#because it was in my mind since during my flu

[rottenpumpkin13]

TW: PANIC ATTACK

hiya!! I've kind of been wondering, because Genesis can be all sorts of crazy sauce emotionally, what are some things that would cause him a panic attack, and how would he be during?

and Sephiroth/Angeal would absolutely tak care of him no matter what ♥️♥️

brought to you by my own sensory issues during a school assembly making me cry

lots and lots of love!

Genesis has a funny relationship with anxiety, because while he often feels anxious, he portrays himself as always composed and unbothered, as if nothing could break him, when that couldn't be further from the truth.

• Being perceived as anything other than strong is a source of anxiety for him. He has no problem feeling 100 eyes on him in a crowded room so long as they're admiring him. Turn those gazes analytical, laced with pity or hatred, and Genesis feels entirely naked. His heart races, he shifts in place, begins to look uncomfortable, which in turn attracts more eyes on him. The overthinking comes quickly, as do the reasons why they hate him. He has a readily available list in his mind he pulls out whenever he feels at his worst. It's the way he looks; if only he looked better. It's the medals around his neck, not enough next to Sephiroth. Sephiroth has more. Sephiroth always has more. It's his voice, he's been told it sounds annoying before. Maybe he should be speaking less. Or maybe they hate him because they see right through what he is—an insecure, lonely person who will never be enough no matter how much he tries.

• Genesis has a lot of anxiety surrounding the book(s) he always carried around. While part of the reason he has so many copies of Loveless stems from his love for the epic, he doesn't like losing things he loves. So he makes sure he always has two of the things he loves. Two of his favorite pen, two of his red coat, two of the same sunglasses....he was so glad the day Sephiroth became his friend. Now he had two best friends. That way, if one fell or flew away, he wouldn't be alone. The only thing he cannot have two of is his first and most annotated copy of Loveless he's had since he was a child. He treasures it greatly, but every time he loses it, Genesis thinks he's dying.

His fingers are numb and static beneath his leather gloves, the tears hot as they pour down his face, heart beating fast as he tries to collect his thoughts long enough to focus. His office door is shut and locked, so no one walks in on him like this, wiping his nose and hyperventilating as he pulls open drawers in hopes of seeing his book. When he sees it—nestled under a stack of documents, he collapses onto his chair, clutching the book close as he sobs. He feels ridiculous, in part because he didn't see it laying there sooner, but mostly because he lets it have control over him.

• Genesis is used to being sick, but that doesn't mean it doesn't bother him. His immune system has improved greatly, and was much worse when he was a child, but it's still significantly weaker than the others. A flu that would be a mild inconvenience to Sephiroth and Angeal leaves Genesis bedridden and severely ill. The first day of being sick is the worst for him, the moment he first realizes he'll be away from SOLDIER for days and will be talked about. He's riddled with anxiety over what they'll say.

He thinks—no, he knows that they'll compare him to Sephiroth. They'll question why Genesis is always sick, why his health is never perfect, and why it takes Genesis days to recover from an injury that would be nothing to the others. And then there's the illness itself. He never knows what's coming. Will it be serious? Will it evolve into something serious? Will he survive?

The first day of any illness is when Genesis finds himself curled into a ball on his bathroom floor, biting the color of his shirt to keep himself from hyperventilating, his vision blurred from tears, wondering why he couldn't be normal.

• There's one thing that's guaranteed to send Genesis spiralling into an immediate panic attack no matter who he's with or where he is. It's not something he can control (he's tried). Sephiroth and Angeal are talking. Genesis is in between them (he's placed himself there to guarantee that he'll have a place in their conversation). But they're not responding to him. Genesis levels with them at first. His words are bold, he likes the shock value.

His jokes aren't the kindest. He's not a negative person, but he loves to complain. They dismiss his words and roll their eyes, as if to say "There goes Genesis again." He wanted to know if they wanted to go see a screening of Loveless with him the next weekend, but they talked right over him. Genesis feels smaller and smaller as Sephiroth and Angeal, and not even shouting Loveless quotes at the top of his lungs will be enough to grab their attention. He's not sure they're doing it on purpose. So he sits there, listening to his friends laugh, acting as if he isn't there.

Genesis can't take it. The tears are spilling before he can wipe them away, so he covers his face with his hands and lets himself cry. Sephiroth and Angeal notice and stop talking immediately.

• They're quick to realize where they went wrong, and even quicker to pull Genesis in and apologize profusely, assuring him that they weren't doing it on purpose and never intend to hurt him on purpose. Angeal has Genesis wrapped in a hug that buries his head in his chest. Genesis is still crying, softer now but still clearly upset. Sephiroth joins, sandwiching Genesis as he hugs him from behind. They're both whispering apologies and soft words to him as they let him cry.

Now Genesis feels embarrassed that he's crying and being cared for, which makes him even more anxious. Still trembling, he tries to pull himself away, but they don't let him. Sephiroth holds him tighter, and Angeal starts blowing on his face to cool him off, gently brushing the hair from his eyes. Sephiroth tells him to take deep breaths and slowly count as high as he can.

Genesis gets to 69 when Angeal snorts involuntarily. This catches Genesis completely off guard. Soon all three of them are doubled over laughing.

Angeal's spontaneous humor of a fifth grader is just what Genesis needed to be distracted from what upset him in the first place.

When he's calm enough to speak, Sephiroth and Angeal make him sit down between them again. This time Angeal is rubbing soothing circles on his back, and Sephiroth is holding his hand, lightly squeezing. They want him to explain all that cause potential panic attacks so they can help him avoid them, and be there for him in the future so he won't have to suffer alone.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #headcanons

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ask me to leave and i’ll stay forever ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru is stubborn; even when plagued by such a high fever, he insists there’s no need to take care of him. thankfully, you’re equally as stubborn.

word count; 10.8k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, implied non-sorcerer!reader, sickfic, reverse comfort, sickening amounts of fluff, lots of petnames, satoru gojo vs the mortifying ordeal of being loved, just a tinyyyy bit of angst if u rlly squint, literally just satoru being pampered for like 10k words straight, he’s cute when he’s sick but still manages to be a lil shit <33, he’s also a huge sap you have been warned!!

a/n; what can i say, im a proud member of the ”satoru gojo needs to be babied relentlessly” club <33 he’s just a little guy!! tagging @catchuuu my beloved for being the sweetest enjoy a healthy dose of sick sleepy satoru <33 i am tagging all toru enjoyers in spirit btw i love u all

you’ve never seen satoru like this before.

head buried into a big pillow, white locks tousled and sticking to his forehead — skin sweaty, hot to the touch, with a flushed face to match. heavy breaths fall from his parted lips, blinking in and out of consciousness, squeezing his eyes shut.

it’s nothing like the joyous, loud, cocky satoru you’re so used to. he’s weak. he’s fatigued.

he’s completely, undoubtedly sick.

”really, baby,” he slurs, raspy and dry. still attempting to raise himself up, arms straining under the weight of his shivering body. ”there’s no need f’ —”

unceremoniously, his limbs give out beneath him, and he tumbles right back down; a meek little wince escaping his throat as his face falls back into the mattress. the sound makes your heart squeeze tightly in your chest.

”ah. that’s…” he tries to speak, a disgruntled hum muffled by the sheets. ”… annoying.”

satoru sounds frustrated. you can tell he’s resisting the urge to close his eyes, a little helpless, unable to even move properly, like a fish out of water. he’s still breathing unevenly, still sweating, still burning up — you can practically feel it, from where you’re standing, crouched down by his bed.

you’ve never, ever seen satoru like this. you’ve seen him sniffling during flu season, wrecked with headaches during rainy season. you’ve seen him vulnerable; not many times, but enough that it matters. 

but you’ve never seen him like this.

(and it makes you terribly anxious.)

”satoru, please just —” you croak, gnawing at your bottom lip. trying desperately to swallow the worry in your chest. ”don’t overdo it. please?”

you can hear the anxious little timbre of your own voice, and you can feel the frown tugging at your lips. but you can’t do anything to quell the insistent pitter patter of your heartbeat, the ache that accompanies it. satoru’s lying down, still trying to gather the strength to reassure you, even through the feverish haze clouding his mind. 

he looks so small.

this wasn’t what you were expecting to see, today. you were expecting to meet up with satoru, and see his happy little grin, those tiny dimples and freckles that only show themselves in the light of the sun. you were expecting to feel the weight of his hand in yours, as you strolled down to the new crêpe stand he’s been wanting to check out since he first found their instagram account.

you were expecting to see him happy. healthy. a little obnoxious, a little annoying — but hopelessly sweet. all the love you could ever need, molded into a human shape. your little angel.

a sigh slips from your lips. you can’t help it; because satoru is just so stubborn, so closed off, and he can be such an idiot sometimes. you knew something was off the moment he sent you that text, asking you oh so charmingly, apologetically, if you could postpone your date for just an hour or so. you knew something was wrong, but he still wouldn’t let up until you brought out the 🥺 emojis. 

and then he told you he was fine. it’s all he ever is, apparently.

my throat’s just a little scratchy, is all. wouldn’t want you to miss out on the voice you love so much, yeah?

give me an hour and i’ll be perfect for you. <3

moron.

he’s curled up in a fetal position, trying to stop himself from shivering, muttering little reassurances under his breath that you can’t make out. wearing ripped jeans and a nice jacket, like he was fully prepared to head out like this — like he genuinely thought an hour, some painkillers and a dream would be enough to chase away a fever this severe. like he was so desperate to see you he was fully willing to take that risk.

moron. moron. he should’ve called you the moment he realized he was sick. instead, you had to coax him into letting you come over, with a flurry of sad and cute emojis you know make him go weak at the knees when they’re coming from you.

and here you are. in satoru’s house, in front of his bed, trying to convince him that he is, in fact, sick. 

but he just won’t listen.

”just — gimme a couple minutes, honey?” your boyfriend mumbles, barely coherent, stringing words together haphazardly. awfully dizzy. ”i just need the painkillers to kick in, i promise i —”

”satoru.”

there’s a sad tint to your voice, now. unmistakable. one that satoru notices, even through the feverish, muddy filter over his reality. 

and it makes him quiet down.

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

as gently as you can, you settle down on the bed, eyes painfully softened. overflowing with care. towering over him, leaning close — to press your lips against his scorching forehead, brushing away his sweaty bangs with a palpable tenderness. your voice soothing, coming out almost as a low coo. you’re frustrated, and exasperated.

but most of all, you’re worried.

”go back to sleep,” you hum, a gentle command. your hand finds his, cold skin meeting warm, tracing circles over his palm. ”i’ll take care of you.”

”there’s no need,” he mutters, instantaneous. so used to denying kindness. 

but he curls an arm around your waist, anyway, tugging you closer; a little needy. like you’re much too far away for his liking. finally beginning to settle down, coaxed into resting by the soft touches your grace him with. it’s only a matter of time.

so you keep your lips against his forehead, cradling his slender fingers in yours, murmuring little whispered reassurances. and before you know it, his lashes have fluttered shut, like a white dove landing on the ground. he still looks so troubled, so meek. you can’t resist the urge to soothe him, hand cupping his face, thumb smoothing over the apple of his cheek. you watch him lean into it, eyes dripping with care. your poor baby. 

for a couple precious moments, you allow yourself to indulge in the sight. even like this, he looks a bit like an angel, a painting come to life. like one wrong brushstroke could smudge him. 

so you’re delicate, as you trace little hearts into his skin, delicate as you maneuver his body enough to peel the layers of clothing off him — leaving him in only an oversized tee and a pair of briefs. satoru can only whine, softly, so quiet you barely even hear him. so disoriented, on the brink of falling into a deep slumber. some part of him is trying to resist, you’re sure, still agonizing over the date he’s missing out on. as if anything matters more than his health.

but it doesn’t work. he can only let out a tiny groan, hopelessly pliant as you tuck him in, pulling a big blanket over his shoulders. you card through his hair, another soft kiss planted on his sweaty forehead — and your hand stays between his locks until you’re sure he’s asleep. his breathing mellows out, his grip around your waist loosens, seeking comfort from you even in his dreams.

you’d crawl under the blankets with him, but you have work to do.

stealing one final glance at your fever-ridden lover, your heartbeat ricochets. he still looks so meek, all warm and sweaty, shirt sticking to his skin. a frown tugs at your bottom lip.

satoru is always so stubborn, refusing to lean on others for support. you wish he had called you immediately, nagged at you to come baby him. sure, you might’ve sighed in faux exasperation, and teased him a little, but it still would’ve made you feel happy. useful. and you would’ve done it in a heartbeat. maybe, if you just prove that you can take care of him properly, he’ll do it next time.

so you stand up, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead one last time, and make your way towards the kitchen.

satoru’s house is spacious. a little too spacious, enough for at least three people to live in comfortably; nice furniture, an expensive sofa in the living room, a large tv you’re almost certain he only keeps around for white noise. such are the ways of the rich, you suppose. he doesn’t invite you over very often, so you’ve never had the chance to get very affiliated with the space. it’s always the other way around — him, waiting for you on the couch when you get home, chirping out an unconvincing don’t even worry about it, baby! when you ask how he got in without a key. or him, showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, filling the sleepy silence with jokes to distract you from the bags under his eyes.

(he likes it when you cling to him in your sleep — he sleeps a lot better that way. that’s what he told you, at least, when you brought him coffee in bed that one time. a little glimmer of honesty.)

he stays over so often he might as well just move in, but you aren’t really sure how to even approach that subject. some part of you fears it’d be too much, too intimate, that he’d pack his bags and run away. bringing all his secrets with him, that soft laughter you’ve grown so fond of. so you figure it’s better to let him make a home out of yours, let him curl up on your couch and snack on the candy you hid in your kitchen cabinets. that’s safe for him.

and now that you’ve seen his home up close — if you can even call it that — you think you’re starting to understand his preference. because it’s spacious, yes, but also empty. save for expensive furniture and fake houseplants, there isn’t anything to indicate that the apartment belongs to him, that he feels comfortable there. like he hasn’t even bothered to make it his. like it’s about to be sold, and you’re just one of the potential buyers, checking the place out. admiring the patterns of the floorboards and the walls.

it doesn’t feel like satoru at all. 

his own bedroom was another story, a much more pleasant one. a lot more satoru. filled with little trinkets, key charms and souvenirs and silly figurines. a framed photo of three students by the windowsill, an old uniform hanging by his closet, socks strewn about here and there. a dying houseplant. comic books and movie posters and a ps5 you don’t think he’s touched since he finished spiderman 2. a king sized bed, that makes him look like a spoiled little princess when he’s lying in it, next to a cat plushie you won for him at a fair. knowing he actually sleeps with it kind of makes you want to cry.

there’s this particular scent, too, lingering in the air. mellow, nostalgic, the kind that soothes you with just a whiff; a blend between sunlight, expensive cologne, and something sweet. it clings to all his favorite clothes, to his skin. you’d live in it if you could. 

something constricts, inside your chest — like thorny vines strangling your beating heart, pressing down ever so slightly. just thinking about it, about him, about his distressed expression as his head hit the pillow. making your way over to his kitchen, getting yourself affiliated with the space, preparing to make a good soup for his fever. the fridge is almost empty, save for sweets and that one drink you like. the takeout boxes on his kitchen table tells you all you need to know.

it only makes you worry more.

luckily, you were clever enough to buy your own ingredients on the way here. chop, chop, into tiny little pieces. chicken soup should help, shouldn’t it? it’s all you can focus on, all you can hope for. anything is fine; you just want to help him, be of use somehow. he does so much for you.

you just want to give some of it back.

satoru’s loneliness is a subtle thing. flexible, alert, slipping away at the slightest sign of knowing eyes. for someone who’s so often surrounded by people, cracking jokes and laughing louder than anyone else, he doesn’t seem to make any noise when he’s alone. he curls into himself, just a bit, and a kind of reminiscence smooths over the contours of his face. 

that’s when you see him. that lonely, lonely guy. resigned to his self-imposed isolation, paradoxically yearning for something more. watching as the cherry trees bloom, like they’ll give him the answers he seeks once they bear fruit.

but the moment you come into view, he smiles. knowing you won’t push it — that you’ll let him take his time. that you’ll let him flee, just a little. 

still, you can’t help but wish he’d lean on you a little more. you wish you could chase his loneliness away with a pitchfork, but it’s a fickle creature. you somehow doubt he wants to part with it. 

all you can do is love him. love him, love him, and love him some more; until he’s had his fill.

(you’re not sure he ever will. it’s a good thing, a very good thing, because you’re almost certain you’ll never run out.) 

and that’s why you’re here. in his ghost of a home, his kitchen, pouring water into a large pot. tender, sprinkling love over every single action, every slice and dice, every piece of chicken and veggies thrown into the boiling water. you try and you try, hoping it’ll reach him.

but before you can make another attempt, something reaches you, instead.

two long arms curl around your waist, suddenly, something warm and soft pressing itself against your back. and you almost flinch, completely caught up in the stirring of the soup, unsure of how much time has passed since you began. it jolts you out of your thoughts. 

you know who it is, though. never mind the fact that he’s the only other person in the apartment; you know it’s him by his touch alone, the weight of his arms, that particular scent that surrounds him. like memories of summer.

it’s awfully sweet, the way he clings to you, the soft little blissful sigh that slips from his lips. but before you can feel moved at the domesticity of the gesture, worry clouds your senses. he doesn’t even get the chance to speak.

”satoru —” you place a palm on his forearm, craning your head to look back at him. his forehead rests against your shoulder, and his eyes are closed. he’s still so warm, too warm. ”what are you doing here? you should be resting.” 

your boyfriend mumbles something, under his breath, something that your ears can’t quite digest. he shifts, a little, as if getting ready to put on some sort of act — to smile and joke, or laugh and tease you. you can imagine what he’d say if he wasn’t in such a feverish state; he’d hug you from behind, a low purr of what’cha up to? whispered right into your ear. then you’d jolt, and he’d giggle sheepishly, satisfied with the reaction.

but now, all he can do is cough. still leaning against you, gripping onto your midriff a little more desperately than usual. you step away from the stove, turning around, making sure your hands never leave his. looking up at him with concern in your eyes, noticing his little frown.

”c’mon, you need to lie down.” you reach for his cheek, cupping it in your palm, and he practically melts into it. enjoying the chilly sensation to his fever-ridden skin. “the soup’ll be finished soon, okay?”

”… you made,” he tries, syllables falling from his lips haphazardly. ”soup —” a series of coughs. they cut him off, and the worry in your chest only deepens. 

“don’t push yourself, okay? you’re really sick, dummy.” satoru pouts, but doesn’t say anything, only clinging to you tighter when you usher him away. “let’s go back to your room, alright?”

but he won’t budge. he’s so sleepy, so sick and delirious, putting all his body weight on you. you try your best not to stumble beneath it.

”honey,” you plead, holding him securely in your embrace. his arms around your waist, your hands on his shoulders. ”work with me, please? just gotta get you back to bed —”

”’s…” he whispers, suddenly, a raspy little thing. scratchy, meek, awfully earnest; you wonder if he’s too sick not to be. ”… too lonely without you.” 

a moment passes. your breath hitches pitifully, at the base of your throat.

satoru is hugging you so tightly, as if you could disappear at any moment, slip away if he doesn’t keep you close. he’s holding you as if pleading for comfort, for a touch of safety. as if he needs you. if his meek little admission hadn’t already melted your heart the marrow, that thought certainly would’ve done the job.

taking a moment to collect yourself, you inhale, face surely aflame. satoru just nuzzles into your shoulder, too tired to say anything else, wanting to be close to you. it’s a wonder your knees don’t buckle.

gently, you let your hand trail upwards, palm smoothing down his hair. softly, like he’s a clingy, overgrown cat. ”sorry,” you start, just a little breathless. ”i’ll be with you, okay? won’t leave you alone. i promise.”

there’s an earnesty in your words that you doubt you could ever fake. satoru must hear it too, you think, because he finally begins to work with you. allowing you to stumble towards his bedroom, supporting his weight.

but once you make it to his bed, he still refuses to let go of you.

”toru, gotta go finish that soup. ’n make you some tea.” you rub his back, soothingly, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. shaking his head and emitting a throaty groan, only squeezing you tighter when you try to guide him under the covers. how cruel of him, to act so cute when said soup is most likely boiling over by the stove. ”please, sweetie? it won’t take long. i promise. you can go back to sleep.”

another groggy huff. you’re both still standing by the edge of the bed, and satoru still won’t let you leave. all you can do is sigh, smearing a little kiss against his neck. 

he squirms, ever so slightly, and you get an idea.

so you keep pressing little kisses against his skin, knowing just how to make him melt. feeling him relax in your embrace, snuggle into your chest, so pliant that he lets you tuck him in — as long as your lips stay pressed against his jaw. before he can realize what’s happening, you grab hold of the blanket, draping it over him; his half-lidded eyes blinking up at you. you press a final kiss against his forehead, grabbing the cat plushie from the edge of the bed and placing it close enough for satoru to reach if need be.

”i’ll hurry, toru. be a good boy and stay here, alright?” 

a teasing lilt sneaks into your voice, coaxed out by how adorable your boyfriend looks like this; baby blue eyes all droopy, snowy hair messy as it falls across the cushion he’s resting on. blinking sluggishly, grunting a little in response. 

when you scurry off the bed and make your way towards the door, you glance back at him. he’s still looking in your direction, with half-lidded eyes, and your chest aches. ”i’ll be back soon, baby,” you try to soothe him. “try to sleep.”

this time, you hurry. body working almost on autopilot, images of your boyfriend still tugging at your heartstrings like he’s arranging an orchestra, moving your legs forward. before you know it, you’re walking back, carrying a tray with both your hands. steam wafts up from the hot soup and the warm cup of tea, shaking a little as you walk, a pair of painkillers in your pocket. just in case he needs more. an eager, pulsating joy rushes through your veins — now you can be with him, tend to him, not leave him alone in a room so like him you wish you could stay there forever. 

your footsteps are light, almost careful as they cross the threshold. satoru stirs, waiting for you to come to his side, looking like a kicked puppy in his giant bed. he tries to lift himself up, but it looks like it requires an intense amount of focus, like his elbows could buckle any second. 

”careful,” you croon, hurrying over, placing the tray on the nightstand. gently pushing him back down on the mattress. he complies almost instantly, too out of it to put up a real fight. staring at you, as if in awe.

to satoru, you appear almost as an angel, a somewhat blurry figure that he recognizes without looking. your very presence is soothing, like a lullaby in human form. with the hazy filter clouding his mind, he can’t even seem to form words correctly — all satoru can focus on is you. your movements, the lilt of your voice, a cold hand dulling the heat of his forehead.  

his fever still hasn’t gone down. you try and muster a smile, but you’re sure it must look painfully coated in unease. crouching down, you place your elbows on the bed, your jaw meeting the mattress. you’re at eye level with him, now.

”hey,” you start, low and comforting. you don’t want to be too loud. ”sorry it took so long.”

using what little energy he has left, satoru crosses the distance between you, inching closer and closer. noticing it, you reach a hand out to cup his cheek — lips quick to find his forehead. a barely audible sigh leaves him, and you smile.

”d’you think you can eat?” you whisper, gazing at him fondly. treating him a little like a baby, maybe, but you can’t help it when he’s like this. quiet as a mouse. ”i made soup and tea… sound okay?”

he tries to make a noise. it comes out sounding like a strange blend between a dissatisfied groan and an affirming hum, but he still ends up nodding slightly. you wonder if indulging you is ingrained into his bone structure. 

”… okay. think you can sit up, toru?”

once again, your boyfriend only hums — but he does begin to move, trying to hoist himself up, wobbling pitifully. you help, keeping him steady until his spine meets the headboard. slumped against it, he blinks slowly, feverishly.

”thank you.” you press a chaste kiss against his cheek, before reaching for the cup of tea, the scent of chamomile and lavender filling your senses. you blow on it softly. ”here. it should help with your throat, so try to drink a bit, okay? s’ got honey in it.”

silently, he accepts the cup, bringing it to his lips. when he takes a sip, you catch the slightest hint of a grimace on his lips; even with your warning of careful, it’s hot, you think he must have managed to burn his tongue. 

satoru keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to worry you. but he can’t say bringing himself to drink it is an easy endeavor, with how sweaty it makes him feel, how it forces him to acknowledge how painfully dry his throat is. how he can’t even taste the herbs.

he wants to be good for you, though.

so he gulps it down, slowly, managing to sip almost all of it until you decide to give him a break. compared to this morning, he already feels just a little better, a little less like he’s in a fever dream. you’re sitting by the bedside, so patient, so caring. he can’t take his eyes off you, even now. clearing his throat, attempting to get used to speaking again. ”thanks.”

the mutter sounds strained, but slightly easier on the ears, easier to make out than before. courtesy of the honey, you assume. gosh, you hadn’t realized you’d begun to miss his voice so much. 

”no problem,” you hum, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “think you can eat something? or is that too much?”

”’course,” he croaks. there’s a slight sense of liveliness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, but before he can continue, he’s caught off by a small coughing fit. harmless, but sufficient in making you worry. 

”no need to force yourself,” you soothe, patting down his head, watching as he quiets down. the tea might’ve given him a temporary energy boost, but you still don’t want him to overdo it. “just relax, satoru.”

he hums, weakly, and you reward him with a light ruffle of his hair. then you direct your attention to the soup on the nightstand, still hot, smelling of vegetable broth and fresh chicken and coriander. you bring the bowl down to your lap, and take a spoonful of the soup, blowing on it like you did with the tea. bringing it towards his lips. 

”i dunno if it’ll taste very good,” you admit, scratching absently at the back of your neck. ”but it should help with the fever, at least. i’d be happy if you could eat a bit.”

as his lips make contact with the metal of the spoon, satoru can’t help but let himself be swept away. he still feels a little too hazy, too feverish to really comprehend what’s happening; he feels oddly bare like this, vulnerable, a little afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he doesn’t keep it shut. so he opts to accept the treatment he’s receiving, not putting up a fight or making a fuss. not meeting your expectant eyes.

(he feels a little shy, being spoonfed by you. how very unlike him.)

the soup does feel soothing. he thinks he can even get a sense of the taste, how hard you must’ve worked on it. but more than anything, the way you’re acting is like balm to his soul — looking at him so kindly, treating him so tenderly. offering him spoon after spoon with gentle words of encouragement. being babied in such a way makes him feel so oddly content that he’s almost embarrassed. it should be the other way around. 

yet here you are, spoonfeeding him soup that you made yourself, because he’s sick, even though he hates to admit it, and you care about him. he allows the information to linger in the back of his head, for a while, wallowing in the comfort it brings him. fully comprehending it would take too much of a toll on him, in this state. 

satoru basks in the intimacy of the situation, and so do you. brushing strands of hair away when they stick to his skin, pressing your lips against his forehead to check his temperature. you keep doing it until satoru’s appetite dwindles.

”alright, that should be fine —” you glance down at the bowl, now roughly half-empty. more than enough, you think. ”uhh… how do you feel?”

”… better,” satoru answers, truthfully, the ghost of a smile on his glossy lips. ”thank you.”

for a second, you only stare, saying nothing. there’s something in satoru’s expression that catches you off guard, something that’s a little hard to identify. is it the way the light reflects off his skin, his pupils? the red, feverish flush of his skin? that flimsy little smile? or is it the honesty in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you like he’s trying to convey something he can’t put into words? 

as you look at him, take him in, the boy you love so dearly, you can’t help but feel like he just carved open his chest — let you peek inside his ribcage. it’s hard not to feel flustered, in the presence of something so vulnerable.

and he’s thanking you. as if taking care of him is a great burden, a chore, something you’d demand gratitude for. you want to tell him that it’s the bare minimum, the very least of what he deserves. the very least of what you could, should do for him.

you want to tell him that he’s safe, here. that there’s no need to be the strongest, whatever the hell that means, that he can let go of the burdens you know he hides from you. that he can just be your sick, terribly stubborn boyfriend.

”… okay,” is all you breathe out, every other word getting stuck in the back of your throat. ”that’s good.”

satoru’s fingers curl around yours, suddenly, where they lay on your lap. his movements are still a little groggy, disoriented, as he brings your hand up to his lips. they’re warm and soft, especially so in light of his fever. he closes his eyes, white lashes catching the light of the sun, flitting in through the haphazardly closed blinds. your heartbeat stutters.

”… love you,” he mutters. a soft little thing. your eyes don’t leave his face. and your lips part before your brain can instruct them to.

”i love you too,” you blurt out, instantaneous. like you couldn’t bear to keep him waiting, even for a second. ”… satoru.”

he smiles against your skin. he always does, at the sound of those words. you make him feel so terribly, terribly weak, all the time, everyday. you make him feel so human, and he can’t bring himself to think of it as a bad thing anymore. 

he’s still cradling your hand when he brings it down to the blanket. ”thanks for coming,” he continues, pushing himself. trying to get the words out while he still has the energy to say them. “you didn’t have to.”

they’re a little clumsy, a little stale on his tongue, but they’re honest. he is thankful — the prospect of being seen like this is discomforting, gruelingly so, but he doesn’t mind nearly as much if it’s you. he’d never tell you, but he did feel just a little lonely, when he woke up this morning. disoriented, enveloped by hot flashes of pain, in a way he’s not used to in the slightest. missing out on your date, too, that he had been looking forward to ever since you decided on a time. 

but, as if sensing it, you came to his rescue. the feeling of your lips on his skin was the first sensation he felt, when he woke up for the second time — with you by his side, this time. his guardian angel, carrying the scent of spring with you. a memory of a certain boy, of better times. 

(satoru thinks you’re nostalgia personified. he likes to imagine that you met as children, underneath a cherry tree somewhere, but he knows it’s not true. there’s no way he wouldn’t remember you.)

you smile. pleased, at his show of vulnerability, small as it may be. ”i wanted to,” you assure him. equally honest, equally full of double meanings and hidden messages that neither of you need to uncover to understand. ”… i care about you. of course i’d come.”

a light, raspy chuckle; that’s all satoru manages to vocalize. his mind is stuffed, and there’s an ache in his chest, longing to be filled. it’s been there for a while now. but somehow, you seem to fill it up, slowly but surely, almost effortlessly — with every sound you make, every slight movement, every flicker of an expression on your face. everything seems so effortlessly perfect, in his eyes.

the words leave his lips before his mind can think the thought to reel them back in. 

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

you blink. a moment passes.

then your eyes soften, considerably so, crumbling at the corners like the cookies satoru loves so much. he’s looking at you, eyes soft in a similar sense, layered over with adoration. you think the love inside your chest might crawl out of your throat and eat him alive.

you give him a chuckle of your own, quivering slightly. terribly fond. this time, you’re the one who drags his hand up to meet your lips; kissing his knuckle softly. his breath hitches.

”i’m the one who should be saying that to you,” you grin, a little weakly. and you mean it. you don’t think you’ve ever meant anything more. 

it’s so honest that it strikes a cord right down his heart, more heat than the fever can account for rushing to his cheeks. satoru hopes you don’t notice it. all he can do is squeeze your fingers, lightly, not trusting his voice not to break. silence lingers, and you only gaze at him softly. 

”… do you want anything else?” you finally ask, with a tilt of your head. still so eager to assist, racking your brain to come up with anything else to do for him. ”i’ll get it for you, no matter what it is.”

and, truthfully, satoru thinks you’ve done more than enough. more than he could ever make up for. but he’s always been greedy, and there’s one thing, only one thing, one thing he can’t help but ask for. something he craves more than anything. he can’t help but indulge himself, indulge in his selfishness, in the need to feel your skin against his. 

so he stretches his arms out, and looks at you with a distinctly needy glint in his eyes. his fingers move in a grabby motion, almost unconsciously, and he might’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t still so feverish. all he wants is to keep you close, to make the hollowness inside his chest dissipate. you always make that lonely feeling go away.

needless to say, you heed his request. almost instantly, your heart pumping in a steady rhythm, with this visceral desire to keep him close, to protect him. and who are you to resist, when he’s asking you for it himself?

you waste no time crawling beneath the covers, situating yourself right next to your lover. only then do you finally, finally, reach your arms out to pull him close; so close you feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart. his cheek meets the softness of your chest, snuggling closer, and you card a hand through his soft locks. his arms reach around your midriff, a perfect puzzle piece, and he releases an audible sigh — deep and satisfied. in his tired, clingy state, he subconsciously throws a leg over yours, trapping you further. 

you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

finally, satoru can fall asleep. with the fever still clouding his senses, and your nimble fingers smoothing along his scalp, the occasional kiss to his head as he listens to your soft heartbeat, he’s drifted off before either of you know it. melting into you, into your warm embrace, cheek squished against your chest. tiny little breaths fall from his lips, and you feel like you’re cradling the whole world in your arms. 

you’re relieved. making yourself comfortable on your back, with satoru sleeping soundly on top of you, hoping he’ll feel better when he wakes up. careful, even with your breathing, intent on letting him sleep. knowing he doesn’t get nearly as much rest as he should, most days. 

before long, even you succumb to the cozy atmosphere, gradually dozing off. satoru is always warm, even more so now, and his weight is comforting.

stifling a yawn, you tug him a little bit closer, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. you could use a day of catching up on lost sleep, too.

when you wake up, you’re acutely aware of something poking your cheek.

it’s a ticklish sensation, sort of irritating, and it rouses you from your cozy slumber. disgruntled, so cruelly ripped away from your sweet dreams — satoru was in it, you think. you feel robbed.

still, you can’t be too mad. not when the real deal is right in front of you, eyes crinkled and full of warmth, a teasing smile on his lips. he’s still snuggled into your chest, all cozy and cute, as you lay on your back, propped up by a myriad of fluffy pillows. he looks up at you adoringly.

”well hello there,” he purrs, shooting a giddy little grin your way. still poking your cheek. ”wakey-wakey, sunshine!”

a series of blinks. you stir a little further, the sleepy haze of your brain beginning to slip off, slowly but surely. it takes a couple of seconds for you to remember why you’re here, what happened before you fell asleep. 

”… hey,” you greet, at last, stifling a yawn and squeezing your eyes shut. stretching lazily, like a sleepy cat. ”how do you feel…?”

”i’m perfect. better than perfect, actually,” satoru chirps, a little cheeky, hoisting himself up so that he’s hovering above you. a hint of mischief in those pretty eyes. ”you’re a good nurse, y’know?”

you huff out a chuckle. as always, his actions reveal more than his words — you could tell he felt a lot better the moment you saw his smile, heard how he formed his words. “alright, that’s good,” you hum, exhaling softly. ”how long was i asleep? what time is it?”

”i woke up just now, too,” satoru lies, albeit a small one. he did wake up recently, only to spend what he thinks must’ve been at least fifteen minutes staring at you until he physically couldn’t take it anymore. he had to hear your voice, see your smile. it’s a personal record for him; usually he spends less time admiring your peaceful expression, far too eager to speak to you.

”it’s pretty late,” he continues, another small lie. pleased with himself. ”way too late for you to go back, actually. how about you spend the night?”

another blink, your eyelids heavy and droopy as they open and close. then you’re reaching for your phone on the nightstand, and checking the time. a smile is quick to bloom on your lips, teasing and bubbly, as you tilt your head to meet his gaze.

”it’s only four, satoru.”

”way, way too late,” he only reaffirms, flopping down on top of you again, keeping you from leaving. ”god knows what kinda creeps are out there at this hour — much too unsafe. i’m just looking out for you, baby.”

”of course,” you indulge him, a sly little roll of your eyes that makes him pout. ”you know i was planning on staying over anyway, right?”

”well, of course! i wouldn’t expect anything less from my favorite nurse.”

his eyes betray his words, gleaming with a sudden colour of excitement, all glitter and relief. a joy that clogs up his throat like seafoam, and spills out from his lips. you look down at him, for a second, unable to resist the temptation — reaching for his forehead with the back of your hand. 

it’s significantly less scalding, now. 

you let out a sigh, laced with relief, one you didn’t know you’d been holding in. ”it really has gone down,” you hum, stretching the sleep from your limbs again. “that’s good.”

satoru huffs. ”i said i was perfect, right? don’t you trust me, my sweet lover?”

”i never know with you,” you give him a huff of your own, exasperated. fond. “you said you were just fine this morning, too.”

”i was!” he whines. piling up lie after lie. “i totally could’ve made it to that date, you know. i got worse because you had no faith in my abilities.”

”right. of course.” you shoot him a lopsided grin. ”you just don’t wanna admit the fever beat your ass, huh?”

”see? no faith.” a chuckle slips from your lips, and satoru has to bite back a smile. ”unbelievable. i fought that fever off just for you, and here you are, laughing at me.”

”oh? i thought it was thanks to my top notch nursing skills?”

”well, that too! but it was mostly me.”

a sigh. “whatever you say.” then you’re smiling, once more, unable to help yourself. eyes crinkled at the edges, soft around the corners. ”i’m just glad you’re better. i was worried.”

satoru pouts, again, but you can tell he acknowledges it — your earnest concern. this is how you love, the both of you, through words that never say it all and actions that say the words your mouths can’t fit. decoding the meaning of it all in silent gestures, glints in your eyes. little truth games.

”you really thought a lil’ fever was gonna be enough to keep me down?” he shakes his head once, then twice. and you know that what he means to say is i never want you to worry. “c’mon, now, baby.”

another lighthearted roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah. my sincerest apologies, my strong, stubborn, totally-not-sick boyfriend.”

”don’t you mean your strong, perfect, beautiful, clever, flawless, totally-not-sick boyfriend?”

”don’t think i didn’t notice you sneaking the stubborn out of there.”

”hehe.”

a silent moment passes, something tender filling up the space between your words. satoru’s weight is still so comforting, like a big blanket, his arms enveloping you as he breathes in your scent. you’re so happy that he’s acting insufferable again.

”alright, my honeybee,” he suddenly chirps, breaking the silence, hoisting himself up. ”time to go. we can still get those crêpes if we hurry.”

you blink. once, then twice.

”… satoru.”

”yeah? what’s up?”

you give him an unimpressed look, gazing up at him, towering over you like he fully thought you’d be alright with letting him leave. ”you’re… not going out today,” you deadpan. “you know that, right?”

this time, he’s the one who blinks. once, then twice.

”huh? why not?”

”uh, because you’re sick, maybe?”

”what?” satoru pretends to be shocked, offended, as if he can’t believe you’d even suggest something so outrageous. ”i’m all better, though!”

you raise an eyebrow, thoroughly displeased. all better? ”your fever isn’t gone, satoru. it’s just not horrible anymore. you’ll get yourself even more sick if you go out now.”

”i won’t! seriously!” he insists, looking down at you with a sorry attempt at puppy dog eyes. ”i feel good enough to run a marathon!”

”you’re not doing that either,” you mutter. then a sigh, exasperated. you can’t let this charade go on for too long. ”come on, satoru — don’t be so stubborn. we can go there another time.”

”but —”

”besides, didn’t you say i have to spend the night because it’s too late to go outside? remember the creeps?” there’s amusement in your voice, a light smile on your lips. ”what if they get us?”

”well, they obviously won’t get you while i’m there,” he huffs. ”what, you don’t think i can protect you properly? you’re hurting me, angel.”

you bite back an incredulous laugh. god, he’s stubborn. you’re so in love with him you just barely restrain the urge to pull him in for a kiss.

”sa-to-ru,” you coo, dragging each syllable out, sending a shiver down his spine. ”we’re not going outside. end of discussion.”

”why not, though?” he continues to pout, still refusing to give in. resorting to cheap guilt-tripping. ”don’t you wanna go on a date with me? you don’t want to see me happy, is that it?”

you only sigh, thoroughly exasperated, reaching up to cup his cheek nonetheless. he nuzzles into it. ”you’re such a baby.”

”your baby.”

another sigh, to mask your adoration. at this rate, the back and forth will never end, so you scramble for solutions.

“can’t we just have our date here?” you suggest, after some contemplation. ”i bought some ice cream on my way here. we could watch a movie, or something. isn’t that enough?”

satoru’s eyes bore into yours. contemplative, as he lets the silence linger, gears turning inside his mind. he wants to go outside with you, wants to hold your hand and hear you hum happily as you bite into your crêpe; wants to steal a bite when you’re not looking.

but it is a tempting offer. you could eat ice cream, and binge a bunch of movies, and he could rest his head in your lap. coax you into playing with his hair.

(he’s maybe, just maybe, a little bit tired, too.)

so, finally, he sighs — softly. in resignation. 

”… well, i guess that’s fine,” he pouts, allowing himself to fall back into your embrace. his voice is muffled, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. ”i wanted crêpes, though…”

”i’ll get you your crepes,” you assure him, relieved to have reached a compromise. ”i can go buy ’em myself and come back. then we —”

”no, no, no!” satoru suddenly interjects. whining, tugging you closer. ”you’re not going anywhere. not without me!”

a sigh, just as adoring as it is fatigued. ”then i’ll… order crêpes, or something. or we’ll eat ice cream today and then crêpes when you’re better. does that sound okay?”

satoru is silent, for a while.

”… okay,” he hums. ”that’s fine.”

”haah. okay, good —”

”however!” 

you give him a look, a silent what now? that has him smiling. shuffling a little, in your embrace, planting his jaw on top of your chest and gazing up at you with a grin. ”instead of the crêpes, i want a kiss.”

you blink. exasperated, as an amused chuckle follows. ”so convoluted. you can just ask, you know?” you don’t give him time to answer, eager to appease the pouty man. ”whatever.” 

leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. sweet and soft. to your surprise, he’s still pouting when you pull away. ”i meant on the lips,” he explains, as if it was obvious. 

a tilt of your head. 

”… but you’re sick.”

”so?” satoru just pouts, expression practically etched into his face at this point. ”you won’t kiss me anymore? just cause i’ve got a tiny, miniscule fever?” he huffs, turning his head to the right and shutting his eyes. ”if you don’t love me anymore, you can just say that.”

another sigh leaves your lips. he’s so ridiculous. you can’t really deny him, though.

”… fine. it’s your fault if i get sick, though.”

in the blink of an eye, he’s perked right back up. wagging his non-existent tail, closing his eyes and waiting for you to try again. silly.

but you relent. his lips are only slightly warmer than usual, and you choose to see it as the good sign it is, proof that his fever truly is starting to dissipate. you feel satoru relax, melting into the kiss, but before it can drag out too long you’ve pulled away. ”— there. happy now?” 

”for now,” he quips, equally teasing. he’s cute, though. a little kiss or two is a small price to pay for the spark of joy in his iris, even if it ends with you sick on your deathbed in a couple of days. 

”that’ll do,” you grin, hoisting yourself up with your elbows, carrying satoru with you, his jaw still on your chest. ”wanna go eat some ice cream, mr unreasonable?”

you don’t really need an answer. of course satoru wants ice cream. you’ve never seen him turn down anything sweet — and, lo and behold, he perks up again, getting into a sitting position. like an excited puppy. 

”got it,” you chuckle, stopping to think for a moment. “there’s soup left, too. but maybe you’d rather order something? it turned out kinda so-so.”

satoru gapes. ”you kidding? that was the best soup i’ve ever had!” 

his exclamation makes you roll your eyes, words so coated in confidence that you almost want to believe him. ”satoru. you don’t have to lie.”

”i’m not!”

”you couldn’t even taste it.”

”i could, i could!” he stubbornly whines. ”i tasted all your love. every single drop!”

you give him a look. he only grins at you, a little teasing, a little giddy. you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed; averting your gaze with a sharp scoff, trying to appear unbothered. ”yeah? and how did my love taste?”

satoru leans forward. it’s sudden, and you blink, instinctively leaning back in turn. he’s wearing a signature smirk when he stops moving, close enough that you feel his breath on your skin. hot.

”delicious,” he purrs, glancing down at your lips. blue eyes gleaming with mirth. ”best thing i’ve ever had.”

you know he’s just trying to fluster you, so you try to fight against it, but it doesn’t work nearly as well as you’d like — crumbling under his gaze, averting your own with a quiet huff. and he lets you off the hook, satisfied with your embarrassed expression. pulling back slightly, letting you breathe. 

as swiftly as you can, you regain your composure. clearing your throat. ”well, you can have more of it later, then,” you make a move to get off the bed. ”let’s go eat ice cream.”

after being caged in by satoru for so long, your limbs are a little stiff, caught under the weight of his boundless love. when your feet hit the soft flooring, you stretch them out, watching satoru follow your lead. still clad in that sweaty shirt.

”you should probably get a change of clothes,” you suggest, exhaling as your muscles loosen up. ”you’ve been wearing that shirt all day.”

”oh? is that an excuse to see me out of it, sweetheart?” satoru grins, fresh mischief gleaming in his eyes. ”you know you can always just ask.” 

you huff out a sardonic breath. ”yeah, yeah, whatever. throw on a hoodie or something, weirdo.” you stifle a giggle when he makes an offended noise behind you. “and some pants.”

”you don’t like the underwear?” he looks towards the corner of the room, studying himself in the mirror. “this is an expensive brand, you know?”

”you’re the only person on planet earth who’d give a fuck about underwear brands,” you scoff, a little snarky. ”just — put some comfortable clothes on, okay? i’ll go get the ice cream ready.”

”wait!” he exclaims, attaching himself to you, curling his arms around your bicep. “you’re not allowed to go anywhere without me, remember?” 

“… okay, okay. hurry up and get changed, then.”

sitting back down on the bed, while satoru walks towards the closet, you scroll through your phone — refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, you’re well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek. but you’re not falling for it this time. 

when he’s done, he’s wearing a comfy hoodie and some sweatpants. it’s a good look on him, casual and cozy. awfully cute. he wastes no time in attaching himself to you, again, an arm linked with yours as you travel to the kitchen; grabbing the pints of ice cream from the freezer, a couple snack bags from the drawers, before plopping down on the couch.

satoru maneuvers you into his lap, and you don’t put up a fight, leaning into him as your back meets his chest. he keeps you locked in place, arms around your waist, planting his jaw on the top of your head. and he relaxes, comforted by your smaller body pressed up against his. holding you so close satisfies a certain protective itch in his brain, never failing to calm him down. a safe haven, of sorts.

you watch the movie and eat the snacks, chattering away, letting the silence linger every now and then. after a while, satoru gets a slight headache, resting his head in your lap and whining for you to soothe him. you do so without any teasing; you’re much too soft for him. and he’s still sick, even if he’s doing better. you couldn’t resist him even if you tried.

so you opt to indulge him.

”baby, i think my fever’s going up again…” satoru pouts, gazing up at you through fluttering lashes. ”can you check?”

you smile, with a raise of your eyebrow. ”this is the fifth time you’ve asked me to check your temperature, toru.”

”just wanna make sure,” he whines. “please?”

with an exaggerated sigh, you lean down, lips once again meeting his forehead — humming against his skin. nope, his temperature hasn’t gone up. just like it hadn’t gone up the last time you checked, or the time before that.

”you’re good.”

”oh, thank god,” he exhales. ”are you sure? like, a hundred percent sure? maybe you should check again. just in case.”

”satoru,” you coo, a teasing lilt on the tip of your tongue. ”you can just ask me if you want a kiss.”

”a kiss? scandalous. i just wanna make sure my condition doesn’t worsen.”

he’s grinning, and you’re rolling your eyes, and both of you know damn well you’re going to indulge him anyway. he sighs in satisfaction when he feels your soft lips on his heated skin.

”hmm…” you narrow your eyes, thoughtfully, before looking down at him with a teasing smile. ”nope. definitely still the same temperature.” 

”you sure?”

”a hundred percent.”

”hmm. okay, got it.” he rolls over, burying his face in your stomach. wrapping his limbs around your midriff. “that’s good. just wanted to check, you know?”

”of course.”

”might need you to check again soon. just to be safe,” he chirps, biting back a soft grin. you don’t bother hiding yours.

”got it, got it,” you coo, fingers carding through his messy hair. “anything for my sick baby.” 

satoru releases a soft breath, bordering on a giggle. you can’t help but let your smile grow wider, heart brimming with affection. you let it clog up your chest until the movie’s almost over, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore.

”your room is very like you.”

it’s sudden, breaking the peaceful silence, making satoru stir. you’re both starting to get sleepy again. but he blinks up at you, studying your expression before parting his lips.

”… oh? how so?”

“well…” you stop to think. humming, absently fidgeting with a lock of your boyfriend’s hair. ”when i first walked in, i thought the whole house felt kind of empty, you know?”

satoru hums. unsure of where the conversation is going, maybe just a little intrigued. he mostly just likes listening to you talk. 

”but then i went into your room, and — it just felt very you. kinda messy, and stuff, but cozy. and a little sentimental.” satoru looks up at you, admiring that certain soft glimmer in your eyes. you meet his stare with a smile. ”maybe it doesn’t make sense? i guess i’ve just been thinking about it.”

he closes his eyes.

there’s something soft in your tone, something silky and simple, and he can tell you’re being sincere. it’s something he likes about you — that willingness to be soft, almost pridefully so, to bare yourself even if you aren’t sure that he’ll return the favour. he likes to think it’s rubbing off on him, slowly but surely; he doesn’t think he’s quite as bad as before. telling you about things that are dear to him isn’t something that scares him, anymore. and even when you see him vulnerable, sick and delirious in bed, he isn’t afraid that you’ll use it against him.

you’re a comfort; his safe haven. a place to rest his weary head. maybe you always have been, even before he really got to know you.

”i like your place more,” he finally admits, lighthearted in its weight. your gaze flits down, but his is still lingering on the tv, not really paying attention to it. ”it feels very… you.”

a smile crawls up to rest against your lips. playing along, your hands finding solace in between his fluffy locks. ”how so?”

and satoru smiles. eyes sparkling with something mellow, like a soda pop cracked open on a boiling summer day. he shifts a little, just to gaze up at you again. ”it’s… homely. warm,” his smile only grows. “and awfully sentimental.”

he lifts a hand up, to touch your cheek. tender, as his thumb smooths against your skin. it’s warm, beneath his touch, heating up with every word he speaks. satoru’s love feels a little like the sun, when it spills out this fervently, like it could burn you into cinders — you think you’d be happy to lie in the ashes. he’s smiling at you, like sunshine, like little dusty specks of light. and he exhales.

”i wouldn’t mind staying there forever.”

the expression on his face is a lovely one. you take a moment to simply bask in it, desperate to etch it into your memory. you don’t think you could forget it even if you tried. how fondly the light of the room embraces him, that soft grin he’s shooting your way, only vaguely teasing. and his eyes, the gateways to his soul, so sincere you can’t look away.

you love this man with your whole chest. you knew before, you’ve known for a long time, but each day you fall in love all over again. it’s all you can think as you look at him, all snug and safe and happy in your lap.

you don’t realize you’ve been staring at him silently until he chuckles, pulling you out of your sentimental stupor. it only flusters you further.

”you’re cute,” satoru croons, still cradling your cheek. tender, soft fingertips against your heated skin. all you manage is a meek little furrow of your brows, but that only makes him chuckle again.

”… you can.”

he blinks. still smiling.

”stay forever, i mean.”

you can’t look at him, when you say it. the words are barely above a whisper, and you aren’t sure if they’re conscious or not. it’d be nice to say they just slipped out, but they feel somewhat deliberate, all the same. you know you mean them, either way. it’s the one thing you’re sure of.

this time, satoru is the one who can do nothing but stare, his expression unreadable. you try not to let your gaze wander to his face, his eyes; but through the peripheral of your vision, you feel like you catch a particular kind of sadness reflected in them. or maybe it’s something closer to yearning, longing. something like that.

”… well,” he finally hums, voice so low you barely pick up on it. ”maybe i will, then.”

you reach something. 

you catch a glimpse of it, at least, for just a second or two. something warm and bare, something simple and incomprehensible at the same time. an emotion so strong it leaves you reeling, yet still so light. it’s there and then it isn’t, just out of reach, and you think that if you could only find the courage to curl your fingers around his, then —

a laugh track plays from the tv, snapping you both out of your thoughts.

(the moment passes before you can fully understand it, fully comprehend it. maybe some part of you already has.)

…

satoru chuckles, reaching for another ball of mochi and popping it into his mouth. ”this movie’s awful, huh?”

”yeah,” you’re quick to agree, maybe a little too quick. grinning weakly. ”it’s good in a so bad it’s good kinda way, though.”

he hums in absentminded agreement, still chewing on the soft treat. keeping his gaze steady on the screen, the flicker of emotional scenes he hasn’t been keeping track of, barely resisting the urge to look up at you again. but his heart already feels a little too mushy for his liking — he’s not sure he could take it.

satoru doesn’t get sick often.

his immune system is strong, there’s no denying that. but more than anything, he simply can’t afford to be sick. there are people who need him, people who depend on him, and the idea of being in such a defenseless state — stuck in bed while the world continues to spin, unattended — makes him feel so anxious he could throw up. even sleeping makes him feel a little skittish, sometimes, though he’s gotten a lot better since he started falling asleep with you in his arms.

it’s funny, he thinks. before you, being sick wasn’t something that really existed in his world. if he felt a little under the weather he would simply puff out his chest and down a painkiller or two, waving it off with a flick of his wrist; no biggie, really. he’s satoru gojo, after all, and the world needs his eyes on it.

but then you came along. you came to his rescue, spring in your pockets, and you took care of him, with what he knows to be love. genuine, earnest concern for his wellbeing. his happiness.

yeah — it’s funny, for sure. satoru never thought he’d ever enjoy being sick. 

yet here he is, head in your lap, feeling you run your fingers through his hair. kissing his forehead whenever he whines, indulging his little convoluted ploys. bringing him soup, when he gets hungry again, soup you made yourself. he wasn’t kidding when he said he tasted your love through it; it was all he could taste, with his numbed out senses, all he could feel.

you’re so good to him. there’s nothing he would trade for these moments with you, absolutely nothing. he’s glad you came over, after all. glad you’re so stubborn, and oh so caring. satoru can’t help but smile, heart almost stuffed to the brim with gratitude — what could he possibly do with this immense love in his chest?

”i love you so much,” he blurts out, practically beaming. now you’re in his lap, again, and he takes the opportunity to smear openmouthed kisses against your neck. delighting in the little squeak you try to muffle.

”where did that come from?” you blink, squirming a little in his embrace. a movie is still playing on the tv screen, one better than the last — your attention was fixed on it before satoru broke the silence.

”just felt like saying it!” he only chirps, grinning ear to ear. ”i love you. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he murmurs, earnestly, lips against your skin. ”my whole world.”

for a moment, you wonder if the fever is making him delirious. then again, this is pretty standard for satoru; always eager to fluster you, to shower you with love until you’re pushing him away. it’s overwhelming, but you’ve never minded. this is how you measure his love — little gaps between too much and never enough.

”… you’re not gonna say it back?” comes a whine, right by your ear. now he’s nibbling at your neck, little beast that he is, pouting because you let the silence linger for too long. he’s being such a baby about it. but you still rush to reassure him, echoing his words in earnest. 

”i love you too, satoru,” you smile, slightly exasperated. craning your neck so that your lips can meet his jaw, and satoru grins, giddy at the attention. ”my whole universe.”

satoru lets out a happy little noise, almost a giggle, sleepy and pleased. his arms squeeze you just a little tighter, like you could never be close enough, even when he’s got you in his lap like this. if he could, he’d keep you there all the time. attached at the hip, close as can be. 

even with a ruined date, even after worrying you, he feels well and truly satisfied. because you're here, and you’re watching a good movie, and you’re gonna stay over tonight. when it gets dark out, he’ll get to fall asleep cuddled up beside you, hold you in his arms and feel you nuzzle into his chest. then he’ll pepper your face with kisses to wake you up, and you’ll grumble all sweetly, and he’ll carry you to the kitchen despite your grumpy protests. you’ll eat breakfast together, chatting and enjoying the way the sunlight flickers around the room like a happy cat. maybe he can even make you breakfast himself, to thank you for today. 

if the fever’s gone by then, you’ll probably let him outside. then you can go get those crêpes, and maybe go to a park, or to the movie theatre, or a fun arcade, before heading back to your apartment to relax. and then he’ll stay over. the day after, too. and the day after that.

living together with you wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks. it wouldn’t be bad at all, actually. 

the thought has been on his mind for a while, now. getting to fall asleep with you every night, eat breakfast with you every morning, see more of your footprints in his life… satoru can’t think of anything he’d like more. maybe he’ll start hinting at it, slowly but surely. if he can lure you into broaching the subject, that would be ideal — but if he has to, he doesn’t mind doing it himself. you’re worth the emotional toll.

you curl into your boyfriend a little further, his jaw now resting cheekily on the top of your head, large palms underneath your shirt and rubbing circles into your bare skin. you have no idea what he’s thinking, no idea about his plans, and he thinks that’s for the best. he knows you’ll indulge him, at the end of the day.

maybe he’ll just ask you, tomorrow. if you say no, he can just blame it on the fever making him delirious.

#save me sick soft sweet sappy satoru….. save me…….. #he means the wholeeee universe to me :’3 i love this specific toru sm !! i really do think he’s a lonely sweetie at heart :(( #i wrote this fic a LONG time ago but i polished it a bunch so hopefully it doesnt feel rusty !! #i scrambled to come up w a title in time but i think this one kinda slaps idk … im severely sleepy rn so it might. Not be. though 😭😭 #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x y/n

[louebel]

Hi! Can I request fluff Law x fem!reader where reader is feels sick but tries to ignore it/do things on her own (she’s not used to ask for help) but as a doctor law easily can tell by the signs and it happens during their sea journey on the polar tang? Hope I’m not asking too much love ya 🥺

Feel free to add angst or anything else to your writing ^•^

this is super old and the only request i'll ever do (atm) since i had a wip— ANON SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER <\3 reader is gn since i used the second person and no description.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: trafalgar law × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 6,124 wc. a bit angsty, ends with fluff, emotional reader for the sickness, law is bad at emotions. this turned longer than expected, i hope it's decent xdd hit me up if there's any mistakes lol. supposed to be called windows of the soul,, divider by @ benkeibear my lord and saviour. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: sickness overtook your body and worsened your already pitiful situation. law has been ignoring you and you have no idea why... but with how you felt, there was no way you could confront him at the moment.

scrub, scrub, scrub... 

"... phew ..." 

scrub... poof! 

"Oh! — damnit — aargh..." 

Cleaning today has been a nightmare. Never been so tedious. 

Like, it was already uninteresting compared to all the other things you could do, but today it was ten times worse. You could bear it, seeking to make dusting shelves fun by humming some random tune to yourself. It was okay, something you had to do every once in a while. You could do it. 

If only you weren't sick. 

"Achoo! Achoo! — urgh... Achooo..! Damn." 

You began feeling like this some days ago, or so you told yourself as you delicately hunched down to the floor, hoping to grasp the yellow sponge soaked in foam and water without experiencing excruciating pain. However, your hopes soon shattered as your back screamed in agony and your legs trembled with soreness, almost giving up on you. 

Just the flu, you insisted, it would go away. A couple of sneezes mean nothing. You would feel better and all would go back to the ordinary. 

... Oh, how wrong you were! And how stupid for not getting a day off. 

You were capable, though! You counted on your immune system (it sounded heroic the first time you thought of that). One night is all you needed. 

Or not. 

"Ow, ow..." 

You should've told your captain. Sure, it would cost your courage, pride, and dignity, but at least you'd be cured. You'd rather die than tell him you got sick because of the one herb he instructed everybody to avoid. 

What's worse is that he's been rather distant, and he's unquestionably avoiding you. The way he shoots daggers — no, whole machetes in your direction every time you do anything, smart or not, is so clear even the crew can see it. And the worst part? You do not know why. 

It had been like this for a while now, and you detested this whole plight with passion. Everything was okay between the two of you, you were sure of it! What did you do that spurred such a reaction? From one so dear to you? 

Those sweet memories... 

From new findings you excitedly presented him, to revealing himself, his past and adventures to you after almost a year of sailing. You knew everything about him. He knew everything about you. 

So why? Why stop so abruptly? You didn't mind when he digressed about his newfound coins. When he murmured under his breath while he pored over medical books or mulled about a particular topic. When he stressed over labor and called for a brief break, where you or the crew would attend to him by delivering him a meal or helping when he wasn’t looking. He's so stubborn.

"Uurgh..." 

From captain, to Law, to captain again. Not to mention how he deftly stopped you from hanging out with him. You thought he needed space at first. Maybe he was tired and had to rest for the next few days. That’s alright. However, your thoughts deteriorated as the days passed. But well, right now it's better if he doesn't see you at all. Nor the crew‌ — oh, the damn crew. Those two.

The "two" being the pair of nitwits that constantly stand by law's side and grin at you. Seriously... 

You do not understand what Penguin and Shachi find so amusing about your situation with him. It's a tragedy, not a comedy. You love them both, truly, the minute you stepped into the polar tang they were the first ones to get you to open up and all, but goodness, you wish you could beat them for sitting there, cackling and clapping their hands while confiding some mysterious comments to each other when la — the captain, showed up in the area and walked past you with an unreadable gaze. He'd constantly salute you and the others with a bow of his head or more, depending on his mood. 

Now? If he saw one inch of your form? 

Sigh. His face always went red. 

Why can't those two just tell you? Even Ikkaku seemed to know something you didn't. She was more subtle about it, though. Jean Bart wasn't slick either. You could see him smile from a mile away. Hakugan and Clione? Shachi and Penguin 2.0, except they hid behind Jean Bart. The rest pitied you instead, sometimes patting your back — sometimes shaking their head almost in disbelief. Oh, and Bepo gave you suspicious smiles! Every time he tried to say something to you, those two animal hat-wearing goblins silenced him. Did they just want you to suffer? 

And if they did want that then their curses were working because even after grabbing the sponge (almost losing your temper as it slipped through your gloved palm twice) and straightening back to an erect pose, your head was still banging with fervor, muscles barely reacting. 

If only you could snuggle with the fluffy, warm mink right now. A bitter sigh rushed past your lips at the thought. 

Those two were just so mean. But Law was much meaner — the captain, the captain... Yes, the captain. That... That dummy. 

You groaned and shook your head while forcing your wobbly arms to scrub the table, exhausted mentally with this never-ending train of thoughts and these fanciful fists leaving invisible bruises all over your poor body. Not to point out those hands pinching your brain like dough... 

Just — you... Goodness, what was it he suddenly despised so much? The submarine felt like home. It was home, especially when he joined you. Now when he does, he — the aura he emanates is intimidating, yet everyone is either unaware of it or not affected by it. 

What made him so resentful? You can barely say anything when he strides into the place, too panicked to learn how he would perceive you or talk to you if you go on. It's like you're back on step one, isolated, too scared to be yourself with your family. Because of one man who's supposed to be the head of it. 

Being you felt like a sin when close to him, as if he preferred the private variant of who you are, and shunned your curious and spirited self. You could understand since he’s rather closed off and well, in a certain aspect you are too, but — did he not like you at all? Was it all an act to not offend you? He didn't seem to dislike your vivid reactions initially, or your foolish gestures when nearing a fresh island. You were often silent, smiling and listening to others converse, but when around your companions, you easily liked to open up since it was the only time you could do so. And they were more than just that. You entrusted all the members of the heart pirates. They meant everything to you. Even him, who stopped including you. 

Ugh... 

You wished it could all go back to normal. 

This disease enjoyed fumbling with your previously scrambled sentiments. Law did mention it brought a high fever and emotional susceptibility. You didn't consider it'd be this severe. 

"... Okay, I'm done." 

You certainly weren't, with your bed unmade and furniture still dusty; floor imploring for a good wash. However, with the croaky voice you had paired with your runny nose, you doubted you could do more. Even if you did, it'd be better not to. 

You peered down at the bucket full of water that probably smelled better than you at the moment, ignoring the small puddle beside it made by your poor handling sponges skills. Grimacing, you decided to leave it where it was in case carrying it back turns out to be a challenge. Hopefully, Ikkaku can provide you help later. 

Looking around, your droopy eyelids dimmed your perspective and further provoked you as both exasperation and exhaustion mixed and boiled in your gut, room so messy it mirrored your current state. You didn't know what was irritating you more: the light of the lamp or the disarray you resided in. 

Howling dejectedly, you turned and plodded to your bed, opening your arms, ready to throw yourself on the mattress. The more you sleep, the sooner you'll get better. Yeah, you're so brilliant. You closed your eyes and — 

knock knock. 

— reopened them a second after, remaining immobile for an extra few before glowering at your door, contemplating whether to go open it or linger to determine if they'd leave. Hmm. 

You waited. 

... knock knock. 

Fantastic.

You gritted your teeth, drawing a profound breath to settle your nerves, haywire thanks to the hellish illness. They didn’t deserve to withstand your rage, but who knows, maybe by seeing your shape, they'll show sympathy and tell you. That could work. 

Okay. 

You sluggishly trudged to the door, not bothering to adjust your unbuttoned pajamas and faking a cheerful facade. You hoped your face didn't look too awful, but you couldn't care less right now. 

Gripping and twisting the knob, you pushed it open, greeting them with the feeblest voice you've ever had, your sore nose making it unthinkable to inhale air. You rubbed the back of your head while doing so, eyelids closed to evade any light. 

"Yo, Penguin, Shachi, how can I—" the words automatically came out of your coarse and blazing throat, opening your eyes a bit to look at... them... 

Then you saw a tattoo. And more tattoos. No white, poofy boiler suits in sight. 

By barely seeing light before, you tried giving yourself mercy, but now you were only slaughtering yourself to make sure the person in front of you was, well. Him. 

Your jaw fell while your brows lifted in consternation, but shortly returned down thanks to your declining headache. Your pupils then scaled the mountain of mass before you and arrived at the peak. Another pair of eyes. 

Cool, gray eyes. The ones that just a week ago welcomed you with compassion and comfort. Now they drive you to wither away from this world. Even if you look up to them. (Hehe, get it? man, you're so silly, wow.) 

"—help … Captain. Uh, hello." and there goes your comfort zone. 

You tried swallowing down air but got pounds of mucus down your stomach instead, curved posture closing up even more in his presence, ashamed to be seen in such a weak state, instantly regretting not managing your appearance as his gaze scrutinized you from top to bottom, probably displeased with how you presented yourself.. 

You looked everywhere but at him. He only looked at you. 

Envy spurted from the plant’s toxins. How could he focus on one thing and have so much confidence to stare at someone without breaking eye contact at all? If you do the same for longer than two seconds, it feels like whoever looked at you has seen your entire personality, life, darkest secrets that you didn't really have, closest people to you — everything in poor words. The windows of your soul, perpetually agape.

How does he keep them closed? Why can't you seal them at all? Why?— 

"—so care to explain the meaning of this?" 

"Huh?" 

You stupidly stared at him, blinking and glancing at his shoulders, then back at him to break whatever spell he put on you, not able to concentrate at all. 

Barely could you see the annoyed expression on his face. You hoped he wasn't dealing with excessive stress. Making him feel worse was not your intention. 

"I said, care to explain what this is? You look... terrible—" you cringed at that, "—and you haven't come out of your room since this morning. Do you have any idea what time it is?" His scrutinizing tone made you want to crawl under your blankets and stay there forever, but his patronizing gaze didn't let you. 

You could merely fidget with your fingers and glance back at the floor to relieve your worries, which mixed with pain, fatigue, and dirtiness. You called for sleep so badly. 

"I'm—I'm sorry, Captain. I, uh, I didn't—" sniff, "—mean to skip my duties. Sorry." 

His brow creased in suspicion at your raspy voice and poor shape. 

"Is that so? Look at me while you say it." if his words weren't menacing enough, his tone was too. He knew you couldn't do that. Especially now. 

"Uh..." you unconvincingly whispered, continuing to play with your fists, until rubbing your nape once more, shuddering at how chilled your hands were compared to it. 

Your actions were, again, spotted by him, and if one more thing occurred, then he'll be correct. 

"Well? I'm waiting." 

"..." 

Sighing exasperated, you raised your head to look into his pupils once again.  

Unbeknownst to you, he already confirmed another of his impressions while taking a further view of your sullen visage. 

"I, uhm, overslept, Captain. That — that happens sometimes, yeah? Sorry about that. I'll—I'll..." stopping for a moment, you squinted your eyes and scrunched your nose while the man before you attentively fixated his stare on your frame and— 

"Achooo!" —covered half of your face whilst he recoiled back at the loud sneeze you let out, not expecting it at all. He blinked, then you sneezed again, and again. Streak of three. 

If your voice and glossy eyes already told everything to the doctor, the continuous sneezes only reinforced his thesis. 

You exhaled haplessly as he sternly said your name. 

"You're sick." his firm and coherent words could not be fooled. Your fate was sealed. 

"...Yeah." at this point, you didn't care. He was gonna scold you, nothing you could do about it. You could only hope he'll do that after you're cured because right now, you could barely stand still without shivering. You were sure if he wanted to do something he would have already, so he definitely will have a talk with you after you're healthy. 

"Why?" you've been proven wrong so many times this morning — afternoon. Evening? That you don't know what's gonna happen next. 

You stared at him numbly, almost done with everything. 

"What do you mean 'why'? I don't, I don't know. Probably our... Ugh, our last stop, isn't that obvious—" 

"Not that. Why didn't you say anything? To the others? To me?" 

If it wasn't for your head beating incessantly and the aching of your tendons ruining everything, you would think this was a dream. 

You kept gawking at him like a goldfish. His timbre wasn't as stern as it regularly was. It was a bit, just a tad bit lower. Like, barely. His eyes were softer, and if you met the man yesterday, you wouldn't be capable of identifying his mood. It's because you knew him for so long that you could distinguish it. 

"I..." you mumbled talks under your breath, awfully feeble to maintain the discussion, barring your eyes and hitching away when Law planted his freezing hand on your forehead. You fussed in protest, although it didn't last long. 

"You're cold... Off." 

"My hands are perfectly fine. You're burning," he interrupted you, stating the obvious. But you were far too deep to listen, fatigued. 

"Yeah... M'sorry." you nodded while deliberately looking down in shame, almost dropping to the ground out of fatigue. Everything seems hazy, the pressure in your skull fading, while the breaths you took were meager. 

Something skimmed over your shoulder and nape — ah, his fingertips — palm carefully tilting your head back up. Your mouth hung open, and you attempted to focus on your captain's facial features and the iconic hat to not fall asleep. 

"It's fine." But his gentle approach and mellow maneuvers set you in a soothing trance, where you couldn't do anything other than auscultate him. 

It’d be an exceptional moment to speak up about these last days, his odd actions. 

"It... It is? You, ah... You're not..." but you struggled to do so, chest too heavy to speak. He narrowed his eyes, striving to make out what you were saying, but it was all incomprehensible to him. 

"I'm not?" he urged you to proceed, getting closer — he felt warm. Wasn't he cold some seconds ago? Ah, he’s draping his coat over your shoulders, so, so cozy, — and holding you as if you were glass. Why was he holding you? It felt nice, undoubtedly nice. Oh, you were going to fall, you think. 

“Hey—hey. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.” 

Cradling you in his arms, Law cursed and crouched down, snaking an arm under your knees and sweeping you up, a short "there" slipping from his tongue, keeping you close to his breast. Naturally, you snuggled close to the source of heat, losing consciousness, unaware of your surroundings, his distress, and jogging to the infirmary. 

“Hey. Keep your eyes open. No, no, open—yes, yes, like that. Good job. A bit more, then you can go to sleep, alright?" 

While nodding lazily when he said your name again, you curled up for more warmth, and he mellowly followed your movement, hefting you up and pressing his lips upon your forehead, his frown deepening at how high the temperature was. He needed to administer medicine quickly. 

"Law …'m sorry if I smell." 

He scoffed. Thinking of such idiotic things was exactly like you, sputtering them out so bluntly. Rolling his eyes was natural at this point. 

"That's my last concern. We'll think of your scent and hygiene later. Don't speak. Shh." 

So stupid, so stupid. He should've confronted you ever since you left the island. He should've. It's been a recurring pattern these days. He couldn't see you because of his work but spoke with the others at breakfast, lunch, dinner... They all grew concerned about your distance. Uni shared that it began right after the departing... He knew something wasn't right with you, he could feel it.

Back in that inhabited location, he quickly took note of your drooping posture and fatigued breathing. He wanted to ask about it, but the following days, you acted normal, and Law thought you were queasy because of the heat.

Then he got busy checking on the crew's documents, medicine supply, the damn broken scope Hakugan sadly reported, bounties, news — and something else. He managed to give a check-up to everyone but you. It was mandatory after leaving an island.

With you evading him and him doing the same, this happened. Great. He could only hope it wasn't contagious.

... Wait.

He gritted his teeth in sour realization — Not once has he seen you in the halls or dining hall. No one mentioned you, either. Have you eaten anything at all? Oh, you imbecile.

He palmed your skin through your suit, easing your laments and whimpers, walking through the hallways of the Polar Tang and reaching the infirmary. Kicking the door open while lulling you a bit, shushing and fluttering his eyelids at your sick and quaking form. 

"There we go. Shh, I know, I know, it's awful." 

Uplifting the blankets, he quickly covered you and began searching for his equipment, rustling and metal clicks tangling with your whines. 

"U- uuh... W- where..?" 

"I'll be there in a second. I'm here." 

As he said that, he quickly came back to you, already stirring medicine in a cup. He had to give to you before you blacked out or fell asleep. Sliding a hand under your back, he carefully pushed you up, gaining a groan from you; you sounded so tired. Tipping your head forward, he brought the rim of the cup to your lips. You were delirious, could barely see or feel, but managed to follow his direct instruction to "open". The first glass was tasteless, fresh... water. 

The second tasted awful. 

"E—eugh..." 

"A couple more sips and we're done. Come on, you're doing good." 

Once you drank it all, with a small praise from Law, he gently laid you back down, about to check your vitals. He knew you were in no condition to do as he instructed, it would be all him. Idiot, idiot... 

Just looking at you made him guilty. He never saw you this awful. However, what truly pushed him were your next phrases. 

“Do you feel better now..?” 

Low and dry, they all were. He halted his movements, his hands in the bag, shifting his attention to you. 

Your question puzzled him. 

Feel better? Him? He was fine. Perhaps you thought the disease was contagious? No; you would've phrased that diversely. His forehead creased, slightly tilted to the side. 

"What?" 

“I … I missed you." 

And as clear drops cascaded down your cheeks, his limbs froze, a bittersweet ache striking his chest. 

"I—I thought I did something wrong … I’m sorry … Should've told you. 'M sorry ... really...” 

Shit. 

“No, no, don’t be. It’s alright, don't—don't speak. You did nothing. Shh...” 

And if you stayed conscious for some more seconds, you could've seen those severe pupils mitigate. The windows of his soul open up; the "stern" gaze he preserved for you withering in an instant at your vulnerability. 

All he wanted to do was clear that up. When, now..? 

“I—I’m the one that should’ve apologized, damn it…” 

"Aargh..." 

Warm. 

"Mmh..." 

It was very warm. Pleasant. 

"Hn..." 

The boilersuit felt different. Heavier, and not … poofy. Hm. 

The pillow was so nice, though... 

You sought a better position under the comforting and amiable regime of your blanket, squinting your glistening eyes as if sand had struck them; eyebrows knitting in distaste and discomfort, choler cramming up your insides — but not for long, extremely achy and sleepy to lament. 

Shouldn't it be easier to relax now that you are tired? Shifting left and right left your muscles throbbing. The peace you could achieve in your dreams was all you begged for. But no, you just had to rise two more times in the span of minutes or hours. 

When you woke up the third time, someone surprised you. He was perching on a chair near the infirmary's bed, head, presumably about to doze off. An encyclopedia of vegetation and exotic environs sat in his palms and dotted jeans, the cover made of green-coloured leather, firm to the touch. 

He looked peaceful. 

"... Law?" 

Your lashes fluttered at the fierce shudder that rocked his frame, the textbook about to fall, his eyes snapping open and rapidly darting up to you. 

"Oh. You woke up. Good. Good evening." 

You were mad at him. You were mad at him. 

His lips were indubitably moving. Whatever he was saying, you were not listening. Something about being out for hours, but you were too out of it to pay attention. 

And looking down at your body, your eyeballs almost popped out of your sockets at the sight of... Not your boilersuit. 

"I'm in my pajamas?" 

"And — hm? Oh. I changed you." Pause. "With my devil fruit, of course. Obviously. You were way too hot in it." 

"..." 

"..." 

Pause number two. 

"I'm hot?" You bluntly said,

"Not in that way." And he quickly retorted, bashful. You immediately got gloomy.

"Oh..." You and Bepo were alike. He couldn’t help but sweatdrop.

"No, no, no, don't — you look fine. That's not what I meant." 

A hoarse chuckle ripped from your sensible larynx, a noise that he hadn't heard in a while. His back loosened at your jovial note, the pressure applied on the envelope of the manual lessening. 

There was a superb illustration of the flora you accidentally whiffed. 

"You inhaled it, didn't you?" 

... Silence followed. Then a sigh.

"A simple allergy with a sore throat and emotional instability in the first phase caused by the pollen, weakened muscles and headache in the second, and heightened senses, nausea, and worsening of the body in the last one. You felt them all." 

Quick and precise, each symptom he mentioned appeared throughout the weeks you boarded on the Polar Tang. He hit the mark. Glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, you nodded sheepishly, feeling hot in your cheeks. 

"Y—Yeah." 

"I thought I mentioned dodging those peculiar red flowers. I don't expect you to recall the name, but to avoid it. Thankfully, you only inhaled its pollen, or else you would've been in this bed the moment we departed." 

"O—oh... That bad?" 

"No, not really. The symptoms would've developed quicker, but nothing dangerous. Perhaps you would have slept over two days, as all cases do when encountering this allergy," He narrows his eyes at you, shutting the book and crossing his long legs, his foot jouncing. "Not at all fatal, only worrying when the patient in question mentions nothing about the symptoms and overworks themselves.” 

“Hey—” 

“You're fine." 

A small huff left your lips, nodding lazily. Nothing was uttered after from both sides. Occasional groans from yours. Only then he spoke. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"..." The answer was simple. He immediately found the illness yet couldn't pinpoint the cause of this? It was almost ironic. Your quietude wasn't taken well. 

"Well?" 

"... You ignored me. You made it clear." 

And he was faking ignorance. That glance, his attitude. You knew him too well, but had no energy to call him out. 

"I—I didn't." 

"Don't play coy, Law. Did I do something? Even the others know. Penguin and Shachi told me. I—" 

You paused when he raised his hand, glancing at it in confusion, then back at him, twice or more. He sighed and dropped it back on his thigh again, using his other one to rub his temple in distress. 

"You did nothing. I don't know what... Shachi and Penguin said," You tilted your head at his peculiar manner of quoting them. "But I've got nothing against you." 

He stopped rubbing and lifted his head to check on you again and you were unsure of what to say. His brows wrinkled the tender skin of his forehead, severity, and minor unease painting every fiber of his appearance. 

You just... didn't know. 

"Really? Then why those weird stares? Why leave the room the moment I come in? I mean." you flailed your hands around, looking everywhere as if you could find an explanation. "You never behaved this way, Law, not with anyone. I... It was fine before, right? Let me ask again, did I do something wrong?" 

"Of course not!" 

At his hasty exclamation, you blinked, uncertain why he became as rigid as stone. Palms back on the blanket, you awaited an elaboration of his thoughts, observing his adumbral face to detect any key to figure out what caused him to alter his ways with you. However, his hat, which you've always appreciated for its fluffiness, turned out to be an issue. Those eyes you've grown so fond of refused to meet yours. 

You just couldn't get it. The surrounding air grew an intoxicating no romance book would mention, one that did the contrary of setting your heart aflame, that poor muscle of yours. 

If he explained, it would've been easier. 

"Okay, 'of course not' ... Sure—" 

"We are not having this conversation. You need rest." 

He briskly cut you off, and your heart felt constricted. The words felt bitter upon both of your tongues, so bitter and revolting, they made his jaw clench and your eyes water. You weren't having it. Absolutely not. 

"I feel better now, thank you, and I say we're having this right here." You pushed, ignoring how he clenched his tattooed fist.

"No—" 

"Yes, Law! I don't know what I did, but if it bothers you, shouldn’t you tell me? There are things we can all miss." 

The pang in your brain was still active, and you had no patience nor strength to argue. Either he spoke up or you'd go straight to sleep. 

"I... You did nothing that bothers me." 

His speech was almost a whisper, a low rumble, and were you in your regular state, you'd feel sad to see him like this. Law had no trouble speaking up— perhaps with apologies, or admitting to be wrong when in the midst of a conversation. Maybe something genuinely bothered him. But he'd tell you, wouldn't he? He had to.

But you weren't the only one who had to consider the consequences. He also had to do his part. 

"... And?" you encouraged him, to gain something, something that would lead you both to that damned thing you were both chasing, that ounce of understanding. 

“And—and what?" alas, it served another wave of blistering dissatisfaction down upon the membranes of your boiling stomach. 

He couldn't be serious. 

"... Whatever. I'm going to sleep." 

"What?" 

You detested how you were feeling, a volcano of passions, the pounding in your skull, and the heat, and the ludicrous, nagging insecurity, all these wretched, gristly sensations shoved in your mouth and scraping your gullet, such a relucting and squalid dish, contaminating your palate and inflaming the gums of your teeth. 

But all Law could see was how your eyes moistened and reddened, the crinkles at the corners of your mouth, the contracted tissues above your nose. 

You couldn't feel how his heart plummeted, either. Again, he caused you to cry. 

"Hey... I—" 

"No, Law, no! I said leave! You ignored me for almost two weeks and now—now you're just..!" 

Perhaps you were being a bit too "dramatic" for something you could solve with a modest exchange, something that, compared to all the obstacles you and Law went through, was a sheer grain of dust in your shoes. Yet you erupted for the frustration, the plant's effects and that nameless thing you'll bring in your grave, for if he knew, he'd probably pity you. 

Maybe, just maybe, he should've kept ignoring you. If solely to dim that warmth. The glow in your eyes that only sparked with him. 

"I don't mind if you need time. I don't mind if you're busy or whatever, that's obviously fine! But can't you tell me? Is it that hard? Instead of treating me like a stranger? Just—just, just leave..." 

Your snotty voice seemed ridiculous, resounding through the infirmary alongside your sobs and sniffles. Vision tarnished by your tears, staring at the ceiling with resignation. It alarmed Law, whose emotions were already scattered; unnerved, anxious. 

He couldn't take seeing you like this. He couldn't. 

"That’s not it! I... I just — I..!" His broken explanations fell as your cries didn't stop; spasms traveling through your frazzled nerves. He swore under his breath, getting up and coming to you, standing close but so, so distant. His fingers jerked, impatient to wipe your tears, to calm you down, to assure you everything was alright, and this was all on him. 

"What..?" you meekly whimpered, gazing at him as he appeared in your sight. 

"I, I..!" if only he could express himself. You'd figure out. If only he could, without buckling and tearing apart at the weight of his own feelings. 

"... You what, Law?" 

It was tough to see with all those tears coating your scleras, but... His lips quivered. His jaw tensed. 

His hands craved yours. 

"I like—I like you!" 

... You wondered if illusions were part of the symptoms. Your eyelids were all but relaxed. Popeyed. 

"There. I said it. I mean it. Seriously. I—I think I love you." 

You could feel his frantic grip, slightly pulling the blankets in his direction, tense as him. You've never seen Law so … jittery with you. Perhaps when he slowly spoke of his past, or when his plan failed. 

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I... I was confused. I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't... No, okay. I, I love you, but you don't have to reciprocate, really. ‌I just wanted to clarify that I wasn't—" 

This was different, however. Not the same vulnerability, nor agitation. That teetering edge coating his sayings, not at all close to those instances. 

"... Law." 

"—ignoring you, I mean, I was, but I just couldn't face you, you know? I didn't know how to act—" 

That glow, those feelings. The twinkle in his eyes Bepo mentioned when you spoke of something that fascinated you, that rare grin on his lips, and that sweetness, the swelling in his chest, and the red, and the breath of fresh air, and the intoxicating romance books loved to talk about... 

Those tints blooming in his cheeks. The faint relaxation of his defined brows. How he covered his pretty, vulnerable self. 

He's no different from you. Oh, oho ho, no, he wasn’t. Only now did you realize. 

"Law." 

"—but I missed you so much, I missed your presence, being with you, I—" 

Your heartbeats matched. 

"Law!" 

You understand now. The definitive yell induced him to quit his blabbering, and eventually, he found your gaze. Those windows were not locked at all. Not marginally, not halfway. They were fully open. You could see him. 

"It's... the same." 

It was all you could utter. His jaw loosened, and you could recognize his wide, stormy irises. 

"Huh? Wh — what?" 

"I feel the same way, Law. I—I love you too." 

Yours were open, too. They always were- yet he never acknowledged what dwelled inside. Two fools you both were. 

"... Oh..." and a breathless whisper was all he could offer. 

The silence dissipated. A delightful warmth occupied your rib cage. The pressure was gone. 

All is back to normal. 

"If... If you weren't sick. I'd kiss you." He mumbled, and his lips looked more luscious than ever. He shouldn't have said that. Now it was even harder. 

"P—pfft... Of course, of course. Can you come closer, at least?" you pouted, giving him the best puppy eyes you could muster. “Pretty please?”

"... Fine. It's — not contagious, anyway," he huffed, his cheeks a light pink, and he sat on the margin of the infirmary's bed, hustling just a tad bit closer... 

Closer... 

"Closer?" 

"Alright." 

His ears grew pink at your giggles. Your fingers graced each other, "DEATH" entwined with you. His hands were lukewarm. Long, slim, calloused in some places, but also tender to the contact. His metacarpals were partially discernible, defining the shadows. He took care of his nails, ensuring they were cut short, although they appeared slightly, just somewhat lengthier than usual. Not considerably, however; they were still short. 

How you missed holding it. 

"Sorry, by the way. About everything." Squeezing his hand, you attempted to show him what it meant to you. He squeezed it back, brushing the top of your hand with his thumb, a pensive and solemn look on his face. 

"No- I should apologize for not saying anything sooner. I neglected and avoided you. I … I don’t know what to do. You know I’m not the type for relationships.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement, but weren't as worried as Law. You'll wait. Nothing would change. 

“Mmm. I can wait for you, Law.” Saying it seemed to take him off guard, as if he hadn't thought about it. Or, rather, didn't expect you to propose it. In his head, it seemed silly because it's him. If you were to ask in his place, he'd also wait. 

He felt lighter. 

“… Truly?” 

“Yeah. We can figure it out together. Like we always did. I’ve loved you for years." He inhaled deeply, your words buttery and sweet. "I’m fine with waiting longer.” 

Thinking you wouldn't accept, if he asked, was stupid of him too. Of course you would. Of course. With another squeeze, he nodded, and turned his head away from you a bit. 

His eyes glistened. 

“I’d like that. Thank you.” 

You smiled, too, saying nothing in return. 

He can take all the time he needs. 

After some days, everything went back to the typical routine. The first thing you did was knock Shachi and Penguin's heads, (supported by Ikkaku) and since Hakugan and Clione were on duty, you couldn't do the same for them. 

You puffed your cheeks and enjoyed chewing the well-earned treat you snagged from the kitchen, reorganizing boxes since this morning. 

"Tired?" 

Peeking at the door, a smile adorned your mouth at the sight of your captain leaning on it. 

"Mm, there were a lot of them." 

"You could've asked for help. You know I don't want any of you to strain yourselves with tasks." 

"I had it. Don't worry. Although..." another bite. "I miss it." 

"Hm?" he crooned, tipping his head forward. "Miss what?" 

You gazed into his eyes, "Miss getting pampered by you when I was sick." lovingly observing how they enlarged a bit before returning to the stoic stare he always wore, swaying his head to dismiss your remarks. The chambré tint on his cheeks was as clear as day, like his light smile. Not that you'd tell him, he'd immediately disregard it. 

"... Meet me at my office once you're done." 

As he turned his back to you, his boots making clicky rumors with each step, your smirk amplified... After all, who could wait to get coddled by none other than their favorite captain?

#law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x you

[teawithnosugar]

Your Love

! Pairings ,' Ellie x Reader ! CW ,' angst/comfort at the end, slight gore, trauma, mentions of abuse (I think), Ellie is kind of mean at first, Joel and Jesse ain’t dead here ! words ,' 2,6k ! synopsis ,' You and Ellie may fight sometimes, but she’s still the one that understands you most in the world. ! song ,' True Blue - boygenius

"I remember who I am when I’m with you"

! AN ,' ....it's been over a month...I AM SO SORRY. I'm on 3 hours of sleep so I wasn't able to edit this properly. This plot was waaaay better in my head, thinking abt making this a mini series. The reader’s past isn’t that detailed in this one but I think you’re able to get the idea djdbsjs 😭

When you first came to Jackson, you were 15, quiet, body tense, and covered from head to two in crimson liquid. Now you were 22, still quiet, still tense, and drenched in rain water. You and Ellie had just gotten back from patrol. You accidentally left behind a bag of loot while trying to save Ellie from a group of raiders. As soon as the door to your small cabin closed, she was on you, shouting at you for your mistake, voice as loud as the harsh rain outside. Jackson made you happy, talkative, at peace, but in moments like this it was easy to become that 15 year old again, scared and just taking the blows.

“There’s a flu going around Y/N! People need the medicine you just lost!”

Ellie was furious, pacing the cabin. It was like you were at that facility again, adults shouting at kids for not hitting their targets or being able to beat up other kids during training. You felt so small.

In reality, Ellie was angry, not at you, but at her own sense of burden. She still wasn’t over the incident at the hospital, and the vaccine that was never made because of her and now the medicine the town wouldn’t get because of her mistake. The guilt was overflowing, and coming out as steam in her ears and harsh words from her mouth. “I just…I just wanted to protect you,” you whispered. She froze, expression softening before it hardened. Before she could snap again, there was a knock on the door of your small cabin. You both looked at each other, slightly confused but more to tell each other that this would have to continue later. “We ran into a group of 15, but while we were getting away we saw more of them, all camping in Teton.” You don’t remember how you got here, in a meeting with Tommy, Joel, Jessie, Ellie, and Maria. Not that you were listening anyways. Everyone’s voices sounded fuzzy and echoey, like a vacuum of some sorts. You stared at the cracked wood of Maria’s dinner table. You couldn’t pay attention to the conversation, all you could think of was how empty your stomach felt but you didn’t have the appetite to eat anything.

“…I��m sorry to bring all of you here. Usually in situations like this I send Joel and Y/N…but Joel is getting old and Y/N…doesn’t seem to be in the state to do this alone.”

Maria's concern for your well-being echoes faintly, but it's Ellie’s hand on your knee from under the table that anchors you. She could tell your mind was slipping away again, and she had calmed down greatly since a while ago and wanted to comfort you. She recognized the way you gave a small nod at Maria’s words, eyes staring down at your lap when you felt everyone’s eyes on you. 

You couldn’t help but feel like a burden. Killing and defending was all you were raised to do, and you felt like a disappointment for failing at your only notable job in the community.

You silently played with Ellie’s hand as the meeting went on. You wanted to help with the plan, to tell them some of what they came up with was a bit too dangerous and that it would’ve been easier if they just sent you, but you stayed quiet. If you were being honest, you didn’t really care at the moment, a numbness in your core eating away at your insides. You felt so empty.

In these moments, you found yourself drowning in a familiar sea of emotions. There was little else to do but immerse yourself in the touch of Ellie's skin.It wasn't a difficult choice to make – you could either get lost in your mind's maze or savor the sweetness of Ellie's hand, and surely, the latter was a far more delightful path to take.

As the meeting went on, Ellie glanced at you every few minutes. She hadn’t seen you like this in a long time. “You’re not a fucking killing machine” she had told you so many times before. “Yeah but I’m the best at playing the part” you’d always respond. 

You wanted to help the community that had welcomed you so gracefully years ago. You lacked the culinary skills to prepare hearty meals, the green thumb to tend to blossoming seeds, and the craftsmanship to build sturdy shelters, so you helped the only way you knew how, by protecting them from outsiders, the thing you used to be long ago. Ellie understood your need to be useful all too well, too well to stop you despite how much you hated what you were doing. It’s the reason you chose flight over fight during patrol; you hated killing people.

“You leave in 30 minutes, pack up and meet in front of the gates.” Maria said, and the screeching of chairs being moved hit your ears, bringing you back to the current moment and flinching slightly. Ellie guided you out of the house and silently walked with you back to you to the small cabin. She kept a gentle hand secured around your waist, guilt from your previous argument eating away at her.

“I’m sorr-“

“It’s fine Els” you replied softly, pulling away slowly once you reached your cabin.

It was easy to gather your stuff, your belongings lay where you left them, forgotten in the heat of your argument. Gathering your things became a breeze once you decided to regain composure. However, as you turned around, you found Ellie already sorted and waiting, her eyes fixed on you like a gentle lighthouse beaming with concern.

She drew near and held you by your hips, rubbing and squeezing the flesh under your jeans comfortingly as she leaned her forehead against yours. She looked into your eyes softly. “I can ask Maria to let you sit this one ou-” “I’m fine Els” you repeated, still speaking softly, pressing your lips softly against yours. She smiled against your lips. She knew you weren’t fine, the tender touch of your lips on hers stirred a dance of butterflies in her mind, spinning and swirling like dandelion seeds caught in a playful breeze, just as you planned.

You held hands the whole walk to the gates and the ride to the planned spot. Your arm wrapped around Ellie’s torso as your entwined hands rested on her stomach. You sat behind her on Shimmer. Jesse led the group on his horse as he held the map and you all stayed close together on your horses. You traveled in a line, Jesse, then you and Ellie, then Joel and Tommy. You held the flashlight in your free hand to help light up the path, the sun had set moments ago. The plan was stupid, go in the dark so we could see their lights. It was something that could easily backfire but you didn’t speak up during the meeting so you’d have to deal with the consequences now.

Once you reached the spot, you set up a small base, preparing your weapons and tying down the horses. The area was just a little away from the camp of the people you saw a while ago. Once everyone found their place and the world hushed, Ellie stood beside you while you shed your jacket and tied your shoes with a firm, double knot. The plan was that you would go ahead, scout the area better and come back with useful information. Your unique talent for moving with an almost supernatural silence made you the natural pick for this task.

Her gaze lingered on you before she finally spoke “baby, are you sure?” You stood up straight and gave her a reassuring smile “I’m sure.” You gave her a peck in the cheek and waved to the others before disappearing into the trees, pistol, knife, and binoculars in hand, you left all your bigger weapons with the others to have more mobility.

As you approached the outskirts of the town where the camp lay, confusion washed over you like a cloud passing over the sun. The place was deserted, like a ghost town with its fires extinguished, and not a soul in sight, as if everyone had vanished into thin air. The echoes of gunfire hit you like a punch to the gut, and instinct took over, propelling your body into a sprint as if it had a mind of its own. With your gun and knife firmly grasped in each hand, you darted through the chaos at lightning speed. As you drew nearer, a grim scene unfolded before your eyes like a haunting painting, with lifeless bodies scattered like fallen leaves on a desolate path. …1..2..3…..8..9….

6 more were still alive. You ran around the area, staying out of the light, but your heart shattered into pieces as the sounds of Tommy and Ellie's desperate calls for Joel reached your ears. There, you saw the scene unfolding like a tragic play: Joel lying wounded under the raider's boot, his blood pooling into the grass under him. Ellie struggled to support Jesse who seemed to have gotten injured too. It was just Tommy and Ellie left, able to point their guns at the enemies who did the same. The raiders' shouts faded into the background, drowned out by the persistent ringing in your ears, now back with a vengeance. Ellie's gaze met yours, and with a hesitant nod, she urged you to do what you excelled at. She despised herself for it, knowing she was pushing you to embrace something you detested. But Joel and Jesse needed help, her and Tommy had used up all they had on the other 9 men, and they were basically cornered.

You moved expertly and quickly, mind blank aside from the need to protect your friends and your girlfriend. You shot and sliced through the group while dodging their attacks with ease. Your focus narrowed solely on the task at hand, blocking out everything else. Your friends' voices were lost, and all you saw were the raw, visceral images of flesh and blood as you killed and killed and killed and killed and killed. You didn’t even remember how you got there, straddling the chest of the man you knew was stepping on Joel awhile ago but you couldn’t even recognize his face anymore. Like a relentless storm, you repeatedly stabbed, the knife becoming an extension of your hand, painting the air crimson with every fierce strike. The man's features were now lost amidst the sea of red flesh and the occasional glimpses of his shattered skull, like shards of a broken mirror. 

Your hands, once steady and sure, now throbbed with pain as they clutched onto the knife, coated in a macabre tapestry of bloodstains. The pistol you once held was discarded on the ground nearby, forgotten in the haze of battle. Bruises were likely forming under the stains, but such sensations were distant, eclipsed by the singular focus in your mind, as if you were a machine set on a single purpose. You had slipped into that zone, the mindset of that child trained to kill, where the world narrowed to a singular purpose, leaving everything else behind.

That was until you felt a familiar pair of hands gently pull you off the messy mound of lifeless red flesh, holding you close to their very much alive one. Once the familiar smell of rain water and pinewood hit your nose, you forgot all about the faint smell of blood, like it was just a distant memory. Tilting your head up, you met her worried gaze, her green eyes tightly knit with concern, etching a profound impact on your heart.

“Kid, are you okay?” Tommy had kneeled down in front of you two after quickly packing up everyone’s stuff and putting them on the horses. The worry on his face made the tears that had already unconsciously welled up in your eyes spill over. He didn’t hate you, he was worried, and so was Ellie. She hasn’t seen you like this…in years, and it was breaking her heart because it felt like all the progress you went through just…vanished. But that wasn’t true, you’d be fine. You’d always be fine with her there.

You nodded shakily towards the older man who had become a father figure to you in your time in Jackson. Your eyes flickered towards Jesse and Joel, both injured and on the horses, suffering silently as they waited for us to start moving. ‘Get your shit together’ you screamed internally.

You sadly pulled away from Ellie and stood up. The two needed to get medical attention soon. The ride back was quiet but fast. Ellie and Tommy rode with Jesse and Joel so they wouldn’t have to move much so you were riding on your own horse. Your face was blank but god the voices in your head were loud as you mindlessly followed the two other horses.

‘You should’ve done this alone’

‘One of the men you killed had a wedding band, could one of the other bodies be their loved one?’

‘You could’ve helped plan it out better during the meeting’

‘Another one of the men screamed so loud you were able to hear it through the ringing in your ears, as if the stars cared he was dying. Did you not kill him quickly enough?’

‘None of this would’ve happened if you fucking said something earlier’

The brunette looked back at you every once in a while to make sure you were still there. She was obviously overwhelmed, both her father figure and her best friend were bleeding out and her girlfriend was visibly close to breaking down after killing 6 people in fucking seconds. She kept it together though, she had to.

Once you all arrived back in town and the lives of her loved ones were assured, she brought you home. Ellie tossed all your stuff and hers onto the peeling leather couch, not caring about them at all because you were the priority right now.

Ellie pulled you with her onto the bed, cradling you in her arms. The blood on your body seeped into the sheets, leaving dark stains in its wake. In your dazed state, you managed to utter a faint concern, "I don't want to get the bed dirty." While you were consumed with guilt over the bed, Ellie's heart ached that your focus was on something seemingly trivial amidst the chaos you had faced. Her scent, her touch, she was like some magical drug that quiets the voices in your head. Who needed therapy or talk when she was just there?  She stayed quiet and held you tighter, hiding your hands in hers so you wouldn’t see the crimson that stained on them. After a few moments she pressed a kiss to the back of your head and it’s like you couldn’t even remember what you were arguing about earlier in the day, and how you were supposed to continue talking about it. It was better this way, neither of you won something that probably wasn’t even worth keeping score of. You felt her arms slip under your back and your leg as she started carrying you towards the bathroom, you didn’t fight her hold, you leaned into it actually, snuggling your face into her chest.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? Then we can get you that pasta and garlic bread from the Diner you like so much.”

“Mhm.”

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us 2 #tlou 2 #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader angst

[axcel-lucci]

Since this month is Halloween and Law's birthday, how about Wereleopard Law x Human Female Reader. Its like a werewolf, except Law transforms into a snow wereleopard on a full moon or during their heat. Nobody but his close friends know about this, not even the reader. Law has been cursed since he's 10. How would female reader reacts to this? Also, Law's in his heat during the transformation, and doesn't want to hurt reader. You can make it spicy and love making. 😋😊

Full moon

Wereleopard!Trafalgar Law x human!reader

A/n: I FORGOT TO POST THIS IM SO SORRY

Next part ==>

My masterlist

"Aiyahhh... another full moon next week." (Y/n) sighed in a pleasing manner.

She always loved the full moon, it looks very pretty in the night sky, doesn't it?

Though she doesn't like it when she has to sleep in the spare bedroom while it does.

"Full... moon..." Law, her husband for at least a year and a half, grumbled. Thinking deeply to himself

"What's wrong... law? And also, you never told me why you make me sleep in the spare bedroom. Hmph" she huffed and crossed her arms.

"It's just..." he groaned, "it's nothing... I'm tired, let's go to sleep." He said as he stood up on the couch and went upstairs

She sighed to herself. Law was a man of secrets, that's for sure, but she doesn't mind that. People have secrets they would rather keep.

But when she asked his friends about it, his really close friends since childhood, Shachi, penguin, and Bepo just tells her it's something he needs to do. For some reason, THEY know.

"This is honestly upsetting" she frowned as she got up to their shared bedroom to change and go to sleep in her side of the bed.

In the middle of the night, she always feels him reach into her just to hug her close and bury his face in her hair, no matter what happens, he always does. Almost caging her body with his so tightly it feels so hot with his body temperature. It would've been lovely if it was a chilly night, but the middle of summer for fucks sake.

In the end though, temperature didn't matter, he just felt at home with her. She didn't mind because it has become a ritual everyday. Even if he comes home at early morning or really late at night. It always ends up with him cuddling her like his personal, human-sized, teddy bear.

But this particular night though, he felt more... warmer than he usually would, like he's taking care of a fever he refuses to let go. At the same time though, he seems fine. Just the temperature.

She just sighed and made a mental note to check him in the morning for any flu or fever.

The next morning, she found him still cuddling her tightly, but now nibbling on her neck in his sleep while groaning a bit.

It wasn't a light nibble, no. It literally left multiple marks. She wondered how she wasn't able to wake up with deep blemishing marks on her exposed neck and shoulder.

"Law..." she yawned and faced him only for him to nibble on the other side of her neck as well. "Law." She called more firmly as he slowly woke up

"Huh..? Hm- what?" He muttered, mind still unorganized by the cradled sleepiness in his brain

"You look so cute today" she giggled and kissed him as he hummed

"Aren't I always...?" He grumbled in his deep morning voice and a mischievous grin

She laughed at that, "of course you are."

Timeskip...

It's now 6 pm, and the moon has settled into its full moon state and it's just so beautiful. Like a sun in the night.

(Y/n) heard Law arrive back home when she heard his car pull up the driveway and his usual groan as he gets out and comes into the house with a "I'm home" in a low manner

"How was work, sweetie?" She asked but he didn't answer.

His cheeks seemed to burn as he rushed up the stairs to their bedroom

He's always like this almost every time it's the full moon. It makes her mad. And she's going to find out why tonight, no matter what.

She locked the door and rushed up after him.

He unfortunately forgot to lock the door as he entered.

He could've feel himself lose control and his mind swirling to never ending chaos, his eyes shifting from every possible surface until he blacks out entirely.

Before (y/n) could enter their room, she heard a loud crash from the inside making her rush in with panic.

She panicked even more when she saw him laying on the floor, clutching his head.

It's dark, sure, but the moon illuminated the room through the curtains.

(Y/n) could see a faint outline of... fur? No, an animal... if it must.

But she could still hear and feel Law's presence within this creature so she rushed to him and wake him up.

"Law...!" She yelled as she tried to touch him only to gasp when he looked at her with gold glowing eyes and a cat like pupil that seemed to narrow before being tackled to the ground

"What...?!" She gasped when the creature licked her cheek

"(Y/n)..." Law muttered as he lowered himself to rest against her body and his head against her chest, looking up at her with an apologetic look, "I didn't mean to scare you... I'm... sorry"

"Law? Is that..." she muttered as she reached a hand for the nearby desk lamp and opened the light slightly.

There she saw him, in his wereleopard form. White with black patches of dots on his fur. His eyes still gold from his human form but has a cat like pupil that seemed to narrow.

"You..."

"I know... I know... I should've told you, I'm sorry. It's just... I don't want you to leave me. More importantly, I don't want to hurt you." He explained before turning to a smaller form like a size of an adult jaguar and curling up with his head buried in her thigh so that he doesn't have to look at her.

"Is this why you wanted me to sleep at the spare bedroom every full moon...?" She asked, he nodded silently.

She sighed deeply before brushing his surprisingly soft fur.

"This is... cute. Honestly" she smiled as Law looked at her and transformed to his original form before pining her against the cold floor

"You're not... scared?" He asks

"Why? I know you would never harm me... and I know you've tried your best not to." She smiled before placing her hands on his cheeks and rubbed them like you would to a cat.

Hearing and feeling him vibrate purrs weren't on her bucket list but it definitely is now.

"Oh you're so cute." She smiled as he laid his heavy body against her

"I'm glad" he smiled and hugged her tightly.

Him being heavy was an understatement, before she could even say anything about it, he bit her shoulder out of nowhere.

Oddly enough, it sent spikes of pleasure down her spine and into her now wet entrance.

"L-law...!" She gasped with a moan once he started to lick the mark he made.

"I'm sorry, (y/n). I couldn't control myself... you see, um... this is embarrassing... but every full moon... I transform... it also lines up with my uhm... heat." He muttered and hid his face from embarrassment against her neck.

"Your... heat? I guess animals and humans aren't so different you've definitely switched me on" she moaned slightly in his ear as it twitched

"Oh yeah?" He smirked before turning to his semi-human form.

It was just Law with his fluffy ears and tail, and kept his wereleopard's size.

"I wonder..." he hummed before suddenly plunging his hand under the waistband of her shorts and panties under her clothes.

"Law...!" She gasped again as he pushed in two fingers and started to thrust them in and out of her, making muffled wet sounds as she gasped and moaned.

"Oh my, so wet..." she smiled before basically ripped her clothes off with his summoned claws.

'really like a cat' the last thing she thought before her brain was turned to mush by Law eating her out aggressively.

Him being in heat was so much more aggressive than he usually is as she yelled when he threw her on the bed.

"Tell me if I hurt you, alright? I'll stop if it hurts you" he says as she nodded.

His tail basically wrapped on her legs tightly by itself to pull her legs apart.

"Law..." she looked at him as he took off all his clothing and crawled over her.

Shadow casted all over him, leaving only his gold eyes to shine and stare through her soul.

It would've scared her in a different context but right now, it made her even more wet.

And he could smell it.

"Right now, you're my mate." He smirked deviously before pulling her other leg unto his shoulder and kissed the inside of her thighs, "and all you have to do is moan and whine for me. Now be a good girl, alright?"

She nods before moaning when he rubbed his thumb against her aroused bud, "what was that, mate? I didn't hear you"

"Y-yes...! Please..."

He couldn't control himself at that moment, foreplay would do next time he's in full control but right now, his mind was set on fucking her so hard she wouldn't be able to think of anything.

With one hand, he rubbed the tip of his shaft against her wet entrance, a small thing made her moan. But she screamed in pleasure once he pushed inside her in one thrust.

He was a bit bigger than his human form is. Though "a bit" is an understatement.

A Bulge formed against her abdomen once he was settled inside her.

The walls inside her clenched and sucked him inside, it was warm and he likes it.

He softly pushed the bulge against her making her moan ecstatically and throw her head back.

That's when all remaining self control snapped like twigs in the wind.

He couldn't remember how fast he went or how many times he made her cum or even how many times he himself came deeply inside her.

All he knew that it was a lot as it started to leak around him while he was still inside.

He wasn't aware of how long it had been but it must've been hours. Judging by the sun peaking through the window, it must've been the whole night.

She was tired and spent by the end of it all.

He slowly pulled out causing her to shiver and moan before calming down and breathing heavily.

"So pretty..." he muttered

But he knew this wouldn't be the last of his heat. He knew it would last days of fucking to get rid of it entirely.

And he knows (y/n) would be able to handle it.

While she rested, he laid beside her while looking at her. Observing every single bit of her beautiful complexity.

He could see his seed still leaking out of her, it made him proud to have fucked his babies inside of her.

Whether it'll get her pregnant will be future him's problem.

#random #night thoughts #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x y/n #one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar d law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law x reader smut #trafalgardwaterlaw #law x reader smut #law smut #law x you #one piece law #op law #op.law #op #one piece trafalgar d water law #one piece trafalgar law

[sophsiaaa]

So I’m sick at the moment and random thought, but during the LOV’s homeless days, specifically just before the Overhaul arc when Twice is bringing Overhaul to their hideout, Overhaul says something like ‘this place will make me sick’ to which Twice responds ‘the guys in here have been sick for a while’.

It’s obvious Twice is referring to the LOV, but my question is how literal was that statement? Was Twice speaking metaphorically by saying shigaraki and the gang are like sick-minded, or did they all genuinely just have the flu?

Because the second option is so funny to me - like a big reason that they hadn’t made any moves yet (despite lack of direction) is because they were all just laid up with fever and a runny nose. Also, kinda makes sense why Spinner and Dabi weren’t there (I know they were recruiting) if they weren’t sick and were also tryna avoid catching something. Maybe Kurogiri wasn’t there because he was out getting painkillers and Vicks and such. Plus it was the beginning of winter which makes sense since that’s flu season!

Just the thought of shigaraki out here like ‘I’m the next symbol of fear, I’ll crush this society!’ and then bursting out coughing is hilarious.

#bnha #shigaraki tomura #bnha shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tenko #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #lov #league of villains #mha dabi

[petriquors]

POV: someone joins you on the balcony

You hate that your boss made you attend this charity gala while she’s on vacation. It’s her job to rub elbows with Gotham’s elite, not yours, and she did nothing to prepare you for all this small talk before jetting off to Bali with her beau of the week.

You finish your drink and fantasize about quitting.

With their stifling conversations, stuffy outfits, and barely edible teeny portions of food, formal events like this are absolutely suffocating. All you need is a minute in the fresh air. So, toward the end of cocktail hour, you indulge in your compulsion to see if the balcony door you spotted earlier is unlocked.

It opens on the first try.

It’s not a particularly large balcony, but you’re grateful that there’s no one out here but you. You close the door gingerly, leaving behind the metaphorical veil that makes you look and act like the perfect party guest by obscuring everything about you that makes you a real person.

For a blissful interlude, it’s just you, the moonlight, and the distant sounds of the city. If you close your eyes, you think you can hear your real life: the subway, late night pizza, binge-watching a show on the sofa you got off of an online buy nothing group.

“Is this balcony taken?”

You quickly turn your head to see the man who just intruded on your solitude. He’s perfectly average in all the right ways—average height, nice athletic build, dark hair, blue eyes, a navy tuxedo so dark it’s almost black. There’s a certain air about him, a hint of the unknown, a something-special that you can’t quite name. It’s as if all his pieces, while unremarkable on their own, fit together to create a breathtakingly beautiful puzzle.

And, since he’s already halfway out the balcony door, something compels you to say, “There’s room for one more.”

He’s careful to close the door instead of letting it swing shut. While he does, he looks at his hand on the gleaming brass handle as if he’s mentally cataloging which parts of himself are staying in the ballroom and which are coming outside with him. After a moment, his arm goes lax, his hands slide into his pockets, and he steps into the moonlight beside you. 

“I don’t know,” he says through a crooked smile. “There’s a whole lot of brooding out here. Are you sure there’s room?”

You give him a sidelong glance as the corners of your mouth pucker, fighting a smile. You’re supposed to be moping, not…whatever this is. “What do you have to brood about?”

He grips the railing of the balcony and leans back hips-first, stretching out his arms and craning his neck to look out over the city. His body’s here, but his mind is miles away, maybe even in another universe. “The debilitating weight of other people’s expectations, eldest child syndrome, and a pesky fear of commitment.”

There’s a beat of silence during which you just blink at him. Then, he glances at you and his crooked grin is back, but there’s something pensive underneath the easy smile. It’s impossible to tell if he’s being facetious or brutally honest, but there’s a darkness in his eyes that says he’s trying to laugh through the pain.

He breaks the silence with a chuckle. “Sorry. I shouldn’t only talk about myself. Why are you brooding all alone?”

You pluck the little name tag you’re supposed to be wearing out of the pocket you shoved it into. It has your boss’s name, not yours. “My boss is sipping cocktails on the beach with a man half her age, and I’m here.”

“Wow, that is such a universal experience,” he teases in a monotone. It’s then that you notice he’s not wearing a name tag either. “Why didn’t you just say no? You’re busy. You have the stomach flu. You have a phobia of weird canapés.”

That smile you’ve been holding back finally appears on your face. “Because of the debilitating weight of other people’s expectations and eldest child syndrome. Also, I need to pay my rent.”

He catches on to what you’re doing immediately. His eyes sparkle like the stars and his face brightens like the moon, reflecting the light that you’re giving off. “So you don’t have a pesky fear of commitment?”

Yes, you think. No. Maybe. Honestly, it’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone that you have no idea. What you do know is that something is happening to you on this balcony right now, and you hope it’s happening to him too.

Time seems to slow down, and both of you watch as his hand closest to you loosens, then shifts half an inch toward yours. You extend a pinky. He extends his in response, keeping only a centimeter of space between you like an unspoken promise.

You sense a kinship with him unlike what you’ve felt with anyone else tonight—or maybe ever—so you have to ask, “Who are you?”

Your mystery man presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek as if you’ve asked him what the meaning of life is. Deftly, he dodges the question. “The most exciting part of your night?”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan. “And does he have a name?”

His grin widens. “Yup.”

Your heartbeat quickens. He stares at you with an intensity that makes the cosmos quake, and you stare right back, speaking a thousand words while saying nothing at all.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he jokes, and you can’t believe that an overused pun makes you short with laughter. “I’m Dick Grayson. Now you: what should really be on that name tag?”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #my stuff #my fluff #my dick grayson stuff #my dick grayson fluff #my batfamily stuff #my batfamily fluff

[softlyspector]

Bonus - Honeyed headcanons

Honeyed takes up far too much room in my mind, so here are some thoughts and headcanons (? is this the right word when its your own story? These are all canon events actually).

wc: ~700

Joel eventually gets a tattoo that Honey designs for him. You worry a lot that he doesn't actually like it, it's not actually good, etc. and tell him repeatedly that he does not have to get your silly little drawing tattooed. He tells you it is good, he does like it, and even if it were silly he has a tiny dinosaur tattooed on his shoulder, and it can't get much worse than that. You defend the tiny dinosaur, but Joel notices you seem reassured, finally. Ellie is the one to tattoo it.

You meet Tommy accidentally when he drives up from Austin and comes inside without so much as a knock. He finds you reading on the living room couch, and his only reaction is to smile and say "Oh, hey, you must be her," before he introduces himself. You spend the rest of the day thinking about that emphasis on her. It somehow never occurred to Honey that Joel talks about her.

Joel's main creative outlet becomes designing tattoos for you, even ones he knows you'd never get but thinks you'd like anyway, along with writing/finding songs for his daughters. Eventually you design something together.

Honey tries to teach Joel how to knit and it does not go that well. You try not teach him how to cross stitch next and it goes even worse. Still, you keep the first circle he finishes by himself.

I talked about this in another post but Joel turns into an iPad baby when you and the girls get him one. It takes him awhile to get used to it but once he does that’s it for him. He uses it for anything and everything, glasses perched on his nose.

Joel only stops grumbling about going gray after you tell him you like it, and find it really attractive.

Joel and Honey go fishing a lot. Usually you don’t talk during. You always go in the early morning to avoid the heat. It’s a nice excuse to stand close together, shoulders touching. Joel doesn’t try to mansplain fishing to you and you like to watch his hands while he reels the line in so it’s peaceful.

Honey eventually finds out Joel plays guitar. You have to beg him to play for you. It’s the one thing he’s ever really said no to you about. You try not to poke him about it too much, since you don’t know why he won’t. You do tease him about it a little.

Eventually he does play for you. One evening you’re on his porch and it’s dark and he just does it. Goes inside and gets the guitar, tunes it, and plays. After that he complies with any request to play any time you give it.

He refuses to sing to you. You suspect that’s reserved for children and animals and his daughters.

Joel and Honey are bad at seeing the value in their own work and creations. But together you manage it better because you each know how the other feels about the denial of the other's skills.

Joel can’t cook, you’re not so good at it either, so you eat a lot of things that can be baked, a lot of breakfast foods, and you go to Flu’s quite a lot.

You like it when Joel makes coffee for you at home in the morning. Joel likes it when you bring it to him from the shop in town.

After Joel kisses you for the first time, he notices you touch him a lot more. Just incidental little touches - brushing your hand along his shoulders and back, sliding your knuckles along his and linking your pointer fingers together.

One day, you come to him with something you found online. Exposure therapy. You explain that it's a way to try to combat touch aversion. And it breaks his heart. "There ain't anything wrong with you," he says. And you nod and say, a little embarrassed at his reaction, that you want to touch him. "You can want to touch me. Doesn't mean you have to touch everybody."

So, you do. And Joel let's you lead, at least most of the time.

It's only many, many years later that you find out that first painting of the doe with the bees hovering around her ears is you. It's only then that Joel tells you that, to him, deer symbolize you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #honeyed fic

[bellysoupset]

ok max request

i know you said he has a pretty sensitive stomach that gets irritated by a lot of things, so what about him overindulging on something that usually sits well, only for him to start feeling sick after (i also really enjoy burps 😳😳)

Here you go anon! Burpy Max with an upset stomach!

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

"Okay, I want all of you gremlins sitting down right now!" Max exclaimed, jokingly glaring at the one kid still standing, "that includes you, Elliot. Sit your ass down."

The eight year old boy blushed and hurried to sit down and Max rolled his eyes, just as he saw Vince walking to the bus, with a kid draped all over him.

"Bus rules," Max raised a hand to start listing, "everyone wears a seat belt, no standing when the bus is moving. This includes when it just stopped in a red light. No sticking your heads out of the windows-" honestly, he hated the fact the windows weren't sealed shut, that always gave him anxiety after watching Hereditary - "no eating smelly things in the bus. If anyone feels sick, please call me up before you barf everywhere and I'll go get you so we can work this out. Ah, and use your inside voices, will you?"

He was pretty sure only 5% of what he had just said filtered through the kids. In truth, Max's favorite age to teach was teenagers, who actually listened, just opted for not doing what he asked sometimes. All he had to do was convince the older kids he was someone worth of listening, while the younger ones... They simply, plainly, didn't hear a word he said.

"Alright," Max sighed, turning around as Vince entered the bus, "nice of you to join us, Monacelli."

"We had an emergency pee break," Vince ignored him, not bothered in the least as he buckled in the six year old that was clinging to him, "you finished with the rules?"

"Yeah, we can go."

"Alright."

They were going on a field trip for the next town's science museum. It wasn't a long trip, only about 1 hour to get there, then they'd have a tour and a lunch break and come back before sunset. Still, these type of trips always made Max uneasy because so many things could go wrong surrounded by tiny, curious kids.

He settled down on his seat in the front, next to Monacelli. The other teacher was wearing a short sleeved polo, straining against his chest, and a baseball cap on top of his mop of black curls.

"You want anything?" Vince asked, not raising his eyes from his phone. Max sneaked a glance at the screen. The man was checking football scores, that made sense. He looked the type.

"No, just bored out of my mind," Max shrugged, glancing past his shoulder as the bus started to move and there was a general squeal, the volume increasing considerably. Field trips were never quiet.

Vince shrugged, ignored him and Max sat correctly in his seat, grabbing a bag of chips in his backpack. He stuffed a handful in his mouth, before tipping the bag in Monacelli's direction to wordlessly ask if he wanted any.

"Pass, thanks," Vince said, "still not feeling a 100% after the stomach bug from hell that you gave me."

Max snorted, rolling his eyes, "it's been ten days, get over it."

"Like you got over it?" The other man needled him and Max wrinkled his nose. In truth the flu had taken him out of commission for 4 whole days and when he finally managed to come back to the school, he had to take on some extra hours since Vince was down for the count.

And that was not even touching the fact he had to win his seniors all over again. Thankfully the bug had been harsh enough and he had a cemented enough position that he didn't become an immediate meme among the students, but that didn't mean they were cool with him again.

Max sulked, sliding down his seat a little more and continuing to eat. The chips were bland, because he wouldn't risk trying salt&vinegar during a field trip, since those always upset his stomach, and soon enough he finished up the whole bag, muffling a burp against his fist and crumpling the plastic.

Next to him, he watched as Vince took a sandwich from his bag and bit on it. Of course it was in homemade bread and huge. Max glared at the sandwich for such a long time, that Vince frowned and held it up for him.

"You want a bite? Or are you gonna hold me upside down by the ankles for my lunch money?"

Fuck this guy entirely, Max thought, scoffing, "I never did that."

"No, you just shoved me so hard from the monkey bars that I broke my arm," Vince rolled his eyes, "and for no reason too."

"I'm sure I had some reason," Max mumbled under his breath, even though he knew he really didn't. Twelve year old him had been a demon, smack right in the middle of his parents divorce and trying to get everyone's attention through whatever means he could.

Vince rolled his eyes, taking another bite and getting up from his seat to check on the kids.

The other teacher sighed, sliding further down his seat and crossing his arms to his chest, pissed off. He really didn't like remembering how much of a prick he once was, it burned a hole in his stomach.

Talking about his stomach... He could feel it pressing against his jeans, bloating up. He was the king of bloating, easily looking pregnant over any meal, but really? Over bland chips?

Another airy burp forced up and he blew it out under his breath, massaging his chest and cursing softly. It was like his body was adamant on humiliating him in front of Monacelli.

"We're probably almost there already," Vince said, startling Max, and causing him to sit up correctly. The other man slid in the small space between the front of the bus and Max' legs, so he could sit on the empty seat near the window, "no kid is carsick, we should count our stars."

"Uhm," Max nodded, scratching at his beard nervously and muffling yet another burp. He fidgeted on his seat, trying to find a comfortable position, "so why did you come back to Doveport? People don't come back here."

Vince shrugged, making a silly face to a kid who was watching them from another seat, then keeping the lighthearted smile on as he answered, "my family is here. I wanted to be closer to them. Besides, I like the town."

Insufferable.

"You like the town?" Max scoffed, then another burp snuck up, this one louder and bringing with it a hiccup that shook his whole body. Vince raised his eyebrows.

"You good?" he asked, not waiting for an answer to continue, "yeah, I like the people, I like the fact its peaceful."

"I'm-HIC!" The blonde let out a loud groan when another hicc-urp interrupted him, loud enough the kids sitting across the hallway from them started to giggle, "shit."

"Language," Vince said, seemingly out of habit, the corner of his mouth quirking up, "did you eat too much for your tummy, Daniels?"

Maybe he had a reason to break this guy's arm, Max thought darkly, glaring at him, "I'm fine," he stressed, wrapping an arm around his stomach and huffing as yet another hiccup shook him, "fu-duuuck."

He heard Vince chuckle at the switch of the insult, then a huge hand came to rest on his back, "maybe get up? It might help."

It wouldn't, Max already knew. Once he got the hiccup-burps, he was done for and it was really only a matter of time before his belly started churning and maybe nausea joined the mix later on. Still, just to get away from Vince, he got up and walked the hallway using the seats on each side of him as support to keep from wooblying.

Vaguely he thought they were setting up a terrible example, telling the kids to stay put and then walking all over.

He counted the children, just to have something to do, and then paused as the bus shook and his stomach flipped, going from unsettled to upset and sour. Max squinted, removing a hand from the seat in order to plant it on his belly and groaning as he could feel the bloat pushing against his t-shirt.

"Mr. Daniels?" a kid asked, confused as of why he had stopped right next to their seat. It was a little girl, with long box braids and dark skin, big brown eyes, "is your tummy sick?"

God.

"I'm fine, Jess," he forced a smile at the kid, winking at her, "what are you drawing there?"

"The dinosaurs!" Jess perked up, holding her coloring page. It was a bit messy, but overall he thought it was pretty nice. A T-rex in the middle of the woods. They wouldn't be seeing any t-rexes today, but oh well.

"That's so cool," he grinned, crouching down and immediately regretting it when the movement caused another burp to rush up, this one followed by three hiccups in quick succession that he could do nothing about. Jess started to giggle at him and Max' cheeks turned red. He swallowed some air, forcing up a thick, low burp against his fist and she wrinkled her nose.

"Eeewww..." The little girl whined and he blushed even more, his whole face ablaze.

"Sorry, sorry-" he grabbed one of her crayons, "I think your t-rex is missing a hat. It's sunny outside, is it not?"

Happily diverted, the kid turned to her drawing and studied it, "maybe sunblock," she decided, "or a cap like Mr. Mo's?"

Who the fuck was Mr. Mo?

It took Max a second to realize the girl couldn't pronounce Monacelli and had settled for the second best thing. He snorted, "yeah, give him a baseball cap-"

"Her," Jess glared at him, "It's a girl t-rex, like in the movies."

"Ah... Yeah, then give her a cap," he squeezed the little girl's shoulder, then got up once more, the movement causing the bag of chips in his belly to churn a little harder and the push up a wet burp that he muffled with a hand. This one he could just taste the potatoes.

"Fuck," Max sighed, falling back on his seat up in the front and folding in half, pressing his forehead to the front wall that separated the common area of the bus from the driver's.

"What's up?" Vince looked up from his phone once more. Now he was texting someone.

"I think I'm gonna barf," Max groaned, keeping his voice low, "how much until we stop?"

"About twenty minutes," Vince dug through the cooler that was at his feet, with water bottles, juice boxes, bags, snack bars - "here," he handed him a water bottle, "are you carsick or did you really eat too much with just a measly bag of chips?"

"My gut is a bit of a bitch," Max sighed, closing his eyes, "temperamental as fuck. I thought I was in the clear with the bland chips, but..." he trailed off, making his point by muffling a sickly little burp against his hand and shuddering when vomit splashed the back of his throat. He swallowed in, "fuck my entire fucking life."

"Stop fucking swearing," Vince whispered to him, "you're gonna startle the kids. Twenty minutes, alright? Just take deep breaths and stop leaning forward like that, you're not helping yourself."

"You're such a snotty know-it-all," Max glared at him, as Vince planted a hand on his chest and pushed him against the seats, "what's up? You're a med school reject?"

Vince frowned, "you're such a prick. Are you hellbent on puking in front of every class you teach?"

Max' ears burned and he looked away from the man, taking a large gulp of water, "you're never gonna let that go?"

"Not for another month at least," Vince huffed and then pushed the window next to him wide open.

The rush of chill air helped a lot, but Max was not about to congratulate Vince for doing the barest minimum. He breathed out slowly through his mouth, sneaking a hand under his t-shirt and pressing on his belly. It was warm to the touch and gurgling non stop.

"How much more?"

"Nineteen minutes," Vince said and he could hear the man's amusement at his plight. Max groaned, staring at the ceiling as yet another hiccup hit him and made his ribs ache, his whole chest squeeze.

The water had been a mistake, as it rocketed up his throat, forcing him to gulp down.

"I really don't wanna be sick in front of them," Max whispered, allowing a glimpse of vulnerability to the other teacher. He knew at least with that Vince could sympathize, "just- Do something? Please."

There was a pause, then Vince squeezed his knee in an amiable way and pushed Max's legs out of the way as he got up once more. He clapped his hands loudly.

"Alright kids, each one of you know the bus song?" he exclaimed, his voice all cheery and Max groaned, scooting so he could occupy Vince's now empty seat next to the window and shoving his head out, so he could breathe.

Now with the noisy bus, he could burp openly, and a string of belches pushed up, intercalated with hiccups, rattling in his chest. He let out a groan and spat the saliva pooling in his mouth, but the burps helped, a little, the ache in his gut.

He lowered his head to the windowsill, listening as Vince continued to sing. They had ruined the peace and quiet and the bus was chaos, but at least Max knew not a soul was paying attention to him, as he let out a moan and squeezed his tummy, urging it to settle down.

Eventually the bus came to stop and Max removed his head from the window, wiping the cold sweat that was clinging to his upper lip and catching Vince's eye as the man shepherded the kids into a queue in front of the museum.

"Thanks," he whispered, passing him by once they were all outside, "uhm- You can handle them for another fifteen? I'm gonna go hurl, but then I can take 'em."

Vince's eyebrows jumped up, a sudden, startled chuckle slipping past his lips. He nodded, "Uh yeah- yeah, sure, go ahead-" then his attention slipped away as one of the boys tried to run ahead, "Elliot give me your hand!"

#sickfic #max daniels #mywriting #eructo #tummyache #belly ache #⭐️ anon

[rodolfoparras]

Smh Alec you can't do that to me and say you're gonna be only Slavic man by Price's side when I exist too 😔 I'm willing to compromise and let you have him most of the time since Simon is my main husband though.

Also since I adore jealousy and possessiveness and whatnot in writing (and I'm in mood for angst) let me expand on what you wrote if I may.

Price and Nik used to date and while it was never too serious for Price, Nik still has feelings for him. And John doesn't really are it because to him Nik is just a good friend, his oldest friend and someone he (platonically) loves and trusts. But you know.

It almost becomes competition of sorts between you and Nik. Sure John loves you far more than he ever loved Nik but Nik knows him better and he isn't afraid to show it.

He knows about this one band John loves that you never even heard of and he buys John their record. He knows about that one niche type of tea John drinks, but only when he has a cold. He knows exactly how to fuck John so well that he blacks out for a few moments. And what hurts the most, he was John's first and he knows John in a way you feel like you will never be able to.

John is devoted to you but first love leaves a mark and by the time you met John, he was already older and mature and he knew exactly who he was as a person. Nik got to experience John in his truest and rawest, John before bitterness of war and while it shouldn't matter and it shouldn't hurt, it does.

And you know John would never cheat on you but sometimes a thought can't help but to creep in...does he miss Nikolai? Does he want him back? ...does he see Nikolai in me?

(Naturally the answer is no, he loves you because you're love of his life and he doesn't want anyone else but you don't know that since you just can't bring yourself to bring up the topic)

-🔮

🔮 anon I’m losing my fucking mind here

Thinking about you being the troublesome soldier that Price has taken under his wing.

However you’re doing everything to resit the help he’s trying to give, telling him that you’re not a charity case when he takes you in his squad, telling him that you’re not a charity case when he wants to patch you up after you got into a fight, telling him you’re not a charity case when he decides to keep you on his squad even when you mess up during a mission.

It’s inevitable to develop feelings, no matter how much you try to prevent yourself from doing it.

However you’re more than sure that he doesn’t feel the same. Who would want a kid who’s been kicked out of every squad he’s been in? Besides Price’s got a man by his side that remembers the tea he likes to drink when he’s sick, the band he likes to listen to and buys their records for him and even knows how to fuck him so good he momentarily forgets about everything that’s plaguing him.

But what you don’t see is that Price reciprocates your feelings. The tea Nik buys for him, Price makes for you when you can’t sleep at night or when you’re down with the flu. The cd Nik buys for him, Price mentions when it’s just the two of you hoping you’ll want to listen to them with him and all of a sudden Price finds himself visiting Nik less and less because all he can think about is you fucking him into the mattress.

Tension are high when you walk into the mess hall and see Nik and Price talking to each other. Price’s eyes immediately fall on you, a small smile tugging at his lips but all you can see is the way Nik’s got an arm around him, the way he’s saying something to Price that has him laughing and before you know it jealously’s brewing in the pit of your stomach

As you walk past them, Price feels the smile drop from his face, quickly noticing the nasty scratch on your face and without even thinking he pulls you towards his table.

“What happened?” He says with a hand on your cheek and you have to awkwardly balance your tray of food so you don’t drop it.

“Nothing” you grunt out, avoiding his gaze but feeling heat creep up your face, all while Nik watches with interest.

“Doesn’t look like nothing” Price snaps back, thumb pressing down onto your cheek and watching the way you wince.

“Why do you care?” You snap at the older man, wincing yourself as you hear the words leave your mouth.

However the older man easily avoids the daggers in the shape of words, already used to them.

“Was is it sergeant phillips again?” Price says “why didn’t you come to me instead”

“You were busy” you say, finally glancing at the Russian next to him.

“Nikolai” the man says, hand stretching out towards you with a smile on his face.

You grunt out something along the lines of your name before you pull your face away from the older man’s hand, muttering some excuse that you have something to do, not wanting to sit here and hear Price gush about the man he’s in love with, while the man in question is here.

“Make sure to get that patched up you hear me?” Price shouts out behind you, “or I’ll see you in my office” his words catching the attention of the other soldiers in the mess hall.

“You’re making it too obvious you know?” Nikolai says while trying to suppress his chuckle

“Shut up Nik” “ Price snaps back feeling heat creep up his face while watching you walk away.

Spitball w/ me?

#me and u can share anonie #I’m not giving him to a Russian tho #call of duty #john price #john price x reader #john price x male reader #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #x male reader #male reader #alec answers #🔮 anon

[freeuselandonorris]

i wish you would write a fic featuring lando saying 'thank you' just like in the clip you just posted 😵‍💫

hi anon! excellent prompt. (as a reminder, anon is referring to this video of lando in subspace during neck training).

i watched loads of max and lando's streams from when they lived together while i was in bed with flu last week and i'm so fascinated by how fucking rude lando is at times and how patiently max puts up with it.

lando norris/max fewtrell, explicit. contains light impact play (spanking).

They’d never talked about it. It wasn’t like Lando had ever asked for it, never come right out and said hey Max, do you think you could spank me until your hand’s hurting and my arse cheeks are bright red? But then, he’d never asked Max to fuck him either, and they’d done plenty of that over the last few months.

It wasn’t a regular occurrence, the fucking. 

Other stuff, sure. Max had given and received more handjobs over since he’d moved in with Lando than he’d had hot dinners. They’d watched porn together, Max ignoring the on-screen action in favour of watching the way Lando’s face scrunched up before he came, like he was about to burst into tears. He’d sucked Lando off a few times, clumsy and inexperienced, and sunk his own cock into the wet heat of Lando’s throat a few times too. But Lando was a bit funny about fucking. Squeamish. Afraid of anything that might embarrass him. So it was on his terms, which was fair enough because Max was fairly certain he wasn’t into the idea of having anything stuck up his hole any time soon either, so who was he to judge? 

But God, the feeling of it. Tight and hot and sucking, like Lando’s body was trying to drag him further inside. It made Max want to spin it out, make it last longer – he was in no hurry to come, not when it felt so good to hold Lando loosely by the hips and watch the muscles shifting in his back as he squirmed, pulling him back against his hips in slow, shallow thrusts. He could’ve done it all day.

Except Lando was fucking the world’s biggest spoiled brat, and couldn’t just let Max do it his way. Even though Max would treat him right, make it good, make it last. Had to try and play backseat driver, even when he was on his hands and knees. 

“Fucking hurry up,” he whined, trying to shove his hips back, impale himself faster and harder. “Why are you being so slow?” 

Because I might not get to feel this again any time soon, Max thought but didn’t say, and ground his teeth. 

“Shut up,” he said instead, although he did speed up the pace of his thrusts, just a bit. “Not everything’s a fucking race.”

Lando laughed, breathless and shuddery, in a way that went right through his body and into Max’s dick. “That’s your problem, mate, you think that’s true.”

Which was a low fucking blow by anyone’s standards, given the circumstances, never mind whether he was balls deep in Lando or not. Max knew when he was being baited. Instead of rising to it and fucking Lando harder, faster, like he wanted, he stilled his hips entirely. 

“Bob,” he said, and raised his right hand, lining it up. “You need to learn some fucking manners.”

He brought his hand down onto the meat of Lando’s right cheek with a resounding crack, and Lando shrieked and jolted and clenched around Max’s dick so hard he thought he might come on the spot.

The skin reddened into a handprint immediately, a blurry outline. Max’s palm stung. He held his breath, waiting for Lando to throw a proper fit, call Max fit to burn, banish him to a sad wank in the bathroom to finish himself off. 

“Fuck,” Lando hissed, and craned his head over his shoulder to stare at Max. His eyes were wide, cheeks blotchy like he got when he’d been crying. “Oh, shit. Do that again.”

Max blinked. A peculiar feeling rushed through his veins, hot and cold all at once. His cock twitched in Lando’s hole, a muted little jerk. 

“I will if you say please,” he said. He rolled his hips, a slow drag, tipping his head back at the feeling of Lando’s tight body around him. His palm was still tingling. Fuck. 

Lando laughed, a low gargle. “You prick.” He dropped to his elbows, so his arse was sticking up more, taut and lightly tanned. He knew how to make himself as appealing as possible, you had to hand it to him. Even his tanlines were hot, the bastard. 

“Told you,” Max panted out, and passed his hand over the red print, squeezing. The skin he’d hit was hotter. Max looked at his cock disappearing in and out of Lando’s arse, shining with lube. “Manners.”

Lando made a frustrated sound and smacked the flat of his palm against the bed. “Please,” he said, like the word was being dragged out of him against his will. 

Max blinked at the ceiling, feeling the smile stretch across his face. “There you go,” he said, delirious. “Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

He brought his hand down again, and Lando bit out a groan, body jerking at the impact. 

“Fuck,” he repeated. He sounded unsure of himself, like he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not. “Again.”

“Manners,” Max reminded him, and Lando whined, high-pitched and frustrated. Fuck, this was brilliant. Max rocked into him shallowly, smacked him again when Lando finally said please.

Lando shuddered and moaned every time Max’s cock slid into him up to the hilt, like he couldn’t get enough of it. The sounds he made were soft and langurous compared to the sharp cries every time Max spanked him again. 

“God,” he spat after one particularly hard blow, dropping to his forearms and shaking his head like a dog, like Max had hit him across the face and made his ears ring rather than across the arse. “Thank you.”

The way he said it, it was like he really meant it. The words sliding out of him on an exhale, a breathy little half-sob, like he was giving into something he’d been fighting against for a long time. 

“That’s it,” Max said. Usually he’d have been embarrassed of the way his voice came out, a tight groan that made it clear just how turned on he was, but right now he couldn’t give a fuck. “That’s it, say that again.”

“Thank you,” Lando said obediently, almost before Max’s hand had even made contact with his skin. He sounded like he was enjoying saying it, like the shape of the words in his mouth gave him some extra pleasure. Max couldn’t see his face, but he could tell from the tone of Lando’s voice that he was smiling, a loose wet expression like he got when he’d been drinking.

His arse was so red. The handprints were blurring into each other, one pink mass with the vague outlines of Max’s fingers still visible in places. Max took him by the hips and lifted until Lando’s knees were barely brushing the bed, making him yelp. 

“Say ‘thank you for fucking me’,” Max said, because he never knew when to stop and be grateful for a good thing. 

Lando spluttered, laughing in a way that was clearly an attempt to be derisive, but it tipped into a moan when Max thrust into him, so deep his pubic bone ached where it ground against Lando’s coccyx. 

He swore under his breath, and Lando shuddered an inhale. 

“Thank you for fucking me,” he said, the words falling out of his mouth in a slurred tumble. “Thank you for – fuck –” Max spanked him again, one quick sharp slap. “Thank you, thank you.” 

He kept repeating it like that, fast and frenetic, like he was keeping time with the movement of Max’s hips fucking into him. He was propping himself on one arm, the muscles in his shoulder and the back of his arm flexing as he jerked himself off. He looked like every one of Max’s wet dreams since the age of about fourteen.

He thanked Max as he came, voice rising to a high and reedy whine as he came into the tight clutch of his fist. Max fucked him through it, reflecting on the downside of doing it doggy style: he couldn’t see Lando’s face, the blank bliss of it, the whites of his eyes. Shame. 

Still, it wasn’t like there wasn’t enough to get him off in the heave of Lando’s chest, the twitch of his hole around Max’s dick, the warm red patches still glowing against the paler skin of his arse. Lando had barely even started with the whimpering oversensitive noises before Max was grabbing him by the hips to hold him in place, trying and failing to keep his eyes open as he came. 

He gave himself up to a count of five in his mind before gritting his teeth and pulling out, still half-hard and sensitive to the touch. No sense waiting; Lando would only get more and more angsty, hated the feeling of being wet and stretched out after he’d come. 

Picking up his discarded boxers, Max watched Lando collapse onto his stomach. He reached for his t-shirt, feeling the chill in the air against his sweaty chest, but Lando shot a hand out and snatched it out of his grasp, reaching down between his legs to wipe himself off.

“Wow,” Max said. That shirt had cost him sixty quid, for fuck’s sake. “Can you not? I’ll go and get you a flannel or something, Christ.”

Lando just grunted, wiped his sticky hand before he let Max’s t-shirt drop to the floor. Max lifted his hands in despair. 

“Get me a can of Rubicon, would you?” Lando said, rolling onto his back and squinting up at Max. “I’m gasping.”

Max sighed heavily, putting it on a bit for show, but actually he was fucking thirsty himself, now he thought about it. He padded off to the kitchen, leaving Lando fumbling his phone out from under the pillows, grabbed two freezing cans out of the fridge and a roll of kitchen towel in the hope of salvaging the rest of his clothes from Lando’s idea of a clean-up attempt.

“Here y’go,” he said to Lando, back in the bedroom, snapping one of the cans open and holding it out. 

Lando took it from him and guzzled noisily, eyes still fixed on his phone. 

“‘Thanks, Max, appreciate it’,” Max parrotted, flopping onto the bed next to him. Lando looked up at him with narrowed eyes, pushed the cold corner of his can into the soft flesh of Max’s belly, making him flinch.

Well, alright, Max thought as he grabbed for Lando’s wrist, trying to wrench him away without getting covered in sticky fruit juice. Looks like he’s going to need a lot more training. 

#lando norris/max fewtrell #ln4 #mf7 #answered #prompt fill

[sommerflue-22]

Childhood Crush | Muichiro Tokito

Yuichiro version

Featuring: Muichiro Tokito, Yuichiro Tokito, aged up!Muichiro

Content Warning: gn!reader, modern setting, fluff, annoying grade schooler behavior ew, but happy ending (sort of), not beta read

Word Count: 1.3k

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A/n: I just finished my thesis but I'm still waiting for feedbacks from my professor. This is a warm up piece before I get back to my other writings. Still, I hope you enjoy~

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On your fourth grade, the teacher assigned you to sit next to Yuichiro. Being Yuichiro's seatmate was alright, but sometimes he could get a little snappy. Especially when something happened to him during recess (probably couldn't make another kid the "it" while playing tag). So you let him be most of the time.

You didn't know Yuichiro had a twin brother until one day he didn't come to school because of the flu. You didn't pay him any mind but you were shocked when you saw "him" going to the restroom. You weren't exactly his close friend, so you just waited outside until "he" finished.

Afraid and in shock, you paced back and forth in front of the restroom. What if something bad happened to Yuichiro and his spirit had come to haunt you? You were so ready to run to your homeroom class if "Yuichiro" didn't come out in five minutes.

Bless your poor innocent soul because "Yuichiro" did come out. Nothing prepared him for being trapped in a kabedon position by you.

"Teacher said you're sick! Why are you here?!"

"What do you mean I'm sick--"

"I didn't see you the whole day!"

"Huh?"

"You're not a ghost, right?"

He tilted his head, "Oh, I think you're mistaken. I'm Mui. Yui's at home. He is sick."

And that was how you met Muichiro.

You learned that Muichiro was Yuichiro's younger twin brother. He's from another class, but after knowing you he often visited your class to chat with you and Yuichiro.

Unlike Yuichiro, Muichiro was friendlier. He let you braid his hair, lent you his blueberry-scented eraser, and even taught you how to draw Pikachu. Muichiro also let you call him Mui. He told you only his family and closest friends called him that, so it made you feel special.

Mui was a soft boy. You sat with him during recess and talked about random things. Cartoon, what you wanted to be when you grow up, doctor appointment, tooth fairy...

You didn't really know when did it happen the first time, but one day you looked at him and thought "Wow, Mui's really pretty."

You started braiding his long, black hair more often, told him more jokes to make him laugh, drew him a lot (and by a lot, I mean a lot) of his favorite cartoon characters. They were bad, you couldn't really tell which character you drew, but Muichiro always thanked you.

You'd like to think that maybe Muichiro did like you too. He would hold your hand when you both were running down the hallway, playing tag with the other kid. He would also give you random things he found like flowers, marbles, stickers from kids magazines.

You didn't remember every little things that happened between the two of you, but you did remember that Muichiro brightened your days and made your school years more memorable.

By the time you started the 6th grade, though, everything went downhill. A few kids noticed your little crush for Muichiro. However, as we all know, grade schoolers can be a little mean. They started to tease you. You were afraid that Muichiro would find out and stopped being your friends.

The thing was, those little rascals couldn't tell the difference between Muichiro and Yuichiro. Since the fifth grade, the twins had been put in the same homeroom class. Differentiating them became more difficult for kids who weren't their friends.

You were visiting their class one morning, looking for Muichiro. You met Yuichiro instead. You could tell it was him, because he didn't immediately talk about the latest episode of that one cartoon you liked.

"Hi, Yuichiro. Where's Mui?"

"He forgot his lunchbox so he's waiting for our mom--"

"Ew, Tokito! Stop flirting with them! It's not even the first period yet!"

You froze in your place as Yuichiro turned to the kid who jeered at you both. "What did you say?"

"Eh? Aren't you two dating?"

"(Y/N) likes you, Tokito!"

You couldn't meet Yuichiro's eyes as he stared down at you, "You like me?"

"N-no... I... It's not..."

"(Y/N)?" A hand was placed on your shoulder, "Are you okay? Yui, why are you staring at (Y/N) like that?"

You lifted your gaze and sure, Mui was back with a lunchbox on his hand. "M-Mui, I..."

"Oh, shit!" "Oi, language!" "Oh my, I think we got the wrong Tokito twin!" "Does it matter? They look the same!" "Which one do you actually like, (Y/N)?" "Yeah, which one is more handsome?" "You can tell them apart? Cool!" "Pick one, (Y/N)" "Yeah, pick one!" "Pick one! Pick one! Pick one!"

As the kids chanted, you frantically look around trying to find an escape. You were panicking, afraid, annoyed, so you couldn't think straight. You looked at Yuichiro and he looked back at you in (what you thought was) disgust. You turned to Muichiro who was just staring at you, wide eyes, lips parted like he was about to say something.

You couldn't hold it any longer so you just cried, which made a few of the kids laugh.

"(Y/N)..." Muichiro placed his hand back to your shoulder, trying to calm you down.

"Stay away, Mui!"

"But (Y/N)..."

"I said stay away!" You shoved past him and pushed the other kids out of your way as you ran out of the classroom.

Ever since that day, you stopped seeing both Muichiro and Yuichiro. Other kids still teased you but they gradually stopped because they found another target to bug. You didn't even say anything to them during the graduation ceremony, even though you could feel Muichiro's eyes on your back.

Things got better when you started middle school because you moved to another town. A start fresh, exactly what you needed. You thought you would find someone new there, but to no avail, your mind kept wandering back to a familiar pair of mint green eyes and gleeful laugh.

You gave up trying to find a lover, and sailed through high school and first two years of uni without sparing a thought for teenage romance.

That was until you found him, tracing his fingers on the spines of the library books. His hair was still as long as you could remember, the only thing different was the mint green ombre. The library was off-limit for outsiders, so he must be a student. How could you not see him before around the campus?

You realized you've stared at him for too long because the next thing you knew, he was staring back at you.

"(Y/N)?" His eyes widened.

"Uhh... hi...?" You let out a nervous laugh. "Long time no see... uh..."

His eyes softened and his lips quirked up. "It's Mui."

"Yeah... should've known it's you. Yuichiro hates me, so he wouldn't greet me like that."

"What makes you think so?"

"You know... when that happened..."

"Ah, yeah. The fuckening."

Muichiro cursing was something you did not expect, which made you snort. "The fuckening, indeed."

"Don't worry, he doesn't hate you. We were wondering, though..."

"Eh?"

"...which one of us did you fancy?"

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole right then and there. Even though it had been eight years, you couldn't help but blush. Muichiro waited patiently, holding back a giggle as he watched you struggle.

"W-well, wasn't it o-obvious..."

Muichiro tilted his head. He walked towards you and ruffled your hair. God, you didn't even notice how tall he had grown.

"If you're still up for it now... and if you're free... we can grab a coffee. My treat. I'm sure drawing each other deformed Pikachu and Princess Peach doesn't count as a date now."

You sighed, trying to control your heartbeat. Mui chuckled again and waited for your answer.

"Y-yeah, I'd love to."

"Okay." He put his arm around your shoulder and led your hyperventilating ass out of the library.

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Read the sequel to this post here

A/n: Thank you for reading until the end! This is actually longer than what I was planning, so yay :D I've been thinking about aged up!Muichiro, so cool and pretty and tall and aaaaaaa >.< Anyway lemme know if you want me to write more aged up!Mui because I love him sm T^T

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer fanfic #reader insert #muichiro tokito #yuichiro tokito #muichiro x reader #muichiro x y/n #modern setting #childhood crush #aged up characters #new blog #alternate reality

[zeezelweazel]

Could u do ow headcanons for Widowmaker, Mercy and Ashe when their girlfriend is sick please? 💗

Overwatch| Reader is Sick|

____________________________

The overwatch hyperfixation is still lingering so I'm happy I get a request for them

Speaking of lingering hyperfixations my genshin phase is back sooo

Characters included: Widow, Mercy, Ashe

______________________________________

• Widowmaker •

Widow would be the one to not care much, at first at least, if it's something small like the flu. She'll just quietly make sure that you're getting the rest you need.

She swears up and down that she only does this because if you're sick then you're a burden but you know better than anyone that deep down she's just a softie.

If it's something more serious, she will start to get nervous, though she'd never show it on the outside. It's been a while since she got sick herself, Moira's experiments made her practically immune, so she's forgotten much about what it's like to be sick.

She might not be qualified to take care of you physically but during the time you're sick the usually cold assassin turns into a loving ballerina. She'll be by your side the entire time making sure that you have every one of your needs met.

• Mercy •

She will feel slightly guilty at first. As a doctor you'd think her girlfriend wouldn't be getting sick but she understands that sometimes catching a cold is normal.

She would act more like your doctor than your girlfriend during the time that you're sick. She'd give you the medication you need and make sure that you're getting more than enough rest. Though she wouldn't forget about giving you affection either, as long as close contact is safe though.

In the case that your illness is more serious, Angela would be getting eaten away by her own nervousness. She knows everything about your condition, given that she made sure she'll be your doctor the second she found out, but now she doesn't know if that's for the best or for the worst.

Of course everything turns out okay because Angela is Angela but it was still a big scare for her. Soon enough she'll have a list of do-s and don't-s to make sure you never get this sick again.

• Ashe •

The moment she sees you show the tiniest symptom of illness get ready to be relentlessly pampered until she's 100% sure that you're okay.

Elizabeth's childhood was full of neglect so even when it comes to something silly like a small sickness she wants you to know that she's going to always stay by your side and take care of you.

She'll order Bob to act like your personal butler untill you're okay. Of course, Bob doesn't mind, he loves you and he knows Elizabeth only did this because she trusts him to take care of you.

If it's something more serious you bet Elizabeth will get you the most expensive treatment possible. She doesn't care if she gives up all of the gang's profits, you're way more important than that to her. She'll try to hide how worried she is because she needs to be there for you.

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#wlw #female reader #overwatch imagines #overwatch x reader #overwatch #mercy x reader #mercy overwatch #widowmaker x reader #widowmaker #ashe x reader #ashe overwatch

[oneshotnewbie]

Can you do something Where reader hasn't been to the doctor in years and Marina doesn't know until she develops a fever and they insist they go with her and help he through the exam?

Authors note: I know that it was all about the fact that Reader have not seen the doctor for a long time, but I immediately associated that with fear. It doesn't make any sense and deviates a bit from the correct storyline of Station 19 because Reader takes the hormone shots for a desired pregnancy instead of Carina, but nothing else came to mind at the moment. Sorry!

...

"How do you always manage to magically attract every disease when you go out that door?" Maya looked at you reproachfully while pulling a clinical thermometer out of your ear. A look at it showed her no improvement; you have been stuck in bed with a fever for two days and you still did not want to admit it.

"For the 100th time, I am not sick," you hissed, getting a violent fit of coughing that made you bend over forwards. You actually choked on your own spit from all the fuss. The blonde quickly poured water into a glass and held it in front of you. At the risk of choking, you accepted it gratefully and took a long gulp of the room-warm water to soothe your throat. "Of course not. You are perfectly healthy!" she exclaimed ironically and prepared a spoonful of medicine for you.

Strongly, you frowned at the foul-smelling liquid and the bitter after taste of the antipyretic syrup. You were not a fan of any type of medicine designed to nurture your healthy. Instead, you preferred to let your body decide for itself how long it took to get rid of each symptom and flu.

"Bellezza, I will make you an appointment with the doctor today-" Carina´s female voice replied, whose Italian accent dominated whenever she was concerned. You looked demonstratively to the side where the brunette was standing in the doorway, tugging at the button of her sleeve and skeptically raised an eyebrow at you.

"I do not need to see a stupid doctor!" you replied grimly, crossing your arms across your chest like a small child in protest.

Both, Carina and Maya, did not understand why you were so reluctant to visit the family doctor. All he would do was run a few tests on you to see what you did caught. Both knew that you were terrified of needles, they realized that as soon as you had to start take your hormone shots.

But there was more to it, they just had to find out why.

Maya bit frustrated the inside of her cheek. Her head was bowed down, her hand placed on your covered thigh and gently stroking it while her gaze shifted sideways to the brunette. She hoped that the Italian would approach you with her gentle manner and find out the reason for your negative attitude towards a visit.

"When was the last time you saw a doctor who gave you a thorough check-up?" slightly interested, the blonde lifted her head and waited for your answer. As if reading your mind, the corners of her mouth turned down and her bright blue eyes stared at you in disbelief. "And I do not mean our gynecologist, but a real one"

"Maybe a few years ago.." you paused, paying attention to the curious looks. Horrified, the brunette walked over to the bed and sat down. It gave out under her weight as she leaned towards you. You looked at her with a glance normally reserved for children, who had made a mistake and were afraid of trouble. "My family doctor at the time made a mistake during the postoperative examination and was rather harsh. Almost costed me my life. I have not trusted any family doctor since. This has increased rapidly over the years"

She nodded in understanding before taking your face in both hands and looking deep into your eyes. It was strange, even though you were covered in a feverish veil, there was something forbidden beautiful in her eyes. The brown sparkled expectantly and with a gentle touch, she traced the contours of your face.

"But this is important," Maya stated, her facial expression abruptly becoming serious once again. You knew it was important to have a check-up at least once a year to prevent illnesses or even detect life-threatening diseases early, but blood draws were not your thing at all. And as you knew, these values also had to be checked from time to time. "We will come with you. But you have to go, we need to know what is wrong with you"

You rolled your eyes, cursing under your breath before nodding and flopping back into the bed. You felt defeated. You had no chance to defend yourself against your two wives. What they said, had to be done.

...

It was not a day later that your doctor´s appointment took place. Tense and restless, you sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair in the middle between your two wives and nervously played with your wedding ring, which was stuck on your sweaty finger. Your leg bounced dangerously fast as your heart raced.

Your body tried to protect you from a real threat with uncontrolled bouts of fear, even though it seemed exaggerated, unrealistic and groundless. A gentle hand wrapped around your thigh, trying to calm you down which let you lift your head up.

Carina leafed very calmly through a magazine, a gentle smile graced her lips before another arm timidly laid on your shoulders from the other side. Touched by the individual gestures, you pressed yourself against the blonde and closed your eyes.

You felt sick thinking about what was being done to you in the small, sparsely furnished room. "It is going to be fine, sweetheart. It is just a small, harmless examination," Maya tried to calm you down, but it did not quite work. You looked at her in disbelief while your shrill voice swept through the room. "If he wants to draw blood, I will be gone faster than you can turn on your fire truck´s siren"

Slightly insulted, you turned away from her. But her hands gently grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to her again, your body engulfed in her arms. "Nothing will happen to you, we are here"

"Ms. Y/l/n, please!" suddenly, the lady from the registration calls out and you look in panic between Maya and Carina. They just nod and smile at you encouraging before pulling you up from your seat.

Together, you walked into one of the treatment rooms, where you sat down onto the leather armchairs in front of the desk. While waiting, an awkward silence spread and you looked around anxiously.

It was a small room furnished with a large dark brown desk and a lounger. Soft shades of yellow blended with the brown of the bookshelf lined with anatomical books, which were rounded off with bluish paintings of various dandelions.

You seemed to be able to argue about the taste, but when the door suddenly flew open and a strong breeze blew in your direction, you jerked out of your thoughts and turned in your seat. While the two ladies next to you greeted the man in a white coat with a handshake, you remained frozen.

"So, Mrs. Y/l/n. You are here because of a constant fever for three days that does not seem to be breaking?" the older man asked as he pulled himself closer to the table.

He was in his fifties, slightly plump and a well-known doctor in Seattle, who had his own medical practice for more than 20 years. Dr. Brown, at least according to his little name tag, seemed nice. However, that did not take away an ounce of panic out of you.

You nodded your head in response, wanting to add that aside from being here in hell, you are actually fine. But you refrained from doing so and instead bit your lip with nervousness. "Good, then free your chest and sit down on the lounger," he said calmly and composedly, possibly sensing your fear.

Your gaze turned between Maya and Carina, who smiled at you cautiously and gave you an encouraging nod. They noticed how visibly pale you got as you stood up on shaky legs and walked to the back corner of the room.

You did what you were told and slowly but involuntary undid the buttons on your blouse. You felt embarrassed walking around half-naked in front of a man, adding even more color to your already ruddy cheeks. Sitting down on the stretcher at the very front and waiting for the elderly gentleman to come up to you with his equipment, you saw the blood pressure monitor in his hand and another rush of fear came over you.

But you had to be brave, otherwise you would never get out of here.

Roughly, he put the cuff on your left upper arm and you did not like it at all; the noise and the pressure that formed hurt incredibly, bringing back memories from the past. Scrutinizing, the blonde glared into your eyes that showed nothing more than helplessness before deciding to keep you company.

Maya stood diagonally behind you and put her hand on your shoulder. Again, she had put on that lovely smile and the empathetic look with her steel blue eyes. This calmed you down a bit.

"Blood pressure is a little high, but I think it is from the stress your body is going through," the doctor said sternly, looking up at you. "I will now listen to the heart and lung"

With a sigh, you let yourself fall forward slightly and grabbed your shoulder to reach for your wife´s hand. Immediately, she intertwined her fingers with yours and squeezed them tightly. This gave you some support and you closed your eyes as the cool feel of the iron stethoscope pressed against your back.

As expected, a bolt of lightning shot down your spine and you winced softly to yourself. A shadow in front of you and the smell of lovely, sweet perfume penetrated your nose, letting you guess that Carina had also come to your side. Her fingers danced softly on your forearms, stroking them soothingly as you took deep breaths and tried to calm yourself down.

You fought back your tears and buried your head in the firefighter´s shoulder as best as you could. You were tired, exhausted and totally drained. Your body was already struggling with the fever and there was not enough room to fight your fear with every single exam that had to be taken.

"So far, you are physically healthy. I can not find anything unusual," he began to speak as he let go of you and gave you permission to get dressed again. Hesitating and considering, he stroked his lip with his index finger and disappeared back behind his desk. Flat, he placed his hands over the brown wood and began writing down his findings into a file. "So you think it is just some kind of cold?"

"No. Colds do not come without symptoms," he answered quickly, gently shaking his almost bald head. "But I did notice some small puncture wounds on the lower abdomen. Diabetes?" You all shock your head simultaneously as you all began to grin. They were by no means insulin corrections but one of the most important steps for your future. "Hormone shots. We are trying to get pregnant"

It was not until you said that sentence that it clicked in Carina´s head. Elevated temperature for longer days can be caused by hormonal changes that occur in the female body and can be an early indication of a likely pregnancy.

The first early signs of pregnancy can appear before your missed period and were not uncommon. There are also uncertain, probable and very rare signs of premature pregnancy, such as in your case- fever.

She started grinning at you and you didn't understand why. You might have been healthy, but the fever lowered your ability to work or do everyday things. Irritated, Maya and you took turns looking at the two doctors who were trying to make sense of your visit until Maya's eyes opened wide, her jaw dropped and she was the first of you two to understand.

"There is a possibility that the fever indicates an early pregnancy. To be on the safe side, I would advise you to take a pregnancy test and see your gynecologist. Even if the result of the test is negative"

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[usedpidemo]

the craziest christmas party ive ever attended...(storytime!)

God, the flu fucking sucks. Imagine being healthy for three straight years, working out as often as possible, and then the one time you get caught in the middle of a rain, the next day you begin falling ill. Headaches. Body aches. Cough. Dry throat. Completely zapped all my energy and three years of positive momentum just like that.

One week later, after several trips to the hospital, plenty of rest and medications in between, I was beginning to pick myself back up. If there was any silver lining, I lost weight during that time period because I couldn't eat anything. Even so, I still felt...off. I was forgetting things more often than usual, my clarity and awareness would disappear at random times, and it felt like my body was moving on its own. I felt like I had no control over myself.

This is practically the reason why I've kind of disappeared over the last month or so. The illness completely took me down and I've basically forgotten how to write :< Seriously, I feel like the main character in Memento, trying to pick up the pieces of what the hell happened. I'm getting better with each passing day, though, so hopefully this will all be behind me as we enter the holiday season.

Anyway, it's not often that this country gets to host an international entertainment event, let alone one of the premier Korean awards. No idea, I don't really watch these things at all. The idea of seeing so many K-pop acts and actors in one setting appealed to me. Not to mention the actual lineup? NewJeans! Le sserafim! Mother Eunbi! Itzy! Stayc! Kep1er! Kim Sejeong! Many of these acts are either making their stage debut or have returned numerous times. This was easily a must attend. Who knows when we'll get another opportunity like this, especially after the controversy and backlash surrounding the handling of the ceremony.

I got fortunate buying the tickets. To be fair, they were expensive by local concert standards; 50 USD at the very back to 450 for VIP, which is a significant punch up compared to a typical K-pop concert even solo held in the very same arena. Not to mention, the site automatically picks the tickets for you, rather than give buyers the freedom of choice to select specific seats. It also helps that the pricing turned plenty of people off, on top of previous negative experiences in that arena for other fans. Even better was when I actually entered the venue; since there were so many vacant seats during the beginning, we were moved up to the very front, right where the artists were all seated ahead of us.

Honestly. Shitty camera aside, the scenes were priceless.

I admit I mostly went for the female acts, especially my girlies Le sserafim and Eunbi, but I've learned to give so much respect and appreciate everyone who performed. Regardless of their status and popularity, nugu or main event, the crowd was electric and passionate: they would cheer, sing along to the songs, and interact with the performer when they would ask. There wasn't a dull moment all throughout the seven hour program.

Speaking of seven hours, I can see why I don't watch this shit live: it can be taxing to the mind and body. I had to get up during one of the longer awardings, one where they gave it to like 10 different artists just to stretch my legs. I respect what Wonyoung, Daniel, and Hanbin did to host, cause I'm pretty sure either way my legs would end up melting like jelly after everything that had transpired.

Man. NewJeans. Freaking NewJeans. I understand why they're so beloved and revered like they're the second coming: they truly love their fans. And holy shit, the pop from the audience when they entered the venue for the first time, and they were practically the main characters of the show. Every little thing they did was met with raucous applause. They waved at us like a dozen times all throughout the show and were having fun from beginning to end. Also, the crowd went fucking crazy for their performance. OMG into ETA is insanely hard.

AND THE AUDACITY TO FOLLOW UP NEWJEANS WITH MOTHERFUCKING LE SSERAFIM?! Best transition ever! Their set was even better than MAMA: Perfect Night (holy shit that choreo) into Eve, Psyche, and Bluebeard's Wife (holy shit that choreo). Their aura was through the roof! Unsurprisingly, they also had the crowd going nuclear.

I'm just gonna blitz through the section of favorite performances because if I had to describe them all this would be longer than any of my fics in recent times. Kim Jaejoong is a fucking legend and I was shook when he transitioned from balladeer to a goddamn rockstar. The opening with &Team and SB19 with Gento set the tone for the rest of the show. Kep1er's dance breaks. GOD. I wish it wasn't accompanied with flashing lights cause they were so fucking hot. Mother Kwon Eunbi proved why she's goddamn mother! ITZY had me singing fucking Cake of all songs. AKMU was quirky and fun and thats why I love K-pop. Also, the sibling dynamic reminded me of my rather strange and turbulent relationship with my sister. Just a random anecdote.

The ending was where shit was dialed up to eleven. I feel very lukewarm towards Stray Kids' newer releases post Back Door, but they absolutely brought the heat by opening with Maniac. Get Lit then Topline was when they brought everyone to their feet, including us the audience! And if that wasn't enough, here comes BooSeokSoon (BSS) to end the show on the perfect high. Like none of us were sitting down once it ended.

On top of all the performances, there's the interactions too. Oh man. I was hoping that Le sserafim, ITZY, Kep1er, or Eunbi—any combination of these—would be seated on our side, but we got NewJeans. And they kept interacting with us. So much. Every single member noticed me at least once and I somehow got Hanni on camera. Insanity. If that wasn't enough, NMIXX were also placed on our side, and Lily, Haewon, Bae, and Kyujin waved at us multiple times as well, including during the final goodbyes. STAYC's Yoon went around to wave to everyone in the audience during the intermission period, and after their initial entrance into the venue, Sumin and Seeun waved at us. I really wish I had my cameras on but I was so focused on capturing anyone's attention! It worked; I also got the attention of several other groups, from ZeroBaseOne to Tempest to SB19 to Sakurazaka46. They transferred Le sserafim over to our side late into the ceremony and I was hoping they would interact with us; it wasn't meant to be. I don't have any negative feelings cause I still got copiously blessed with so many other acts.

I don't know what's gonna happen moving forward. Considering the backlash and issues that have sprung in regards to the handling of the ceremony, there's a good likelihood an award show of this scale will ever be hosted again. Or maybe the energy shown by the crowd will inspire future ceremonies, like MAMA or Golden Disc. Who knows. What I do know is that everything about this felt like both a dream and a movie. To see many of my favorites, gain respect for groups I hadn't heard of till last week, and just attend an award show in general is a damn good way to end the year.

#update #storytime

[cocogrrrl]

can you write a fic of kyle taking care of a s/o with a cold. also love your writing so much!

- anon

sick days

when you tell your boyfriend, kyle, to not help your and your flu out, he happily disregards that.

kyle broflovski x gn!reader (references the wingmen, but isnt important overall i was just feeling silly) cws: being sick, being naked in a non sexual context, implied over working and hyper independence i think ?, also i think kyles become ooc at the end :( wc: 1954

an: not my proudest work but i mixed in a bunch of personal experience so it has heart definitely (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

You coddled up in your apartment, all weak and sickly. What you thought was just a light sneeze turned about to be so much worse.

It all started about the other day, Sunday night. You found your nose stuffy before you went to bed, but you didn’t much mind it. You were certain that it was just some glitch your body was having and, after some rest, you’d be alright.

How funny of you to think of that—because you didn’t end up feeling better the next day. In fact, you only got worse.

You still went to work despite your condition, for as much as you despised going to work, it still was important to you in spite of everything. I mean, it’s you are the only one who controls the future, and not going to work might mess up the rest of your life. While it is somewhat unrealistic and even negative to think of your work and life that way, it gets the job done.

Unfortunately for you, you only started to get worse that very day. Not only was your nose wholly blocked, but your body felt weaker, and your head hurt like hell.

“YN, are you okay?” Your best friend, Wendy asked.

You two were out on a dinner date. She was a mutual friend of yours and your boyfriend, Kyle. You met her during college, and she accidentally set you two up while on a date with her boyfriend (and Kyle’s best friend), Stan.

She had a very worried look on her face. “You’re all pale and stuff.” 

“I’m fine,” you sighed, words nasal because of your cold.

“Are you sure? I think I have some antihistamines. It’ll help you feel better.” She pouted, rubbing circles into your back. 

“Yeah, don’t sweat it. I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

You prayed to whatever god there was that you’d get better, but it seemed like they had other plans because if they wanted to help you, you definitely wouldn’t be lying in your bed right now—barely able to stand up because of your spinning head.

Now, it was the day after your dinner with Wendy. You were rotting in your bed at 9 AM. There was no way you were going to show up at work at this point, so you called in sick leave.

Despite your state, you luckily were able to reheat some food, so you could eat something, anything, and drink some decongestants and paracetamol to help your nose, head, and sores clear up.

The medicine will kick in later, though. For now, you had to deal with the congested feeling all the way from your chest to your head and the burning pain in your body. You swore the world shook for the time you were sick. You were slumped over your bed, body sore and unable to move more. The worst part about all this is that you couldn’t even sleep through your suffering. 

You sighed, checking your phone to distract yourself for now. Something had caught you off guard, though—a few messages from Kyle. 

boyfie kyle heyy are you okay?? i haven’t heard from you since yesterday

You felt guilty all of a sudden. You hadn’t seen him at all since you last hung out with him at his place last week. You haven’t told him you were sick, and you two planned to go out tomorrow. How could you be so forgetful?

You i could be doing better i’m pretty sure the cold i had the other day just mutated into the flu 😟

boyfie kyle wait i think stan mentioned that wendy told him she was worried about you being sick yesterday oh my god i’m so sorry

You huh why?

boyfie kyle i didn’t know you were sick so i couldn’t come and help you :(

You kylee it’s not your fault :<< i didnt really have the opportunity to tell you both of us were busy the past few days besides, i dont want you coming here to take care of me !! you might get sick as well i don’t want you to get sick and miss out on work :(

boyfie kyle wahhhh thank you lovee but that’s not stopping me 😇

You kyle nO you’re smarter than that >:///

You don’t receive a reply, even minutes after you sent your message. You assumed that he probably went back to paying attention to his work—which is what he should’ve been doing rather than worrying about you. Despite that, you were worried that he’d come later to take care of you.

It’s not like you didn’t want him to come. You really, really did. It’s just that you didn’t want to get him infected or overwhelmed with the task of taking care of you. Sure, you two have been together for some time now, about a little over a year, but you did still feel like you shouldn’t burden as wonderful as him. That would be selfish.

And then eventually, though, to your delight, you dozed off sooner than you thought.

————— ୨୧ —————

You ended up waking up to the tune of your door being knocked on. You checked the time. It was around 6 PM. Seemed like you slept the whole day. Not your best, but perhaps needed. Who was it at your door? You didn’t order anything in particular. Perhaps it was just someone who had the wrong address, or maybe your neighbor finally decided to return your mop.

Whoever it was, you put a mask on and shuffled all the way from your room to the door. Lo and behold, it was Kyle. He had a basket containing, what you could only assume, medicine, cooling and heating pads, tissues, and groceries.

You raised a brow at him, shaking your head. As much as you wanted to spend time with Kyle, you really didn’t want to be responsible for giving Kyle the flu and missing out on work.

You let out a huff. “Kyle, I told you to no-”

“I know, I know. You told me not to come, but I can’t just leave you alone.” He sighed, holding out the basket for you. “I’ll be alright, even if I get sick as well—cause then you can take care of me.” He snickered.

You found yourself laughing alongside him, lightly punching him on the arm as you rolled your eyes. “Aren’t you busy with work or something?” You asked, opening the door wider for him to enter.

You definitely tried playing it cool, not seeming desperate for him, but you knew you wanted him. You knew you wanted him right beside you to comfort you and whatnot.

“I mean, I kind of always am, but I’m more than willing to make time for you.” he chuckled. “Now, do you think you can set the table? I’ll cook dinner.” He said, setting down the groceries he brought on the countertop.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Totally.” You smiled, quickly bringing out some utensils and plates and then setting them on your table. “Do you need help with anything else?”

“Go set some background noise, then take a seat. I’ll handle the food.” He hummed.

It seems like he knew you a bit too well. He knew how obsessed you were with being occupied, how you always busied yourself up to make yourself believe you were productive. Even something as menial as setting music has you all happy to be able to do something than lie around. Perhaps it was best you were knocked out the whole day since you definitely would’ve spent the day loathing yourself for missing out on your job had you been awake.

You nodded and grabbed a CD of an album you two loved, slotting it in the player and hitting play. You took a seat by the table after, scrolling through your phone to distract yourself.

“Have you seen a doctor yet?” He asked, heating up a pot you had lying around as he threw in some herbs.

“Not yet. I was asleep from, like, 12 PM until you were knocking at the door.”

“Oh, well, do you want me to bring you tomorrow? I’m pretty sure I can get off work early tomorrow since I don’t have much to do.”

“No, it’s fine. I think I can do it myself.”

“Alright. I’ll visit you again tomorrow. Most likely the same time.”

“Huh, you miss me that much, then?” You teased, raising a brow—though he wouldn’t see it since his back was turned to you as he readied the food.

However, he suddenly turned to face you with a smug grin on his face. “Clearly, you don’t know me; I miss you all the time.”

You felt your heart rise at his comment. You shook it off, continuing the conversation with him. 

You two stirred idle discussion, not pegging many interesting things. Interesting wasn’t important to either of you two, though. You two felt happy and warm that mundane things, like small talk and washing the dishes, could and often did become special moments for you.

Dinner was served, and conversations were made as music played in the back. Other than the freshly cooked soup he gave you, another warm feeling started to boil up inside you.

Gratefulness, it was. You were grateful that Kyle was happy to take care of you. You were grateful because he sacrificed his work and time, a part of himself for you. Although, it’s understandable why you believed you would’ve been perfectly fine being left to your own devices. You were grateful for the fact that he tried at all. Call you the bare minimum, but you were just lucky to have him at all.

Kyle ended up clearing the table and dishes, but he did instruct you to run a bath—he was going to help you wash up. You felt a little guilty that he was doing so much for you, even if he was doing it out of love. You brushed it aside, though. This was something he wanted to do. You’re not responsible for it.

You stripped down naked, hopping into the tub. If you had to be honest, you felt embarrassed being seen like this. It wasn’t the first time he’s seen you without clothes, far from it, but it felt embarrassing for the reason that you were here because you needed help since your body was still very sore.

“I’m not hopping in with you, by the way,” he joked, rolling up his sleeves as he lathered up your shampoo and massaged it into your scalp. 

“Mhmmmm,” you hummed, indulging yourself in the feeling of his hand gently kneading your scalp.

It’s like time stopped for, when a brief moment, your soaped-up self met eyes with Kyle. Eyes lingered on each other, both confessing how deeply enamored they were with each other—showing how desperately they wanted to hold each other that moment.

Kyle leaned in for a split second, wiping off the shampoo on your forehead before planting a kiss on it. You were quick to stop him from going any further, though, moving your body away from him.

“You might get sick!”

“It’s okay if I get sick! Let me kiss youuu.” He whined, voice throaty as he gently pulled you closer by the chin. To which you shifted your body further away from him.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” you giggled. “I care if you get sick, so no.”

“YN, at this rate, I probably have the flu in my system already.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Well, let’s still be safe, okay?” You gave him a smile, grabbing your showerhead to rinse your hair now.

“I guess you’re right.” He rolled his eyes, giggling at you as he helped you wash up.

#cocogrrrl's writing #south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x you #kyle x reader