#the noise and the germs :// not into it

[mischievouslittlecreature]

I'm coming up on loosing 2 weeks of being able to write because I feel so fucking awful and stressed. All I want to do is write, but I literally am unable to focus enough to be able to when I feel sick.

Sorry. I feel like all I've done on here lately is complain.

[watermelinoe]

Honestly, same here when it comes to kids. I’m very good with them, and a lot of kids I know like me and are quite attached to me. My area of work involves a lot of work with and for kids, and I find it very important and giving to make kids’ life’s better and give them the help/resources they need (especially due to my own experiences as a kid). Personally, though, I’m at best indifferent when it comes to kids in general, and do not want kids of my own as I think they’re too much of a hassle. I often have people tell me I must be lying when I say I don’t like kids, which is like ??? I don’t have to like kids to be nice to them, or want what’s best for them?

no one hates children and treats them worse than their own caregivers but we have to hear abt how sociopathic we are bc we don't feel womb pangs whenever a baby cries or whatever the fuck

[blackstarchanx3new]

The only solace in this over stimulated HELL is that I got more videos done.

But doesn't make me wanna bite off someone's face any less.

[threemoonwatchers]

This was on my last account but

Aithusa leaving muddy talonprints a la Blue’s Clues on everything that has any remote relation to Merlin whenever Morgana goes on a rant about tryna find Emrys

[riftwalker-limbro]

in the World of Warframe there's humans (or. adjacent) on pretty much all the planets, right? there's bases of grineer, corpus, presumably at one point of orokin, pretty much everywhere

and there's the difference of a closed-off, controlled base (ships, gas planet bases) versus one built on a planet that's like. tolerable (venus, earth, mars - the rocky boys. it's been too long since i've been to mercury perhaps that one too)

so wouldn't it be fun if there was like. a difference in the immune systems of people who were raised in completely controlled environments. versus those who were raised somewhere where there are uncontrolled spaces where. oh i don't know. germs and such could flourish

jupiter-born-and-raised jay would have SUCH a time adapting to rocky deimos is all i'm saying. yes it IS tiny enough to have (require) climate control like a ship. no it's IMPOSSIBLE to control All the rocky nooks and crannies. also that's a uni planetoid you're not telling me those snotty students aren't importing their germs from all over the solar system

pule who's from venus is torn between laughing his ass off at jay's third cold that month and being Genuinely Concerned (he does both. he hands poor jay the hot chicken soup Before he loses his shit)

[sp1rit-realm]

who decided that we should celebrate our freedom and celebrate our war vets (most of which are traumatized from said wars) by shooting off loud explosives?

[rulesforthedance]

I've only been sick once since the start of the pandemic (a cold in 2021) (I <3 masks 4ever) but I've had several times when I've felt like I was starting to get sick and was like "oh shit covid has finally come for me" and each time it went away before it became more than a Hint of Something. But last night my left under-jaw lymph node got so swollen it hurt, which is historically a reliable precursor to me being sick, and I also felt generally Off, and I was like. This is it for real this time, here we go. But I got extra sleep last night and woke up this morning feeling fine and with the swelling almost gone. Something brought the fight to my door and I kicked its ass

[straightlightyagami]

[image description: tags by james-town reading “#cellos #I was a very small child and always worried I would get trapped inside #and that like my mournful screams would become the music from the cello. or whatever”]

what is the lamest thing that ever genuinely scared you like either as a kid or adult. i got scared of those halloween cartoon scooby doo ass eye stickers ppl put on mirrors when i was 9 and screamed so hard i fainted

[starway7]

Sometimes you find out that other people like cold pillows and the feeling of sneezing. Sometimes you're the psychopath who's fine with losing a sneeze and enjoys a warm pillow.

[synthetickitsune]

svt ot13 + when you're sick

Seungcheol ❧ This is why he drives an expensive car. The engine can barely be heard, and so at least Seungcheol doesn’t worry (so much) about the noise disturbing you. He steals a glance at your picture on his phone screen. You look miserable, tired, even as you’re sleeping. He can faintly make out the steady rise and fall of your chest. He takes a turn when the navigation tells him to, and he hopes the info online was correct and the pharmacy is still open. If you weren’t so sick he’d scold you about not being more careful about running out of medicine, but for now he will settle on restocking them for you. He takes another look at you, catching the exact moment you open your eyes and call his name. He reassures you he’s still there, just parking the car. Seungcheol takes the phone with him to the store that’s thankfully indeed open. He ignores your weak cries of embarrassed protest when he asks the person behind the counter how high does a temperature need to be to warrant a visit to the ER.

Jeonghan ❧ Your eyes water behind your closed eyelids and you want it to be just because of the headache, you will say it is because of it. Jeonghan will believe you anyway, even though you doubt he’d laugh right now even if he knew it might actually be because of the tender way he’s stroking your hair, your head held safely to his chest, and his soft voice quietly cooing praises and reassurances to you. You were pushing him away until you couldn’t anymore. He insists he’s always sick anyway, so it doesn’t matter. His arm is starting to get sore, but he won’t stop for as long as the action brings you comfort. In his head he keeps a checklist with no deadline in particular. He needs to make sure you eat, he needs to get some water in you too, he should get you to tell him everything that’s wrong. But that can wait until the painkillers kick in. Jeonghan knows you tried to be strong, and he’s proud - as he told you many times - but he’s prouder that you let him help. He kisses the top of your head and checks in with you. The silence is enough to tell him to keep going. So he does with a small smile.

Joshua ❧ No matter how many times you tell him that your condition isn’t so bad you’d need constant supervision, Joshua has none of it. He will make short trips outside your bedroom if necessary but otherwise he’s staying. You need him, he insists. You’re vulnerable and need his protection. He playfully punches the air that made you sick. Then he protectively squeezes you to his chest when your body is wrecked with chills. And he will take your approval of that as a sign he should continue with the silliness. He pretends to sneeze at you - to scare your germs away, he says. He reminds you that he’s at your beck and call. Ready to make you something to eat, ready to give you the medicine, always willing to provide cuddles and kisses. He will even softly sing to you if you need help falling asleep. Although for now it seems you’re happy enough to sleepily watch him and listen to his soothing voice. It makes Joshua's chest tight, the way you trust him, how lovingly you watch him, how you seem to thrive just because he’s near. Compared to when he spoke to you on the phone… Yeah, he’s not leaving the bedroom until you’re well.

Jun ❧ Jun is stubborn. You can insist, you can threaten him, you can plead with him to leave before he gets sick too but he won’t. He’s going to nurse you back to health just like you’d do for him. He wants to show off how well he can care for you - like cook you delicious meals. Only the nausea makes it hard to enjoy them. Again, though, he is stubborn and he will figure it out. There are other ways he can prove himself to be the best boyfriend. He can tell you’re as disappointed as he is that his cooking isn’t helping, but cheering you up is his other specialty. Never in his life did he expect he���d wake up his partner for food and pills by meowing in their face, but here he is. And if it gets you to move, to smile, to kiss his cheek, he’ll keep doing it. He doesn’t act cute too often for you, which makes these moments rare. It makes him shy, but it brings life back into your eyes. If you’re so tired and incoherent that you can only have full conversation in the cat language with Jun, so be it. His heart might be a little closer to bursting with every soft meow from your lips, but he’s stubborn. He’ll make it until you’re healthy.

Soonyoung ❧ You smile through the pain, fondly. Soonyoung is trying to be quiet but you’re too sensitive right now. He lists off all your symptoms to his mother on the phone and asks what could help. He asks for recipes, tips. You might be hyperaware of every sound, but you do end up falling asleep, his voice a distant lullaby. When you wake up, there’s a bowl of fruit cut into small pieces and small piles of various pills - medicine and vitamins, your boyfriend explains, hugging you tightly. He asks if you feel like eating, and then encourages you to try the fruit anyway. He starts telling you a story, but only continues for every little piece you eat. His joy at his idea working as he imagined makes you smile too. He goes through all of his mother’s suggestions at once. There’s a bag of frozen veggies on your forehead and more, making you look ridiculous. Some of it is working, some of it not. Soonyoung is trying to cook though, so that’s far more concerning. Love only does so much for a meal. When he asks if you think delivery will work as well as a home-cooked meal, you reassure him any healing you do will be thanks to the fruit he cut for you. 

Wonwoo ❧ He closes the blinds and pulls the curtains closed as well. Despite the midday sun’s best attempts, the room is dark. Wonwoo returns your smile, but still checks if there’s anything more he can do. He pushes the hair away from your face and pulls the blanket all the way to your chin. A pointless action, really, when you just sneak your hand out to hold his. He must admit you’re quite cute when the sickness makes you this needy. He expects you to ask him to stay when everything is prepared and he has yet to decide if he’ll agree straight away or tease you first. His own necessities are ready - his phone, book, console, anything he might need to entertain himself while he keeps you company and serves as your personal heater. He puts the medicine, already separated into individual doses, and water on the bedside table. He’ll order food later, having already learned the hard way you feel better with him close instead of trying to burn down the kitchen. You’re already half asleep when Wonwoo brings some snacks, so it makes the choice easy when you reach for him - silently he stays.

Jihoon ❧ It’s not the first time he’s grateful to be used to sleep deprivation, but it might be the first time he doesn’t feel any bitterness towards the fact. This once, Jihoon only feels bitter towards the AC in your office and the frailty of the human body. He can’t make out your face in the complete darkness, but the dark bags under your reddish eyes and the lethargy so unlike you haunt him still. His hand moves with your every raspy breath, following the movement of your chest. His legs have gone numb a long time ago, but he refuses to get up from the floor. If you turn away, then he’ll consider getting on the bed, but for the time being, he needs to stay here. If you wake up and want to hold his hand, he needs to be ready. If you’re too weak and too in pain to wait until the morning for the medicine, he needs to be ready. You stir in your sleep and he isn’t ready for the pained noise you make, your sleep disturbed by discomfort. So Jihoon starts humming a slow, comforting melody. It must be an instinct that your body relaxes immediately.

Minghao ❧ It’s nothing short of a herculean task to keep you in bed, especially when you’re sticky with sweat and feel like you’re boiling alive. The only thing that helps, Minghao discovered, is his voice. So he reads to you. He needs to keep at it at least until the latest dose of pills starts working. You squirm and whimper much less, reassured by his soothing presence. His voice is calm; his whole demeanor is. It’s not like he needs to freak out for you to know he’s worried. First he helps you feel more comfortable by gently cleaning your face with a cold wet towel. Then you gladly snuggle into his side. He holds the book open with one hand and the other he uses to gently massage your sore shoulder. You groan softly whenever he applies more pressure. You insist it helps though, and seeing as you like to lay on your side, he’s glad to help to make it bearable. He’ll continue until the fever subsides and the pain eases with it. He knows you’ll ask him to continue reading to you even then, and maybe he will if you’re good.

Mingyu ❧ His lips are better and more reliable than any thermometer. Mingyu can tell by a forehead kiss alone that you’re a bit feverish, and pouts when you don’t trust him. Like a machine would know your body better than him. When you wake up, it’s morning already. You don’t remember falling asleep, but you’re drenched with cold sweat and near delirious with fever. Your boyfriend diligently helps you sit up and take the medicine he has prepared already - after forcing you to eat a few crackers so the medicine doesn’t upset your stomach. He calls your boss for you after making sure you’re asleep again, having already turned off your alarm. He opens the window and cuddles you under the blanket to make up for the cold air. He knows you won’t like it, so he tries to make up for the necessary evil. He will clean up later when your sleep is deeper - he doesn’t want you to feel like you’re behind on chores. Every bitterness he makes up for with sweetness, anything you crave. His arms are opened for you, his lips always available. Mingyu isn’t afraid of getting sick himself if it means being there for you.

Seokmin ❧ He’s at a loss for words, so he just smiles and nods. You don’t seem to mind, babbling on, sulkily, about why urchins would be cute pets, about the little hats you’d put on them. Seokmin knows better than to argue with you when you’re sick. The last thing he wants to do is to make you upset. He suggests a miniature of his whale hat and he finally gets to see you smile. You squirm in excitement at finally being heard, so he has to remind you to stay still. Your nose is all red and cracked, rubbed raw by the dozens of tissues. He helps you apply lotion on it now that it seems like your nose stopped running. You finally settle when he promises he’ll figure out a way to get all the small hats you came up with, even though you’ll forget about your great plans for your army of urchins once you take a nap. He’ll write it down later, however, to laugh about it with you when you’re feeling well again. The list is ever growing. Naming your future pets misspelled names of his friends. Deep frying ice cream… Maybe he’ll try that one with you as a celebration when you beat the sickness.

Seungkwan ❧ He tsks again and immediately follows up with an apology in a much softer tone when you wince in pain. Seungkwan might have underestimated how sick you were and now he blames himself for it, but then again you sounded fine on the phone. You’re anything but fine, actually, and he drops the spoon back into the bowl in defeat. The silver lining is that all the three meals you can hold down are simple enough for him to prepare. What’s worse is that you’re eating nowhere near enough to get your strength back. He pleads with you for just five more spoons, just that. You look like he’s forcing the food down your throat. Four and the vitamins, then. It’s a tough bargain, but he wins eventually. For every spoon he makes sure to kiss and praise you, slipping the vitamin pills one by one on the top of each bite to be efficient. You seem like you’ll fall right asleep once he lets you lie down. He still isn’t satisfied with you not finishing your meal, but he knows you’re trying. Seungkwan remains sitting on the bed, watching over you until you wake up.

Vernon ❧ Nothing really makes sense but Vernon’s voice. The world must be spinning at a breakneck speed, but you’re well anchored with your head on his lap. He knew it was bad when you asked if he could stay somewhere else, and so he’s glad he came. Just like anything else, getting better is a process made easy if you follow instructions, and he will make sure you do. He keeps track of it for you, because he isn’t even sure if you realize it’s been hours since he came and it’s already dark outside. And you’re not complaining that you don’t understand what he’s saying at all - which he does on purpose to test you. So he asks you a trick question, you’d pick the bear over me right?, and laughs when you happily hum a yes. Maybe he should take some videos of you to laugh at later. You’d appreciate it you too, he thinks. But he really can’t when you look so pathetic, curled to stay as close to him as you can. Vernon is really fine with it even if it’s inconvenient. Even if you don’t really listen to him. It helps him sort out the mess in his head to just keep rambling. If you overhear and remember, that’s also fine. Everything is okay if it’s you.

Chan ❧ It’s not funny when you tell him that the flowers look half-dead just like you. Not funny at all, and he reminds you that you’re just suffering from a bad cold - you’re not dying. You muster your remaining strength to smile and reassure him that indeed, you’ll be fine. He puts the flowers next to your bed. They no longer carry scent so they don’t overwhelm your senses and you know that’s what Chan was going for. Despite your joke, they’re still very beautiful. You thank him for them when he comes back with soup, feeding you spoon after spoon while doing his best to pretend like you’re on a first date, getting to know each other. The fever makes it easier to fall for the illusion, but you know the love is real. Acting like he’s pulling out a box of chocolates, Chan pops the medicine into your hand. He treats tucking you in after you take them like you’re parting in front of your door, settling for a chaste kiss to your forehead. He stays until you fall asleep, as if waiting for you to disappear into the safety of your home.

[megumiluvv]

These next three days are going to be hell. That’s what Toji tells himself at least. You just left on a trip to your family to celebrate your father’s birthday, and Toji didn’t want to go (your father isn’t fond of him), so you left him to watch Megumi.

That means no work, no going to hang out with Shiu, and no gambling, unless he brings the kid. But he doesn’t want to bring Megumi, imagine the looks he’d get! Baby carrier around his body to press the kid against him and keep him close, backpack of baby supplies on his back, he’d be pretty easy to detect while working, and everyone would stare in public!

The first day, he tries just staying in, but to his dread, he forgot to buy formula when shopping, so he has to go to the store. He has to search for a how-to on the baby wrap carrier, and stares at himself for a moment. He thinks he looks funny. A scary man with a dumb-looking baby (Megumi looks just like he did as a baby).

He gets to the store and walks to the baby aisle, grabbing the formula and a spare bottle since he doesn’t remember if one is clean yet. He gets looks from other moms in the aisle and glares at them, daring them to say something.

Toji stops to look at clothes, refusing to admit to himself that he softened up a bit imagining Megumi in the cute little outfits. A blue shirt with bunnies on it, matching shorts attached, and a little hat to keep his head warm. A green onesie with a hood to make the baby a dinosaur. A white shirt with two dogs cuddling, cargo shorts to match. A blue onesie with sharks.

He can’t keep his eyes off of them, so he grabs one of each in Megumi’s size, and one of each in a larger size just in case the baby grows too fast. He double checks that he got what he originally came for, then goes to the self checkout.

When he gets home, he feeds the now-fussy kid, and changes his diaper. He looks at the outfit with bunnies, and puts it on the boy.

“Smile for mommy,” Toji says, only because the kid won’t remember and you’re not around to catch it. He photographs the baby and sends it to you, smirking as you heart the image.

“Guess she found a new lock screen, kiddo. I did good.” He decides to call Shiu over and watch some sports game to somewhat gamble without exposing the kid to smokers and drinkers, as well as loud noises and germs.

“Okay, if they lose, I’ll take that stupid job next week.”

“And if my team loses?” Shiu smirks at the sight of Toji holding Megumi so gently.

“You have to babysit unpaid for the next five times.”

“Deal.”

Toji’s team won, much to Shiu’s dismay, and the two say their goodbyes and Shiu leaves. Toji puts Megumi to bed and lays down. It’s oddly quiet without you. He hasn’t had this silence in so long. He decides to ignore it and sleep.

The next two days are pretty uneventful, he doesn’t go out much, not out of embarrassment anymore, but he’s convinced Megumi will get sick.

You come home in the early hours of the morning, Toji’s loud snores bring your eyes to the couch, your son on his chest, sleeping just like his father. You grin and notice how the house isn’t a mess. Dishes are done, laundry put away, is that a new outfit on Megumi? You smile more. You knew Toji could do it.

Masterlist

[gayemoji]

slimepilling tumblr users one day at a time

feel like all of tumblr needs to watch this 5min yard clip

[00:51:53]

[0o-junebug-o0]

MORE AUTISTIC FEM! READER X SPENCER PLEASEEEE maybe her getting overstimulated at a bar with the team? or at the store? i neeeeddddd more of them!!

Bad Time at the Bar

here you go!! tho it's gn!reader bc gender didn't really come up, hope you don't mind!

genre: hurt/comfort

cw: autistic!reader, explicitly autistic spencer reid, overstimulation (and not the fun kind), meltdown (which reads a lot like a panic attack bc that's what my meltdowns are like), kinda self harm (hitting) and chewing lip until bleeding), internalized ableism and autism viewed in a negative light (spencer talks to reader about it and provides reassurance), completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all)

wordcount: 1.3k

There are too many people. The smell of sweat and alcohol hangs heavy in the air and burns your nose. The room is saturated with noise. Drinks clinking on tables, music playing, people talking. Your head pounds and you regret not bringing your headphones. You thought you’d be fine. You’ve never needed them when at the bar with the team in the past. Someone bumps into you and the unexpected contact causes panic to build in your chest. There’s not enough room. Everything feels like it’s closing in on you.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, gripping your bottle of beer so hard you’re surprised the glass doesn’t shatter. You chew on the inside of your lip until you taste blood, but it does nothing to soothe your quickly growing panic. 

You look around frantically, your eyes so wide you feel like they’re about to burst from your skull. Finally, you spot Spencer. He’s gathered around a table with Derek and some strangers, talking animatedly about something. You stagger forward, nearly tripping over your own feet as you try to reach him. People slam into your shoulders and chest and you can feel the burn of tears welling in your eyes. The tears cause the already painfully bright lights to reflect directly into your eyes so you blink hard and wipe them away.

Your whole body shakes and you desperately want to raise your hands to cover your ears but you’re still holding your drink and there’s not enough room and it’s embarrassing. You can feel your heart pounding throughout your body and your limbs feel like they’re going numb.

By some miracle, you manage to reach Spencer. You stumble toward him, reaching out and clinging to his arm. He startles and turns to look at you. Immediately, concern rushes over his face and he takes your drink and passes it to Derek before gently grabbing your hand. As quickly as he’s able, Spencer guides you through the bar toward an exit, using his own body to force people aside and away from you despite his dislike of germs. 

He holds open the back door and you practically fall into the alley. The door closes and immediately the smells, lights, and sounds lessen. You sink to the ground, pressing your hands against your ears now that there is no one but Spencer to see you. You curl your knees to your chest and stare with wide eyes at the ground. Each breath you take is a rasping, heaving mess, and a distressed groan forces itself from your throat with each exhale.

You feel like you’re dying.

Spencer crouches down beside you, sitting with his legs crossed and leaning against the wall, and you immediately press your body into his. You curl your legs beneath you and lean awkwardly in a way that hunches your back and presses your forehead into his knee. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can feel the way your tears soak his pants.

Spencer drapes himself over your back, using his body to provide the grounding pressure he’s learned you need in times like this. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes tightly. You let out a broken sob and slam the heel of your palm into the side of your head.

“Hey, hey,” Spencer mutters, gently taking a hold of your wrist. 

You shake your head. You need to hit. You need it. And there’s no way to redirect.

Spencer releases your hand and you move it to thump it against your chest.

“Okay, that’s better than your head,” Spencer says to himself. He squeezes your body in intervals and the varying pressure helps ground you. Slowly your sobs lessen to sniffles and hiccuping breaths and the hand hitting your chest falls limp against Spencer’s leg. 

“You’re okay,” Spencer mutters, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. “You’re going to be alright.”

You sniffle and move your head to press it against his stomach. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says softly. You can hear the love and care in his voice. “You feeling a bit better?”

You hum and nod against him.

“Do you need some more time, or do you want to go home?” he asks, keeping his body pressing against yours in case you still need the pressure.

You tap his leg twice.

“Home?” he asks sweetly.

You nod, and Spencer sits back. The sudden lack of pressure makes your body feel weird, and part of you wants to drag him back down. You decide against it, knowing that you’ll get used to it quickly and that Spencer will hold you again when you get home.

Spencer carefully guides you to your feet and, keeping an arm wrapped around you, leads you out of the alley and down the street to his car. He opens the passenger side door and you climb in. 

“Will you be okay for a minute or two while I run back in to grab our stuff from JJ?” Spencer asks.

You nod and do your best to smile at him. Spencer smiles back and closes the door. He locks the car and jogs back toward the bar. 

You sigh and wrap your hands around your stomach. Guilt and embarrassment coil painfully in your chest. You can’t believe that just happened. You should have been fine. Why this time? Why the one time you didn’t bring your headphones? You groan in frustration. Why couldn’t you just be normal? And Spencer. You feel so guilty for dragging him away from the rest of the team and the fun he was having to deal with you.

There’s a soft click as the doors unlock, then Spencer opens the driver's side door and climbs inside. You keep your head bowed as he closes the door and reaches into the backseat to set down both of your stuff. 

You see him still out of the corner of your eye, and he rests his hand gently on your shoulder. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asks.

“I–I’m sorry,” you mutter weakly.

“For what, sweetheart?”

“For this! For everything!” you cry. “You–you were having fun and I ruined it! You shouldn’t have to deal with this!”

Spencer says your name softly and, when you don’t respond, he whispers, “Please look at me.”

You slowly raise your head, wiping away the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t care what it is I’m doing, if you’re upset or need help, I will always drop everything to be there for you. And it’s not ‘dealing with you’, baby. We’re partners. It’s our job to take care of each other. You can’t control when you get overstimulated or have a meltdown.”

“But I could have!” you insist. “I didn’t bring my headphones because I thought I’d be fine like every other time and then I wasn’t! It’s my fault I freaked out like this. I should be able to handle it.”

“There is no ‘should’. Having a meltdown will never be your fault. And I know you know that, because you would never think these things about me when I have a meltdown.”

Your jaw drops. “Of-of course not!” you stutter, taken aback.

“Then why is it different for you?” Spencer asks. “Why is your autism bad but mine isn’t?”

You open and close your mouth for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Spencer doesn’t speak.

“I–I don’t know,” you eventually admit.

“It’s because it isn’t bad. I understand why you might feel that way or why you feel guilty about making me deal with it, as you say. But I help you because I love you and care about you and because I want to. Just like you help me because you love and care about me and want you. And I will always choose to help you and be there for you, no matter what, no matter how ashamed you may feel. Okay?”

Your chin wobbles, and soon tears are streaming down your face as you let out a wailing sob.

Spencer leans over the armrest to hug you, neither of you caring about the awkward angle. 

You pull back and wipe at your eyes. “C-can we go home, now?” you ask weakly.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Spencer says kindly.

“And then cuddles?”

“Always.”

_____

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Taglist!: fill out this form if you want to be tagged when I post fics

@daryls-crossbow16 @roboticsuccubus83 @dorcas4meadowes @spenciesslut @pleasantwitchgarden @angeliccss @moonysreid @dead-universe @starlighta @eliscannotdance @written-in-the-stars @khxna

[pathologicalreid]

so I’m basic and love a good sick fic. can I request a fluffy sick fic where Spencer takes care of reader 🥰

heatmiser | S.R.

who? spencer x gn!reader category: fluff; hurt/comfort content warnings: germs, the flu, fever, migraine, nausea/vomit, a christmas movie, medicine (tylenol) word count: 1.07k a/n: i also love a good sick fic! thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy!

The pillows on your previously claimed side of the bed smelled like your boyfriend’s shampoo, laying on your side, you could only smell the tea tree through one nostril as you brought the blanket further up on your body, tucking the fabric beneath your chin and closing your eyes.

You tried to close your eyes and fall asleep, but the whistling of your nose prevented your brain from being fully able to relax. While you were hyperfocused on your attempts to sleep, you didn’t even notice Spencer coming home until the bedroom door opened, leaving a stream of light that lead straight to your face.

An embarrassing keening noise escaped your throat as you rolled over in the bed, trying to evade the warm light from the living room as you did so. “Hey, love,” Spencer greeted you gently, making note of the darkness of the room, probably thinking you had a headache instead of whatever demon had decided to take over your immune system.

What you initially thought was a migraine had revealed itself as what was most likely the flu. You mumbled an incoherent greeting as you stared in the direction of the bedroom window. Yesterday, you had felt a rush of energy, prompting you to cheat a blanket up against the blinds, blocking any and all light from entering your sick cave.

You heard the door click closed and felt the mattress dip down slightly beneath you, “What’s wrong?” His voice was tentative, placing a hand on your blanket-laden hip and trying to figure out why you were cocooned in bed at two in the afternoon. Gingerly, Spencer reached a hand up to sweep a lock of hair off of your sticky forehead, in the process, his fingers felt just how sweltering your skin was. “Oh, honey,” he whispered sympathetically, pulling the blanket down and revealing your sweat-dampened skin.

Releasing a pathetic whimper, you pawed at the fabric of the blanket. Despite the heat emanating from your body, you were freezing. “I feel like I went through a trash compactor,” you mumbled miserably, blinking at Spencer as he tried to haul you into a sitting position. “Spence, wait,” you said as he pulled your torso upright, you wavered unsteadily on top of the bed, your head felt like it weighed the same as a kettlebell.

“Wait, what?” He asked quickly, taking up an oh-god-are-you-going-to-throw-up tone with you. His hand was placed on the small of your back, rubbing small circles over the fabric of your hoodie until you stopped swaying.

You frowned as you looked up at him, meeting his brown eyes, “I have germs.”

Spencer’s gaze softened as he cupped your flushed cheeks in his hands, “What I think you have is the flu, baby. Did you go to a doctor while I was gone?” He asked, obviously concerned over the fact that when he left for a case, you were fine, but upon his return, you were immobile in bed.

Reaching your arms up as Spencer tugged your hoodie over your head, providing you with a moment of relief as you were left in your t-shirt. “I thought I’d just tough it out,” you muttered as your boyfriend tossed your discarded clothes in the laundry hamper.

“Doctors aren’t enemies,” Spencer chided gently, smoothing your hair back for just a moment before moving the bedroom trash can to your bedside – not fully convinced that you weren’t going to ralph off the edge of the bed at any given moment.

You hummed as you watched his movements, he walked into the bathroom and returned with a damp wash cloth, draping it over your head and pressing the cool fabric into your skin. “I have grown rather fond of you,” you responded absentmindedly as you closed your eyes and basked in the relief that the washcloth was providing you.

Moving his hands and trusting that the cloth would remain on your forehead, Spencer returned to the bathroom, rifling through the drawers before he came back into the bedroom with a thermometer in hand, “Open,” he instructed, waiting for you to open your mouth before he stuck the bulb under your tongue, and you clamped your lips shut around it. “I wish you had told me you were sick,” he said, knowing full well that you couldn’t respond to him with the thermometer in your mouth.

Part of you considered the idea that he said that because you couldn’t respond.

When the thermometer beeped, he pulled it from your mouth, flashing the results in your face, “One-hundred and one,” he read aloud. “How long have you been sick?”

“They call me Heatmiser,” you mumbled wearily, sitting up was beginning to take too much of your energy. Your fever-addled brain didn’t even register that he had asked you a question.

Spencer’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Who is Heatmiser?” He asked, taking the washcloth from your forehead and looking at your flushed skin.

Your eyes narrowed, “You don’t know Heatmiser? We have to watch Heatmiser,” you told him, looking around in the bed for your laptop.

“Are you hallucinating? Do we need to go to the ER?” Spencer asked you, tone stiff and serious as he thought you were delusional with fever.

Shaking your head, your shoulders slumped forward, “’m not hallucinating, I just feel gross.”

Crouching down to the floor so you wouldn’t have to look up to meet his eyes, Spencer took your clammy hand in one of yours, “I know, baby. Do you want to take a shower? It might help you feel better to rinse off and put on new clothes.”

You leaned back in bed, head falling on soft, tea tree scented pillows. “Later?” You negotiated, “Being vertical makes my head spin.”

He nodded, pulling your blanket up and over your lap, “Have you taken anything? I really want to try to get your fever down.”

Shaking your head almost imperceptibly, you tilted your head to the side, “Didn’t take anything,” you answered.

“Alright,” he said, standing back up and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, “I’ll be right back with some water and Tylenol.”

Offering him a halfhearted smile, you fiddled with the soft blanket that covered your lap, “And then we can do Heatmiser?” You asked him hopefully, watching Spencer pass through the doorway into the kitchen.

“Sure, baby, then we can do Heatmiser,” he placated, still not entirely sure what you were talking about.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 1: lost pet, meet cute

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

When Spencer entered his apartment, he was unpleasantly surprised by the mess he found. There was trash strewn across the floor, as if someone had kicked over the garbage can he kept next to the bookshelf. There were some clothes scattered on the floor and also sheets of paper with obvious bite marks, as if someone had chewed on them.

It was ridiculous to think that this was the work of a thief since the valuables were still in their place and there were no signs of forced entry; the window was still ajar, just as he had left it that morning.

Spencer moved cautiously through the apartment, assessing the possibility that this was due to some rodent. The building had hired an exterminator just a month ago, and he feared that the company hadn’t done a good job. He continued to wander, somewhat frustrated at the thought of having to deal with such a problem, and that was when he heard a noise coming from his bedroom, as if something had fallen to the floor.

The man walked in that direction and was even more surprised to see a lump moving beneath the sheets. If what was there was a rat, he swore to God he would buy another mattress if necessary, as he didn’t want to expose himself to the collection of germs that those animals harbored. Fearful, he set his briefcase down beside the bed to approach and discover what it was.

He was taken aback to see that what was writhing peacefully in his sheets was a long, beige little animal instead of the gray furball he had expected.

“A ferret?” he spoke to himself, immediately identifying what kind of mammal it was.

Spencer extended his hand and confirmed that it was a friendly specimen, as it climbed up to his hand to sniff him, making him laugh. While he held it in both hands and petted it, he wondered how it had managed to get into his apartment. He thought it plausible that another kind of intruder might have appeared, but ferrets were hardly common on the streets of DC, let alone sneaking into apartments.

Could it belong to a neighbor? he also thought, considering the possibility that in the morning, when he closed the door, the stowaway had slipped in.

In any case, the best option was to keep it safe until someone showed up to claim it, or, in the worst case, to ask Penelope for help in posting it on social media so that the owner could be found. He just hoped it would be sooner rather than later, as he didn’t feel capable of taking care of an animal of that kind if it proved to be as disastrous as it had shown.

The ferret was docile with him, as Spencer was able to carry it to the living room to keep a closer watch while he prepared to review the papers of a pending case. The little animal ran back and forth, climbed onto the couch, and even used one of his dirty socks as a ball to play.

He had never had pets that required so much attention because it broke his heart to know he couldn’t give them a happy life, knowing that cases sometimes kept him away for weeks in another state and it would feel extremely lonely.

For a long time, while he read here and there, he reflected on his guest. It was a pet that could be considered exotic, and he hadn’t seen one in a long time; the last time he remembered was during a visit to the zoo many years ago that wasn’t worth counting. Its color was, as he had already noticed, beige with brown: the stereotypical image of a ferret. During that reflection, he wondered what the name of the little furry creature running around his apartment was and, above all, to whom it belonged.

Fortunately, the answer didn’t take long to arrive at his door, presenting itself with three soft knocks and the image of a girl soaked in tears through the peephole.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, sir,” he heard, in a sob. It was a young girl, just a few years younger than Spencer, and looked completely desperate. “But I… uh… I’m your upstairs neighbor, and I was wondering if you happen to have seen a ferret around the buildi—Gwin!” you suddenly shouted, which was met with another shout from inside.

The mustelid immediately ran toward you, recognizing its owner, and then you bent down to grab it, happiness reflected all over your face as you showered the pet with kisses.

“Stupid little brat! Here you were. I nearly died when I didn’t see you. I don’t want you to leave the house again, or I’m going to take you to a shelter where you’ll get fleas.”

“In fact, it’s more likely that your ferret would catch fleas from coming into contact with wild animals like hedgehogs; they’re uncommon hosts if they live indoors.”

It was then that you finally noticed the man in front of you: that messy golden hair, his awkward posture, an incomplete formal suit, and a calm smile on his face. He avoided looking at you, perhaps due to nervousness from being unfamiliar with the person in front of him, and you wondered how old he was.

You had been so mesmerized by him that you didn’t realize how uncomfortable the silence had become.

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” he cleared his throat, noticing your lack of response. He thought that the random curious tidbit he had shared might have frightened you, but you smiled widely to reassure him.

“Oh, how rude of me,” you exclaimed, embarrassed. You then told him your name. “I was so excited to have found Gwin that I forgot about courtesy.”

“Is he your pet, I assume?”

“He’s a mischievous little rascal; I was terrified thinking he had escaped. I… left the window open and he went out through the fire escape. I guess that’s how he got to your apartment.”

“Oh! Yes, that’s most likely. I also forgot to close my window.”

“It’s a blessing, otherwise he would have run all over the stairs, and I don’t know where the hell he would be right now,” you expressed sadly, continuing to pamper the animal in your arms. “I’m sorry for the trouble, Mr. Spencer.”

“Just call me Spencer; otherwise, I feel old,” he complained, half-smiling. “You can’t be more than one or two years younger than me.”

“I’m in college; I just moved because I need more space,” you replied, trying to justify yourself. “Are you in college?”

“No, I work in a government agency. I was very young when I graduated”

“Are you some kind of child prodigy?”

Spencer laughed at her question.

“Something like that.”

The two of you looked at each other for a moment, smiling, trying to remember all the possible characteristics of the strange presence. It was a somewhat hypnotic moment, to a certain extent, interrupted by the pet squirming in your hands trying to climb onto your shoulder.

“I think I should go. I promise to take better care of my love; he won’t cause any more trouble.”

“It was no trouble at all. He’s very cute, in fact.”

“He’s my best friend in the world; he has kept me company since I started college, haven’t you?” you exclaimed cheerfully, kissing the animal again, who squeaked contentedly. “I always wanted pets, but I could never have them; I’m allergic to fur.”

“And ferrets are hypoallergenic animals, right?” he hastily said, wanting to impress you with this. Although, of course, you already knew that.

“What a clever man,” you replied playfully, perhaps even a bit flirtatiously. You had a pair of eyes, and your neighbor was very handsome. “Gwin, thank this good person for taking care of you.”

You brought the animal closer to him, and as if the ferret really understood, it rubbed against his cheek, causing him to laugh.

“It’s good to know you found him,” was all he replied.

You hesitated for a moment, teetering on your toes, and then let Gwin climb onto your shoulder as he usually did.

“I guess we’ll see each other around, Spencer. Goodnight, and thanks again.”

He waved goodbye with a smile on his sealed lips, and then you started down the hall.

You hoped to run into that man again, and who knows, maybe every once in a while you’d let the ferret loose to have an excuse.

[aroace-madness]

DC x DP prompt

Danny was scared, he was straped down on a table with his torso cut open vertically. For some reason they putted him in a medical gown, maybe to stop looking at his suit that was just oh so similiar to theirs? Danny didn't know

He was crying, tears silently spilled from his eyes as his father was elbow deep in his body, lifting his organs one by one, showing them off to his wife and carelessly putting them back in. They didn't care about his screams and cries, why would they, he wasn't sentient according to them, in their eyes he was less than an animal, a germ that needed to be studied and them eliminated

Maybe this was his fate? Perhaps his life was supposed to end this way? As a lab experiment for his own parents?

Danny didn't like his fate, he hated it in fact, he wanted to get away from it and scream

Perhaps this was the answer, a way out

Danny waited untill his parents took their attention off of him

He took a breath as deep as he could

And wailed

Danny didn't want to do this anymore, he wished to just decompress, he didn't want to be hunted for just existing anymore

He wanted his parents to love him again

He wished he was a child again

The ghost wailed and the time listened

Jason was coming back home from a long patrol, luckily he didn't get either stabbed or shot, which was nice, but instead one of his goons messed up pretty badly which instantly ruined his mood

He was about to sit back on his motorbike and ride back to his safehouse when he heard something moving near the trash cans in the alley

He probably should leave, leave whatever made the noise alone

But, after all, Jason was just a man. Can you blame him for being curious?

He slowly walked over to the cans, trying his best not to make too much noise. When he was finally close enough he crouched down to finally see

What he saw shook him to the core

A small boy, two years old at most, dressed in a hospital gown, curled in ball. He was crying and trembling, his arms were wrapped around his torso like he was holding it from falling apart

What concerned Jason the most tho, was a puddle of blood the boy was laying in