vaguely recalls having on the night of Saturday the 12th of March to his brief flu-like symptoms to his sickly realisation yesterday. Vaguely, he thinks there’s some sort of sick humour in being able to recall exactly what day he had sex, but not the details of the sex itself. Alcohol and dilaudid are the only things that have ever been able to interfere with his memory.

He obediently opens his mouth for a saliva swab, lets the nurse prick his finger and collect a drop of his blood. He wonders if she knows what they’re testing him for. He wonders if she thinks he’s as dirty as he feels, if she’ll violently scrub her hands after smiling politely at him, if she’ll roll her eyes when she talks to the other nurses, lamenting his stupidity.

The sounds of the waiting room melt into the background as he waits for the test to be conducted, and judging by the tone of the nurse who gets his attention when it’s time to return to the doctor’s office, it’s not her first attempt.

He mutters a distracted apology as he gets up from his seat, but she just smiles sympathetically. It shouldn’t get his back up in the way it does.

“I’m afraid you have tested positive for the Human Immunodeficiency Virus, Dr Reid,” she tells him, her voice gentle but straight-forward. He’s at least glad she doesn’t try and soften the blow. It’s not a blow that deserves to be softened. “I know this is a shock, but—”

“It’s not a shock.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s not a shock,” he repeats insistently; impatiently. “I knew it was coming. It’s my own fault.”

“Playing blame games isn’t going to help anybody here, Dr Reid,” she says firmly, meeting his eye. “Whether you were expecting it or not, this would knock anyone off-kilter, and I’d be remiss not to acknowledge that.”

She waits for his reluctant nod before continuing. “The good news is that we’ve caught it early enough to contain the infection. Your CD4 levels are very good, and you do not meet AIDS criteria. I’ve referred you to Dr Frederiks at George Washington University Hospital. He’s an expert in Infectious Disease and specialises in HIV/AIDS treatment. He can see you tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

He arrives back at his apartment almost $300 out of pocket, having gained nothing but a positive HIV diagnosis. The FBI has brilliant healthcare insurance but Spencer ticked the ‘no’ box on the insurance form. He can’t risk anybody knowing about this.

He texts Hotch and tells him he has a doctor’s appointment in the morning and will let him know whether he’ll make it in for the afternoon. Then he lays on the sofa, and cries.

⭐️

“HIV is a chronic illness,” the doctor explains at four minutes past ten the next morning, “a latent infection. Not a death sentence. Medications have come leaps and bounds in the last ten years, and the regimes aren’t anywhere near as rigorous as they used to be. With your CD4 levels this good, your life really won’t be much different than it was a few weeks ago.”

Spencer’s never had much interest in medicine — after all, there’s a reason he’s not that kind of doctor — but he knows this much. He doesn’t tell the doctor that he’s wasting his time explaining the basics of the disease, just stares blankly at the point in between his eyes, staring at the small crease in his skin, the way it moves as he speaks.

“It’s likely that you’ll die of something else, Dr Reid, decades in the future. When managed correctly, HIV is rarely deadly.”

This seems irrelevant: it doesn’t matter to Spencer what he dies of. Whether his immune system gives in or he’s shot in the line of duty or drops dead in the street from an aneurysm he doesn’t see coming, he’ll be dead.

He still doesn’t say anything.

“For the first six months of infection, the risk of transmission to sexual partners is high,” he continues, unfazed by Spencer’s lack of response. “Are you in a relationship?”

“No.” It’s the first word he’s spoken since he entered this office. His voice breaks. He can’t have the person he wants: this feels like the nail in the coffin of a relationship dead on arrival.

A look of sympathy crosses Dr Frederik’s face. “In any casual encounters you may engage in, you’ll need to be extra careful. Do you have the contact details of the person you contracted this from?”

His voice is steadier this time. “No.”

“Do you have any suspicion that you were deliberately infected by them?”

“No,” he answers, because he doesn’t, but it occurs to him that he’ll never actually know. He doesn’t remember if they used a condom; if he even wanted to use one. (All he remembers is his muscles and the way he pretended he was Derek, the amused look on the other man’s face when he whispered his name like a prayer.)

“That’s fine,” the doctor smiles encouragingly. It feels patronising. “We’re going to start with a triple combination of medications: tenofovir and emtricitabine combined with dolutegravir. HIV is an adaptable virus and easily becomes resistant, so it’s best to attack it hard and fast as early as possible to give you your best chances at an undetectable viral load in the next year. Which, I might add, Dr Reid, is a completely reasonable goal. At that stage, you will not be all that infectious. You’ll have bloods drawn before you leave to estimate your baseline kidney and liver function as well as overall health. In three months, you’ll have another test, and in six months, we’ll assess how well the drugs are working for you.”

Spencer nods, his eyes not leaving the crease between Dr Frederik’s eyebrows.

“Make those appointments with my secretary on your way out, and contact me if you have any concerns.” He pushes a brown paper envelope across the desk. “Inside you’ll find a copy of your positive test result, your prescriptions, and a number of leaflets on the condition as a whole.”

He squashes the urge to push the envelope back across the desk and nods again.

“Pick up the medication before the end of today and start them either tonight or in the morning,” he advises, before standing up from behind the desk and walking towards the door.

Spencer follows obediently, nodding once more and forcing a grimace onto his face, before walking down the hallway towards the secretary, another stranger he has to share his secret with. Swallowing down the urge to either scream or vomit, he fiddles with the envelope in his hands and bites the bullet.

⭐️

He tells Hotch that he won’t be in that day, and he goes home and forces himself to get it together. He showers first, the hot water washing the grime of the last few days down the drain, but he can’t do anything about the lingering layer of shame clinging to his skin. For the first time since the realisation, he forces himself to look in the mirror. A thin, pallid man with bags under his eyes and the look of someone harbouring a secret looks back at him.

His hair has grown out a little in the last few months, actual curls visible around his face (memories flash across his mind of breathy gasps; a hand buried in his hair, pulling ever-so-gently but they’re gone before they’re even remotely tangible), and he lost a little bit of weight he couldn’t afford to lose during his symptomatic period.

But, as frustrating as it is, it’s not what he sees. Not really. He sees Spencer Reid, possessor of five degrees, soon to become six, expert analyst in the FBI, the man who listens to jazz when he studies and watches documentaries for fun and solves crossword puzzles on the metro.

Something inside him shifts as he’s reminded of his humanity in that moment. It’s the most okay he’s felt in the last forty-eight hours.

He’ll take it.

He goes back to work the next day with little fanfare, getting warm smiles and ‘glad you’re feeling better’s from the team before they’re plunged headfirst into a new case, as it so often goes. They fly to Vermont, and part of him is glad for the distraction: no more talking about his illness, no more self-pity — he’s forced to try and bridge the gap between Dr Spencer Reid, Before and Dr Spencer Reid, HIV Positive as quickly and seamlessly as possible.

He does what he’s good at: offers relevant, detailed facts, profiles the victims and the unsub, cites studies that help them get to the bottom of the case, and for a moment he allows himself to forget about the virus coursing through his blood and the feeling of shame he can’t quite shake no matter how clean he scrubs his skin.

They get to the hotel late that evening and Spencer takes his second dose of medication, individually popping each tablet from it’s sheet into his hand. The pharmacist he spoke to yesterday told him that from his next medication order they can put all three tablets into a blister packet for him, but for now he’s stuck punching through three different plastic packets every night. Derek asks him to join them at the bar for a drink, but Spencer turns him down. He’s barely been able to look him in the eye.

If, in some rare and far flung universe, Derek did want to date Spencer, he wouldn’t want to date HIV positive, ex-addict, reckless and unsafe Spencer.

He wouldn’t want to date a man so heartbroken and lovesick that he got black-out drunk and slept with someone — most likely without a condom — just because he bared a passing resemblance to Derek. Contracting the Human Immunodeficiency Virus in the process.

No.

Spencer spends the evening staring into the mirror instead, desperately trying to find the man he was four days ago under the burden of broken suffering he seems to have picked up along with the diagnosis, the positive test, the sympathetic doctors.

When he hears the others come up past midnight and pile into their hotel rooms, laughing and chattering among themselves, Spencer still hasn’t looked away.

The use of the case as a distraction only works until 11am the next day. He’d had trouble falling asleep, and he’s powering through the day fuelled by black coffee and raw determination alone, but those motivators — as effective as they can be — can’t stop his legs from shaking as he stares at the geo-profile, searching for what they’re missing.

It sucks, but he’s glad for the warning the shaking gives him. He finds a chair and sits down, which is likely the only thing that stops him from collapsing when black dots swim in his vision and he’s suddenly vomiting down his front.

“Reid!” Hotch cries, running from the other end of the police station to where he’s sitting, panic clear on his face. They’re the only two from their unit currently in the station, but Hotch quickly locates an officer and turns to him. “Call an ambulance.”

“No,” Spencer manages to protest, although it only makes him want to be sick again, “‘m fine, promise.”

“What’s going on? I thought the flu had passed? Healthy people don’t spontaneously vomit and almost pass out, Reid.”

Somehow, his addled brain manages to concoct a decent enough lie. “Keep thinking I’m better,” he mumbles, leaning forward to put his head between his legs as Hotch places a hand on his back, “and then I’m not.”

“You’re sure this is just the flu?” Hotch asks, concerned but at least appearing to believe him.

“Certain,” Spencer lies.

Hotch nods once before shaking his head at the officer on standby with a phone to call an ambulance. “Well, you can’t work the case like this,” he sighs. “We need to get you back to the hotel, okay? You can rest there. God, Reid, what did the doctor say?”

“Bad case of the flu. Gave me some strong Tamiflu and told me I’d be fine in a couple days.” He gasps the words out in between intense waves of nausea, clasping his hands together in an iron grip.

He absolutely can’t let Hotch catch on. In the nine years he’s worked at the FBI, he’s managed to conceal his sexuality below layers upon layers of closeting, and he’s not about to be forced out now. It started as a purely protectionist strategy — law enforcement in the early 2000s didn’t exactly have a stellar reputation when it came to tolerance — but then he just felt forced too deep, felt the web of lies spun too tightly around him to even begin to unpick them.

Terror seizes his heart at the idea of his team knowing who he really is: not because he expects homophobia or backlash, but because he’s not sure he’s ready to live that openly yet. He’s never been good with change, and this is no exception.

It doesn’t help that the whole team is all too aware of his past addiction. He dreads the thought of them thinking he’s using again and, worse, so irresponsibly that he managed to contract HIV.

Hotch gets a rookie officer to drive him back to the hotel, and she keeps sending him nervous glances, most likely worried he’ll stink up her immaculately kept squad car with his spontaneous vomiting. Both he and the car make the journey unscathed, although he knows he probably looks as green as he feels as he drags himself up the stairs — could there possibly be a worse time for an out of order elevator? — and somehow manages to make it to the bed before he collapses.

Unfortunately, his restful slumber doesn’t last long. He’s woken up not half an hour later with the intense need to be sick again, and he races to the toilet, where he spends the next two hours: intermittently slumped over it, being sick into it, and lying on the cold tiles next to it.

It feels like a punishment. If Spencer was a religious man he’d be certain God was smiting him for his sins, but instead he’s left instead pondering karma or fate or some other theory he doesn’t really buy into either. Logically, he knows it’s just a combination of guilt and regret — he made a mistake, he’s suffering the consequences; there’s no fate or religion or karma involved — but his delirious, out of sorts mind struggles to hold on to that.

Reason doesn’t make the nausea any less crippling, after all.

Eventually, he must manage to pass out on the bathroom floor, because he’s being shaken awake by a pair of gentle hands, and when he finally opens his eyes, it’s dark outside.

“Spence?”

Shit. Derek.

His eyes fly open and he fights to sit up, to make himself more presentable. The smell of vomit lingers in the air and he remembers that he didn’t even put the toilet seat down, let alone flush it. (At least he thought to change out of his vomit-covered shirt. Thank God for small mercies.) He blushes, and thinks he must look a pretty picture of red and green as he finally meets Derek’s eyes.

“God, Spence, how bad is this flu?” he asks worriedly, smoothing his hair with the palm of his hand. Despite himself, Spencer finds himself pressing back into the touch, relishing any contact he can get.

Then it hits him: he’s dirty. He can’t contaminate Derek like this.

“You should leave,” he asserts hurriedly as he pulls away, hating that desperation is so obvious in his voice. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve cleaned everything up, and I used gloves. I’ve been in contact with you the last couple of days, so if you were going to get me sick you would’ve already. I just want to be here for you.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed so tightly they hurt. He wants nothing more than to fold himself into Derek’s arms, let himself be comforted by the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. But he can’t. There are so many reasons that he can’t.

“No,” he says, not opening his eyes, resenting the tear that slips out and spills down his cheek. “You can’t. I’m… I’m not safe to be around.”

He doesn’t really mean to say it, but it escapes anyway, and he opens his eyes just in time to see the confusion cross Derek’s face. “Not safe to…? Spencer, what—”

“I just… I need to be alone.”

“No, you don’t,” Derek says softly, bringing a hand to his hair again, and he knows that HIV isn’t transmitted through sweat or vomit but he’s dirty, and Derek is so so good, he can’t be responsible for tainting him. Derek doesn’t relent, though, not even when Spencer pulls away from his touch and shrinks in on himself, leaning against the toilet. “You need to allow yourself to be comforted. You need to let me help, Spencer.”

Suddenly, he feels incredibly tired: the energy seeping out of his body, and he’s boneless against the toilet, absent even of the effort to hold himself upright.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He puts his arms around Spencer’s rolled up body and lifts him, holding him close to his chest as he carries him from the bathroom to the bed.

Spencer doesn’t just let him, he curls into his embrace, clinging to the material of his t-shirt like it’s his only grip on reality.

(Later, he’ll blame the fever, but deep down he knows that just once, he wanted to play pretend, and just once, he didn’t have the energy to stop himself.)

⭐️

The side effects take weeks to finally leave, his body having a hard time adjusting to not only a deadly virus in his bloodstream, but some of the strongest drugs on the market inhibiting his natural enzyme production. Eventually, though, he’s back at work properly, selling a story about a simultaneous gastro-intestinal virus making the flu exponentially worse.

He’s not really sure everyone believes him, but nobody questions it out loud, so he avoids everyone’s eyes and takes it as a win.

Nobody gets close enough to try, anyway. He pushes everyone away, holds them at arm's length no matter how much they kick and scream and claw their way closer to him. It surprises him how persistent Derek is, and for a moment he feels a sad flutter of hope in his stomach and he’s forced to stamp it down: Derek sees him as a brother, a friend, a colleague, not a potential romantic partner.

And it would be irrelevant, even if he did. Derek wouldn’t want him as any of those things if he knew what he was hiding. Ever since his lapse in judgement on the case in Vermont, he’s refused to spend any time alone with Derek, and he hates the hurt he sees in his eyes, hates that he can’t scream at him that this is for his own good. But he can’t know. Because Spencer is still ruled by his relentless selfish desires, and he can’t let Derek go, no matter how hard he tries to.

Kept at arm’s length at least means he’s still touching his shoulders.

He muddles through the next few months on his own, returning to his quiet apartment every night and eating a sad, lonely dinner on his sad, lonely sofa before punching his way through a blister pack, taking his tablets, and going to sleep. He turns down drinks invitations, declines phone calls, ignores text messages. He pretends he isn’t home when there are knocks at his door.

He takes showers that are too hot and cries on the metro, scrubs his fingernails and his face, and when he got a shallow knife wound on a case last month, wouldn’t let a single member of the team near him. Whispering his status, shame-faced, to the attending EMT.

This is it, he thinks one night, as he opens the microwave and takes out the mac-and-cheese ready meal he’d bought on the way home that night. He doesn’t even like mac-and-cheese. It was just the only thing left in the store at 8.30pm. This is my life now. Standing in my kitchen at 9.15pm, not being able to remember the last time I was actually happy.

(He does remember, really. It was Sunday the 13th of March, 9.37am: Derek had ruffled his hair and joked with him as they waited alone in the conference room to find out what was so urgent they were being called into work on the weekend for. Spencer could still feel the aftermath of his Saturday night tryst, and pretended for a brief few minutes that that encounter was with Derek, and those jokes were actually flirting. But then the case took over, then the flu symptoms, and then. Well.)

Before he can carry the mac-and-cheese into the living room, though, there’s a knock at the door. Everyone had mostly given up on turning up unannounced, so it catches him off-guard, and something in him, some vain flicker of hope, or maybe a masochistic desire to hurt even more, propels him forward until he’s opening it and coming face to face with Derek Morgan.

“Spencer,” he says urgently, and panic immediately grips Spencer as he wonders what could be so wrong that he’d need to show up out of the blue, but Derek must see it on his face. “Nothing’s happened, don’t worry, I just… I need to speak to you.”

A knot of something that Spencer can’t quite place tightens in his stomach as he stares at the myriad of emotions playing across Derek’s face, but he steps aside to let him in anyway. He closes the door behind them and feels a flash of embarrassment at the state of his apartment. It’s completely clean — his already rigorous attitude towards germ and cleanliness have only intensified in the last few months as paranoia plagued his mind relentlessly — but it’s barren of any joy, and it couldn’t be more obvious.

The furniture is drab and Spencer’s packed away all the photos and trinkets that used to litter the entire place because they just made him too sad to look at. The only life that remains is his books, and the sheet he’d hung to cover them up in a fit of rage a couple of weeks ago still hangs there limply. He hadn’t wanted to see his books: didn’t want the temptation of touching them and tainting them. What if he got a papercut on one of the pages and his virus-ridden blood spilled across the words he treasures so dearly?

He watches as Derek surveys the place with a sad expression on his face, before recollecting himself and turning back to Spencer.

“I know you’ve been pulling away from us, Spence,” he says, almost breathless as he takes a seat on the sofa. Spencer doesn’t know what to do with his body, so he settles on remaining where he is: stock still facing the couch, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. “We’ve watched you become a shell of who you used to be, and we’re all worried about you—”

“I don’t—”

“No, just let me speak. Everyone is worried, and I am too, but… I’m also… I’m hurt, Spencer. You’re pushing me away, turning me down every time I try to get close to you, and it’s painful because you’re my friend. You’re my best friend, and you mean the world to me.”

I wouldn’t if you knew my secret, he thinks miserably, but he doesn’t say anything.

“More than anything, though, it hurts… because I’m in love with you.”

Spencer stares. He’s hallucinating, he has to be.

“And I know — well, I don’t know because we’ve never talked about it — but I know you’re probably straight and even if you were interested in guys, too, who’s to say you’d be in love with me back? But I had to tell you because our relationship is heading south anyway, plummeting straight for the ground, and I figured it couldn’t hurt, I just… say something? Please?”

He doesn’t mean to say it.

“I’m HIV positive.”

It’s Derek’s turn to stare. Spencer can’t meet his eyes, and suddenly feeling like he needs to Get Out, he rushes to the kitchen and picks up his rapidly cooling mac-and-cheese. He gets a fork out and faces the countertop, away from Derek, as he starts to shovel unsatisfying bites into his not-hungry stomach.

It can’t even be a full minute later that he hears footsteps behind him. “You have AIDS?”

He sets the mac-and-cheese back on the counter. “No,” he answers, not turning around. “I tested positive for HIV; I don’t meet AIDS criteria. My CD4 levels are apparently very good, and the medication I’m taking is proving effective in controlling and managing the virus. I don’t have side effects anymore, and I don’t feel any different than I did before I contracted it.”

There’s a beat of silence. “And this is why you’ve been pulling away from us?”

Spencer hesitates before nodding shamefully, his eyes burning a hole in his dinner. “I didn’t know how to tell anyone, and I—” He’s cut off by a heaving sob. It catches him by surprise, but suddenly he’s choking on emotion: everything he’s been through, everything he’s been dealing with alone for so long a burden he no longer knows how to carry.

“Oh, baby,” Derek breathes, rushing forward and turning Spencer until his face is pressed into his neck and their arms are wrapped around one another. The nickname only furthers his emotion, falling apart completely in such a way that makes him unsure he’ll ever be put back together again. “I’m so sorry.”

He lets Spencer cry it out until his sobs recede and his tears slow, and he feels confident enough to pull away and meet Derek’s eye properly again. It feels like a reconnection; a reconciliation of sorts, and his breath catches at the emotion on his face. He’d expected a meddle of sympathy and disgust, but all he finds is compassion and love, tinged by a sadness Spencer supposes probably comes from watching the man you’ve just professed to love fall apart like that.

Oh wait. Derek just told him—

“You love me?” His voice comes out quieter and shyer than he’d hoped, and not nearly as incredulous as he’d intended, but Derek softens anyway.

“Yes,” he says emphatically. “So much. And if you think you telling me this is going to change how I feel even a bit, then you’re dead wrong, Spencer.”

It’s suddenly too much to think that everything he’d feared happening for the last few months was wrong, and he’s gasping for breath again, sinking to the ground to bury his face in his hands.

“Spence?” Derek asks worriedly, following him to the floor. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No… please, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He takes a deep breath, trying to recenter himself, ground himself in the reality that’s unfolding before him, no matter how different it might look than that of his anticipation. “You know, the man. Um, the man I… contracted this from. I slept with him because he looked like you.”

He looks up and meets Derek’s eyes again, searching for anything in them to confirm that he was thinking all the thoughts Spencer feared and coming up empty. “I was so heartsick that I got blind-drunk and slept with a complete stranger because it was the closest to you I ever thought I’d get and then I was just so scared of what everyone would say when I found out. I know logically that HIV doesn’t make someone dangerous or unclean, but I just couldn’t shake this feeling of shame, you know? I was constantly panicked that I’d pass it to one of you. Besides, I’m not even out to the team, and I know the implications of a disease like this: gay or an IV drugs user — I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that I was both. I’m clean, and I’ve stayed clean, I just…”

“Hey, I get it,” Derek says gently, reaching out a hand and cupping Spencer’s cheek gently. “I think if I was in the same boat I probably would’ve reacted in exactly the same way. You can’t be blamed for bowing to a social stigma this heavy, Spence. I’m just sorry I didn’t realise what was going on sooner. And even sorrier, for that matter, that I didn’t tell you I was in love with you before this even had a chance to happen.”

Spencer smiles a little at that. “Hey, I didn’t tell you either. I don’t blame you at all. Neither of us were out and confessing something like that is no small feat.”

“I suppose so.”

Spencer shifts a little in his position on the floor, the raging storm of emotion that he’s been drowning under for the past four and a half months quieting for the very first time. He breathes deeply for a few seconds before working up the courage to ask the question he really wants the answer to. “I know you said that this doesn’t change the way you feel—”

“And it doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” Spencer nods, because suddenly he gets that. He isn’t sure what took so long. “But does it make you not want to be in a relationship with me?”

“Spencer, no.” Derek’s voice is urgent as he makes intense eye contact with him, raising a gentle finger to his chin. “It doesn’t change a single. thing. I don’t know much about HIV, I’ll admit, but I do know that these days you can get to a point where it doesn’t transmit to partners. And we can be really safe about it. I’ll do all the research to make you comfortable, but Spencer, even if it did mean that we could never have sex, I’d still want you. I want you so badly, pretty boy.”

He can hardly believe his ears. “Really?”

“Really.” He swipes his thumb across his cheek, catching a falling tear. “I’m hopelessly, desperately in love with you, Spencer. I have been for years. You can ask, Penelope: she’s been putting up with my pining like a saint, but I’m not sure she could’ve taken it much longer.”

“I’ve been in love with you for years, too.” Another tear falls as the prospect of what’s about to happen really sinks in.

“Can I?” Derek murmurs, as he inches closer ever so slowly.

“Please,” Spencer whispers, barely finishing the word before their lips are colliding and a flurry of butterflies break out in his stomach as his chest glows with the warmth of a kiss he’s long been aching for. Derek’s hands find his waist, his jaw, his cheek, his hair, exploring his body ever so softly as he kisses him with the same inquisitive gentleness, managing to take him apart with just his lips and his hands.

“God,” he whispers as he finally pulls away, pressing his forehead to Spencer’s as he struggles to hide his wide grin. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve dreamed of that. I’m gonna be like a teenage girl tonight, running my fingers across my lips as I remember every minute of it.”

Spencer giggles at that. “Well you can rest easy in the knowledge that I’ll be doing the same.” He pulls away slightly and looks down for a second before looking back up into Derek’s earnest gaze. “I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

“I’ll kiss you like that every day for as long as you’ll have me.” He doesn’t hesitate to lean back in, connecting their lips again as they melt into one another’s touches, and it makes Spencer laugh later that the most intimate and passionate encounter of his life so far happened on the kitchen floor.

They pull apart as soon as it heats up a little bit, and pain flashes across both of their expressions at the thought of why.

“There’s this thing called PrEP,” Spencer says, still a little ashamed of his situation, that Derek has to be protected against him before they can take this any further. “It’s medication that you take before and after sex with a HIV positive person that blocks the virus from entering your bloodstream if you were to somehow contract it. And we can wear condoms. And once I reach an undetectable viral load, it means the virus is untransmittable, and you won’t contract it even if we’re unprotected.”

Derek blinks. “Wow, that’s… that’s better than I thought.”

“Really? You’re still okay with all this?”

He softens. “Pretty boy, I am so okay with all this, and I’m sorry that you spent so long thinking otherwise. We have time to figure all this out, but what matters is that right now, I have you next to me, and we love each other. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, and leans forward to kiss Derek chastely. “I do.”

“Now, how about we bin that disgusting mac-and-cheese and order some Chinese?” he suggests, matching Spencer’s smile. “We could eat it in bed and watch one of those documentaries you’re always talking about.”

Spencer laughs fondly. “You want our first date to be eating takeaway and watching a science documentary in bed?”

“Well it sounds perfect to me.”

“Yeah, it sounds pretty perfect to me, too,” Spencer whispers, the happiness in his chest feeling warm and inviting, begging him to bask in the moment for as long as he can.

They’ll work out the specifics later — they’ll get Derek started on PrEP and attend Spencer’s appointments to measure his viral load, they’ll have important and serious conversations about the risks to both of them, they’ll work out what their relationship means for work, how they’ll begin to repair the damage the last few months have done to Spencer’s mental health — but right now, none of that matters.

All that does is: the buffet of Chinese food Derek lays out on a blanket on Spencer’s bed, the documentary about bees playing on the TV, and the thrilled little glances thrown each other’s way, the stolen kisses and casual touches, the love palpable in the air around them. And later, when the food is eaten, and the documentary is playing the credits: Spencer’s tired head resting on Derek’s loving chest, and the syncing of their heartbeats as they fall asleep to the sound of each other.

This shouldn't have to be said but please do not use fanfiction as sex education and PLEASE practice safe sex. As far as I know, all the information included in this fic is correct, but I have no personal experience with HIV/AIDS, and this is very much written from an outsider's perspective - albeit a thoroughly researched one.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic-not-stupid (taglist form)

[hoodoo12]

The Ties That Bind (And How to Follow Them) 4/?

@bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @werwulfy @turtlepated @strange-n-unbluusual @mel-time @fireflower1015 @go-whovian-universe @sweetcat-666 @genderless-cryptid @monsterlovinghours @heresathreebee @rainingpaint @infptarius

Pate was at a loss. She’d never seen Beetlejuice like this. His hair, already lightened to a pale green shot through with red and yellow and purple in his distress, blanched even further when she mentioned going to Lillian. That alone was enough to convince her that her mentor had somehow trapped him in this mirror-verse where he could see and hear but not be heard.

His increasing upset hurt her deeply, and when he suddenly disappeared from view her heart plummeted and she pressed herself to the glass, hoping to see what he was doing but without him in front of her her own reflection blocked her view. She wished she could reach him, hold him, soothe him, hating her own helplessness.

At length he came back, his pale face even more pale than normal, his ash colored hair still streaked to show his frustration and fear. He looked close to tears, and Pate wasn’t even sure he was capable of tears. His lips moved softly and though she couldn’t hear him the message was clear.

Pate offered him a thin smile and shook her head, pressing her palm to the glass again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him. “Just give me one second to get my phone and I’m gonna call Lillian. She has to fix this. We’ll make her fix this.”

Keeping her eyes locked on his until the doorway and bedroom wall came between them, Pate dashed to the living room to retrieve her phone, hurrying back to the bathroom where Beetlejuice looked visibly relieved to see her return.

She thumbed through her contacts and smashed Lillian’s name, raising the phone to her ear. It was late, but Pate didn’t care if she woke Lillian up. The phone rang several times before it picked up.

“Hello? Pate? What are you doing calling this time of night?” Lillian asked.

“What did you do to him?” Pate demanded without preamble.

Lillian didn’t answer at first, and Pate heard what sounded like bedclothes being swept aside and a lamp being flicked on.

“I take it you mean the creature that invaded my kitchen,” Lillian finally drawled distastefully. “I did what you should have done, I sent him where he can’t harm anybody.”

“Beetlejuice wouldn’t hurt anybody anyway!” Pate insisted hotly. “He’s my . . . ” she trailed off, glancing at him in the mirror, knowing he could hear what she said. “He’s special. He’s important to me and I care about him,” she said. “You have to let him out. Or at least tell me how to and I’ll do it myself.”

Lillian sighed tiredly, as if she were dealing with a particularly exhausting situation. “Pate, whatever you think he means to you, the bottom line is he’s not human. He’s a demon, a wraith, a trickster. You’re better off without him.”

“I don’t care, tell me what to do to let him out.”

“No.”

The blunt refusal startled her. “You have to! You can’t leave him like this, stuck in my bathroom mirror!”

Speaking mostly to herself, Lillian said, “I should’ve figured he’d worm his way out. Should’ve sealed the mirror, too. Pate, nothing good can come of you having a live-in demon, I don’t care what feelings you might have about it. I’m going back to bed and that entity is staying right where he is. Good night.”

The line went dead. Angry, frustrated and panicked Pate immediately dialed again but it went straight to voicemail. Lillian had turned off her phone.

With a huff she slung her phone onto the counter, fixing Beetlejuice with a desperate expression.

“We’re gonna figure this out,” she said. “We’re gonna go over there and make her let you out.”

An idea struck her, and Pate crossed the room to the cabinets set into the wall, rifling through for what she was looking for. She turned back to Beetlejuice with a hand mirror.

“Do you think you can crawl into this mirror?” she asked. “Then I can take you with me.”

⁂

Out of all the crazy things they'd done together, crawling into a mirror that his lover held was barely a blip on the radar, even if she held it out in front of her or to her side as she walked. He wasn't incredibly excited about being shoved in a purse--or to see Ms. Lillian Borden again, truthfully--but he had no idea what else to do.

Beej heard the one-sided conversation Pate had had, had seen the quick look she’d sent his way before saying he was "special", and could only imagine what her mentor's response to that had been. He doubted anything Pate was going to tell her would make a difference. Still, it would be worth a shot to try and talk reason to the woman. He lifted his shoulder in a shrug as Pate displayed the mirror. He had no clue if her suggestion would work but was willing to try. Motioning her closer, she read what he meant and brought the mirror in her hand up to press against the glass of the bathroom counterpart. For a moment, all he could see was his own reflection. With deeper shadows under his eyes than normal and hair that was washed out more than colored, he looked worse than he thought.

Raising a hand as if to touch the mirror image, the interior surface of the mirror was tacky instead of smooth. It took a bit of effort to actually pull his hand back, and threads of what looked like spun glass, growing thinner the further away he pulled his hand, trailed from his fingertips. It seemed reluctant to let him go. If he was ruining Pate’s bathroom mirror, well, she mentioned in passing updating it anyway. Beej heard her asking what he was doing, if it was working, and decided it was better to just go for it and deal with consequences as they fell. With that determined spirit, he shoved his hand back through the glass. It felt as though he was pushing into molten, but cold, lava, all thick and clinging. Good thing he didn’t need to breathe, because it was going to take a moment to get through it and then get clean of it. Tentacles had to assist carrying him through the two layers of glass. Beetlejuice could only imagine what Lillian would think of those, chuckling to himself, then liquidish glass got in his mouth. There was nothing to do about it at the moment; trying to wipe it away would result in an arm moving backwards and that was not what he wanted right now! Finally, after more effort than he put into a lot of things, he managed to push himself into another endless white space. It didn’t look any smaller than the previous ones, and now he wondered how many compacts or other small mirrors he’d crawled through. The second his feet hit the ground and were free of the glass he found it was gone. There was no residue of any sort. Were all mirrors magic and just needed the right person to activate them? A question for Lillian, if she was willing to take questions from a pupil she seemed to like and a ghost she most definitely did not. Beetlejuice went to pound on the glass to alert Pate he’d moved, but the thought of getting snared by the inside of the new mirror gave him pause. He had to wait until she grew impatient and looked for herself.

⁂

Pate couldn’t help feeling a little foolish, standing with the small, round makeup mirror pressed against her medicine cabinet. Whatever Beetlejuice was doing, his reflection disappeared from the cabinet mirror to be replaced with her own.

Turning the smaller mirror around to face her, Pate beamed to see that the idea had worked, Beetlejuice looked out at her from the handheld mirror.

Wasting no more time she went back through into the bedroom, grabbed her wallet with her license inside from her purse, as well as her car keys.

“Let’s go see Ms. I-Know-What’s-Best-For-You Borden and get you back in the flesh,” she said, addressing Beetlejuice in the mirror as she locked her apartment door behind her.

What would it look like, she wondered, if someone saw her talking to the mirror?

Simple, she told herself. They’ll think you’re crazy. And maybe you are.

This time of night traffic was minimal and it didn’t take long to drive straight to Lillian’s downtown shop/apartment. Pate parked in a spot on the street, closing her door with perhaps a little more force than necessary, locking the car and cradling Beetlejuice’s mirror in her other hand.

There were internal steps up to Lillian’s apartment, but the shop was locked up at this hour. Pate rounded the building, heading for the fire escape. She had to set Beetlejuice down and climb up on a dumpster to reach the ladder, but after a few failed attempts she managed to pull it down with an earsplitting creak of protesting metal.

Retrieving the mirror that held her demon lover, Pate raced up the rickety steel steps as quickly as she dared, finding herself at Lillian’s sitting room window. She tried to open the window, finding it thankfully unlocked. She wouldn’t put it past Lillian to have some otherworldly impediments in place, designed to keep out apparitions but not people. Sliding the window open, Pate swung herself in one leg at a time.

“Lillian?” she called into the apartment, making no pretense at stealth. “Lillian, come out here and undo this.”

Pate didn’t hear that?! Maybe it was just spectral, maybe it was just something only people snared in tiny mirrors could hear, but the cries from inside the antique store from the various beings on the first floor were unnerving. Even the shriek of rusty metal joints on the fire escape moving after years of neglect was melodious compared to them. Something had happened. He didn’t know what, but Beej didn’t like it one tiny bit. He yelled at Pate to stop. Even at the top of his lungs she couldn’t hear him. Dredging up the deepest, most demonic voice he could had no effect. He was mute and helpless.

The television was on, I Love Lucy reruns flickering black and white with the volume low. Pate could see the top of Lillian’s head over the back of her recliner, facing away towards the TV. Angered by being ignored, Pate strode across the room, repeating her demand.

“Lillian, you tell me how to fix this. I don’t want Beetlejuice locked away, he’s -”

Pate cut off abruptly as she rounded the chair and saw the figure seated there.

Lillian Borden’s face was almost blue in the light from her TV, her eyes opened but staring unseeing at the ceiling, hands resting peacefully on the arms of her chair.

She was dead.

⁂ The scene inside the old woman’s apartment was nothing short of a horror movie set up. The lights were off, the room lit only by flickering from the television. Pate was demanding an answer and then a response. She stepped around the chair, and her hand dropped to her side as she choked her own sentence off, and her hand mirror slipped from her fingers, giving Beej a roller coaster ride as it fell, then a great view of the ceiling of the room when it hit the floor. If it was good or bad the glass didn’t break he’d never know, because Pate scooped him up almost as quickly as he’d fallen. Her apology he waved away as no worries, and she turned him towards her mentor in the chair. “Oh,” Beej said quietly at the sight of the dead woman. Now that posed something interesting. Never mind there was no way for her to undo the spell that trapped him in his current state, he didn’t sense her spirit or any evidence she drew a door and left the earthly plane. Of course, his view was limited to wherever Pate pointed his mirror. Or he’d been restricted by Lillian’s hasty capture of him somehow. Whatever it was, it warranted looking into once he was free again.

That was low on the priority list, however. He still needed out, and the woman who’d put him here was well past helping.

tbc . . .

[dimensionwriter]

100 Days

Part 2   

Part One

M! Alien x GN! Reader

Warning: Innuendos, mention of torture

Word Count: 2519

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Remember to LIKE, COMMENT, and REBLOG, please. I love to see the comments on my stories. 

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The air was so cold and dry in the room. The room was dead silent except for the low pitch buzz emanating from the computer. This room seemed unwelcoming to any person who dared to enter; However, you barely noticed as you stared at your creature in the giant container.

His form was still leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. Two black arms wrapped around his thin grey torso. The second and third set was just lightly floating in the liquid as he continued to sleep. A giant smooth tail that laid on top of his first set of arms, allowing his head to lay against it. His grey skin was a lot more muted while slumbering, it seems. A glance over would allow you to think that everything was the same as you left it.

However, there was something new. On his neck were these tiny slits that were moving with his chest. It was unknown to you that the creature contained gills. It was theorized that the creature breathed through the tiny slits sitting below his eyes. Maybe it had to do with something about him being a shift shaper. Was the creature changing his respiratory system while sleeping?

Walking over to the computer, you open the coding program. You couldn’t help how quickly you put in the stop coding for the sleeping medicine. It has been two days since you last saw him due to the weekend and you were just itching to learn more about this fascinating creature.

You fixed your lab coat and walked to the front of the container. Gosh, it felt so nice to do it. You are so used to seeing him floating in the container unconscious that now that you get a chance to interact with him, it was thrilling.

His tail slowly slid off his arms as he shifted in his sleep. He seems to be snuggling into the glass. So he enjoys sleeping. How does his species do their sleeping arrangement? Is it more of a hibernation or daily occurrence?

“...” He let a small grumble as his eyes fluttered open. You were expecting to see a pair of pitch black eyes, but instead they looked quite humanish. In fact, they looked really familiar. Wait a minute.

“Morning, Shark,” you spoke slowly. He looked at you groggily before turning his head around. You could see the confusion on his face. You’ve heard from coworkers that this sometimes happens. “How do you feel, Shark?”

“I had this dream where this beautiful angel was in front of me,” he grumbled as he stretched his arms out in every direction. It was kind of unique the way he had to contort his body in order for his six arms to get that stretch. “And I open my eyes and they’re still there.”

“You dreamed about me so much that you decided to wear my eyes,” you teased. It was odd seeing an alien with such human eyes. So far, most of the aliens usually have odd shaped eyes or none at all. But you guess with Shark, you can’t put him under the category for normal aliens.

“I-what!” His top arm went to his face and rubbed his eyes harshly. Guess he didn’t even notice that he didn’t have his normal eyes. You should document that and see if that’s a constant when he wakes up. “When I said I wanted you on my body, I didn’t mean this.”

Your movement towards the computer stopped as you processed what he said. Did he mean- that’s more of a human phrase- can he even? Your brain is becoming overwhelmed as you unpacked the single sentence. How does he even know that type of language?

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to fluster you like that, even though you look so cute. I’ll tone it down for you,” he explained. He swam up to the top of the tank where he folded his top arms on top of it. A giant smirk was on his face revealing that he most likely didn’t regret his comment.

“You seem to have quite the understatement on the human’s culture.” He manages to talk in perfect English while also using phrases that only people integrated in the culture could understand. Has he been hiding within the humans for a while?

His tail swishing slowly in the liquid made him appear relaxed in his environment. That’s a good sign for most specimens to have. If his behavior continues on this path, he might be able to leave the container and you can gain more data on him that doesn’t involve verbal communication.

“I got it by abducting a human and strapping them to a lab table to eat their brains. I learn the different waves of human’s vocals by their screams of pain. Quite the range, I may say,” he spoke with a glint in his eye.

Cold sweat dripped down your back as you froze in front of the computer. This is the first time you have felt fear in a while. Just the thought that a few feet away from you is a killer and the only thing stopping you is a glass container that he has proven many times to be able to lift himself over, is enough to make your stomach lurch.

You won’t lie and say it’s uncommon to contain an alien that has kidnapped humans or killed them in the search of science. But, they never understood what they did was wrong. However, Experiment 337 has shown signs of understanding human’s speech, therefore he should have an understanding of the human moral. Does he just not care?

“Sweetheart, you look so adorable when you scrunch your face up from overthinking. But to calm your nerves, I was joking,” he sang out. He released his hold on the top of the container and floated down. His grayish blue muscular legs began to lightly move causing him to swim a little. He contains mobility in liquid, noted.

“You got nothing to worry about. The only person I want to strap down and have screaming is you.” His black eyes looked at you through the liquid and gave a swift wink. Heat started crawling up your neck to your face.

“Didn't moments ago you said you would ‘tone it down’?” You asked, turning to the computer to appear busy. There’s pros and cons to having an alien that can speak english and have them understand some phrases. Although, you didn’t think being flirted with or having a dirty mind would be one.

“Oh that was tone downed. What I wanted to say was I would love to have you lying underneath me with your legs spread as I-” You cut him out with a loud screech. He jumped before laughing at you.

“Okay, my apologies for complaining. I don’t mind sticking to the previous level,” you squeaked out, rubbing your cheeks to get them to calm down. Do you even put this down in the notes? How would you word that your alien has a libido?

You pulled up the notes on the computer and stared at it for a while. Then just typed it “Understands the human language, Appears to be in search of mate.” That’s the best you can do at the moment.

“I’ll give you a break. I know so much about the humans because you have all of it in the open. Stacks and stacks of books on languages, anatomy, how you interact, ways of thinking,history, etc. Then there’s also this system humans have called ‘The Internet’ where I can interact with humans in multiple ways without having to show my face. It was great practice,” he explained, rolling his top left wrist. His bottom set of arms were pushing against the base of the container to bounce through the water.

You were quick to write down what he was saying and highlight how he used the internet to communicate with humans. You never heard of an alien using Earth’s own resources to learn more about it. How many are out there that are using these resources at this very moment? How many people online are actually humans?

“So, have you just been studying just human?” You asked, turning toward him. He flipped himself around to sit on the base of the container. His legs folded on top of each other and surprisingly the muscles seem to fit together to allow for a smooth surface.

“Nah, not really. The animals on this planet are pretty cool,” he grumbled. His top right arm went to his chin slightly as if he was thinking for a moment. “Yeah, my favorite animal is the… the um… I forgot what you call it. Just look.”

Suddenly, a giant black smoke cloud exploded from Shark’s skin, covering all the liquid in the water. You couldn’t see a thing inside. The now black liquid only showed your worried and terrified expressions. Who knows what this specimen has in store?

“Tadaaa,” he yelled, somewhere in the black liquid. You moved around the container as you tried to see what he was and where he was. The blackness seems to be dissipating the longer you stared at it. However, even that wasn’t enough to see him.

“I can’t see you, Shark.” You were trying to call out to him, but he didn’t seem to be appearing. The liquid at this point was a murky grey that allowed you to see through with it. But the container was empty. Did he escape?

Oh gosh, what’s the protocol for an escaped experiment? You need to press the alarm button. No, you need to lock down the room so he can’t leave. Which one goes first?

“Human, babbbbeeeee,” a tiny voice called out to you. You looked around the container for anything. Grey, grey, grey, orange, grey, grey… wait.

In the upper corner, there was a tiny fish with shimmering orange and yellow scales all over. Tiny black eyes stared sideways at you. The fish seem happy to have your eyes on it because it started swimming around in circles.

“Shark? You can shrink to 1/50 of your height and 1/400 of your weight. How? That-that breaks all laws of physics,” you rambled in disbelief. He has too much mass for it all to just condense into a goldfish. He would collapse into himself due to the density.

“Once again. Yeah, and you can’t,” his now squeaky voice teased from inside of the water. You were quick to press your face to the glass of the container. Shark swam over until he was right in front of your face. “It’s not that hard.”

“I have the coolest experiment in this place,” you whispered. His body wasn’t showing any signs of distress or struggle with swimming. The gills on the side of his neck showed that he was still breathing just fine, telling you that he could transform his lungs to fit his changed body.

“And I have the hottest scientist in the entire universe who I am going to make mines.” It felt so weird to be flirted with by a tiny goldfish that you couldn’t even take his comment seriously. You wouldn’t mind all his flirty statements if it was delivered by a cute little goldfish.

“Let me document this. And I got to check your vitals,” You mumbled to yourself. The vital cords were still attached to him, but seem to have shrunk to accommodate his new form.

You pulled up the vitals recorded to see everything had changed. The oxygen level had dropped significantly and so had his heart rate. His body temperature was so much lower that anyone reading this would think he temporarily died.

“Shark, you amazed me,” you mumbled, scrolling through the documentation. Now you need to go back to the previous day to see if his reading has changed when he shifted into you. From the looks of things, he understands the organ system of the organism that he shifts into.

“But I haven’t even taken you to dinner yet and you already tell me how good I am.” You turned back to the container to see he had transformed back into his usual self. His giant six palms were pressed against the glass closest to you as he stared at the computer screen.

“Just take the compliment,” you teased. You flipped to your notes and began to type in everything that has happened. Shark swam a little closer and squinted his beady black eyes. Guess he was reading what you were writing.

“Appears to be in search of a mate?” He read out with a tone of confusion. Once again, you were in a state of cold sweat as you realized what he read. It just happened, but you were so in science bliss of him breaking physics that you forgot about his earlier statement.

“Just an assumption...based on the way you speak,” you stuttered, avoiding his look. A deep laugh escaped out of him. His grey body swam up again, so he was peeking out the top of the container.

“Sweetie, did you not hear me earlier? I’m going to make you mine. You are my mate. Okay, darling,” he purred, sending a swift wink. There’s that warmth crawling up your neck. How do you respond to this in a formal way?

A buzz in your ear alerted you for an incoming call. You pressed the ear piece with your shoulder to answer it. “Hey, it’s lunch time. Meet in the section Sub 4B in 20 minutes.”

“Everytime you get on that ear piece, you leave. I might just take it away from you, so you will never leave me.” You let out a laugh as you pressed the ear piece again to end the call. Even though you are a scientist that works with experiments, that doesn’t mean all your time is with them. It happens outside, where data is collected and talked about.

“I’m sorry. But you’ll go to sleep again, so you won’t even notice time has passed.” You slide the reading off the screen of the computer and pull up the medicine supplier. The code for the sleeping medicine was quickly placed in.

A huge frown came onto Shark’s face as he watched the blue liquid coming from the computer and towards him. He instinctively swam to the bottom and sat down. His back was placed against the side glass with his tail wrapped around him. The top and bottom set of arms were crossed over his knees while the middle set just floated down.

“See you later, Shark,” you whispered. His calm even breathing was the only response you got back. Leaning towards the glass, you gave it a little kiss. It was something dumb you did when he was unconscious and had to leave him.

You discarded your lab jacket in the waste bin and grabbed your things. As you exited, you gave one last glance at Shark’s sleeping form with a happy smile. You were so grateful to have him here at work.

“97 days left.”

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Here it is. You guys asked for it and I provided it. I’m actually starting to really love writing Shark’s character. It’s different from the usual soft boy that I write. I like it. Anyway, remember to leave a LIKE and a COMMENT. Hope you enjoy the rest of your day.

[fanfic-collection]

Loki x Reader: Apocalypse ch 6

Thanks for reading, please oh please like/comment/reblog

-

You tilted your head as you saw the defeated look on Loki’s face. “Oh, did I say something wrong?”

Loki looked away, “No, you’re fine, just.” He trailed off.

You leaned forward, spur of the moment and hugged him. “It’s so good to see you.”

“What?” Loki stiffened at the contact.

“I never thought I’d see you again after Tony’s, and the compound and just. You seemed better than what they made you out to be. You made a heroic sacrifice.”

For a moment Loki relaxed into your touch. “Oh.” His bloodied red eyes flickered in your direction. “I would say the same but.” He stopped.

You bit your lip, a shiver running through you at the cold. Slowly you nodded, your eyes scanning over the strange contraption on his neck. You were silent, wanting to reach out and touch it. Unbidden, your hand reached for it, sliding over the icy cold metal. It burned to touch through your gloves.

Loki pulled back, “Don’t.”

“What is it?”

“It’s best not to talk where wandering ears can hear.”

“Good point, let’s get to somewhere safe. Besides, it’s getting colder and later in the day. I can’t risk being out at dark, and you shouldn’t either. Without the sun, we’ll freeze to death in minutes.”

Loki chuckled, “I can assure you, I’ll be fine, but I appreciate the concern.”

You fought the urge to blurt out if it had something to do with his strange eyes, but you figured that was just some weird magic. Instead, you nodded and stood up, offering your hand to him.

Loki, touched the ground timidly, feeling for painful shards before pushing himself up.

You reached out and grabbed his arm, helping steady him. There was a brief moment where he scowled in your direction before he sighed and accepted your proffered hand. “Thank you.” Loki mumbled.

Nodding, you started to guide him slowly through the store and back the way you had come. You made sure to collect Loki’s daggers. One you gave to him, knowing he was more lethal with it than you, even without his sight and the other you kept in your hand. You watched for signs of the blue beasts as you trudged up the street. Somehow Loki seemed to float atop the snow, not sinking into it.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but toss admiring glances over your shoulder at Loki. Even with his hair mussed up from the fight, his body bent slightly in pain, and the bloodied face, he was as stunning as you remembered.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Loki muttered, breaking the eerie silence. Today there was no wind, just bitter cold.

“I know. I want to.”

“Why?”

“You made a great sacrifice for the people of Earth before the blip, you tried to save a lot of people. And the Avengers trusted you, Tony trusted you.” Your voice was muffled by your scarves.

Loki nodded, painfully, “I did. Why does it matter what Stark thinks?”

“Uh, did I mention he’s my, like, second cousin?”

Loki’s eyebrows rose, then he hissed in pain. “No, I don’t believe so. Is that why you were at the compound and his home?”

“Yea.”

“That doesn’t explain why you were so keen to be around me though.”

“I just wanted to get to know you. Is that so bad?”

“No one wants to know me without an ulterior motive.”

You blinked, nearly stumbling to a halt and causing Loki to walk into you. “What?”

Loki grunted, stumbling and righting himself as he gripped your coat. “What?”

“People don’t just, be your friend?”

“Can we move on? And will you stop staring it’s disconcerting.”

“I’m not staring.” You felt your cheeks heat up, “I’m just making sure you’re still nearby.”

“I’m sure you could tell by the fact that I’m holding your arm.” Loki smirked.

You jerked your chin, “Over there, that’s my building.”

Loki nodded, panting heavily. “Good. This body is weak.”

“You say that like it’s not your own.”

Loki clenched his jaw and with his free hand grabbed at the device on his neck. It only served to dig into his pale skin further.

“Please don’t, it looks like that hurts you.” You mumbled, glancing back again as you guided him nearer the building.

Opening and closing the door, behind the two of you, you stepped inside. The two of you made your way to your room and you stepped within, turning the heat up as high as you could, before looking around with a smile.

“Tah-dah!” You said, stretching your arms out happily.

Loki gazed blindly around the room, “It seems adequate.”

“Probably not what you’re used to.”

He shrugged, “It will suffice.”

“Here,” You guided him over to the bed and had him sit down. The sun was hitting the horizon outside and you were thankful you had made it into the safety of your home in time.

Slowly you stripped your outer layers of clothes, hanging them in the corner to let the gathered snow melt and dry for the next day’s excursion.

Loki sat stock still on the bed, back ramrod straight and you found yourself wondering what he was thinking. You ended up in a thick sweater and sweatpants with woolen socks, though you found you did not need your gloves today. It seemed the added person in the room was contributing enough heat to make you a bit warmer.

“Hey, do you have anything you want to change into…?” You trailed off realizing how dumb that sounded. Loki didn’t have a bag with him. Then again he was a sorcerer, maybe he could just magic some clothes.

Loki shut his eyes bitterly and dug his fingers into his knees. “All I have is this.”

“Well, my neighbor across the hall was your height, maybe we can scrounge up something from him. Let me go look.”

-

Moments’ later you were back, shivering, with a pile of the warmest clothes you could find in a hurry. As well as any necessities you thought a man Loki’s size and apparent age might appreciate, the creature comforts he might want. You dumped them on the bed.

“Did realize he was an ER tech. Or something with medicine. No wonder he was always coming home at weird hours.”

Loki lifted up a thick sweatshirt and soft black sweat pants. He shook his head irritably, “These are not fit for…” the words caught in his throat.

You sat down next to him and couldn’t stop the instinctive action of placing your hand on his thigh.

Loki stiffened at the contact.

You quickly pulled your hand away. “Sorry.” You squeaked.

Loki coughed, standing up and removing his cape. Then slowly he stripped his shirt.

You told yourself you were going to look away, you were going to give him privacy. But he just took his shirt off right in front of you.

For a moment you ogled his toned back muscles, hardened from years of dedication to his craft.

Then the moment was lost and you noticed the injuries.

“Loki.” You whispered, standing up and reaching out to touch his skin gently. A rare pale place that seemed free of bruises, cuts, scars, or other maladies.

Loki’s muscles rippled beneath your hand as he stiffened at your touch, a visible shiver running through him. Spinning around, Loki looked at you warily. “What?”

“These are fresh. Why didn’t you say the blue creature had injured you so? I didn’t know it was able to do that much damage to a god.”

“I’m not a god.” Loki spat bitterly, “I’m mortal.”

You had reached out to touch another cut still bleeding on his chest, causing Loki to hiss.

“Woman, do you always touch painful injuries, or do you make an exception for me?” He asked irritably.

You felt your cheeks flush, “Sorry.” Turning you reached for the first aid supplies your ER neighbor had kept at home. “Here, let me help.” There was anti bruising cream, sutures, and plenty of gauze. You cleaned each of the wounds as best you could, finding occasional shards of glass, rocks, or plaster in some of the deeper cuts and used tweezers to dig it out. Loki would wince from time to time at the deepest and largest pieces, but otherwise he remained mostly silent.

When you finally got to his face and his eyes, you poured warm water around them, cleaning the dried blood. “I wish I knew how to treat them.” You glanced down at the contraption on his neck, “and that thing.” You tugged on it gently.

Loki grunted, “Don’t, you’ll just dig it in worse.”

“What put that on you?”

“The Allfather, king of the nine realms.”

“Isn’t that… isn’t that your uh dad?”

“Adopted. But yes. Dear old dad.”

“That’s barbaric, you’re bleeding from it!”

Loki smiled sadly. “Indeed.”

You wrapped the gauze around his head, covering his eyes and figured it would soak up the last of the blood until it stopped, then you could remove it once again. After that, well you didn’t know what you’d do about him being unable to see. Given that Odin was part of the reason Loki was in such a predicament, you figured he wouldn’t kill you for letting his son go blind.

“Well, here.” You said after a quiet moment, helping Loki pull the hoodie on.

Loki’s red eyes stared in your direction forlornly when the hoodie was on and your hands had pulled away from him. Almost instinctually he had pulled toward you. But now, with the hoodie separating you, he shifted away once more.

“Loki?”

“Hm?” Loki hummed in response, shoulders hunched and placed his hands between his legs as he sat staring unseeing into the distance.

You wanted to ask him the last time he’d been touched, hugged, held, instead you asked, “When is the last time you slept?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Humans can’t go very long without sleep.”

“Neither can Asgardians, and yet I have often done so.”

You tilted your head curiously. “That’s not very healthy.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Throwing caution to the wind, you reached up and rubbed his shoulder blades, knowing that was one of the lesser injured places. At first he stiffened at your touch, but slowly he seemed to relax, warily. “What are you doing?” He finally asked after a few moments.

“It calms me.” You admitted truthfully. How long had you been by yourself? You were lonely, scared, on edge. The rhythmic circles lulled you. It would be better if he had done so to you, but you knew he needed them more.

Loki looked slightly to the side of you suspiciously. “Very well.”

“Remember at the tower?”

“It has been some time.”

“You’d be in your recovery bed resting. I’d bring whatever books I could find and read to you.”

Loki smiled fondly at the memory. “You had some peculiar choices.”

“I’m not the most well read person, I’ll be honest. But you did enjoy Shakespeare.”

Loki chuckled. Round and round your hand smoothed over the soft texture of the hoodie. “Yes, he could compete with the bards of Asgard.”

“You kept telling me I should try reading a real book. I wanted to flick your nose so bad, but you weren’t so bad, you just needed someone to listen to you.”

Loki chuckled, “Not so bad.” He stifled a yawn.

“And then I discovered you could do magic. Real, powerful magic. Dr. Strange could do magic, but he was only just learning, and without the Eye of Agammoto to cheat, he was stuck learning at a human pace and now, he was pathetically behind. He didn’t know what real power was.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

“It’s true! You could tell me what real magic looked like, tell me what a real sorcerer was capable of.”

Loki held out his hand and then sighed, a strangled cracking sound in his throat as he clenched his teeth.

“Loki, I didn’t mean it that way, I just. I wanted you to tell me about you. What fascinates you, what was the first book you read, when did you first ride a horse, fight a monster…?” Kiss someone… woah now where did that thought come from?

You pulled your turtleneck up to cover your cheeks.

Loki turned towards you. “You really want to know those things?”

You had stopped rubbing his back, “Yea. They sound interesting. Why not? You’re fascinating.”

“We spoke of this earlier, what do you gain?”

“Well, I hoped we were friends at the time, and I wouldn’t mind being friends now, if not allies, we’re both living in a dangerous world. I take it if you’re mortal, you’re not in Odin’s good graces and you could use someone to watch your back. I… I could do that.” You offered sheepishly.

You quailed under Loki’s blind gaze. He couldn’t physically see you, yet he could see into your soul now.

“Allies, friends?” Loki asked slowly.

You smiled at him. “Yes. And hey, maybe we can brainstorm ideas to get that nasty neck thing off you, in the morning though. I’m beat, I need to sleep.”

“Oh, right.” Loki stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“To give you privacy.”

“The bed is big enough for two, besides, it’ll be warmer if we’re both in it.” You couldn’t believe you were suggesting that.

Loki turned his head down at you. “Very well.” Sitting down, he slowly removed his boots and began to fumble with his trousers.

Your eyes widened as you realized he was going to change into the sweatpants you had procured for him. You dove under the covers on your side and scrunched your eyes shut. Breathing heavily as you tried not to picture what he might look like.

The bed indented on the other side as Loki climbed in next to you.

“Pet, are you hiding?” He asked curiously. You could hear the amusement in his voice.

“No. No.” You stammered, trying to strengthen your voice and keep the pitch from being so nervous.

“Very well. Sleep well then.” Loki grunted at the contraption as he rolled over and then lay still.

You lay on your back for hours, staring up at the ceiling. It was true the bed felt much warmer with him nearby, though you weren’t sure that was actually the shared body heat so much as…

You swallowed and risked a glance towards Loki’s sleeping form. His chest rose in deep even breaths. Watching it rise and fall you began to count, slowly, steadily, you too were lulled to sleep.

[akaashisbabygirl]

Words: 1817

Pairings: Ukai x reader

Warnings: characters are aged up, public, toys use – vibrating panties

A/n: woah, I was looking forward to writing this one, so I hope you all enjoy it too!! I hope you’re enjoying kinktober so far. I can’t believe that we’re nearly already nearly 20 days into it

A Saturday morning. The same Saturday morning as every other Saturday. Like always, you were to help your boyfriend with his store. You worked there every other day, taking care of the store from time to time when Ukai Keishin, your boyfriend, was out coaching the Karasuno High Volleyball team at the high school. You and Ukai met back in your high schools’ days, falling deeply in love with the setter of the boys’ volleyball team. Surprisingly, the two of you were one of those high school couples which actually lasted.

“Keishin,” you groaned, rolling over to meet your boyfriend, whose large figure was still tucked underneath the soft sheets of your bed.

“Keishin,” you began to shake him lightly in an attempt to wake him up.

“What is it, babe?” he groaned slightly, hands moving up to rub his eyes, trying to wake himself up.

“It’s nearly nine o’clock. We have to wake up and get ready to open the shop, babe,” you explained, sitting up in the bed, back now moving to rest against the headboard.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “Is it nearly nine am already?” he sighed, “I just wanna stay in bed with you and not move.”

“I would love that too, babe, but unfortunately, there are people who are expecting the store to be open today,” you rebutted.

“Why can’t you ask the others to open the store today? We’re not the only workers there, you know.”

“It’s a possibility, but today, Shimada-san is going to visit his nephews and nieces today and Takinoue-san is spending the day with his family. It would be rude to interrupt them and ask them to open the shop, especially when we’re free and have nothing to do.”

“Then why don’t we do something too, and just say that the store’s closed today.”

“Keishin! I’ve already told you; we can’t do that. I know that you’re tired and you don’t want to get out of bed, but you’re the owner of the store. But, if you really do not feel like going, I’m happy to go by myself. Though, I don’t think that’s such a good idea, especially with Sato-kun and Miyazaki-kun spending their times around the store. They might even try and hit on me again,” you sighed, but smirked to yourself, knowing that it was the perfect way to get Ukai to the store with you.

“As bossy as ever. Trying to guilt trip me into coming to work today with you… fine. But – that’s only because I don’t want those filthy students near you,” Ukai admitted.

He hated the idea of younger boys, or even any boy in general seeming interested in you. You are his and he is yours. Ukai wouldn’t ever let anyone try and come in between your relationship.

“I’m going for a shower,” you announced, pulling yourself from underneath the soft bedsheets, your feet meeting with the soft carpet floorboards.

Your body felt soft underneath the warm water of the shower. The water itself was enough to wake you up in the morning, your eyes beginning to relax to the soft sunlight which glowed in through the bathroom window. Slipping yourself from your relaxing shower, you wrapped the white bathroom towel around your wet body, walking back to the bedroom. Ukai wasn’t in the room, showing he was probably already dressed and grabbing something to eat.

A small smile spread across your face, seeing how a soft pink dress and a pair of matching panties and a bra had been left out on the bedsheets for you. Wiping your body with the towel, you slipped on the panties, as well as the matching bra, before slipping the light pink dress onto your body. You checked yourself out in the mirror, smiling lightly at the choice of clothing your boyfriend picked out for you. He always did cute things like that every once in a while.

“There you are,” he muttered as you walked out of the bedroom, smirking at the dress you wore.

“As horny as ever,” you joked, picking up your bag from the counter, grabbing a slice of toast which sat in Ukai’s plate.

“Hey! That was mine!” he argued, frowning.

“Well it’s mine now,” you teased, winking at him.

Ukai sighed, but with a smile on his face. He stood up from his seat, his hand now moving to wrap around your waist as he grabbed the car keys, “Let’s get going.”

The drive to the store wasn’t too far away, but not too close to the apartment the two of you shared. You flicked the light switch on, watching how the store suddenly lit up with bright lights.

“Alright, what’s there to be done?” you ask, setting your bag down in the small room at the back of the store.

“There are boxers over there with items which need to be put back onto the shelves.”

“Alright, I can do that,” you smiled, a soft, warm smile spreading across your face.

Lifting the smaller box in your hands, you moved to begin placing items on the shelves. Ukai moved to the front of the shop, switching the sign from saying closed to open.

Your boyfriend seated himself down on the small stool which was seated at the counter, flipping through one of the magazines as you continued to stock the shelves of the items that needed to be put up.

Not too long after, the shop got its first customer. The same old lady who liked to come in to buy some items she needed. You welcomed her with a small smile on your face as Ukai was lost in the news that was being spread through the magazine, even agreeing to help her if she needed it. The older lady kindly thanked you on her way out of the store.

“Are you just going to sit around all day and do nothing?” you stand in front of the register, arms folded in front of you as you stared at your boyfriend.

“I mean, I could? I did say I didn’t wanna be here,” he added.

“Keishin!”

“Okay, sorry, sorry, I’ll come help with the larger boxes,” he placed his arms up in a way of saying he surrendered. You chuckled, moving to the back room of the store to find another box of items that needed to be shelved. Ukai took a larger box, carrying it out to the isle the items were in, which, thankfully for him, was the same isle you were currently in.

For a small shop, it did need a lot of work. It attracted customers who lived in the area, as it was local and in a good spot for everyone to go to. The store pretty much sold everything people needed. It had cooking equipment, utensils, bathroom products, some medicines, food, even condoms, which Ukai loved to bring home after a long day of work and throw them down onto your shared bed as he tries to get you into the mood.

“You’re so lazy,” you commented, as you saw him slowly moving the bathroom items to the shelves.

“I’m not lazy. I’m just tired.”

“Maybe you’re tired because you wanted to go a couple extra rounds last night,” you teased.

Thankfully, after saying this, more people walked into the store. You were grateful they hadn’t walked in seconds earlier to hear the sexual comment you had just made to your boyfriend.

Ukai turned his head, smirking to himself as another customer made their way into the store. He reached his hand into his pocket, his thumb now ghosting over the small button on the remote that sat in his pocket.

Your body froze and legs began to tremble. small vibrations were pressed up around your womanhood, just nearing your clit, the spot where you were most sensitive.

“When did you have time to swap them…” you began, but suddenly remembered that Ukai was the one who picked out your clothes this morning.

“You son of a...”

“Hey, do be quiet now. You don’t want everyone to know what’s going on here, don’t you?” he asked, turning the level of the vibrator higher by one. His finger twisted your hair around his digit, “You don’t want everyone to know that your boyfriend swapped your regular panties with some vibrating ones. So, I suggest you be quiet.”

His voice was cold and commanding, which made you even weaker. It was the same tone he used in the bedroom, whenever he was to take full control over you.

“I-I think I gotta sit down,” you said, as you felt your panties become damper.

“Alright, suit yourself babe,” Ukai chuckled, “I’ll continue stocking these to the shelves.”

You tried as quickly as you could to stumble yourself over to the counter, sitting yourself down on the small stool.

A few hours had passed. The vibrations had stopped every once in a while, only to start back up again whenever a customer got too close, or when you weren’t doing anything. Thankfully, Ukai had kept a phone charger at the store. It was next to impossible to stand up, not with the way your slick had dripped from your panties and onto the seat below. There were even times when everyone had left the store, Ukai had turned the level of the vibrator up to its highest setting, having you climax on the chair below.

The end of the day was nearing, majority of the day had been spent sitting on that chair, your cum and arousal staining it. Ukai walked over to you, about thirty minutes left until the shop was to close up for the day.

“Can’t we just close up earlier today?” you asked, a soft whine leaving your lips.

Ukai could only chuckle, “Oh, babe. You were the one trying to get me to come here this morning, and here you are wanting to leave so soon?” he teased.

“Keishin… please,” you tried begging.

“No can do babe. We have to stay until closing time.”

Ukai moved to press a kiss onto your lips as he saw another customer walk into the store, “I’ll be back soon. This last customer, alright?”

“Keishin… can I please sit in the back room?” you asked, not wanting to stay in the eye view of the customers.

“This. Last. Customer,” his voice was harsh, his dark coloured eyes staring down at your shaking body, “How many times have you cum?”

“S-Six…”

“Only six?”

“Y-Yes, Keishin.”

You felt the feeling of the vibrator slight to die down, until it was no more.

He had turned it off.

“K-Keishin… it’s off?” you stated, wondering if he knew that small detail or not.

“I know it is, babe. I have to make sure you’re okay. After all, we’re going to have some fun when we get home. I can’t have you passing out on me now.”

[buddiewho]

@buckleysjareau saw your post 

I vied between Eddie being an absolute 'weak' butt-head who complains about virtually everything wrong with him, but then I figured he's also the one to be like no no I'm fine- he is a parent after all so some of that suck it up nature probably comes with being like no, no, I do not have a cold, I can’t. I don't need help. Buck freaks out, but not necessarily like he did with Bobby. He doesn't interrogate Eddie [the sort of gravitation they have and it just happens that the other will take care of the other], but I still think the Buddie dynamic has a combo of cheekiness and sassy things being said. Also, I couldn’t write it without Christopher. So this begs the question? Is this fluffy? Is it angst? Do we have enough comfort?: 

Eddie started coughing and Buck looked over at him. Concern pierced his eyes. Eddie shook his hands. "It's nothing," he said as he closed his locker. "It'll go away." The rest of the shift, Buck didn't take his eyes off Eddie. That wasn't unusual but this time he was watching just a little more attentively.

-- "Here," Buck placed a mug in front of Eddie. "It's honey tea. Might help with the cough." Eddie snickered.

"Tea," he mused and took a sip. He had to admit it was soothing. The end of their shift was nearing and the tea wasn't a miracle cure, obviously. Eddie's voice cracked as he tried to say, "S-ee," he cleared his throat, "you later, Buck."

"Whoa, that's one hell of a scratchy throat. Sure, you're not catching a cold or something?"

"I'll be fine," Eddie reassured him.

The next morning Eddie Diaz couldn't get out of bed. His body was sore and his throat did hurt like a bitch, but he still had to attempt rolling out of it for Christopher. Little did he know, Christopher had already woken himself up and even made breakfast.

"I almost called 911, because you were hard to wake up, but I knew you were still breathing," Chris said from the kitchen table. He proudly sat eating a bowl of cereal.

"Glad you didn't buddy." Eddie coughed. "Does this Hildy thing make tea?" He murmured.

"It makes hot water," a voice said as it appeared in the kitchen. "So just brew some hot water and put a tea packet in your cup." (OOC: ooh Oliver Stark's and every British heart is probably like eek, you Americans and now we’re back)...

”What are you doing here, Buck?” Eddie asked him.  "I let myself in just now. I was worried. And if you're feeling sick, you're going to rest up. Me and Christopher can hang out today too." Buck smiled at Chris, who gave him the biggest grin possible.

"Tell me why we exchanged keys again. I'm starting to regret that."

"No, you're not," Buck countered Eddie. "So what's the diagnosis?"

"I woke up sore, my throat hurts. So far nothing else."

"You keep talking like that and you're going to jinx it." Buck knocked on some wood.

"Whatever, Buck. Let me make this hot water." Buck and Chris watched as Eddie had his usual screaming match with the new coffee machine. When he successfully got it to work he turned and shrugged. "What? I still hate this thing."

__

That afternoon didn't go over so well for Eddie Diaz. His nose started stuffing up and the coughing was just atrocious. "That's it!" Buck exclaimed from his spot on the couch. "Get up!" He stood and gestured for Eddie to stand up. Christopher sat between them and he just laughed.

"It's not funny," his Dad commented. Chris just laughed as he watched Buck lead his Dad down the hall towards his room.

"Get into that bed and please don't make me put you in it."

"Come on, Buck. I'm fine." "Oh, okay, so you're going to make me." Eddie rolled his eyes. "You asked for it." So Buck proceeded to fireman lift Eddie and gently toss him onto his bed. "Rest a bit. I'm going to the store with Chris to get you a pharmacy." __

Eddie dozed off pretty easily. He won't lie. It was pretty easy. His body was still feeling sore, his head starting to feel like a balloon. Yes, it came pretty easy. He woke to yelling noises. That damn video game. Eddie jumped from the bed and dragged himself down the hall. Apparently, it wasn't the video game. It was Battleship at the dining table. "We're still doing it old school?" Buck laughed at Eddie's groggy voice.

"I found it tucked in his closet." "Hmm," Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know we had it. Who is winning?" Eddie remained hovering over Buck's shoulder.

"Me of course, Dad." Buck looked up at Eddie. "Yeah, Dad. Duh."

Eddie leans closer to Buck and whispers, "You know one day he'll figure out you're letting him win and he might be a little pissed."

"Have you taken any medicine yet? I left it by the night stand." Buck’s face suddenly felt very close and Eddie stood, stumbling back. 

"Nice change of subject. But no, I haven't." "Then what are you waiting for?" "You have an interesting way of taking care of sick people Buck. In fact, you’re barely doing anything for me but somehow you’re always right there.” He gestured to the lack of space between them for Eddie just noticed he hadn’t stumbled too far back. 

"Do I have to do everything? Your legs still work, right? I'll get you some water, make some food if you want,” Buck stood up and he was once again close; really tempting that whole ‘I won’t get sick from you’ thing. Christopher spoke up, breaking Eddie’s thoughts. 

"My Dad can't cook." "As my son always likes to remind me...so sure Buck what's for lunch?" Eddie took his chair.  "Let me see what you've got in the kitchen."

__

"What's a BLT?" Chris incredulously asked. "It's just a sandwich with bacon, lettuce and tomato, sometimes mayo," Buck gently explained.

"Gotta admit, it was satisfying," Eddie polished off the last bit of his sandwich. Chris was still picking at his wondering if he should complain, but every bit of him didn't want to. "Chris, you don't have to eat it." His Dad saved him the trouble.

"Cool, can I have peanut butter and jelly instead?"

"Coming right up," Buck jumped from the table before Eddie could.

"You know," Eddie coughed a little. "I'm just going to be sick more often. You can stick around to help out with these things, Buck."

Buck turned and gave him a look. "So now I’m suddenly good enough?"

"Maybe," Eddie joked. __

A few days later and they had the same shift again and they were standing at the lockers. "So how are you feeling?"

"Better. Christopher is now obsessed with Battleship, but I think it's like his legos. He enjoys putting the pegs into the board."

Buck smiled. "You wanted it old school."

"Yeah, that was like weeks ago." "I didn't feel like playing the video game. Wanted to do something different so we ransacked his room while you were resting."

"Thanks for coming over Buck," Eddie suddenly blurted out as he closed his locker.

"Maybe there is a reason we gave each other keys. You know, for moments like this." Buck said it so nonchalantly, so innocently. Eddie watched Buck walk away and he sighed. "Yeah, for moments like this Buck. That's right."