#you explained it perfectly <3 and I hope you will have a wonderful day/evening/night

[hacked-by-jake]

You know for me when Jake stopped reading our chat it was a good thing because we get to talk to him more because we're his only source of information and it shows how much he trusts us but at the same time some chats makes me wish that he's reading along like whenever we defend him or say something good about him . Also when Dan asked us out I really wanted to see Jake's reaction to that 🤭 I hope you understand what I mean I'm not good with explaining lol

Oh yes, I absolutely understand what you mean and I completely agree. It’s really a tricky thing. Although I never had a problem with him reading our chats, but on the other hand, what you say, we were his only source of information. And above all, your point with him trusting us is very nice. Even if he had few other options, he trusted us and knew that we wouldn’t lie or anything. Most of all, we can see that after we get Hannah’s phone list and after we talk to Richy. We tell him everything and can then say "please read the chat yourself" if we would not have said that he would not have done it, I think. And yes, there are so many moments where I think "hopefully Jake will read that". Like you say, when we fight back against Dan and defend Jake, or especially when Phil asks his sister if we’re single, etc. And yes, the moment with Dan also fits very well! I would also like to see his reaction. Or when we work with Lilly and she asks us if we and Jake are in a relationship. etc. Oh man, to put it briefly, even if the point with 'we’re his only source' is really good, I want Jake to read every single chat. My MC is so funny and cool and good, I want him to see every word! 😩

[monstersflashlight]

Hey, I was wondering g if you could make a sleeping in the dark part 2? If it's okay to ask could you possibly do a chubby!reader?

Crying in the middle of the night in the darkness but the minster comes out to think reader is crying because of the dark. Reassuring her that it's oka and the dark isn't scary but, reader then explains that she wasn't crying because of the dark. The monster gets all confused and asks why she was crying. Reader tells the monster that she was insecure abt her body, then further explains that's she's been being treated badly in her work/school environment by her peers because of her body/looks.

Thank you if you respond, I mean it could be a she part and not part 2 but again, thank you.

-🦝 anon.

Hi 🦝 anon! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this. I really wanted to do justice to this request. As a chubby woman myself, I know perfectly well the struggles of being fat in a society that doesn’t like fat at all. I try not to make any comments about the body of the reader if it doesn’t play a part in the action bc I want ppl to imagine themselves there as they want. Even when the monsters use terms as “little human” think about it like the monster is so big you are tiny, doesn’t matter how big you are in real life. I love a good size difference, so there’s that. I hope you don’t think this means you need somebody to tell you you are pretty, beautiful or hot, because that’s not true, you are all that without anyone saying it. Believe me, as someone who likes boys, girls, and everything in between, fat bodies are hot like burning. But I do get the necessity to hear it sometimes, and this story is born because of it. That said, I hope this is as cathartic for you as it was for me, this short hit really close to the heart for me. <3

Part 1 if you haven't read it

Sleeping in the dark (part 2)

Night monster x chubby fem!reader || orgasm denial || tw: fatphobia

You were, once again, crying in your room, ugly sobs that made it hard to breathe and your heart beating faster. You felt his presence before he could make himself known. “Oh no, little human, I thought we went past the fear of the dark.” His tone was so soft you felt your heart skip a beat.

You sniffled against the pillow, “is not that.” You tried to tell him more, but another sob broke from your chest.

“What do you mean?” He seemed confused at your statement, like there weren’t any other reasons why you could be crying about. You guessed as a monster in your closet he probably didn’t know much about the horrors of the world. He lived in a bubble of darkness inside your room, after all.

“They- They called me fat,” you told him in between hiccups.

“Who did?” His tone sounded dangerous. You looked up from your pillow, trying to see something in the dark of your room. You could see his silhouette, but nothing else. You wished you could turn the light on, but you didn’t want him to go.

“Some random dude from the office. They called me fat. They thought I wasn’t listening but they called me fat and made fun of me. I thought I was past that, but there’s always someone that reminds me how ugly my body is.” He growled at that statement. You ignored it and kept talking, “they always tell you to love your body, but when it comes to being fat, they want you to hate yourself. And I try to fight it, I try every day, but sometimes is just too much.” You sobbed again, he touched your knee and you felt his arms closing around you two seconds later. “I just want to be pretty.” You cried against his chest, your voice muffled by his skin. He growled and you felt it against your teary face.

“Don’t say that. You are pretty, you are beautiful, you are the most beautiful human,” his voice was filled with desperation for you to believe him.

“You have to say that, you’ve only seen me,” you joked. The laugh you let out was swallowed by the sob that broke free right after.

“You are wrong.” He touched your skin, wiping away some tears with his thumb. “I’ve lived thousands of years, I’ve known many humans, some of them have known me. You are beautiful. You are perfect.”

“No, I’m not. But thanks for saying that.” He flipped you onto your back so fast you let out a scream. He tore your clothes apart and you felt him caressing every inch of your skin at the same time.

“Beautiful,” he told you. He touched every part of your body, caressing your skin like you were a work of art, whispering endearing words against your ear. He told you every single compliment you could think of, and then some more.

It felt wrong to feel like that, you felt like he was lying, but he couldn’t be. It felt like he was forcing you to acknowledge every single cell in your body. It felt like he was pushing the words in your soul, trying to imprint them there so you wouldn’t feel ugly never again. You cried, at every single word, a tear ran down your skin. He didn’t wipe them out, he let you cry as he caressed your skin. When he parted your legs and positioned himself there, you kept crying.

Your pussy was so wet, and your soul felt so raw.

He started slow, licking your wet lips, playing with his tongue all over, but where you wanted him the most. He never shut up, telling you how pretty you were, how wet, how wonderful for him, how perfect. You were rapidly approaching to an orgasm when he said: “Say nice things about yourself if you want to come.” You shook your head, grabbing his head and trying to push him to eat you out again. “Say it,” he ordered. His voice was hard and commanding.

“I- I can’t,” you cried out. There was no way. You didn’t feel it, it wasn’t true. You weren’t pretty. You weren’t beautiful. His words seemed like a lie, but his actions spoke volumes. One of his hands never stopped caressing your soft tummy, your wide hips. His other hand played with your pussy, thrusting in and out in a tortuous way.

“Say it!” He insisted, his tone angry as he pushed two fingers into you forcefully. You cried out, almost there, so close but so far.

“I- I’m pretty,” you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. He rewarded you sucking your clit into his mouth, the touch of fangs against your vulnerable flesh made you shudder.

“More,” he ordered.

“I’m beautiful.” Each word was rewarded by his fingers rubbing perfectly inside of you, a torture like any other, driving you insane with pleasure. “I’m hot.” Each word he forced out of you felt like he was taking a weight from your chest. You felt like you were going to float away.

“Yes. Yes, you are.” He kept playing with you, getting you close to the edge just to go away when you stopped talking. He forced you to be nice to yourself, to say all the things you didn’t believe you were. But he did, he believed. And for the moment, that might be enough. He thought you were beautiful, he thought you were hot. Maybe… maybe he was right. He never lied to you.

You were lost in your thoughts and the pain-pleasure he was giving you when he flicked his tongue over your clit as he hit your G-spot. “Come for me, pretty human. Show me how perfect you are.” And you did, falling apart around his tongue and his fingers. The attack on your senses crashing down onto you.

You had an out of body experience, the tears cool against your cheeks, your rapid breathing coming into short exhales as he played with your pussy to drive you further up. You came so hard you think you saw stars. You felt boneless, your body and your soul completely spent. You felt him cleaning you with a soft cloth, your eyes closing already.

“I will stay with you,” he murmured as you were falling asleep. You felt his arms closing around you, his hands caressing your body, from your wide hips to your soft tummy… He made you feel special, he made you feel beautiful.

[alicechess]

Art x reader part 2

Note: This hasn't been proof read, so my bad if it's not the greatest I smashed this out in like 4 hours. So not the highest quality chapter. I might fix this up at one point, heavy maybe.

@ch1hvro

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--------

You felt ill after the shift, it could be explained, it absolutely could be, right? Just a coincidence, a man dressing up to be a dick, then point at the plastic ring on your hand because he thought it was amusing, and joked that it was him who gave it. Yeah, just a joke, coincidence. You settled on it being a coincidence. 

As soon as you got home, you took the ring of and but it on your bedside table, you didn't want to wear it, you were meant to Halloween night, but it completely slipped your mind. 

However, that night, you heard on the news he somehow escaped the morgue today, in the morning. The news reporters stated the injuries, and allegedly a few people who work in the medical field said how unlikely it would've been for him to survive. They then stated that the poor mortician was brutally murdered too from him, because of course he had to do it. Does that mean it is possible he came to your work today? If that was him, why? He didn't have any blood, or any visible injuries at least. He moved perfectly fine. 

You shook your head, there was no point in thinking about it. If you saw him again, then it absolutely wasn't a coincidence, as there would be no way to justify it. You then turned the TV off, then went to bed. The thoughts of him stuck in your mind as you laid there, the whole day repeating over in your head. How his attention was stuck on you, why that specific Cafe, and although again, the ring may just be him being a dick and not knowing. It still bothered you, all of that happening within the span of an hour. Eventually you fell asleep, your dreams, of course, had him there too. 

The next morning you awoke in a cold sweat, your heart racing rapidly. Once you glanced around and noticed you were in your room, you felt relief.

Just a dream

Maybe you needed to ignore the news, take a break from social media for a few days or even a week. You had no doubt some people would be talking about stuff, but you just had to hope you wouldn't overhear anything. Maybe it'd be good to take a day off, though you knew your boss would be pissed and so as your co-workers. You've barely taken days off the whole year, maybe 3 at most. 

You decided to send a message to your boss, explaining that you have some family stuff going on, and if you could take the day off tomorrow. 

Hopefully he'd be fine with it.

You started getting ready, after showering

--------

You walked into the door of the Café, the ringing bell irritated your ears. You walked into the back, you had to do a bunch of dishes from last night since one of the other workers had to leave early. Your co-worker spotted then greeted you, "Hey, you look like shit."

You rolled your eyes, "Wow, what a nice way to say good morning Charlie." 

They gave you a cocky smile, "I know I know, I'm wonderful aren't I?"

That damn smile was contagious, "Aww, and I've got you smiling too."

A small chuckle left you, "Yeah yeah, anyway, how longs your shift today? Anyone else in?"

"Uhh, till about 4. I have another job on the side to earn extra. And no, Laurie left about 10 minute ago, she had to leave early as she had an appointment."

"Ew, that's gotta be painful, and god damn it, it would've been nice having a third for today.

"It's painful, but moneys money, world can't go on without it." They sighed, "And I'm trying to save for a new car, the shitbox out there ain't gonna last much longer." They said, taking the eggs out the frypan. "Anyway, can we talk more during our break? Can't have customers complaining."

"Yeah sure, that'd be great actually." They then walked out with the plate of food. 

Your morning was a lot easier to deal with after that interaction, although you hated to admit it, they were annoying at times but you loved them. They were a great friend, and made working a lot easier to tolerate.

You filled the sink and placed the dishes in there, cleaning the least dirty to the most. More and more dishes came, but you tried your best to stay ahead. The dishwasher was going to take forever and only could do a small amount at a time, so this is unfortunately a job that had to be done.

After about an hour, you were close to being finished, and so was the dishwasher. After, you put the dishes away, then went up to your Charlie to check if they needed help with anything.

"To be honest, not really, business is slower than normal, which is a fucking relief." They whispered, so none of the customers could hear. 

"Nice, is Chloe gonna be here soon? It would be nice if she could cover the register, and we can chill in the back."

They shrugged, "Not sure, she's meant to be here at some point today but that's all I know."

You groaned, "Alright, since business is slow should I just sweep and mop now?" 

You heard that cursed bell ring, and you heard a honk. You instantly turned around, wondering what that noise was. 

"What the fuck..." Charlie muttered under their breath.

Your eyes widened, bile rose up in your throat. You stood still for a few moments as you locked eyes with that fucker, then you sprinted towards the staff toilet. You leaned over, the breakfast you ate not longer ago instantly came up. Your throat burned as acid tore at your throat. You clenched the toilet bowl as it kept going. You body shook rapidly from fear and shock.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Why is he here, it was meant to be a fucking coincidence. Do I have a murderer stalking me?

You weren't sure what to do, but after about a minute you heard your Charlie running over.

"Hey, hey!" They said crouching down, rubbing your back. "What the hell was that? Are you okay?"

You nodded, "Yeah...." You croakily mumbled, your legs wobbling as you slowly stood up.

"Stay there if you need to, I can handle the front for a bit." 

You shook your head, "I'll be fine, it's fine. Just give me a minute and I'll clean up."

"Look Chloe should be here soon, when she gets here I'll explain you were sick so you had to leave. Got it?"

You rolled your eyes, "I'll be okay, I just got nauseous.-"

"No, you're heading home when she gets here."

You wanted to argue, but you knew it was probably a good idea. You didn't want to see... it again. 

"Fine, can I help just till she gets here?"

"Yeah sure, just don't overwork yourself and let me know if you feel ill again."

You nodded, moving towards the sink to splash water on your face. "Alright, I'm gonna head back, don't rush yourself I can handle it." They patted your back again, then walked off.

You looked down at your shirt, and thankfully there was no vomit. So, you went back to helping Charlie. As soon as you were in the doorway you spotted him, sitting down. "Hey, is it okay if you could pass this to the customer in the clown suit real quick? I just need to prepare another order."

You nodded, trying to not show your fear to them. "Yeah, of course!"

While you walked over, you noticed his eyes were on you. You looked at the floor, knowing it was rude but you were so afraid. You put the pancakes down in front of the clown. "Here's your order... sir." You mumbled, giving a forced smile. As you starting walking away, he beeped the horn. 

"Did you need something?" 

He nodded, gesturing you to come closer.

He looked at your hand, a frown forming on his face. But not a second later is was replaced with that eerie smile. He stared at you as he purposely knocked the plate down onto the floor. It shattered onto the ground. He covered his mouth, giving an exaggerated 'Oops' face. A few customers looked over giving a confused and concerned expression.

Your face turned into a thin line, what the fuck "I'm sorry sir, I'll be back." You quickly muttered, walking to Charlie, "Hey, look I can't do this right now, can you please talk to the clown? I'll do whatever you were doing before. I'm just really uncomfortable around him."

They nodded, noticing you were shaken up. "Yeah that's fine, but what's going on? You look horrified, did something happen?"

You shook your head, "It's nothing, just can you help him?"

"Okay, I'll do that now, you just need to make a strawberry milkshake for table 5 while I deal with the clown."

"Easy." You immediately started to work on it, you scooped the ice-cream, poured the milk and strawberry-flavoured syrup and then blended it. You occasionally heard words from your Charlie while they were trying to communicate with the clown. But of course it went nowhere. As you were pouring the milkshake into a plastic cup, they came up to you. "I have no idea what he wants, he's not responding at all to me. I clean up the mess, but I don't know what else to do. Was he at least responding to you?"

"Yeah, I guess, but I really, really don't want to talk to him. He's... scaring me." You glanced at the floor, feeling embarrassed. 

"It's okay, I'll figure something out. Other customers are starting to feel uncomfortable as well. Fuck, Chloe needs to get here soon."

"Yeah, hopefully, should I contact the boss?" 

They nodded, "Can you contact Chloe first? We need her here soon."

"I'll do that now, I'll try and make it quick." You hurried out to the back again, pulling out your phone. You dialled her number, but it immediately when to voice mail. "What the fuck..." You murmured, trying again. And again. You groaned, then decided to send her a quick message.

Y/n: Hey, are you still coming into work today? 

You hoped she'd read it soon, then you dialled your bosses number. Thankfully, you heard her voice on the other end. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, I heard from Charlie that Chloe would be coming in today at some point. What time would she be here? She isn't picking up any of my calls. "

You heard a sigh on the other end, "Give me a moment."

After 15 seconds of rustling sounds, she answered. "Alright, it says she'd be on around 2pm till 8pm. Is she not there?"

"No, she's not. It's 2:30."

You heard another sigh from your boss, "I'll try and contact her, that's all I can do. Is that all you needed?"

"No, I was wondering what to do about a customer. One of them is making me and Charlie uncomfortable. He keeps.... just doing stuff."

"If you want advice I need more details." 

You took a deep breath in, "For one he's in a clown outfit, which in itself isn't bad but it's just how he's acting doing it too. If that makes sense, and he purposely broke one of our plates, and acted like it was all funny. He then wouldn't talk to Charlie, only me. It's just such bizarre behaviour."

"Normally threatening them with the police will cause them to stop, but if he continues call the non-emergency line for the police. That's it."

"Alright, thank you."

"Bye." She said, the line ending.

You walked back to the register to talk to your Charlie. "Chloe was meant to be here at 2. What the fuck do we do? She isn't picking up my calls, she's not answering my messages and the boss just told us to threaten the clown with the police but fuck that I'm not comfortable with it I don't know him and he's scaring-"

"Calm down, you're gonna be okay. This isn't a big deal you'll be fine we can figure this out. I'll talk to him."

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the clown. He was sitting there, his chin resting on his hands, giving you a wink. 

"God fucking damn it." Your muttered under your breath, he waved at you, then gesturing for him to come over again. "He wants me to go over again, what do I do? What the fuck do I do?"

Charlie bit their bottom lip, "I can go over if you like and try again, but I doubt he'll listen."

"Fuck, fine, I'll fucking doing it." You whisper-yelled, immediately going over towards the clown. You noticed most of the customers had left. How had no one called the police yet? Maybe they thought it was someone trying to be funny? 

"Hello sir, is there anything I can help you with?"

The clown told you to stop, raising his pointer-finger. He then went through the garbage bag next to him. You heard the sounds of metal hitting metal, making you feeling almost as sick as before. He pulled out an envelope. You stared at it for a moment, noticing brown splotches over it. It looked like dried blood. You also noticed how there was a bump inside. You were about to place it down, but he gestured for you to open it.

You stared with widened eyes, really not wanting to. "I'm sorry sir... I-"

The clown gestured one more time, a deep frown on his face. You were afraid, so begrudgingly, you open it. And inside was a chunk of blonde hair, with a small amount of dyed-blue strands. You pulled it out and saw a piece of someone's scalp was attached. The blonde hair looked identical to Chloe's. You placed it back down onto the table, stepping back. 

"Why.... what did she do to you?"

You knew what he did. It was obvious. But all you wanted to know is why. Yeah she could be bitchy at times, but she never had bad intentions. Not anything worthy of her fucking dying.

The Clown silently giggled, slapping his knee like it was the funniest joke in the world. He pointed at you, mimicking a horrified look and then continued laughing. 

"Oh fuck this." You muttered, Charlie looked over and saw the terrified look on your face. "Charlie we need to get the fuck out now!" You yelled, grabbing their arm, dragging them into the kitchen. To get out through the front, you would've had to walk past him again, and that was not something that you wanted. 

You shoved them inside and slammed the door shut, locking it. "Grab a knife Charlie." They didn't ask questions, just grabbing it off the bench. The clown was walking over towards the counter, where you'd pass food through to the person at the register. He stood there smiling. 

"Nope, don't look just fucking get out." You urgently said to Charlie, grabbing their arm and leading them to the back door. You unlocked it ran out with them. You rummaged through your pockets and grabbed your keys, your hands shaking as you tried to open the car door. 

"Y/n your tires have been fucking slashed!" 

"Oh for fuck sake!" You yelled, this time they dragged you. You dropped your keys while they pulled you, "My keys!"

"It doesn't matter Y/n! There's a fucking psycho chasing us." 

You followed them, running to the nearest store. You looked behind, noticing the clown was behind, with that fucking garbage bag thrown on it's shoulder. 

As Charlie ran into the store, they yelled to call the police. They didn't care about scaring the workers, they just needed to make sure the both of you were safe. The woman at the register looked confused. They ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind the both of you. They fumbled with their phone, dialling the emergency number. 

"What's your emergency?"

"There's a fucking psycho chasing after us! He's trying to fucking kill us!" They yelled, sounding hysterical. 

"Okay, calm down. Are you safe right now?"

"I think so, we've locked ourselves in a random stores bathroom. We don't know where he is right now."

"Okay, what did he look like?"

"He-he was wearing a black and white clown outfit, like the one from the news!"

"Alright...." The operator said, sounding like they thought it was a prank call, but they still continued.

"What store are you in right now?" 

Charlie turned to you, "Do you know where we ran to?"

You shook your head, "I-I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry!"

"It's fine." Charlie murmured, "We don't know, but can you guys track the phone?"

The woman sighed, "Yes we can, but if this is a prank call you will be in serious trouble."

"We aren't fucking lying, my fucking car tires were slashed and this fucker gave me an envelope with co-workers scalp in it! Get the damn police here right now or we could get brutally murdered!" You screamed at the operator.

"Please calm down, the police are on their way." The operator said, "Please stay on the line, are you hearing anything outside of the bathroom?"

Charlie spoke up, "No, it's oddly quiet out there, I... I don't know where he is. I don't know if he followed us in or not. We didn't look around."

The only thing you could hear was cars driving by, it was otherwise painfully silent.

"Fuck what happened to Chloe, oh god I hope she's okay. Please Chloe be okay." You whimpered, dropping to the ground. "Fuck I'm sorry Chloe, I'm so sorry." Tears welled up in your eyes, then started streaming down your face.

Charlie knelt down, placing their phone on the tiled floor, "Hey, it's okay, Chloe might still be out there. Probably not in the best condition but still maybe out there." They gently hugged you.

You sniffled, "What if that psycho grabbed my keys, I'm not even going to be safe in my own fucking home." You sobbed, "I didn't even do anything to him!" 

"I know, some people are just messed up, but you'll be okay, I'll make sure of it. No ones going to hurt you." 

Eventually, you heard the police sirens and them shouting. After a few moments they knocked on the bathroom door. You immediately unlocked it, running out. "Did you find him?" You asked, your eyes showing the hope in this being simple, like maybe he was waiting outside or something stupid. But of course, reality didn't work that way. 

"The only people we found were the workers here, I'm sorry." One of the officers said, "Do you have any injuries?"

You and Charlie shook your head.

"Alright, we're going to need to take you in for questioning."

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[poppadom0912]

Dr Dean Reybold

Warnings: Cancer, chemotherapy, hospitals, evil doctors

Summary: Unfortunately for you, some cancers are genetic. Also unfortunately for you, some doctors don't have good intentions.

A/N: Based on Season 1, episode 5 of Chicago Med (Malignant) and Season 3, episode 10 of Chicago pd (Now I'm God).

So I had this idea towards the beginning of when I first started watching pd and I am not kidding when I say this has been sitting in my drafts for over two years now. I thought I'd finally get to finishing it after a really good day today since the fic I posted like 2 days ago wasn't that nice. Hope you enjoy!!

When your mother died from cancer, it took a toll on your entire family. Everyone was struggling to grieve and the emptiness she left behind was unsettling. Even now, the empty chair at the dining table looked so wrong.

So when you were diagnosed with ovarian cancer seven months ago, you felt extreme deja vu. Life was repeating itself again and nothing good was going to come out of it.

While at work, your patient got a little violent and when you woke up, your dad and Erin were at your bedside. They were in the middle of a case when Hank was suddenly called, being told by Sharon that you were hurt.

Luckily, several tests and scans later, you were perfectly fine, coming out with nothing but a concussion.

Alas, your body seemed to hate you because fast forward two months later and you found yourself in a private doctors office, the man confirming you had ovarian cancer.

Looking your dad in the eyes that night, mustering up everything in you to tell him you had the exact same thing that killed your mother; you could see the world fall apart in his eyes all over again.

From that day on, you did your chemotherapy while going to work. Being a psychiatrist, it didn't entail much physical work and your hours were decreased due to manage your treatment.

But the cancer got worse, that's what your doctor said at least. You probably would've gotten your treatment done at Med since they were renowned for their chemo regimens and it would've been more convenient.

But your doctor was the man that treated your mother. Seven months into your treatment and you found it a little difficult to leave.

*****

So, it was just another day at work.

You near threatened Doctor Charles to allow you to take his place as the psychiatrist for the ED and after lots and lots of convincing, he caved but with the conditions: you took regular breaks, everyone kept an eye on you, don't take such a big load, update him often and not to turn Sharon away when she to check on you.

There was a sudden influx of patients due to a fire and you were finally able to help after Maggie stopped being so annoying very, constantly hovering over you when she wasn't with a patient.

This wasn't anything abnormal - the injured people - but what was weird was the lingering members of firehouse 51 and the arrival of Jay.

In one of the spinning chairs, you pushed yourself over to the group of people huddled at the front desk, curious to what was up and needing to do something after sitting duck for half an hour now.

"Oooh, what's this?" You looked at the zip lock bag in wonder, only opening it when Jay gave you the okay, nodding his head with a smile at your presentable face.

The last time he saw you, you were a struggling mess at your dad's having come back from getting treatment.

After explaining briefly, you gladly opened the bag and scanned the items. While flicking through receipts, you could hear Erin stop in front of you, letting the three of you know it was looking like a suicide. Giving you and Erin some time, Jay and Kelly gave their goodbyes and went back to their respective jobs.

"You look much better." Erin looked you up and down, noticing that your skin was still quite pale, the bags under your eyes were still there even with the makeup and you were wearing your usual bandana, a staple since the hair loss started kicking in.

"Well thank you very much." You said truthfully despite some part of you believing that she was lying and you looked worse than you did the last time she visited you. "How are you?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Erin asked, smiling as she watched you skim over the few items she had no interest in. "I'm fine, everyone's fine. This seems pretty simple which is good, less work for us."

You hummed nonchalantly, her words going through one ear and out the other. "Do you mind if I give these to Dr Charles? I want to get his opinion real quick."

"Sure." Your sister in everything but blood shrugged her shoulders, seeing no harm in getting another opinion. "Just don't lose anything, yeah?"

"Ha ha, very funny." You said smiled sarcastically, rolling your eyes at her undertone as you rolled your chair away to find the head of psychiatry.

*****

It had been a few hours later. The fire incident from earlier was no longer at the forefront of your mind as you busied yourself with your actual patients. Doctor Charles was back in the ED and you had several meetings scheduled.

Signing off a treatment sheet for some new medications, the silence of the psychiatric ward was interrupted by heavy feet rushing towards you.

Looking up, your were caught off guard. You were not expecting to see your dad and Erin again till later in the evening for dinner.

And by the looks on their faces, this wasn't going to be a happy little visit.

In fact, your dad looked conflicted. A myriad of emotions painting his face, so many that you started to get scared. You hadn't seen him look like this since-

"Dr Dean Reybold. He's your doctor right?" Your dad asked, skipping past any pleasantries.

You felt time slowing, almost struggling to hear what he was asking.

You could only nod.

You felt like a child again being scolded watching how he reacted. It was like you had hurt him. Watching him try to compose himself made you want to be sick.

When your dad looked back at you, his eyes bright in unshed tears, you felt your heart stop.

*****

It was a lie.

All of it, everything. It had all been a lie.

It felt like going through the five stages of grief, grappling with the news and the reality of this situation.

You along with way too many women had been lied to and deceived. In your most vulnerable positions, you had all been manipulated just for his selfish, disgusting needs.

At your most emotional, he lied. He used your personal connections, your past with your mother. What a sick sick bastard.

Sitting on a bed at Med, Natalie showing you your test results, you didn't even have it in you anymore to cry. You were just so tired.

Going back home to your dad, you felt like a little girl again. You felt like that five-year-old who would lie about her nightmares just so she could sneak into her parents bed and sleep with them.

His arms opened up instantly and you didn't need anymore prompting. Dragging your feet towards the couch, you sat and folded yourself up, tucking your feet under yourself as you tried to hide and make yourself invisible in your fathers embrace.

Closing your eyes, you told him the news, the inevitable that you both had been dreading. Deep down, some sick part of you wished to have cancer just so that you could feel better, just to not feel like a victim who was a ploy for some psychopath.

His arm squeezed you as your voice became breathy, words shaking as all the emotions all came crashing down once again.

You had been crying way too much recently.

The plans for the future were still a little blurry and you weren't too sure how you were going to cope. Your body needed to heal and go back to being its usual healthy, as if you and so many other women hadn't had chemo and unnecessary radiation pumped into your body for no reason at all.

You had met all the women at the court hearing, seeing just how many women and families he had hurt just like yours.

And for once, being a psychiatrist didn't feel like the most important thing.

You were struggling to grapple with your emotions but the easiest part of it was being a helping hand to them. Perhaps it made you feel better to help the other women, trying to help them mentally when you can't physically.

And your dad and Erin were your biggest supporters like always.

This had brought back so many memories from the past that it was almost too painful to recollect, especially considering you were now at the forefront of the exact same event.

You weren't too sure what the healing and recovery process was going to look like - that's what scared you the most.

But the most reassuring part was that the sick 'doctor' wasn't going to do anymore harm and you had the best family supporting you every single step of the way.

[vodkabodies]

Invisible String

Summary: An endless search for a remedy comes to a halt when Harry realizes he’s been tied to it, to her, all along.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Musician gf

WC: 475

Warnings: If you're NOT a fan of romanticrry, this is not the post for you ;)

A/N: Can you tell I’m a sucker for fluff? Here’s a little ‘thank you’ for the love you’ve given over my previous post <3 This is a really short one but still, enjoy!

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You were there all along, hidden in plain sight. At award shows, at after parties, even at our mutual friend’s wedding ceremony. Sometimes I wonder, what took us so long, then? For years you were always just a friend of a friend, an artist under the same record label, and now you have your own mugs in my kitchen cabinet and a side on my bed that will always smell of you.

Whenever I get lost in my thoughts like this though, as if by instinct, a connection only you and I are tied to, a brush of your fingers through the curly strands of my hair always wipes the questions away. As I lay here, sulking in your gentle yawning and the scent of your shampoo, there wouldn't have been a more perfect time than now. Not seven years ago when you were getting out of a toxic relationship, and I from a boy group I’ve been in for years to pursue my own endeavours.

We were meant to cross paths, eventually. At the perfect place, and at the perfect time.

I was scheduled for a meeting the very night of your opening show. I ran into my good friend, your manager at the time, who was on his way to support you. At that very moment, I received a call that our meeting was postponed. He invited me to join him instead, and so I did. With no intentions of coincidentally meeting my twin flame that same evening.

Ever since then, it’s been you.

As if tied to an invisible string, distance from you started feeling like hell. Like being pulled by rip currents, away from the safety of the shore.

I started to fear that every song I'll ever write from that day onward would be about you. And how you snorted a laugh when my voice pathetically cracked the moment I introduced myself to you, your hands that fit perfectly in mine as you shook it, and that voice, the one that grew a bed of flowers over the barricades that disabled me from running directly to you, the same one that now hums me lullabies.

You are the cure to my sleepless nights, the remedy for my mundane days, and extra lonely drives. I, a hopeless romantic, an artist, the product of loving and losing, has fallen deeply in love with you in a way that only words can explain, and only lyrics can describe. 

I’ve written about finding no antidotes for curses, been convinced that loving someone else in the past was the cure, and thought another person had it all along. But it was you. Not a pill I could swallow, an action I could do, or something someone could possess. All along I was tied to the one I’ve spent lifetimes searching for.

“You are the antidote.”

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

A/N: Hope you guys caught all the references I snuck in here. If you did, feel free to comment them below! I appreciate the support and feedback for my first work <3 More to come! (possibly a new fic??) As always, thank you for reading!

Twitter: @vodkabodies

[sickficideas]

gotta hear me out || sick Akutagawa w/ caretaker Atsushi - chapter 2 of 3

ao3! 5.1k/10.6k - please refer to the tags in the link for content + warnings! sicktember 2024, day 30: past prompt (2022, day 27: sleepless night)

Atsushi tries to keep himself busy. There’s not many signs at all that Akutagawa has done anything in his home outside of his room - there’s a few dishes and a pot in the sink that Atsushi decides to clean and put away, dishes far fancier than necessary, he thinks - a rice cooker and a teapot on the counter too. He thinks his next objective is going to be to get Akutagawa to eat something. Rice is probably an easy start.

The storm seems to have let up a bit. It’s still raining, sky still filled to the brim with dark clouds, but he hasn’t heard thunder for a while. He knows that it won’t continue like this, but it’s a nice break for now. He really hates having to listen to thunder.

He finally finds a thermometer, too. He snuck into Akutagawa’s bathroom through a second door, finding one buried under other medical supplies, without charged batteries, of course. At least the batteries were easier to find, and now he has a working thermometer.

He checks his own temperature, laying the thermometer under his tongue for a few seconds, to make sure it’s working properly. He’s been told by Yosano that his temperature is higher than the average human’s, closer to that of a tiger’s, and the thermometer reflects that. A hundred and one point one. That would be a decent fever on a normal person. He washes the thermometer and sets it on the counter beside the rice cooker.

Atsushi turns the TV in the living room after peering around for a remote. Thankfully, it was already on a very low volume. He doesn’t need it loud at all, he really just wants to keep track of the news. They’re actively reporting on the storm, confirming his hypothesis that it will indeed continue on through the night.

He bites his lip.

He wanders back into the kitchen, deciding he’ll work on the daunting task of trying to figure out how the rice cooker works. It’s more difficult than it looks. It’s way, way fancier than one he’s ever seen, and he thinks he might have to give up and opt for cooking rice in a pot, but luck is on his side, and he finds a manual.

He turns back to the island in the kitchen, opening the foldable manual to find the section that explains which buttons do what, and he catches something dark in his peripheral. Atsushi backs up, nearly hits his back against the other counter, arms defensively over his chest as he gasps.

Akutagawa just raises his eyebrows in vague confusion. He’s sitting at the kitchen island on one of the bar stools, one arm crossed and his head propped on the other.

“You scared me,” Atsushi says with the heavy sigh, lowering his arms and closing his eyes for a few seconds, trying to lower his heart rate. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Not long,” Akutagawa says simply. Atsushi has no idea how he didn’t hear him leave his room. He doesn’t even really look half-asleep, his eyes just squint, bothered by the overhead light. Atsushi wanders over to the light switch to turn it off.

“Do you ever have these on?” Atsushi asks him, realizing a pattern from earlier.

“No,” Akutagawa says. “I hate having the lights on. Such a waste. I can see perfectly fine without them.”

“Maybe you’re still a vampire after all,” Atsushi jokes, finding the connection a little amusing.

“Ugh, shut up,” Akutagawa grumbles, bringing his head down into his hand and pressing them against his temples. Atsushi realizes he still definitely has a headache, no wonder the lights are bothering him so much. He’s slept a few hours, at the very least, Atsushi was hoping that would help. He definitely needs something in his system.

“When was the last time you had something to eat?” Atsushi asks him, folding up the manual after figuring out enough to be able to do simple things with the rice cooker.

“Not sure,” Akutagawa murmurs, lowering his hands back onto the counter, “a couple of days ago.”

Atsushi’s eyes widen. “Days?!”

“I don't eat often. That's not abnormal,” Akuatagwa huffs, like that’s an easily acceptable answer.

“Well, yeah. That's clear,” Atsushi mumbles. Akutagawa is ridiculously thin, which he’s sure has something to do with his illness, but he’s seen him regularly refuse to eat. “You should eat every day. No wonder you're passing out all the time.”

Akutagawa seems taken aback by that accusation. “I do not pass out all the time.”

“I can't count the number of times I've seen you pass out on two hands, so, that's too many,” Atsushi chides. It’s not always for a long time, but Akutagawa clearly never has enough energy to fight regularly. He’s seen him pass out, just for a few seconds, many times after using his ability for extended periods of time. “Also, you literally passed out when I got here.”

“I’m sick, in case you forgot,” Akutagawa grumbles.

“I thought you’re always sick,” Atsushi says, mocking how difficult he was being earlier. Akuatagwa just rolls his eyes, props his chin up on his palm and stares out the window, childishly pretending Atsushi isn’t there.

Atsushi opens a few cabinet drawers and doors looking for rice, surprised Akutagawa doesn’t try to wring his neck for going through his things, but he finally finds the rice. He takes the container out onto the counter.

“How’s rice sound?”

“Nauseating,” he answers, still staring out the window.

“Okay, well you have to eat something, Akutagawa,” Atsushi tells him with a half-pout. He wishes there was some way to help his nausea without him taking medicine, because he’s sure any of that would make him feel terrible on a completely empty stomach.

“Do as you wish,” Akutagawa huffs, repeating his earlier sentiment. Maybe he's realized that Atsushi won't back down.

Atsushi takes that, and decides to continue.

Akutagawa doesn't say a word to him for at least the twenty minutes while the rice is cooking. He stays on the chair for a while, listless and staring out the window, deep in thought. Atsushi wonders what he's thinking about, or what's ever on his mind in general, but he thinks that's something he'll never find out.

He disappears behind Atsushi's back once he's turned around and scooping the rice into a bowl. He sees he's gone and sat down on the couch, his eyes now on the TV screen instead of the window. They're still covering the weather. Atsushi suspects they'll probably be doing that through the night too.

Atsushi wanders into the living room with two bowls of rice and just sits with him and watches the news for a little while. It's kind of nice - calm, quiet. Akutagawa doesn't turn it up and neither does Atsushi, so at times the raindrops against the windows are louder than the weather reporting, but Atsushi doesn't mind it. He wishes Akutagawa had some sort of rice seasoning or chazuke packets laying around, but based on what he found in his kitchen, he gets the feeling that the latter never cooks at all. He thinks eating rice plain in solidarity with Akutagawa is fine in the end.

Akutagawa eats more of the rice than Atsushi expected him to, considering he hasn't eaten or taken medicine in days due to his nausea. Maybe he had been mistaking hunger pains from not eating for nausea. Atsushi decides he'll see how it goes, and if that's really the case, maybe he can take some medicine.

He's relieved at the idea that Akutagawa might be fine after all. He just needed a few simple things, just to be taken care of for a few hours.

The weather report starts to show aerial clips of Suribachi City. Atsushi's been through there several times in his time at the Agency, being it's an area of high crime that even the mafia seems to stay out of.

He'd never thought out how horribly prone to flooding the crater-shaped slums are, but it makes perfect sense. The reporter talks about how many of its inhabitants will be found in Yokohama during the storm to avoid drowning in the floods. They have nowhere else to go.

Akutagawa takes the remote, changes the channel to the next one down and hands it to Atsushi.

“Choose something else to watch,” Akutagawa tells him. Atsushi takes the remote, a little surprised by the sudden demand, but the look in his eyes is strange. It's not fear, is it?

“News not good enough for you anymore?” Atsushi says, testing to see if he's receptive to teasing, because even the tone of how voice is a little concerning.

“Are you enjoying watching homeless children drown?” he bites back. It's not quite as mean as he usually is, more defensively, and a strange comment considering nothing of the sort was shown on screen. It was simply implied.

“Since when do you care about kids? You kill people,” Atsushi reminds him. He's really just teasing him, but he's never seen Akutagawa interact with a child other than Kyoka, and he wasn't good to her. “Or, used to.”

Akutagawa looks angry for a few seconds, like he's trying to figure out what to say, but it seems Atsushi's comments have left him speechless enough to decide against it. He just sighs and turns his head back towards the screen.

Atsushi thinks the entire interaction was strange. Akutagawa getting so defensive out of nowhere isn't like him. Atsushi at least knows what to avoid in conversation most of the time so he doesn't get choked out, but this time, he has no idea what set it off. Or, if he does, he doesn't know why.

He knows a lot less about Akutagawa than he thinks he does.

Akutagawa coughs into his hand a few times before he places his bowl of rice on the coffee table, chopsticks laying over the top of it, to then cough into his elbow. Atsushi gets up quickly and decides he'll get him a glass of water. He needs to start getting hydrated anyway. The dizziness and headache could certainly be lessened if it wasn't dehydrated.

Atsushi hands him a glass of water once the coughing dies down. Akutagawa is hesitant on taking it, looking like he's considering ignoring Atsushi's presence, but he gives in and takes the glass from him, only taking a few sips of it.

“You're aware my lung illness doesn't care if I'm hydrated or not,” Akutagawa mumbles, ignoring Atsushi's eye contact as he stands in front of him.

Atsushi's heart sinks a little, hearing him say that.

“Let me look at that wound again,” Atsushi decides, not wanting to start an argument on how Akutagawa should care for himself. It's a losing battle with how unbelievably stubborn he is. He takes the glass of water and sets it behind him on the coffee table.

He leans forward over Akutagawa, who doesn't resist, pulling down the neckline of the sweatshirt to reveal the bandage. Blood has seeped through it already, but not enough to stain the sweatshirt, it looks like. He lifts a knee up onto the couch to avoid awkwardly leaning over Akutagawa, trying to inspect the wound a little more closely as he peels the bandage back.

It looks okay. Not better by any means, but cleaner at least, from Atsushi's earlier work. He thinks this should be stitched up, but it's far too old to do that now - it would only trap the infection the way it is. He thinks right now all he can do is keep it clean and covered, but once Akutagawa is feeling a little better, he needs this looked at by a professional.

He wishes he could lend Akutagawa some of his self-healing. It would make his life so much easier.

“You're too close,” Akutagawa mumbles suddenly, and Atsushi realizes how close he really is.

He's almost straddling him. One knee leaned against the couch and the other propped up on the other side of Akutagawa’s leg, almost leaning against him. This would have been much easier to do from the other side of the couch, but he was already here.

Akutagawa doesn't do anything to push him away, but his cheeks are suddenly red.

“Right - sorry,” Atsushi stammers awkwardly, standing and backing up. “I'll be - right back. I think I just need to change the bandage.”

So he does just that. He takes some supplies out from the bathroom and leaves the basket on the counter, since he'll certainly need this again later.

Atsushi just sits beside him this time, taking off the bandage as carefully as he can. Akutagawa doesn't react to much of what he's doing, aside from when he tries to clean it up. He can feel him flinch and tense up, but he doesn't make any noise - just staring forward, even though he's paying no attention to the random channel he flipped to on the TV.

Atsushi looks up every now and then, just to peer at what he can see of his eyes, and he's deep in thought about something, so much so that Atsushi is worried he'll scare him if he suddenly speaks.

He wishes he knew what Akutagawa was thinking about.

As he finishes up the bandage, he eyes Akutagawa’s unfinished rice. He ate a fair amount of it, but not as much as Atsushi would have liked him to.

“You need to eat more than that,” Atsushi tells him after he pulls the collar of Akutagawa’s sweater back up over the new bandage. He thinks he'll have to change it every few hours or so. 

“Do you want me to vomit?” Akutagawa grumbles, using the armrest of the couch to force himself up, an action that seems to be rather painful. He's sore. He hopes that doesn't mean his stomach is already hurting.

“Does that mean you feel sick?” Atsushi asks him.

“I wish you would leave,” Akutagawa mumbles under his breath, not with any intention of hiding that sentiment from Atsushi. He thinks that's a yes, then, with how he's deflecting. His arms are crossed over his chest, very defensively, but Atsushi's at least glad to see he can stand on his own.

“I don't get all your back and forth. You let me bathe you and then you want me gone,” Atsushi huffs. Akutagawa has never made any sense to him. He can never tell what he's thinking or what he'll say next.

“You're only here because of Dazai, are you not?” Akutagawa says, walking towards his bedroom, “Tell him I'm alive and go home. He doesn't care how I'm doing beyond that. As long as - I can still use my ability.”

Atsushi can't see his face, but he can tell by the way his tone wavers that it hurts him to say out loud, like it's something he's only recently come to terms with.

“That's not -”

Akutagawa slams his bedroom door behind him with the help of Rashomon, as if it's helping him prove his point.

That can't be true. Dazai isn't like that. Sure, he did ask Atsushi to make sure Akutagawa wasn't dead and really didn't say anything beyond that, but it was because he hadn't heard from him in over a week, and he wanted to make sure he was okay before the storm came in. He doesn't think Dazai would be okay with Atsushi leaving as long as Akutagawa’s still breathing. He still needs help, he's not okay by himself.

Surely that doesn't have anything to do with the usefulness of Akutagawa’s ability.

As the sky gets darker, it brings on more thunder. He thinks the storm is starting to kick things into gear, and he changes the channel to confirm his suspicions. They talk about how the worst of it will come at around three in the morning, and they're still only at eight in the evening. He shivers at the thought of having to deal with the thunder all night.

He decides to force himself back into Akutagawa’s bedroom.

Akutagawa's sat up against his pillows with his comforter up over his knees, reading a book, of all things. He looks a little cold. Atsushi doesn't understand how he can read the words with how dim the light on his nightstand is, even with the pair of glasses he's suddenly wearing.

Akutagawa glares at him, and Atsushi stares back, but only because he can't stop thinking about the glasses. Does he think they look cute? Stupid? He doesn't know, but he's staring, and Akutagawa doesn't like it. The way he looks at him almost make it seem like he's taking it as a challenge, like a dog would.

“Glasses?” Atsushi just says.

Akutagawa tilts his head, confused at first. He rolls his eyes, visibly annoyed, before lifting his book back up. “I have terrible eyesight.”

“You do?” Atsushi says. That's new. He's never realized that. Does he wear contacts? Akutagawa doesn't seem like the time for that. Maybe he only needs them to see close up. Why does he even care?

“Must you always bother me? If you refuse to leave I'd rather not have to interact with you,” Akutagawa grumbles. Atsushi's realized over time that when he says stuff like this it doesn't sound genuine at all. Akutagawa thinks it does, that's what he's trying to put on, but Atsushi doesn't think he wants to be alone. But Atsushi doesn't have any idea how to call him out for it.

“Just shout if you need me, then,” Atsushi says, feigning indifference, nonchalance, he doesn't know, he just doesn't want Akutagawa to know it doesn't bother him.

“I will not,” Akutagawa says in some feeble attempt to defy him, but as if immediately struck down by karma, he suddenly groans from some intense pain, painful enough to make him drop his book and wrap an arm around his middle, painful enough to catch him off guard like that.

“Are you okay? Atsushi asks him, cautiously approaching the bed. “Is it your stomach?”

Akutagawa nods with a little noise of discomfort. He has a feeling this is a result of him eating, and he's got a lot more to be concerned about if Akutagawa throws up.

“Please just - leave me be,” Akutagawa groans quietly, his book already forgotten and off to the side as he doubles over, clearly in pain. Atsushi doesn't want to leave him. He is a little afraid of the backlash he'll face by ignoring him, but he thinks Akutagawa has other problems to worry about right now.

Atsushi wonders for a moment if maybe he has a heating pad somewhere that would help the pain a little bit, but Akutagawa derails any of Atsushi's mental plans to prevent him from getting sick when he gags.

Atsushi is fast enough to get the trash bin under his chin just as Akutagawa shifts to the edge of the bed, presumably to vomit on the floor to avoid the bed. He has his mouth covered and he's breathing fast and heavy, staring forward like he's too focused on avoiding throwing up to see Atsushi has the bin for him.

“Here, use this,” Atsushi tells him, fairly certain that whatever Akutagawa is trying to do to breathe around his nausea isn't going to work, and he's right. As soon as Akutagawa is aware of the bin, he coughs and retches, and a rush of vomit splatters into the thin bag.

It's not much at all, just a few bits of rice mixed in with saliva. Atsushi is fairly certain that there's blood there too, but he's not sure if it's a result of

his cough or how poor his health has been the past several days. He bites his lip, trying to stay as still as possible as he holds the bin.

He breathes heavy, shaky over the bin, strings of saliva caught on the sides, his lips shining from it. He spits to break them off and tucks the side piece of his hair that's facing Atsushi behind his ear. Atsushi holds his breath. That was weirdly attractive.

He groans quietly, gagging one more time over the bin, catching him off guard. Atsushi reaches over to lay a hand on his back to give him some comfort, but before he can, Akutagawa shifts himself back to the center of the bed to lie down, arms wrapped around his abdomen.

Atsushi sets the bin down on the floor, assuming he doesn't need it anymore, but he doesn't look any less nauseous.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Akutagawa grumbles. Atsushi didn't realize that he was making a face. “I'm not…a stranger to this.”

Atsushi feels his stomach sink. He knows that. This isn't even the first time he's seen Akutagawa throw up, but seeing him in so much pain and discomfort without much of a way to help him still makes him feel awful. Atsushi really wants him to see a doctor.

“I think you should -”

“I'm fine,” Akutagawa mumbles, now letting Atsushi even finish his suggestion, “let me sleep. I'll be fine.”

Atsushi doesn't believe him. He's still visibly nauseous. He thinks Akutagawa just wants him to leave to save him some embarrassment, but really, Atsushi has no real power over him there, as long as he's not actively throwing up right now.

Atsushi takes the comforter and shifts it around a little before laying it halfway over Akutagawa, who pulls it up closer to his shoulders. He doesn't say anything, doesn't ask Atsushi to leave or to do anything else, he just shuts his eyes and pretends he isn't there.

Atsushi supposes that's better than pushing him away.

…

Atsushi thinks it's around one in the morning when he hears Akutagawa's bathroom door shut.

He hopes for a few seconds that maybe he's just gone to use the bathroom, but the coughing and retching that follows is enough to get him off of the couch and headed that direction.

It's dark. It's probably midnight now, Akutagawa somehow slept for longer than expected, at least as far as Atsushi is aware. He left Akutagawa’s bedroom door open just enough for him to still hear anything, but even so, his enhanced hearing helps as a backup.

Unfortunately, though, it makes him extra sensitive to the thunder roaring overhead and the needle-like raindrops flying against the windows, too.

Atsushi sneaks into Akutagawa’s bedroom, peering through the first door and allowing the dim light from the living room to spill into the bedroom. Akutagawa isn't here, of course, he can still hear him coughing in the bathroom, but his sheets are strewn across the bed as a sign of a very restless sleep. The sweatpants he wore are tangled in the sheets, too.

He opens the bathroom door now, carefully, and flips on the light switch because it's far too dark for him to see anything right off the bat. Akutagawa is on his knees in front of the toilet, his forehead pressed against it for a moment before he lifts his head to hiccup, and gag unproductively into the bowl. He's just wearing the long sleeved shirt and a pair of boxers now. He must've gotten too hot and taken his sweatpants off.

“I don't need you in here,” Akutagawa grumbles, whipping his head to the side and attempting to glare at him, but the light is too much. He hisses through his teeth, like he didn't realize it was on to begin with, turns his head back and presses a hand up against his forehead.

“Does your head hurt?” Atsushi asks, his hand on the light switch.

“Turn them off,” he mumbles. “Please.”

Atsushi shivers as thunder roars over head just as he turns off the lights, and he swears he sees the same reaction from Akutagawa, barely lit by the plug-in light near the sink.

“I didn't know you knew how to say please,” Atsushi teases, trying to keep his voice quiet, now that he's aware of his returned headache - if it ever even left in the first place.

“Leave me alone, Weretiger. I don't need you to sit here and watch me vomit,” he mumbles back, his tone weak and desperate, almost, the bite from his tone completely gone now.

Atsushi's heart sinks. He sounds miserable. He really sounds like he's in a lot of pain, and Atsushi can see it, too. He moves and sits beside him, close enough to be useful but not too much in his space, and watches him wrap an arm tight around his stomach, groaning quietly from the pain. His skin is paler than before, in a harsher contrast against the dark circles under his eyes, and there's some shine against the sweat collecting on his forehead. He’s certain his fever isn’t any better.

“You don't wanna try taking anything for your stomach?” Atsushi asks, clicking his tongue. He knows anything Akutagawa swallows will just come right back up. There's injectable medications for nausea, but he doesn't exactly have those resources in this situation. He thinks Yosano would kill him if he even attempted asking her.

“There's something I have that -” he stops, his body tensing up sharply as his stomach cramps,  but his mouth stays closed through grit teeth and nothing seems to come up, “in the mirror…that can melt under my tongue.”

“The mirror?” Atsushi repeats, standing up and headed for the absurdly large sink counter where the mirror, three times the size of his own at home, stands. He didn't know such a medication existed, but Akutagawa certainly would, considering how often he's sick.

“Just press the corner of the left panel,” Akutagawa mumbles, laying his head against the porcelain with a shiver and a defeated sigh.

Atsushi does so very gingerly, not entirely sure what that will do, but the panel pops out at an angle, like a cabinet would. He takes the corner and opens it all the way, revealing six or seven shallow shelves filled to the brim with various medications. Most of which are in prescribed amber bottles.

Atsushi's stomach twists at the sight of all of them. He doesn’t think that even Yosano has this many in her in-house supply. They all have his name. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke. He catches sight of various dates, ranging from a month ago to two years ago, and so many medication names he doesn't recognize. Doxycycline, Azithromycin, Prednisolone, and dozens of others, some unfinished and some empty. There's over the counter stuff in here, too - Midol, Theraflu, extra strength Tylenol, and more - some of which he's never seen before.

“Which…one?” Atsushi asks, overwhelmed by what he's looking at. He had incorrectly assumed it would be easy to find.

“Zofran,” Akutagawa murmurs quietly. Atsushi can barely hear him. “Or…Ondansteron.”

Atsushi scans over his collection and finds it labeled under the second name, carefully removing it as not to knock over the others, one hand splayed out just in case they happened to fall. He’s tempted to make a joke about it to lighten up how he feels seeing this collection, but he doubts Akutagawa wants to hear any of that, being this sick or not.

“I need to sort through those,” Akutagawa mumbles when Atsushi kneels down next to him, crossing his legs just a foot or so away as he opens the box and pulls out the silver packing. “It’s…it’s not as much as it seems.”

Weirdly enough, Akutagawa seems to be saying that to make Atsushi feel better about it. He doesn’t think that it’s true, and that makes him feel worse.

Akutagawa twists up in pain again, breathing out a pained groan as his eyes screw shut. He shifts to gag over the toilet bowl, an arm still wrapped around his abdomen, but he still can’t bring anything up. Atsushi doubt he has much left anyway with how little he’s had to eat.

Akutagawa breathes heavy over the bowl, very visibly nauseous now, having trouble focusing, it seems like. Atsushi hears more thunder, louder than before, and Akutagawa shakes at the sound of it, this time, apparently not caring much to hide that fact from him right now.

Atsushi bites his lip. He scoots a little closer and lays a hand between his shoulder blades, surprised to not see him lash out considering how much he wanted him gone.

“I’d be surprised if you had anything left to throw up,” Atsushi says with a quiet sigh.

“I don’t think I do,” Akutagawa mumbles back, “that’s - the problem.”

Atsushi tries to shift his hand a little in attempt to rub his back, give him some comfort, but he fliches at the sudden movement and Atsushi takes his hand back. It’s strange, how he won’t allow this despite the fact that Atsushi bathed him not too many hours ago. Maybe the fever was subduing him. Maybe he’s a little more with it now.

That’s good, he thinks, but it means Akutagawa is pushing him away.

Akutagawa lays down on his side in front of the toilet, slowly. almost holding his breath. He wraps both arms around his middle with a quiet groan and almost relaxes on the floor. Atsushi would rather he realx in his bed, but he’ll let him rest here for a moment before he makes him move.

Atsushi's pained to see how battered Akutagawa’s thin legs are. There's awful scars of all shapes and sizes - Atsushi can pick out several from bullets, he's able to recognize those fairly easily. There’s newer injuries, too, as new as the one on his shoulder, but none nearly as bad.

He doesn’t often think about the kinds of things Akutagawa has suffered through. He’s sure bullet wounds are just the surface, even despite how long something like that must take to heal, and the nasty scars they leave behind. It’s no wonder Akutagawa’s body can hold up long anymore, illness or not.

“Do you wanna go ahead and take it?” Atsushi asks him quietly, trying to ignore how loud his own thoughts are. “You can lay here for a little to see if it works. But I don't think you should sleep here.”

Akutagawa lets out a quiet, defeated groan, and reaches a hand out to take the pill from Atsushi. He watches him take it, but he can’t use that to ignore what he’s thinking.

He doesn’t think he could ever convince Akutagawa to leave the mafia, but he’s worried he won’t survive through it much longer in his condition.

Why does he care, anyway?

[pollymorgan]

Teacher Negan - The Football Game - Part 3

Warnings: Of course, there's still a big age difference and Negan is an absolute asshole.

I confess to him that I will be a student at his high school after the summer holidays and therefore lied about my age. I stare at the ceiling, not daring to look at him, but even without eye contact, I feel the tension in the room.

Negan sits up and runs his hands over his face. I dare a quick look at his naked back.

"Shit.." he mumbles softly and then repeats it louder, "Damn shit!"

He turns abruptly to me and looks me directly in the eyes. I can't really decipher his gaze, but I know I've screwed up big time. I am painfully aware of that now.

"Do you realize that with this whole action, you have not only jeopardized my job but damn it, everything?" You can feel he's trying to stay calm, but his voice trembles and sends shivers down my spine.

I sit up now and try to hide my naked body under the covers. I feel incredibly vulnerable and exposed.

With a trembling voice, I try to justify myself. "I'm sorry, I.. I didn't know that...".

"This whole thing must never be found out! Understand?!" he interrupts me without hesitation. He doesn't even acknowledge what I'm trying to explain. My words don't reach him, so I reply only as expressively as possible. "Of course not!!".

He shakes his head in disbelief and then thinks for a moment. The silence in the room makes me feel my heartbeat so clearly that I could swear you can hear it pounding.

Suddenly, Negan stands up and without looking at me, he says emotionlessly, "I'll call you a taxi and then go shower. By the time I'm done, you'll be gone!"

As he says this, I feel my throat tighten. I would like to cry, to get rid of the feeling of not being able to breathe, but I pull myself together as best as I can. When he leaves the bedroom, I can already hear him starting to make a phone call. Quickly, I get up and gather my things from the floor to get dressed quickly.

When I accidentally discover a notepad and pens on his desk, I tear off a piece of paper and write on it "I'm really sorry, but I don't want to undo this night! Sam." Below that, I place my phone number. I have no idea what I hope to achieve with this. I know that this note will probably be torn into a thousand pieces and thrown in the trash in a few minutes. Then I quietly leave the house, as if I want to slip away.

The next few days are really tough for me. I constantly beat myself up with feelings of guilt and can't even talk to anyone about what happened. And the worst part is that I strangely miss Negan. Scenes from that night play over and over in my mind. I imagine how his skin felt on mine. How he looked at me. His dominant voice. The feeling of his fingers, his tongue, his penis. Never has a man driven me so crazy. But why him of all people?

I catch myself constantly staring at my phone. Hoping he didn't throw away my number and would contact me. But of course, no message from him comes.

I only have one option left. I have to get him out of my head and hope that we run into each other as rarely as possible at school. And that won't be too hard, I tell myself. It's a pretty big high school after all.

My cousin keeps asking me and wants to know who or what is responsible for my bad mood. But the fact that I can't talk to her about it depresses me even more. I constantly come up with excuses. "I miss my old clique.. moving is more emotional than I thought!" I lie to her.

She convinces me to make the most of the rest of my summer holidays and introduces me to some of her friends, and luckily, she is so persistent because over time, I have more and more fun. They are really great friends who are up for any activity and distract me perfectly.

The weather is wonderful, and this city offers so many opportunities. Hardly a day goes by when we're not out and about. Shopping malls, swimming pools, sports events, concerts, bars, nightclubs. Over time, I already know my new hometown quite well.

I wish these holidays would never end. But all good things come to an end. I've painfully experienced that several times already, so I have only one week of free time left.

My cousin, a handful of other friends, and I are once again sitting in one of our favorite places in the evening. We've been out all day and are pretty tired, but none of us can say no to one last drink.

I'm about to take a selfie with my friends when I see on my display that I have three missed calls from an unknown number. Surprised, I stare at my phone, which I had silenced so low that I probably didn't hear it ring in the bar's noise. It starts vibrating in my hand again. The same number flashes. Hesitantly, I press the green call button and say loudly, to drown out the background noise, "Hello?"

"Sam? Are you there?" answers a familiar deep voice. A lightning bolt shoots through my body, and my heart skips a beat. Almost automatically, I stand up and move away from my friends, who look at me questioningly.

"Negan?" I ask cautiously.

"It feels so good to hear your voice, damn it, how many times have I imagined it in the last few days!" he says slightly slurred. Oh man, is he drunk?

I can't think clearly and am completely overwhelmed by the situation. I leave the bar purposefully, and the warm night air gives me a chance to take a deep breath again.

"What do you want?" I ask, confused.

"What do I want? I want you, of course, but I can't have you, and that's the damn problem. Tell me you think of me too.. Please, I need to hear it..!".

Oh yes, he's definitely drunk. But as the saying goes, drunk people and little children always tell the truth. And the fact alone that he still has my number makes a lot clear to me.

"I think about you all the time.." I confess, watching the bright lights of passing cars. All the feelings I've successfully suppressed in the past weeks now come rushing back like an avalanche.

"I want you here, to touch you, to see your beautiful smile, Sam. I don't want to have to imagine it anymore.." he whispers into the phone, giving me goosebumps.

"Okay, give me 30 minutes, and I'll be there..." I say decisively into the phone. Suddenly, there is a strange silence on the other end. I wait for his response, my pulse racing wildly.

Hesitantly, he says, "That's not possible.. My wife is back from her cure, and besides, it wouldn't be right. It would be so damn wrong...".

I can't believe he's saying this. He calls me to reopen all wounds and make me feel bad. He was the one who invited me after the football game. He seduced me and took me to his place, even though he's married. He was the one who kicked me out and is now calling me after weeks just to reject me again.

It suddenly dawns on me that I wasn't the villain in this whole situation. Resolutely, I speak into the phone. "Negan, you know what? Just delete my number and forget everything that happened between us." With these words, I press the red call button with trembling fingers. I couldn't have handled a response from him at this point.

[leonsthunderthighs]

Chapstick

WAAHHH I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH AND I MISSED YOU GUYS. Literally don't know what happened- I guess I got hit by a HARD writers block </3 I'm hoping I'll continue to write more often. (Also this story has been sitting in my drafts so I cleaned it but if you see any mistakes, no you don't)

☆RE4 Remake Leon Era!

☆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ⋆☆

Leon relaxed on the couch with an arm behind his head and a book in his spare hand. His calm blue eyes shifted along the lines taking in every word on the pages as his blonde brows slightly furrowed in concentration. Strands of his hair were highlighted from the soft yellow and orange hues from the open windows. The warm sunlight kept the house perfectly lit as it highlighted the pages. It captivated him, seeing the ink within the paper form into intricate images as if it was all right there in front of him. The words guiding his thoughts, from day to night and characters exchanging words within simple quotation marks.

His focus was broken once he heard a familiar voice speak up to him.

"Wanna try somethin'?

You asked with a mischievous smile pursed on your lips. Leon's gaze shifted on you clearly hiding something from him behind your back.

"Hm, depends on what you have in mind." He said with a smile slowly matching yours, he places down his book with the pages against the table, saving the story for later. He shifted his legs allowing you to sit in front of him, but tempted to have you sit on his lap letting you as close to him as possible. Leon watched you sit in front of him in curiosity, wondering what you're planning in that head of yours.

"Alright, I put on different chapsticks and you have to guess the flavor for each one." You explained, keeping each flavor hidden behind you.

"Do I get hints?" He asked raising a brow, his delicate gaze watched you attentively.

"Hmm, I'll think about it. Now close your eyes, and don't even think about peeking." He chuckled quietly as he obeyed you and closed his eyes, keeping his smug smile on his face. You leaned closer to his face, but took your time purely admiring his serene state. His features were perfectly structured, the height of his cheekbones, the dark circles under his eyes making the blues more iridescent, the small freckles on his cheeks and his pretty lips that always has something smart to say.

The both of you sat at such an intimate proximity, his hands comfortably rested on your knees as your smile grew more eager.

Your lips drew closer together letting the space between you grew smaller, enough for him to catch the familiar scented chapstick lingering around your lips.

"Thats my cherry chapstick."

You sucked your teeth and wiped your lips with the collar of your shirt.

"That was the easy one, how about this one?" You followed the same process with a different chapstick as Leon kept his eyes closed. His thumbs mindlessly rubbed circular patters against your skin as the feeling made you smile. Every fiber of his being wanted to kiss you, but he didn't want to use his hint already and besides, this little game you had was quickly growing on him.

"Watermelon?"

He cocked his head to the side slightly as his brows furrowed a bit. The flavor felt awfully familiar, recognizing the sweet smell.

"Mhm but you'll never guess this one." Your lips met the collar of your shirt again as you evenly applied a new balm across your smile.

The sweet scent enticed him, his lips barely brushing against yours but your hands resting on his shoulders held him back, making him groan.

"It would count as your hint baby," you spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. He could practically feel your smug grin against his eager ones.

"I need a hint."

Leon's voice was small as his lips parted, waiting with bated breaths. Your hands rose to the back of his head running your fingers through his sandy blonde strands of hair. His hair wasn't coarse or rough, instead it was soft and cared for. You loved playing with his hair and everytime you did, Leon would simply melt in your touch and hum in content as you would brush your fingers through his hair.

Ardently Leon pressed his lips against yours and took everything in. This one had a much different smell and taste than the others, it was less sharp than cherry but held a different sweetness than watermelon, yet it felt vaguely familiar.

Your lips separated leaving Leon deep in thought.

"Did you get it?" Your words gave his skin goosebumps, making his eyes flutter open. He focused his senses on the flavor lingering on his lips and the scent of the balm around his nose as if he was reading ink on paper, forming some sort of idea of what it could be in his head.

"I don't know, I've never tasted that one before..." Leon's gaze focused on your peachy lips as you spoke. His voice was at a volume only you could hear, as they were only for you.

"It's strawberry sweetheart"

"I think it might be my favorite one"

☆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾⋆☆

[jesterwriting]

I saw your requests are open and I wanted to ask if you could write headcanons or drabbles (whatever you feel like) about how Zoro, Sanji and Law would take care of/help a trans masc Reader having a bad gender dysphoric day? Thank you so much and I hope you have a wonderful day/night! ♡

(not sure if you write for Mihawk but if you end up making headcanons and write for him, it'd make me really happy if he were among them as well 👉👈)

pairing: zoro x reader, sanji x reader, law x reader, mihawk x reader (separate)

contents: transmasc!reader, gender dysphoria, clueless but he tries zoro, ‘it’s not dysphoria, it’s dysphoriUS’ sanji, talks of gender affirming surgery in law’s

word count: 1.5k words

note: so personally i don’t experience a lot of dysphoria besides some chest dysphoria, so this might not be the best. just know that i tried VERY hard and i hope you enjoy these headcanons all the same :3 i love to put out trans centered content when i can hehe <33

playlist: rabbit in a headlight - autoheart

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro, bless his heart, doesn’t get it. To him, you look perfectly masculine and it’s hard for him to wrap his head around the fact that you think otherwise. His first instinct is to invite you to work out with him; get your endorphins going. (There’s nothing more masculine than getting sweaty with another man.) Zoro will give you tips as to what muscles to train to get a build you’ll be happier with. If you need it, he will even help write up a training regimen for yourself, especially if his original plan of working out helps you. Zoro won’t go easy on you, he knows your strengths and weaknesses enough to know what you can handle. That said, he may end up overestimating your abilities in an attempt to get you to push yourself. In terms of taking care of you, Zoro might bring you a glass of water, maybe a plate of food if you missed a meal. It took him a lot of effort to keep enough food away from Luffy to fill your plate, so you better be thankful. Give him a smile and watch his ears turn pink.

Words of affirmation are not his strong suit. If you need to vent, he’ll be there, of course. His replies will be blunt and to the point as he leans against the side of the ship, one eye open as he listens to you. Zoro might come off as a little insensitive with his words, but ultimately, he wants you to understand that he doesn’t view you any different from any other man he knows. If anyone misgenders you, may god have mercy on their soul. They will have a very unhappy swordsman barking up their tree within seconds. Afterwards, Zoro will remind you not to listen to idiots who don’t know what they’re talking about.

Black Leg Sanji

Unlike Zoro, words of affirmation are Sanji’s speciality, second only to acts of service. Listening carefully to your words, he will interrupt every so often to compliment you, or to remind you of how handsome he finds you. He can feel his heart crack at the thought of you feeling ill at ease with your body, taking it a bit more personally than he needs to. Sanji loves you deeply, and the fact that you are hurting while there is little that he can do about it is enough to drive him batty. As you’re explaining how you feel, you can see tears well in his eyes. It’s a little awkward, if not sweet that he cares about you enough to take your feelings to heart. You won’t be expected to move a muscle so long as you’re feeling bad. Sanji brings your meals to you, each one hand made with as much love as he could muster. He hopes you can taste it.

As soon as you want to get up, you’ll notice that every mirror on the Sunny is covered by a blanket so as not to cause you any unnecessary stress. Sanji treats you as if you are made of glass, and is more than a bit dramatic with his attempts to help you. The entire day, he follows you around, offering declarations of how handsome you are at every step. It would be somewhat annoying if his attempts weren’t entirely in earnest. Like Zoro, Sanji doesn’t quite understand dysphoria. How you perceive yourself and how he perceives you differ enough that it confuses him, and he feels like he’s not doing enough as a partner to make you feel comfortable in your own skin. You’re going to have to explain to him that it’s something entirely out of both of your control. You just have to ride the wave when it arrives. Sanji understands that, at least. On bad days, you will have your very own cheerleader, entirely willing to wait on you hand and foot.

Trafalgar Law

Like Zoro, Law is very solutions based. He is a doctor, not only does he understand how you feel — at least in a medical sense — he comes equipped with solutions other’s aren’t able to offer. If he catches you avoiding mirrors or wearing baggy clothing more often, he will sit you down and offer said solutions to you. You are aware that it’s not outside of his capabilities to perform gender affirming surgery, right? He is more than happy to provide if it means you’ll feel euphoric rather than dysphoric. Of course, any surgery is a big decision. Take time to discuss it with him and yourself, Law is patient and more than willing to help explain the process if you want him to. If you decide against it, Law understands. It’s a very big, very permanent decision, though he assures you he’s available if you ever change your mind. To help assuage your fears, Law will offer you one of his textbooks that detail gender affirming care, openly explaining any medical term you’re unfamiliar with and processes you don’t understand.

In terms of taking care of you, Law is more than a little awkward. He gives good, albeit stiff, hugs. His arms are long enough to fully wrap you in his embrace and hold you against him for however long you need. (That said, you can feel him start to get antsy once you pass the sixty second mark.) If you’re having trouble showering, Law offers to share the bathroom with you. Of course, he would have his back to you, he assures. It would just be easier to get done if you have someone in there distracting you from any negative thoughts. If you want to spend the day in bed, Law will join you throughout the day, laying next to you and quietly reading when he has down time. He enjoys sharing space with you, and if you want, he will even absentmindedly run his fingers through your hair as you lay next to him. It’s hard for Law to properly take care of others when he can hardly remember to eat half the time. For you, however, he is attentive and caring, treating you like a patient until you feel 100% yourself again. Every thirty minutes, Law will ask you on a scale of one to ten how you feel, never judging you for your response.

Dracule Mihawk

Like Law, and unlike Sanji and Zoro, Mihawk understands your dysphoria. While he’s never experienced it himself, he’s lived long enough to know what it is and what it entails. Lending you a listening ear, he is quiet as you speak, fully absorbing the weight of your words while you vent to him. He lays next to you in bed, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his thumb gently stroking your skin. Once you’re done, he offers cool words of affirmation, a balm for your aching soul. Afterwards, like Zoro, he offers to help you train your body to be one that you’re able to feel euphoric about. And if that doesn’t sound appealing to you, Mihawk is more than happy to pull some strings and get you to meet Ivankov. They are far more equipped to help you than he is. Of course, if you much prefer comfort over solutions, Mihawk is capable of that as well. He will make you a cup of tea, pour himself a glass of wine, and sit by your bedside for hours, simply sharing the space with you, his golden eyes studying every inch of your frame for any obvious signs of distress.

Mihawk thinks you look wonderful, no matter what you wear. If you find comfort in baggy, oversized clothing, he will think you look just as good now as you do in elegant suits, perfectly tailored to fit your body. His only preference is for you to wear soft fabrics. Something he can run his hands over when he passes you by in the halls or when he’s greeting you in the kitchen. Cashmere and velvet are two favorites of his. In the days that follow, Mihawk will run his calloused palm along the sides of your face, placing a chaste kiss to your lips, before he tells you how handsome you look today. It’s not the first time that he’s complimented you, but it certainly comes as a surprise. After learning that there are days you are more ill at ease with your body than others, Mihawk makes more of an effort to compliment you. Reminding you that he sees and appreciates the man in front of him.

[whydontyousaeso]

“Tattooed in your brain” part 6!

Damian Preist x Fem Reader

Warnings- insults from random people, semi mentions of smut(not really)

A/n- it’s finally here 😭. I hope you guys like this and I’ll start posting other characters soon! Love you guys :3

Tag list: @brideofinfamy @haileysmall2005 @alyyaanna @queencherryberry @new-zealand-chic @lizzyd1ish @southerngirl41 @hikaruhatsue

He took you to a really good authentic Mexican restaurant, which was good because of the way your cravings had worked recently.

As you sat across him you admired his features, looking over his broad shoulders and chest along with his toned arms.

You almost let your brain wander too far.

That was quickly stopped however, you forced yourself to come back to reality and shake the thoughts from last night off.

“What are you thinking about?”

Dammit

“Hm? Nothing important.”

He smirked slightly and let it go.

“So am I taking you back to your place after this?”

Oh

You hadn’t thought about that.

Unfortunately you were actually pretty busy for the next couple days, as you had multiple job interviews.

“Yeah, I think that would work out”

“Got it, any way we could possibly do this again super soon?”

You sat and thought for a second.

“I have a ton of interviews through Wednesday, and if any of them offer me the job on the spot I’m taking it. I guess I just have to see how it plays out.”

He nodded along with your words, taking his time to think at the end.

“I wouldn’t mind having another date night Friday, if that’s okay with you of course”

Oh how you loved the date night from yesterday.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t”

That made him smile.

“Well, looks like we’re here”

You nodded with a tight lipped smile, in all reality you didn’t want to leave but had to.

“Make sure you’re taking care of the tattoo, I actually want to see it in a few days but if you can’t come in it’s perfectly understandable.”

You nodded again and looked over at him, leaning towards him

“I’ll see you next Friday if anything else D”

He smiled and leaned in, kissing your soft lips slowly.

Oh how his kisses always sent you to heaven

Or south of heaven, depending on the mood surrounding it.

You pulled back and smiled

“I’ll text you later, I promise.”

He nodded and let you go, allowing you to grab your bag and step out of the car.

As you made your way up the steps you let your mind wonder again.

You were gonna have to surprise him this week.

He was always doing a lot for you.

Maybe once the tattoo healed up, you were sure he would love to see the tattoo once it was settled.

You unlocked the door and stepped into the now empty apartment.

Your roommate was gone.

You kicked off your shoes and walked to your bedroom, throwing yourself on the bed and scrolling mindlessly through your social media.

You can’t say he left your mind though.

You missed him.

A lot.

Even as you looked at the bag that held your clothes from the night prior you ached for him.

You knew they would smell exactly like him.

The interviews were rough.

Really rough.

No one was interested in you or your skills, which was extremely frustrating.

“May I ask what turns you away from me?”

The older man smiled at you.

“Well it’s just I don’t think you would be nice as the first thing people see when they walk in.”

“Excuse me?”

He definitely just called you ugly

“Well I-“

“No it’s fine, you don’t have to explain anymore.”

You stood up and grabbed your things

“Thank you for the interview”

You speed walked out, holding back the angry tears in your eyes.

It was about lunchtime, and you weren’t far away from Damian’s place.

You pulled out your phone and called him, waiting for him to pick up.

“Cariño, what’s up?”

“Where are you right now?”

“Just hanging at my house, why?”

“Can I come over?”

“Yeah of course, need me to pick you up?”

“No no, I’ll be there in five minutes”

“Sounds good, stay safe”

You were so ready to be done.

You knocked on the door, your feet killing you in your heels.

It only took him a few seconds to open the door, sweeping you off your feet instantly

You wrapped your arms around him, everything dropping out of your hands.

“I missed you so much y/n”

You hummed and kissed his cheek, laying your head in his neck.

“It’s only been a couple of days”

You mumbled

“I still missed you.”

He closed the door and moved your things aside, carrying you into the living room.

The same one that you were in last time.

As he laid you down you noticed you could still smell it.

But that was the least of your concerns

“What’s wrong?”

You sighed and played with his hair, letting everything spill out.

As you let your stresses out he sprinkled kisses on your neck and chest, listening intently to everything you said.

“Do you have any more interviews today?”

You shook your head, wrapping your legs around him.

“Then you’re staying with me, if you want to of course.”

You smiled softly

“I came here for a reason you know?”

He chuckled and fixed your hair, running his hands through it.

“Do you need to go get anything from your apartment?”

“Not really, unless I decide to stay the night”

“That would be nice”

“It would, what do you have to do tomorrow?”

“I have a 12 am, then a 3 pm”

You hummed, tapping his shoulder so you could sit up.

“I might, I dunno yet. Why don’t we just watch tv or something?”

He nodded and kissed your cheek.

“Sounds good to me darling.”

[asher-agere]

Haii!! I hope you’ve been doing well! Sorry I keep requesting stuff, please feel free to ignore this since I’m sure you’re busy! (*´д`*) but I was wondering what you think Kunikida would be like with a really whiny little that wants to be held 24/7? I’m curious as to how he would handle it since they would probably interrupt his schedule often. (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) thank you! :3 -⭐️

( ˶°ㅁ°) !! Never apologize for requesting things! Never ever ever! Every request brings me such immense joy! And if I truly was super busy (I’m really really not), I could save this request for another day! No pressure felt at all hehe. But I can absolutely do this request! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Caregiver Kunikida

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

⭑.ᐟ Kunikida is a man of his schedule of course. However that doesn’t mean a baby would interrupt his schedule! It just means he needs to plan around it! He would set up scheduled times for his little one to regress, does that mean they can only regress at those times? Absolutely not! But it makes it less likely to happen randomly, keeping their mind constantly at ease. How often would depend on the regressor, but he’ll work it into his schedule no matter what!

⭑.ᐟ Kunikida will constantly have ways to check in, and he’ll plan accordingly! He’ll ask them where their headspace is, it can be explained through colors, numbers, or even temperature! Any sort of pre-decided way to let him know how they’re feeling! If they’re feeling stable in a big headspace he’ll do the work that requires his full attention, both hands that sort of thing. If they’re feeling close to slipping he’ll set up to do something simple so that he can hold them close as he works!

⭑.ᐟ Everything is ready as a grab and go! He’ll have a caregiver bag! Not quite as bulky as a big diaper bag, just something small to carry around a bottle of juice, a pacifier, a coloring book and crayons, and a small toy! The necessities. If his little one is ok with it he’d like to stay at the office until he’s done working, but if they’re shy the work can be done at home!

⭑.ᐟ Just because he’ll keep working does not mean he’s neglecting his little. He’d never dream of it! He’ll bounce them in his lap to keep them happy, he’ll hold a bottle and cradle them, whatever they need! Anytime they babble to him he’ll set down what he’s doing to give them his full attention, and if anything is seriously wrong he’ll drop his work in a heartbeat! However he likes the cozy domestic feeling of baby and work, both things he finds soothing

⭑.ᐟ With Kunikida there will definitely be a rule list! Nothing serious or scary of course, mainly just making sure they take care of themselves! And it’s perfectly ok to ask for help. He’d never punish a baby, the most severe he’d ever do is a timeout, but he’d be there to hold their hand! And if they get too worked up he’ll instantly stop it saying they’ve “had enough”. But really he prefers rewards! Much nicer than punishments

⭑.ᐟ If he has a regressor that regresses daily expect nap times! No one likes a cranky baby, so he’ll gently rock them to sleep and cradle them in his lap, feed them a bottle of warm milk, then he gets to hold them as he works! He never wants to set them down for long, always wants to cling to them like they cling to him. He also does the reward of if they nap during the day they can stay up later at night! A very incredibly tempting trade off

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

I had so much fun writing this! As someone who’s comforted by having a solid schedule I think Kunikida would be the best caregiver ever honestly. Always calm and prepared for anything. Baby doesn’t need to think! Just baby! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) Thank you for the fun request ⭐️! I hope you and anyone else enjoys reading these! Maybe as much as I enjoyed writing them (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[everlasting-elegy]

Permanence | Thoma x Reader

As Teyvat cried out for your aid, you and the Traveler set sail for Sumeru, leaving Thoma behind.

Genre: Angst, One-Sided Love (Thoma loves you <3), You’re not the Traveler (you’re just travelling with them), Hopeful(-ish?) Ending Word Count: 1.8k A/N: Haven't seen much Thoma angst so I decided to do it myself :DDD good GRIEF my writing is rusty but still hope you enjoyed~

Despite being a foreigner, Thoma had gotten used to the ways of the land. Ever since he was swept onto the shores as a young boy and taken in by the Kamisato Clan, he had grown up in the land of eternity. The nation turned and worked like clockwork, shops open and close at the same time, Thoma could expect to see the same faces on his errands. Every morning he would greet his masters and colleagues, every night he would bid them a goodnight as he returned to his chambers and the cycle would repeat. That was the routine he followed, and the rest of the nation was bound to it too, rising up each morning knowing what was to come and who to talk to.

And as such, he wasn’t particularly experienced in goodbyes.

He wasn’t used to the tightening in his heart as the Crux successfully made port, his heart would usually be racing. It should be racing, the ship would bring new exotic produce or even better, more fascinating people. But not today. Not today on this annoyingly bright day that promised good weather and calm seas. Not on this day where the Crux would be leaving with you.

Instead, his heart was now in the depths.

“That should be everything,” Beidou called out to the crew, nodding in satisfaction at the restocked cargo and they started to reboard. You and the Traveler stayed on the dock for the final debriefing with the Yashiro Commission.

“We cannot thank you enough for your contribution to Inazuma,” Ayato said.

“Have safe travels but please do come again,” Ayaka’s smile was brighter than her brother’s.

“You know, I’ve never been to Sumeru,” Thoma stated, innocently. It was a sudden comment. Whatever it took to have you regarding him with that smile again.

“Neither. Apparently the temperature can take a toll on you but it still sounds like an amazing place.”

It was adorable how you glowed at the mention of another land. He remembered seeing it when you first stepped into Inazuma, each island bringing a fresh aesthetic seen nowhere else in Teyvat. Even when he first brought you to the Kamisato Estate, you reacted as if he took you to the edge of the world. When you commented on how well kept the place was, Thoma couldn’t help but beam at your praise.

No matter where he took you, you would hold an expression of wonder as you would take in the surroundings, and Thoma? Well, he would be taking in the miraculous sight that was you. It was not as if he was missing anything, your shining eyes reflected the environment perfectly for him. He could stare at it all day. You definitely had fond memories here - Thoma wouldn’t let you leave until you did - but with that fondness came familiarity. Weeks of commissions and repetition left you with a comfortable but weary smile. It had been a long time since Thoma saw your eyes hold such wonder and curiosity and he got to see it again.

Right when you were leaving him.

“Once we figure out Sumeru, we might go back to Mondstadt in a few weeks to pay some old friends a visit,” you explained. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been in Mondstadt, right? We should meet there.”

“Of course!” Thoma responded, instinctively taking a step forward. Your smile widens as you put a hand on his shoulder and he places a hand on top of it. He doesn’t think about the looks that the Kamisatos are giving them, he can feel it on the back of his skull. It would look neutral to you but Thoma could read the nuances. He doesn’t want to see their faces ever so slightly creased in pity, silently apologising that their retainer has a duty that ties him to the land. He doesn’t need to be reminded of the chores that he would usually welcome with open arms. Not now. There is a more fleeting matter in front of him.

He tries to ingrain the feeling of your hand in his. How reassuring the weight of your hand on his shoulder is. If he had known that these affections would be so finite, he would have savoured them all more. Every brush of the hand, every ruffle of the hair, every hug at the end of the day. They were so casual, an instinctive way of life similar to breathing. And now he was taking in one last gasp of air, a final breath that would have to last him for archons knows how long.

He was holding his breath when you pulled away, finally boarding the Crux. He wracked his mind for anything he could say or do to make you stay. To turn around and say that you should stay for one more night, perhaps one more hotpot game? But he was no strategist like the Yashiro Commissioner, such schemes didn't come naturally to him. Even the Hydro Archon seemed to be against Thoma, with how gentle the seas were as the waves lapped gently at the shore. Each pull back from the shore was a gentle tug to the Crux, lulling it out to the glistening waters. Never did the world beyond Inazuma look so inviting.

“Any final words for our dear allies?” Ayato asked his sister and to his retainer, but the slight inclination of his head suggested it was directed to the latter. Thoma swallowed and looked at the ground abashedly.

“May I, milord?”

“Of course.”

He took a step forward. Then a second. His legs were as stiff as the wooden planks he was trudging on. Rickety, unstable, he wanted to blame his janky walk on the uneven floorboards and not how his cracking heart made his world feel like it was spinning. Only when he looked at you could he balance himself. The one constant as you stood at the front of the ship, leaning over in anticipation once you noticed he was walking towards you. His anchor.

Perhaps, Thoma could tell you how much he wanted to be with you. There could be a way. Even if he was confined to the islands of Inazuma and couldn’t join your grandiose journeys, he could wait. Wait for your return. Wait for when all was said and done and you could come back here, to him. As a foreigner he was always disconnected from Inazuma, but this he understood: as the land of eternity he would wait an eternity for you. Was it possible? That out of all the marvelous and eccentric individuals you’ve met and will meet on your travels, that you would find him most special?

… who was he kidding.

A mundane civilian is just that regardless of which land they reside in. No matter the ranks he climbed or the loyalty he displayed, he will still be the humble boy from Mondstadt trying to fill in shoes that are too big for him. And yet he still had the gall to even consider winning your affections.

He had no right to, but he still wanted to try. Even when it seemed all of Celestia was mocking him for reaching for something so unattainable. You may be in front of him now, but when will he see you again once you disappear from the horizon? Will he ever see you again? Thoma didn’t have an Anemo vision but perhaps the winds could carry his words instead.

I love you.

But who was he to say such words to you?

“Feel free to come back!” Thoma beamed, smile forcefully widening as you smiled back. He prayed from this distance you didn’t see how his cheeks ached and strained, or how his eyes glistened under the sun. The arm he waved in farewell was more frantic than energetic. But you’re too far away to notice that, or that his arm trembled as he held it in the air, his limb suddenly too heavy as it collapsed to his side. He won’t let you notice, he refuses to be the one to sully the next delightful part of your life that he can’t be a part of. “I speak on behalf of the Kamisato Clan, Inazuma will always welcome you with open arms.”

I will always welcome you with open arms, Thoma bit his cheek as the thought ran through his mind. He gave a half-hearted nod of reassurance - but was he really trying to comfort; you or himself? - as he walked back to his place behind his superiors. He didn’t miss the eyebrow lift from Ayato, or how Ayaka gazed at him with wide eyes, their faces slightly creased with that humiliating pity. A silent apology hung in the air, but he had no need for it. Unless their apology could turn a ship back, or relieve him of the only life he’s ever known, it meant nothing.

And so, when the Crux was past the horizon - Thoma triple checked to make sure - the Yashiro Commission staff all returned to their posts.

“We forgot to arrange a parting gift for them,” Ayaka whispered quietly to her brother under her fan as they wandered back to the estate, even though no one except for Thoma could hear them. “Such dear friends and we couldn’t even offer some refreshments?”

“Ah, so we have,” Ayato hummed in acknowledgement. “Then that just means they will have to return here to make up for our transgression. Isn’t that right… Thoma?”

The Commissioner’s voice was light with mirth, his way of reassurance. Thoma responded with a smile that couldn’t reach his eyes; for when he had watched your figure as it disappeared into the horizon, you did not look back once.

But that was okay.

Thoma couldn’t truly call himself a citizen of Inazuma if he didn’t entertain the thought of eternity. He was alright with returning to business as usual. He can keep preparing dinners even if you’re not there chopping up ingredients beside him. He can negotiate with the hard-headed traders without you knocking some sense into them. He can do it with the uncertain promise of your return, a promise more whimsical than the fortune slips handed out at Narukami Shrine.

Until then, he willed himself to enter the state of waiting. He may not be well-acquainted with farewells, but he was plenty experienced in greetings. And so, he’ll wait for the Crux to dock once again with familiar cargo, so he can say hello to you one more time.

Genshin Impact Masterlist

[rowretro]

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

WARNINGS: none I think-

✧CHAPTER 3✧

The next day went by silently. All Heeseung knew, was that Jooyeon broke her heart and she drank and got high out of her mind. He didn't know about the harassment, all he heard was that a gang fight took place in a bedroom, and 5 men were killed. Sunghoon was just such a perfect actor. Not even y/n rememberred...

She woke up to find Sunghoon asleep on the sofa in her room. Why was he there? well he was simply installing extremely secret cameras around her room, but y/n didn't need to know that. As far as she's concerned, the latter only stayed behind to take good care of her, and make sure she was ok. Now that was rather flatterring.

Sunghoon stayed for breakfast then left, leaving the girl to Heeseung "Im so glad we don't have to put up with that rockstar wannabe anymore" Mrs Lee pointed out as Heeseung sighed "mom... i get he's a dick but maybe now is not the time... its 9pm and she's still all sad and quiet" Heeseung pointed out as the woman smiled at him. "Oh Heeseung... I know its hard to see her like this but... love is a lesson... all people need to experience some pain you know?" the woman pointed out as she hugged the boy, proud of how protective he is over his dear sister.

Heeseung silently took a seat beside y/n who sat by the window looking outside, glancing at her phone every now and then. "Miss him?" the male asked as y/n turned to him, teary eyed "I-I just keep hoping I'd see his car.... I really miss that car" y/n admitted as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I know... you spent most of ur time with him in that car when you sneak out" Heeseung pointed out "You knew?" "Of course I knew... I see it all the time... it's a good thing you feel this way because you feeling hurt is a reminder that this was a relationship worth having" Heeseung explained.

The night went by with y/n crying in Heeseung's arms, then the male leaving her on her bed. Jooyeon was finally out of the picture, now its time for Sunghoon to win her heart, slowly but surely it will happen. Sunghoon smirked as he watched her sleep peacefully through the camera, that think, silk cami night gown being the only thing covering her body, her cheeks slightly glossy with a few drying tears, the way she snuggled into the pillow beside her as if it were her husband... as if that pillow was him.

The following morning y/n was stuck being home alone, with dear Sunghoon to babysit her. Just him and y/n home alone. God these people trusted him way too much. "Sunghoon- do u want marshmallows?" the girl called from the kitchen "Sure I don't mind" he replied. Smiling, the girl climbed onto the kitchen counter and opened the cupboard, practically balancing on the edge.

As she got a hold of the packet, she felt herself slipping off the counter, "OH SHIT-" she yelped, realizing that her life was basically on the line. Out of no where, Sunghoon caught her in time, the girl in his arms as he stared down at her. He carried her to the sofa "If you couldn't reach you should've asked!" He sternly said as y/n could only nod. Oh her heart... she's never been this close to Sunghoon before. His plush lips, perfectly sculpted face, the way his hair strands fell in place, those eyebrows, sexy beautiful eyebrows, that nose she'd always wish she had, and to finish the look, those perfect moles that god splattered onto his face.

Oh he was such an angel. Sunghoon noticed that look in her eyes, his arms around her waist as she set her down slowly, but she never pulled away, she was too focused on him. His arms resting on the bare skin of her waist, as she wondered how lucky she was to have someone this pretty be there for her 24/7. Her brother's pretty best friend, who was such a sweetheart, was really doing something to her heart.

It was all too easy for Sunghoon, she's so naïve. She knew he was a demon, but she didn't make such a big deal out of it, why would she? he was nothing but sweet to her family and he caused no harm, as far as she's concerned. She doesn't know what hides behind that innocent, warm smile... a hungry monster waiting to pounce on her, and keep her all to himself...

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

[wisedawn13]

#xiantober Day 4: Ghostxian

CW // MCD

Lan Zhan stares up at the abandoned house in the dark of night, wondering how his life came to this. Objectively, he knows how: Nie Huaisang begged him to be the "skeptic" on his new ghost-hunting show and their brothers asked him to join.

(He's pretty sure he's really here to be eye candy)

Still. He wonders how it came to this. He hadn't wanted to say no; Nie Huaisang is one of his only friends even though they aren't particularly close. He probably should have said no.

Alas.

It's been a whole 3 months of scouring various "haunted" sights in the hopes of collecting any concrete proof that ghosts exist.

It's been 12 different sights and nothing.

Tonight is the 13th sight. Lan Zhan has no hopes of being proved wrong and he just wants to be at home.

Nie Huaisang hops out of the van with his bag of "tools" (Lan Zhan rather thinks of them as toys, but to each their own) and runs over beside Lan Zhan.

"Ready?"

Lan Zhan sighs. "Mn."

Nie Huaisang pulls up a camcorder and hits record, gesturing for him to do the same. He does.

Once they are recording, Nie Huaisang launches into his intro and spiel about the haunted history of this house. Lan Zhan knows it all already, he read the website. A young man who fought to save a group of people was murdered here 130 years ago. They never found out who did it.

There is talk of other ghosts and spirits being here, claims of sightings of a boy running the halls, an elderly woman in a rocking chair, a tall man who stands in the corner and stares at you, the feel of being pricked by a needle, and disembodied laughter.

Nie Huaisang's goal—aside from proving the existence of the preternatural—is to meet the man who was murdered here and find out who killed him.

Lan Zhan would just like to get the investigation over with.

They make their way in, going through the various rooms.

In the parlour, Nie Huaisang sets up a rem-pod on the rocking chair where people have claimed an elderly woman sits. There are minor spikes in temperature but nothing else happens.

In one of the corners of the house, he sets up a maglite in an attempt to communicate.

Lan Zhan has never been very fond of the maglight specifically, given that it can randomly turn off and on, but Nie Huaisang is very fond of the tool. No ghosts respond (shocking, he knows) and they move on to another area of the house to use the spirit box.

They make their way through, Nie Huaisang predominantly being the one to communicate with Lan Zhan rarely making comments or asking questions. Again, no clear answers come with the spirit box, though the feedback from it was definitely more chaotic than usual.

Nie Huaisang seems excited at that, claiming that proves that there's a lot of ghost activity here. Lan Zhan doesn't comment.

They end their joint investigation (they will be doing solo investigations after) in the basement, where the young man was found dead.

"Let's use the ovilus and SLS cam down here," Nie Huaisang comments, setting his EVP recorder and camcorder down before pulling out the SLS camera.

Lan Zhan sighs to himself and pulls out the ovilus, turning it on and aiming his own camcorder at Nie Huaisang.

Nie Huaisang explains what the equipment does (whether it's for the ghosts or for the viewers at home, Lan Zhan may never know).

"Hello! To any and all who may be down here in this basement, my name is Nie Huaisang and his here is Lan Zhan. We would love to talk to you."

[SEXY]

They freeze and Lan Zhan looks down at the ovilus. Nie Huaisang giggles, moving the SLS camera around the room. "Do you think I'm sexy?"

Nothing.

Nie Huaisang hums. "Do you think Lan Zhan is sexy?"

[HOT]

[MAN]

Nie Huaisang breaks into raucous laughter at that.

Lan Zhan, for his part, feels himself blush slightly. The ovilus has said many things before but never has it so perfectly seemed to compliment him in such a blatant way. Nie Huaisang is enjoying this far too much.

[VOICE]

"I think it wants you to speak," Nie Huaisang says.

"Hello," Lan Zhan says. "My name is Lan Zhan."

[SPARK]

[HEART]

[WARM]

Nie Huaisang is giggling, wiping tears away with his free hand and panning the SLS camera back over the room when he freezes with it aimed at Lan Zhan. His eyes widen as he looks at the screen.

"Looks like you've got company," Nie Huaisang states.

"What?"

Nie Huaisang continues to stare at the screen. "I can see you here, but there is also a clear secondary figure showing up. The stick arms seem to almost be wrapping around you from behind."

Lan Zhan's brow furrows.

[DON'T]

Suddenly, Lan Zhan feels the slightest chill breeze brush his neck. He sucks in a breath and glares at the old window behind him. Old houses are always so drafty.

Nie Huaisang clears his throat. "It's gone. Anyway, we got distracted by you getting hit on by a ghost."

Lan Zhan shoots Nie Huaisang an unimpressed look.

"I would like to speak to the man who died in this basement," he calls out. "Are you here now?"

They wait in silence for a beat.

[KILL]

"You were killed here, yes."

[HELP]

"You need help? What do you need help with?"

Silence.

"Is there anything you want to tell us?"

[ARREST]

[LOUD]

"Arrest and loud?" Nie Huaisang mutters. "Not sure what that means."

Lan Zhan shrugs minutely. "It's time."

"Right, okay ghosts! We're turning off the ovilus now, but we'll be back in alone soon."

With that, Lan Zhan shuts the equipment off and heads to the stairs.

"Ah, ah! Wait up!" Nie Huaisang exclaims, floundering to put his equipment back into his back and catch up. Together they walk out to the van and drop their stuff off.

"Okay, I'll go first this time."

Lan Zhan nods and sits down, picking up one of the walkie-talkies and waits to start the 30-minute timer once Nie Huaisang enters the building. Time passes slowly in the van at night, but he uses it to meditate. The timer goes off and he radios Nie Huaisang to let him know.

They trade off equipment and then it's Lan Zhan's turn to go in.

"I put the walkie where flirting happened," Nie Huaisang says with a smirk.

Of course. Lan Zhan nods and makes his way into the house and down to the basement. He finds the walkie in the far corner of the room.

"Found it," he radios.

"Good," Nie Huaisang replies. "Now I want to you sit in the middle of the room with your eyes closed for a minute while using the spirit box."

Without bothering to respond, Lan Zhan does as told. The annoying static of the spirit box drones on.

"Is there anyone here? Can you tell me your name?"

***** W— ***** Wei— *****

"Wei? Is that your name?"

***** Ying *****

"Wei Ying?"

All of a sudden, the sound of the spirit box cuts out and an eerie silence falls over Lan Zhan. He feels a chill brush over his skin.

~Lan Zhan~

A whisper of his name by his ears makes him jump, his eyes shoot open and he could have sworn he saw a beautiful man's face smiling in front of him, but when he blinks it's gone. Trick of the light in an old, dark basement.

Yeah.

And yet...

Lan Zhan, skeptic of the super/preternatural, finds himself starting to doubt what he previously believed as truth.

He feels something here, in this basement. In this house.

Slowly, he reaches his hand out, palm facing where he thought he saw a man. "Wei Ying?"

Nothing happens for a suspended moment and then he jolts when he feels something on his hand. The sensation slides and spreads over his palm before wrapping around as if another hand is threading their fingers between his. He lets his own fingers fold down.

Lan Zhan gasps quietly when he finds that he meets resistance as if there truly was a hand there, and yet he cannot see one.

~Lan Zhan~

The voice again, slightly louder this time. Definitely not the wind. It's a low, smooth voice; one that isn't familiar to him at all.

Well.

Lan Zhan loses track of time in the basement, holding onto a phantom hand, catching flickerings of the man's—Wei Ying's face. He feels unmoored.

He feels at home.

Until Nie Huaisang's voice rings throughout the house, calling his name in a frightened tone.

Lan Zhan starts, glancing at Wei Ying once more.

"I will return," he states. He has to. He will.

He feels a squeeze on his hand and then nothing. Wei Ying left.

With some reluctance, he stands up and grabs the dead spirit box.

"LAN ZHAN!?"

"I am okay!" he replies loudly.

"Oh, thank fuck!" Nie Huaisang yells. When Lan Zhan reaches the front of the house he finds a frazzled-looking Nie Huaisang pacing around. "You! Why didn't you respond to me?"

"What do you mean?"

Nie Huaisang groans. "I radioed you a bunch! You never replied!"

Odd. Lan Zhan never heard that at all. He reaches for the walkie and presses the button. Nothing. He fiddles with the power switch and tries again. Still nothing.

It seems that more than just the spirit box died when Wei Ying appeared. He wonders if that means the video stopped.

"It died," he states simply. "I apologize for scaring you. I merely lost track of time."

Nie Huaisang studies him closely. "Did anything happen?"

For some reason, Lan Zhan feels compelled to keep what happened a secret. He settled on, "All of the equipment seems to have died."

Nie Huaisang's face falls. "Does that mean we lost our footage?"

"We won't know until we check it."

"Right... Right, let's head out." Nie Huaisang walks back out to the van.

"Mn."

Lan Zhan pauses in the doorway, turning back to look into the house.

He feels a gentle caress on his cheek. He smiles softly. He'll be back.

~

They find out that the footage on Lan Zhan's equipment was, in fact, lost, meaning that a solid amount of the footage overall was lost given that some of that equipment was shared.

Nie Huaisang bemoans the fact that they didn't end up with enough content for a video but Lan Zhan finds he is quite pleased with that as he begins looking into how to buy that house for his own personal use.

It takes a while, but eventually, he becomes the owner of the house.

Lan Zhan moves in and lives his life in a haunted house. Wei Ying is the most present, but over time he comes to encounter the others who reside there too. His life is unconventional, but he finds joy in the moments he spends around Wei Ying, however fleeting they may be.

Sometimes Wei Ying has a stronger presence on Lan Zhan's plane of existence, other times it's a challenge to feel him at all. But they make things work.

Lan Zhan also finds ways to ensure that the house becomes protected so that no one else can buy it and tear it down.

And then, years and years in the future, Lan Zhan peacefully passes away in his sleep, the feel of comforting arms wrapped around him.

And when he opens his eyes, he finally sees Wei Ying, fully as he was meant to be seen. Lan Zhan smiles.

"Wei Ying."

Wei Ying turns to him.

With a wide smile, Wei Ying runs over and wraps him in a bruising hug. "Hey, sexy."

Lan Zhan laughs. A little nod to their first meeting, the start of the rest of their lives together. "Am I in my 30s again?"

Wei Ying nods, eyes roaming over him with a burning hunger. "Yup."

"Why?"

"The house remembers."

Lan Zhan tilts his head in question.

Wei Ying brings a hand to trace along Lan Zhan's jaw. "It remembers how you were at your happiest here, and it preserves that."

Not one to question that which he doesn't understand anymore, Lan Zhan nods.

"Hey, Lan Zhan?"

"Mn?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Lan Zhan doesn't bother responding with words, instead, he leans in and lets his actions speak for themselves. It's a wonderful thing, finally being able to be with the man he loves.

He spends the rest of eternity exploring Wei Ying's body, basking in the love he feels. The rest of the ghosts easily welcome him into their little family. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan all but adopt the little boy, A-Yuan (despite him having been elderly when he passed).

The house remembers them, and they remember it in turn. They find joy in their unending time together.

Their little family is odd, but Lan Zhan wouldn't have it any other way.

----------

Link to thread

[imaginedigimon]

Hello Gen!! I hope you're having a wonderful day/night right now! I wanted to ask you: are you interested in sharing some jourato (Jyou, Sora, and Yamato) headcanons? It can be platonic or romantic. Please don't rush, and you don't have to share any if you aren't interested! Thank you, and I wish you the best!

Hello there! I'm so sorry this is so late, and I hope you get to see this, Anon! You seem very sweet, and I thank you very much for how delightful it is to read this request!

As I have done several times on this blog, I'm perfectly happy writing both platonic and romantic headcanons. It's a joy to see the similarities and differences, hehe.

Jourato (Jou x Sora x Yamato) Headcanons

Platonic

They are Dad friend, Mom friend, and Tired friend. Together, they are EXHAUSTION. They are so done with everyone else, they need a nap.

There's a rule among the Adventure kids. If you desperately need something, call Yamato first. If he doesn't pick up, THEN call Sora. If she's not picking up, THEN call Jou. DO NOT CALL JOU FIRST.

I know Sora should be first in that tree, but Yamato is like. The "fielding" call. If what you want is stupid, he'll tell you. We love him for that.

Even though Jou claims he doesn't need it, Sora and Yamato show up for weekly Break Time. They drink tea and just sit and enjoy each other's company. It's very soothing.

Jou often falls asleep on one of their shoulders during the Adventure gang meetings, they don't mind in the least. Takeru thinks it's unfair that he can't do that with Yamato.

Sora and Yamato are the first ones Jou calls when he's super stressed about his schoolwork or residency or what have you. They assure him he'll do fine, and they'll take him out for dinner afterwards.

As they get older, Break Time turns into Weekly Dinner, and it's very sweet because even though they're all super busy they always make some sort of time for each other.

Taichi is so pouty in the corner about this but that's the funniest part of this trio. (So is Takeru honestly.)

Romantic

EXHAUSTION turned into being there for each other. Being there for each other turned into a romantic relationship. None of the three can quite explain how this happened.

All of a sudden, they just knew they were together. Sora was holding Yamato's hand on the school, Yamato was reaching for Jou's when they were doing homework, Jou would sleepily cuddle Sora when he was exhausted. It was just... the way it was.

Jou is the littlest spoon, Yamato is the little spoon, and Sora is the big spoon. I will accept no criticism.

Jou stops by the high school to walk with Yamato and Sora and so many underclassmen are like "omg who's he waiting for" and of course it's YAMATO AND SORA, EVERYONE'S FAVORITE UPPERCLASSMEN. There is jealousy abound. The three of them sparkle in everyone's worldview.

This is quickly shattered the moment Jou whines and drapes himself over Yamato while Sora giggles.

They seem to communicate telepathically when trying to figure out how to handle the Taichi Problem. (i.e. Taichi is causing trouble again, what should we do.) Taichi says this is unfair, he's being ganged up on. Yes. Yes, he is.

When Yamato is upset about something, it's Jou who goes over and just sits silently until he tells him what's wrong. Then they call Sora and have a nice movie night. This calms our blondie down like nothing else.

Sora will have a bad day and without even seeing her, Yamato and Jou show up and say "want a hug?" and suddenly everything is better now.

-----

Anon, I hope these were alright! I love the dynamic between these three; it's adorable! Again, so sorry these came so late <3

[v3nusxsky]

With every case

*Authors note| this is my first time writing for Emily Prentiss but god I'd be lying if I said I didn't love her character.I will write how she was intended to be so this will be Emily x fem reader. Hope you all enjoy. Feel free to send requests or prompts for this beautiful women.*

Trigger warnings~ mentions to season for episode 3

Prompt~ all I can say is this was inspire by the song "ceilings by Lizzy McApline"

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What could you say about the absolutely stunning Emily Prentiss? She has won your heart the night you met. The memory one of your favourites, you had decide to walk off the frustrations of your work day, teaching really could be exhausting and after a particularly difficult day you wished for a little peace. A stroll in the nearest park with a hot chocolate sounded wonderful, so that's exactly what you did. You must have got lost in your own mind, because you absolutely did not see the women you bumped into. Your hot chocolate finding its way all over her crisp white blouse. In a flustered panic you looked down in horror not only noticing the mess you had made but how deliciously tight the blouse was, paired with a blazer and some black slacks held up by a side buckled belt. The outfit compliments her raven locks perfectly. You can't help but notice the formal attire suggesting she could be someone of importance. You instantly start to apologise to the women for your clumsiness and offer to pay for the dry cleaning bill.

You're kinda cute

That night Emily had been feeling amazing, just catching the unsub who had the team working like crazy for days. She was heading home to Sergio and for a rest, but instead she bumped into you. Her fault really, on her phone shooting a text off to Garcia about some files when the collision occurred. She thought she'd be mad, but the look of your clearly panicked face somehow took the anger away. You were adorable. And suddenly her plans changed.

That night you had gone to get another drink, Emily joining you and you both strolled around the park together, sometimes chatting and others in a comfortable silence. It was lovely to be strolling around with Emily, the rain started to fall and you couldn't help but groan, you had to walk back to your apartment before you were soaked to the bone. With another apology and exchange of numbers you parted ways.

And it feels like the start of a movie I've seen before

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From that night, you and Emily had texted back and forth, you found out that she was a member of the BAU and that made meeting up extremely hard, but after a few months you had become official. Neither of you could be happier, although you would always worry when Emily was away on a case. Never knowing if she would be hurt or even worse killed. But it was her job, her team and you could see the love she holds for them. Each member holding a special place of her heart. While she was away you went to check on Sergio for her and he provided you with comfort when she couldn't.

This one particular night, Emily had the night off, you were both snuggled up in bed, Sergio resting in the middle of both of your legs sleeping. A show running in the background as you soaked up each others affection and presence. Finally at peace with Emily home and safe.

It was the ringing of her phone that popped the bubble. Duty calls. You watched as her face fell, you knew this would be a bad case. Instantly she was up and racing to get ready for work with you following on her tail. She hung the call up and managed to briefly explain, she was going to meet the team at the air craft so she had some time, not a lot but more than what she would've had. You offered to drive her, desperately trying to spend every ounce of time with her you could. She accepted and as you drove she never took her gaze off you. "Em? Are you profiling me right now?" You chucked slightly forced as you attempted to hide your sadness at the situation.

"I don't want to leave you Y/N, but I have to go duty calls" she murmured moving her hand to cover yours that lay on the gear stick. You nodded and mumbled "I know Em. Just stay safe for me yes? Come home to me Emily." Your voice wavering on the last few words, a dead give away to your emotions. You pulled up outside of where the air craft was. The team all ready and waiting, you were expecting her to hurry out the car without a second glance. Yet Emily Prentiss was always full of surprises, she gently held your chin and guided her lips to yours. It was over before it had even started, with a mumbled promise to return and one more quick peck to your lips she was gone. Running off head first into danger, you knew she'd lay her life down on the line for any of her team, truthfully you had become close with the team and didn't wish any of them to be injured but knowing Emily would throw herself in front of them in the face of danger scared you. You can't lose her. You love her, you love her and you'd never even told her yet. No she had to come home to you.

And I don't wanna leave but I have to go

Then you kiss me in your car and it feels like the start of a movie I've seen before

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This case seemed to drag on for days. Those days turning into weeks. You managed to grab a few spare minutes with Emily before she was rushed off into the field. You lay in your bed reminiscing how her touch felt, how she would hold you and whisper the most beautiful heartfelt words as you fell asleep. In those moments it's was just the two of you, lovely to just lay together and bask in the comfort you provided each other.

Lovely to just lay here with you

You're kinda cute and I would say all of this

ButI don't wanna ruin the moment

Lovely to sit between comfort and chaos

But it's over

The news playing for background noise caught your attention in that moment, the case Emily was working. An FBI agent in the building with the unsub. Your heart dropped instantly knowing it would be Emily. Your phone ringing was the confirmation. Garcia was given the job of informing you, reassuring you that the team would get her. That she would come home to you. But the fear that this was all over was too strong. You can't lose Emily now.

For days you waited to know she was safe, back home in your arms. Each passing day your mind was concocting different scenarios where she was mortally wounded or worse. Dead. What would life be without her? You didn't want it. You wanted Emily safe, with you, forever. To drive home together, to love each other and one day make her your wife. And that's the thoughts that pulled you into a restless slumber.

Then you're drivin' me home

And it kinda comes out as I get up to go

You kiss me in your car

And it feels like the start of a movie I've seen before

But it's not real

And you don't exist

And I can't recall the last time I was kissed

It was the keys in the door that pulled you from your slumber. Tears stained your cheeks and sobs wrecked your body. She was gone. All you had is the memories of her lips on yours, you both tangled in bedsheets or holding her hand strolling around the park. Spilling your drink on her that very first night.

And it feels like the end of a movie I've seen before.

A pair of arms wrap around your shaking form and the familiar scent engulfs you. Emily! You scramble to see her gasping in shock at her condition. "It's worse than it looks angel" she murmurs as she wipes the stray tears from your cheeks, "I've missed you. I'll always come home to you no matter what" she promised with a kiss on your lips. Unsure if you were dreaming, if she was real, your hands sought out her cheeks, gently cupping them carful of the bruising. "God Em, what happened? It was you wasn't it?" You whispered already knowing the answer. She nodded before nuzzling into your palms. "Me and Reid yes. I did it to protect him Y/N and It was my choice and I would choose it again. You protect family. Did Garcia call?"

"She did" you confirmed still drinking in her presence. She was really home. "They got the message" she sighed almost relieved that they had followed her wish. You couldn't help but surge forward and pull her into a gentle kiss. "I love you Emily Prentiss" you mumbled against her lips. The smile that spread across your lips when she said it back made all of this worth it. Your story wouldn't be perfect and you knew that. But knowing you loved each other made it worth while.

Word count~ 1589