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moondirti · 2 months

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𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 [18+]

familiar! ghost × witch! reader

you are a witch trapped at home by a devastating blizzard. ghost is the demon that answers your call. ( PART 1 of 2 )

DEAD DOVE. RATED R. HORROR/SMUT. 6k. – AO3

please please please read the warnings under the cut before reading. this is leagues darker than my usual work. it is a dark fic, and you know your limits better than i do.

warnings: discussed cannibalism. graphic depictions of gore. vomiting. killing/butchering animals. violent thoughts. malnutrition. alienation/isolation. manipulation. corruption. mentions of somnophilia. dark!ghost – i.e. simon does not conform to human morality. afab reader using she/her pronouns.

inclusivity note: the reader is described as smaller than simon, but he stands at 250 cm in his true form (8"2), so i assumed everyone – if not, most – would fit that category. she's also malnourished/sick at the start and so there are some references to unhealthy weight loss

Situated between a dense network of ancient oaks, a lesser demon would have mistaken the cottage for a boulder had they spawned further than ten metres away. Save for the warm orange glow illuminating its arched windows, the home married perfectly to its surroundings – disfigured and hideous, walls warped by unevenly stacked stone and a roof bowed under a thick blanket of snow. Overgrown bushes stick out from under its gnarled fence, dead branches desperately reaching, and the ivy he assumes was once adhered to its front has since been ripped out by the storm, whipping in the howling wind.

But Ghost is no lesser demon; in fact, he’s far above this whole affair. Something of his rank answering the summons of a novice who could offer no more than sheep’s liver buried in their front yard was an occurrence practically unheard of. For good reason, too. He’s dangerous in the right hands, willing to resort to lengths that even the devil wouldn’t dream of so long as he receives proper payment. Most power-hungry neophytes would slaughter, have slaughtered, to have him as their familiar. Even then, he is above their grovelling.

So, to be lured out of respite by sheep’s liver, of all things…

He supposes he has no excuse for it, not that he has to explain himself to anyone. Perhaps he’s here only to satisfy his curiosity. The call hadn’t come from the lips of someone who’d been practising – sharp and sure, roused by a brand of audacity special to cocksure practitioners – but from someone softer. More sceptical. It’s unusual that an occultist would have both knowledge and skill to summon a familiar, yet still be suspicious as to whether they even exist at all. He’s not so much offended, then, as he is morbidly interested in what reaction his appearance would incur.

Disgust. Terror. Reverence.

Warmth pools in his belly, blood oozing in fat globs to fuel the flame that compels him to head into the small home. It’s hard to make out what’s inside merely by looking through the windows; the glass has glazed over from the contesting temperatures on either side of it, painting a bleary picture of a fire silhouetting vague shapes. The doorstep creaks under his heavy foot, but nothing – from what he can see – moves in response to the disturbance. It’s late, he knows. If it weren’t for the thick clouds shrouding the sky, he would see the moon sinking towards the west horizon. Anyone with any sense in this world knows to be asleep during witching hour.

The doorknob is round. Brass. Worn by a hand that’s gotten very good at grasping it in the same manner every time. Ghost takes a moment to digest what that tells him about his new client before turning it and ducking inside. He was right to assume it’d be unlocked. While he’d have been able to find a way in otherwise, the silly little oversight manages to elicit more excitement in him than necessary. Their mistake is added to his quickly growing character evaluation. A routineer. Garden-variety mortal, too naive for their own good. Someone isolated. Someone–

Small.

Size has always been relative for something of his stature. At two and a half metres, he’s able to tower over even his own. But it truly hits him, right there, how long it’s been since he last encountered a human. He tries to tally the decades in his head, only to fail and fail again by fault of distraction. It shouldn’t hit him as hard as it does. She fulfils every bit of what he expected, after all; plain, though younger than the typical practitioner of familiar-summoning ability. Fast asleep on a threadbare couch. Drowned in clothing, skin dewy with sweat. A book abandoned, open on her chest, stuffed with spare pieces of parchment and illegible annotations. Ink-stained fingertips.

But his hand could crush her head if he was truly compelled to do so. He could scoop the bare ankles currently peeking out of her quilt and throw her over his shoulder like wild game, skinned and simple to carry back to hell. He remembers the fallow deer he’d feasted on just last week, belly soft as he sunk his teeth into it, and considers letting his appetite get the best of him with the one that’s unwittingly made herself available tonight. Crack open her ribcage to gorge on the gooey insides that no doubt taste like honey to a monster with his appetite. Bury his snout into her sweet-scented neck and get a sense for prey that can fight back, if just barely.

But the moment passes. In her slumber, she shifts to lay on her side, spooning the grimoire closer. The minor hint of life reawakens another, more primaeval urge in him, last felt aeons ago when he was a younger fiend and the world had been a much more vulnerable place.

(The urge to take, to bend and break to fit his fancy. Chewing on cartilage until it smacks like gum between his maw, flossing the foul curl of his canines. To sink his claws into tender calves and carve an irreversible Ghost-shaped hole in her home, a haunting so stubborn she’ll turn to a fake God to try and expel him.)

And it’s violent. A rather restive longing. But placed next to the patience he’s learnt in the centuries since, he makes his choice. A natural conclusion to a creature who’s always gotten what he’s wanted.

Yes, he’ll stay. Be here when she wakes and revel when those eyes widen at the sight of him, darkening the corner of her room. He’ll stay; trail around and observe as she tries to make sense of her routine in light of the beast looming over her shoulder. He’ll stay, maybe ravage what's between her legs, devastate her sense of preservation and instead make her beg for the damage. Fall short on his duties as a familiar. Stay until he gets bored, when he’s had his fill of the crying and the quaint box she calls home. When playing with his food any more will lay the morsel to waste. Only then will he finally tear into the temptingly delicious meal in front of him.

For now, though, his neck aches from having to stoop under such a low roof. He resorts to a bygone human form instead, one he consumed ages ago – bones snapping, flesh dimpling, folding, morphing into a much smaller thing, a man – and waits.

Morning finds you doubling over the side of your couch to retch up what little food you had scavenged the previous evening.

The loss is sore. Your stomach protests as the stale bread and water emulsion punches up your throat, emptying out onto the hardwood floor. Acrid. Bitter on the back of your tongue, sharp like the cramps that erupt in your abdomen once you lay back down. Sweat plasters baby hairs to your forehead, crawling down your back and pooling underneath your bandaged breasts. You wipe it off with trembling hands, kicking the suffocating quilt until it slouches off the armrest on which your feet lay.

Last night’s fire is little more than smouldering ash. Still, the cottage maintains a pervasive heat, the air buzzing with an unnamed vigour. It’s unlikely that the blizzard has ceased long enough for the snow blanketing your home to melt – and given the walls’ remarkable ability to release warmth faster than they absorb it, the current temperature is enough to confound you.

Likely a fever, you think, pressing knuckles to your temple. The timing is unfortunate enough, though something about your conclusion falls apart when tested against the churning of your gut. You’re clearly unwell, that much is apparent by the bile spoiling your floor, but you’d be a fool to miss the supernatural root of it. Like a perpetual tremor, never waning despite the way your muscles flare. A delirium that unfurls from your nape to slowly embrace your ears. You blink, trying to make sense of the queasiness that continues to wrack you.

You’d run out of herbs two days after the blizzard snowed you in, the remaining potions lining your pantry ones best left untouched. It couldn’t have been anything you took, then. Nor was it a spell; the last one you’d cast was an ignition charm you’ve performed so often you know its effects like the planes of your cheeks. You cycle through yesterday's happenings with febrile imprecision, sipping long gulps of oxygen to tame the queasiness lapping up your chest. Like bailing water out of a quickly sinking raft. Cupping it in your palms and throwing what you can overboard. You get nowhere, and your nausea only worsens.

You’d gone to sleep with your grimoire in hand. Had you cast something while in a hypnagogic state? Possible, though rather uncharacteristic. Your fingers dig into the cushion gutters, poking for any sign of the thick book. As a migraine begins to tear at your skull, your search borders on unhinged. Pillows fly across the room, cushions following suit. The quilt billows as you air it several times over, providing some fleeting – yet much needed – airflow.

You’re so focused on finding it that you almost miss the fact that the charred voice behind you is not your panic made material. Not the voice inside your head.

“Under the couch.”

This one is hoarse. Deep. It almost instantaneously shatters the heavy atmosphere cloaked over your shoulders, breaking your pyrexia with a sharp shiver down your spine. Pure ozone injected into the bubble you’ve made for yourself, the one you thought was so secure. Where the knife you taped to the underside of your table has remained untouched in the years since you moved in, unneeded. Hunched the way you are now, you can see it. Glinting as a mocking smile does; all teeth. Too far for you to retrieve without alerting your intruder. Too far for it to be an option. Your instincts rear.

Slowly, you crouch lower, hand skimming under the couch. Your pinkie grazes the well-loved leather of your grimoire’s cover. It manages to ground you to the situation at hand, though the reality is far more horrifying than what you could’ve conjured on your own. Distorted still, rippling with the impact of your fear. Paralysis battles adrenaline – your mind freezes with the shock of drowning, your body championing for survival. It doesn’t give you time to catch up.

Wood splinters under your heel as you twist, springing in the general direction of the voice. Heavy book in both hands. Your shoulders square, steadying as hinges to your attack. The figure is just visible; you barely make out the silhouette of its head before you aim for it.

But it grabs your wrist and flings your grimoire across the room in a fraction of the time, the spine splaying open onto an adjacent wall. Your stomach capsizes. The raft tips, flips, sends you crashing into frothing waves. Migraine blinding you for a brief, horrifying moment; one where you can’t see the thing shackling your wrist, or anticipate the hard kick it gives to your ankles. You buckle with the pain, held up by one heavy paw. A low whine syphons from your chest.

“Enough of tha’, now.”

Your vision comes into focus several seconds later. Still watery, brine spooling over your eyes, readying them for pruning, but clear enough to make out the depth of this ravine you’ve shipwrecked over. And it’s–

Uncanny. Teetering the thread between jarring and inhumane. Nothing about it – you’ve a hard time believing the moniker of ‘man’ – strikes you as superficial. Nothing skin-deep. Like a mountain seen breaking the horizon line from continents away, its rocks humming a song too closely resembling a banshee’s shriek for it to be alluring. Something concealed within its caves; underground, bubbling, molten. An impetus for myths, undiluted by tired parents using it to scare their children into bed. Still crowned by its original savagery, conceptualised centuries ago by a peasant who made the mistake of getting too close.

But it isn’t a concept, you quiver. It’s here – fleshly, corporeal. And it's even made an attempt to look human. As if you wouldn’t feel it itching to burst out of this skin, suffocated by too small constraints. Over six feet and then some, shoulders doubling yours and fingers that stretch a bit too long, a bit too thick. No face: everything but its eyes covered in knitted headwear, framing the pair of pale pupils, shadowed by a heavy brow.

Some suicidal, hare-brained part of you wonders what would happen if you were to lift the bottom of its mask. (What you would see. How it would react.) But the compulsion is quickly stifled by another wave of gagging, empty stomach looking for anything to regurgitate. The thing masquerading as a man catches on fast, flipping you so your back tucks against its chest. You end up projecting water over the carpet, coughing until your head pounds like a ripe bruise. It’s then that you realise your condition has everything to do with its presence, souring now that you’re practically nestled against its abdomen.

“What…” You question between dry heaves. “What are– What do y-you want with me?”

“Better question ‘s, wha’ do you want?” It murmurs back, rumbling too close to your ear. Rot thickens its breath, potent enough that it draws the tears already dotting your lash line. No doubt a corpse remains stuck somewhere down its gullet, stored away for later. No doubt you’ll join it soon, gnawed on until your flesh falls off the bone. The perfect victim; all alone, the town pariah. A witch by the common man’s standards. Cast out to a dismal forest to die.

“I don- I don’t–”

“Summoned me, didn’ you? Dug a nice little hole and all. Well,” His hand shifts, clasping tighter around your struggling arms. “I’m ‘ere now. ‘Bout wha’ you expected?”

You use your retching as an excuse to play a game of catch up, squeezing the last of your tears out. Your memories bleed into one another, ink on wet parchment. Summoned. Dug a… hole, to call on this thing of supernatural proportions currently occupying your home. Why would you want that? What have you done? The past year has been marked by loneliness of a drastic degree, certainly, yet–

And then it comes flooding back to you.

(Washing the salt off of preserved sheep’s liver. Fastening it to a bouquet garni with twine. Folding the modest sacrifice under layers of earth. Pouring milk onto the upturned dirt.)

“Aren’t you supposed to be an– an animal… Or something.” You choke.

(You never thought it’d work: this magic amateurishly scribbled onto the back of your book by a hand long necrotized. The runes had been difficult to fathom on their own. And the way the spell had sounded on your clumsy tongue made you sure you’d done it wrong. It was purely a pursuit of curiosity. Something to keep you occupied, for lack of anything else to do.)

“Or something.” It answers.

A familiar. Yours, to be precise. In service to you since it took the offering you fashioned. Or, of greater import, one that can’t do anything to you lest you ask for it.

(Foolish to think you can clamp a collar on a feral beast and expect it to heel.)

The girl has a harder time adjusting than his original estimate.

Of course, there’s the illness. The affliction that plagues all mortals who come in contact with a demon for the first time. She’s violently sick for days, verging on the full first week of his arrival. Constantly bent over herself, holding a metal pail close for the inevitable purge of bile, that which her liver overproduces to compensate for a lack of food. Her under eyes blacken five shades darker. Her cheekbones grow more pronounced. Ghost watches it all with a macabre sort of interest, unable to take much satisfaction in the affair as his meal withers away before his very eyes. Wrists thinning into willow branches. Lips flaking like dead bark.

He's almost tempted to do something before she begins to recover herself. Gets more used to his unnatural presence, it seems. Gradually. Slow.

It starts when she wakes up one morning, having slept in later than he’s known her to, hiccupping but otherwise solid. After laying on the couch for an hour, she limps off with dwindling energy to fry a batch of velvet shank for breakfast. The meal is hardly enough for one, yet she plates two-thirds of it for Ghost and places the dish on the table he’s commandeered for his own. It’s a kind gesture; he doesn’t have it in him to be kind about it, though. Yet before he can criticise her efforts, she waddles off to pry a window open. Frigid winds encroach on her sheltered home at once, snow flurrying in, but she braves the cold until a crow lands on the windowsill.

“Hello.” She croons, smoothing a knuckle across its crown. “Sorry I’ve been away. Here,” Digging into her breast pocket, she pulls out a handful of chokecherries and feeds them to the bird. “make them last. Supply is low.”

The crow merely picks them off her palm, coos lost in the roaring storm that batters at the door. For the first time since his arrival, Ghost is tempted to bleed into the shadows. The affair he’s made voyeur to is delicate, an understated glimpse into a life entirely foreign to him. It aches when he can’t piece together why she would give up her food for nothing in return, or why she treats him the same way she does a feral bird. He thinks it must be ego, this snarling anger in his chest.

So when the crow flies off with a final farewell pet down its back, he hardens into a nastier version of himself. Ghost still hasn’t touched the paltry breakfast when she turns her attention back to him, a fact she meets with a gingerly raised eyebrow.

“’Fraid I won’t eat tha’, pet.”

She takes a moment to process his epithet of choice, eyes narrowing in an almost comical turnaround of her previous gentle expression.

“Wouldn’t it be the other way around?” She scoffs.

The indignation alone should be enough to incense him further, never mind the apathy she adopts when she shucks the contents of his plate onto her own and marches back to the couch. It doesn’t. If anything, he calms a little at her willingness to take away what she so graciously offered. The cat does have claws, then. Albeit petty, piddling little claws – like the runt of a litter who’s learnt to bite back at anything that gets too close – but a fire, nonetheless. He appreciates that, perhaps more than he assumed he would.

Her sickness, he finds, is not the only issue.

Ghost lacks context for her situation – why she lives alone when the closest towns are just bordering the forest, or why no one ever seeks her out – but it does not escape him that the girl isn’t properly socialised.

In the centuries since they first emerged, he’s absorbed a keen sense for mortal behaviour. Credit to their alarming predictability, pattern recognition has halved the effort needed for his hunts. Not that he pretends to be at one with their psychology, but it’s easy to pin just where exactly she deviates from the norm when his strategy for ravaging her depends on it. More than once, he finds himself inexplicably engrossed in her habits.

Given her home is limited to the living room, kitchen, and washroom, she struggles to find a space where she can escape his oppressive presence. Ghost does not make it easy for her, either. He could choose to blend into the darker corners of her cottage, embodying the moniker he’d been given all those years ago and disappear almost completely – or enough to give her a mental break. But the mood strikes him more often than not, and he’ll loom over her like a spectral shadow, looking to provoke the grave mood swings that seize her like Satan does his miscreants. By far the most entertaining outcome had been when overstimulation trounced her usual level of tolerance and she pulled a knife on him, zeroed in on his jugular. He’d managed to scruff her by the nape until she wore herself out – which isn’t to say she didn’t put up quite a fuss.

Since then, she has yet to lash out to such an extreme, instead locking herself in the washroom when her temper skyrockets. Ghost is almost disappointed.

That’s his pet at her worst. At her best, she opts for quiet coexistence, either whispering to the crow who visits daily and appears to be her only friend, or cradling that ugly book in both hands. The back of the couch where she lounges most often obscures his view of her, but he’ll get the occasional vision when she pokes her eyes above the top to check on him. He maintains eye-contact – the heavy, uncomfortable kind that engenders pure humiliation and pummels her back into place, eyebrows furrowed and contentment spoiled – until the boredom gets to him.

The next time she sneaks a peek, then, he effects a gruff “Still ‘ere.”

She keeps to herself after that, nose buried in her grimoire like a chastened fawn.

It takes three weeks for her to settle into normalcy. By that time, Ghost’s patience has already started to wear thin.

The girl operates under the impression that he can’t do anything unless she orders it of him. He doesn’t blame her, credulous thing that she is. The notion is generally accepted by most of her grade, propagated by some text meant for beginners, written by a man who lacked the subtlety to discern between rules and good form. It’s true that familiar’s tend to only perform feats their counterparts ask for, but only because to do otherwise is bad practice. What else motivates a symbiotic relationship if not trust? Dependency?

Of course, that’s if a demon has anything to gain that a human can provide. He’s always found it to be a little more than pathetic. Reared to hunt, formidable in his thaumaturgic ability – Ghost has lasted centuries by remaining self-sufficient, unwilling to lean on the inferior class of rational beings. Unwilling to do their dirty work in exchange for blood he could obtain very well on his own. At least, that had been the conviction when he’d answered her graceless summons, bent on killing both his curiosity and hunger with one stone.

But something about her had made him glad to abide by the niceties. Had soothed the spring of his haunches as he prepared to pounce, or otherwise convinced him to play passive until golden opportunity struck. He’d wanted her to have as much a hand in her own unravelling, like a frog brought to a boil, entirely oblivious of its impending death until much too late. Her erroneous understanding of their dynamic, then, had paired nicely with his purposes. So he led her on to believe it, wasted most of his days amenable at the dining table as if waiting for instruction. As if she was the one in control, buzzing to shatter the perception when she inevitably asks something of him.

What he’s found, unsurprisingly, is that she’s blossomed under the reassurance. The initial fear that gripped her once she realised he wouldn’t be going away has since watered down to a weak, background agitation. He tastes it in the air; the mild unease as she flits about her cottage, the first thing to go when something else captures her attention. The way she hardly takes note of him anymore, waking up or retiring to sleep with nothing but covert glances to where he monopolises space.

So that feeling of frothing irritation returns at her docility, only more powerful than it had been when she’d offered her last chokecherries to the crow. No witch or wizard of her acumen has ever been so lacking in spite – and from what little she’s allowed him to see of her outbursts, he knows she isn’t short of it either. Yet she’d given up so quickly. Forfeited her home and comfort to a monster she hasn’t attempted to make any use of. And fuck– if that isn’t what he’d wanted. He needed her secure in him, pretty and soft enough that she’d be tempted to trade him for favours, for little feats of magic or the completion of chores she no longer has to worry about now that she doesn’t live alone.

Nevermind the detail that she refuses to ask anything of him; it still claws at him the wrong way, razor-sharp and deadly as it tears up his throat. This anger on her behalf. A compensation for the response she should be having. It stirs him when he realises that, for all intents and purposes, what he feels is pity. Perilous, committed sympathy.

There’s a reason he steers clear of it, too. Quick to snowball. He already feels it growing, avalanching into the hollow recess where he’d suppressed the soul of his first meal. Something shifts, then. He can’t place it. Just knows that the outcome he’d envisioned – where her bones serve to pick his teeth of the soft flesh from her thigh – is no longer a viable option. Just knows that his intentions with her mutate into something perhaps more dangerous, a little more unhinged. To weed out the wickedness he’s only seen in flashes. To see her corrupted into a far worse version of herself.

It’s late into his twentieth night when Ghost decides to do something about it.

He wedges back into her cottage when dawn splinters over the virgin snow. If he were a passionate man – not this hellhound trailing blood behind him like breadcrumbs – he’d remark on the way the tepid sunlight stains the forest in shades of peach and lurid blue. But the crow between his teeth hangs limp, and he’s hurried for the best way to present his gift, too absorbed in the task at hand to pay much mind to scenery.

The house is as tranquil as it always is at this time. Suspended in amber, a fossilised quaintness he’s grown used to. Golden, almost sticky slow. She’s still fast asleep on the couch, soft snores whistling from underneath a patchwork quilt (which smells so much like her that, to his mutt senses, they’re one-in-the-same form.) Despite the precarity of the moment, he makes no effort to keep quiet. His natural disposition isn’t prone to making any unintentional noise though, and so the only thing he disturbs are the dust motes bobbing in suspended animation.

Ghost places the dead bird on the table. It won’t be long before the blood drains from the punctures in its neck, and he prefers his meat iron-rich and wet, so he makes quick work of morphing back into his human form and washing his muzzle clean. There’s a sick thrill that curls in his gut; something like adrenaline, ozone-rich. Ruthless. He holds a crystalline picture of her reaction to the slaughtered friend he dragged into her home; angry, doe eyes glazed with tears as she yells at him for acting against her best wishes. Bad dog. Perhaps she’ll pull the dagger she keeps taped to the bottom of the table to indulge a sense of security. Perhaps she’ll drive it into his chest. That’s for hoping.

Standing over her now, he imagines the way her serene face morphs into something foul when she’s pushed to her limits. His cock twitches at the mental picture, aching behind the confines of his pants. A heavy hand moves to adjust it, stilling once it cups his balls to consider whether it’d be overkill to tug it over her face while she remains nice and still like this. It would be – not anything he’s above, granted, but excessive nonetheless. Besides, she’ll have plenty of time to accept the attention. Learn to love it, even.

When she wakes, Ghost has already plucked the crow. The feathers pile in the centre of her round dining table – distinctive even when detached from a body, meant for her to draw parallels to the game he currently masticates. Yet she hardly notes his presence at all. Instead, the unsuspecting thing merely clears the sleep from her bleary eyes, weighed down by a heavy cloak of sloth, more focused on wiping the drool off her chin than him. If she had been, perhaps the pieces would fall that much faster; at least, that’s what the quick-tick rap of his pulse insists upon.

But he’s no over-eager brute. He can wait.

Yet he is tense when she shuffles to and from the bathroom, bare feet padding along hardwood. Like a flood, his body grapples against the tidal urge to grab her jaw and force her gaze upon his bloody teeth, sharpened and marred behind the mouth of his true form. Look at me. Have you no survival instinct? There is a threat in your home and you parade in front of it, blind as a mole. You’ll get eaten like this. You’ll be condemned to hell between the jowls of horrible men.

(More monster than ever, really. Even like this, bound by his approximation of what a mortal man looks like, his face remains stuck to its original construction. The knitted mask he wears is more for her sake than his; he’s never been able to replicate the particulars of humanity. The delicate planes of their lips or the angles their noses protrude at. Better not to try, then. Better to hide it all away.)

It’s as she scrounges for breakfast that she finally heeds the pinpricks of blood dotting the floor. Fat, dark splotches draw a clear line from the doorway to a very calm Ghost, sat with his thighs spread over her too-tiny chair. He’s yet to finish his meagre meal – each bite seasoned with a satisfaction that bloats heavy in his stomach – hence the evidence of his crime still paints the corner red. A violent picture. Distressing, if he were to interpret the way her brows knit tight.

Crimson meat marbled ivory. Wings pried off a picked apart ribcage, shanks sucked clean of slightly tougher muscle. Still intact are the heart, tongue, liver – their membranes dissolving to soak into the table. The smell of death will be hard to rid of, he’s sure, much like the inedible parts of the bird that scatter carefully in front of him. Its glossy black talons. That tell-tale beak. Feathers on which her eyes linger, like she recognises the sheen but is too upset to connect it to the crow she fed daily. Her only friend.

She steps closer. Ghost devours every minute expression that flits upon her face. For the expressiveness of her pupils – contracted, small like organic pearls – she doesn’t portray much externally. Her fingers wring her skirt, twisting and twisting until it wrinkles in the impression of her thumb. Her lips purse into a thin line. But as far as his sharp observation goes; no tears. No ugly rage rippling her cheeks.

“What is this?” She asks in a small voice.

“Breakfast.” He says. It isn’t the response she’s looking for, and a frown tugs at her mouth. Not necessarily sad. Her hands release to clench at her sides. He smiles behind the mask. He can’t help himself.

“I didn’t tell you to do this.”

The smile breaks into a low chuckle. “No?”

“No.” Shaking her head, emotion surges up her throat. It bubbles thick and forces her to adopt a higher pitch to overpower it. “You brute. I-If you could’ve done whatever… whatever you wanted t-the whole time–”

“C’mere.” His hand snakes around her wrist, using it to wrench her closer. He consciously keeps his grip light – too much force and he could easily shatter bone – but the girl does not share his concern. She pulls and fights and stubbornly protests his direction.

“No! Get the fuck off! Get out!” She heaves. Seethes. Spittle launches from her tirade, her nails digging into his palm. She looks for blood but he won’t give it to her. She’s doing well, but not well enough. Eventually, he is able to pull her onto his lap, locking thick arms around her squirming form. “You bastard. You monster! I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll murder you in your sleep and feed your rotten insides to the maggots. Let me go!”

He’s blood-filled in his trousers. The hefty bulge knocks the small of her back and of all things, that’s what gets her to suddenly slacken. Though her chin tips to rest between her collarbones, lashes deliberately cast down. Refusing to meet his eye for all she’s worth. Good, he thinks, a warmth blossoming in his chest.

“You ough’ to know your friend didn’ put up a fight.” He starts, nosing the part in her hair. Despite his knitted mask serving as a direct barrier between them, he can smell the pine and juniper berry soap she uses to wash up. Sharp. Sweet. Particularly potent behind her ear, where he considers her lobes like low-hanging fruit.

“Shut up.”

“Need to hear this, pet.” She doesn’t listen, naturally, hips bucking wildly the instant he loosens his hold. His fingers bruise when he readjusts her on his thighs. “Need to know it was your fault as much as i’ was mine. Yeah? Y’let it grow too comfortable. Fed it daily and robbed i’ of its ingrained fear of strangers. In the end, it got much too friendly. Didn’ have the sense to fly away when I approached it.” Her breath pinches into a piercing whine. Ghost likens it to the kettle she keeps over her stove, waiting for steam to burst out of her ears.

It does not come. Instead, she cries. Beads of brine break her waterline, streaking miserable paths down her cheeks. He’ll grant her this: she does not sob unreasonably. Her hiccups are limited to if and when the air hardens in her lungs. He lets her have a moment before continuing.

“S’what happens, see. You get complacent, ‘n’ next thing you know, you’re meeting your God. Tell me, pet: do you think the afterlife would be pleasant to a witch?”

When she doesn’t respond, he bounces a knee to knock some sense back into her. Her weeping starts anew, only this time accompanied by a stuttered acknowledgement.

“Hm?”

“N-No.”

“No. ‘Course I could ‘ave told you that much, but it’s importan’ you come to the moral of the story yourself. Fight, or die.” Ghost strokes the goosepocked flesh of her upper arm, voice softening to deliver the final part of speech. It’s treacherously low, ultimatum like powdered ash cushioning the roughness in his throat. “And believe me when I say, dying ain’ the better option. There are far worse fates than me in Hell.”

He does not know whether it lands like he wants it to. If it accomplishes anything at all. But she doesn’t attempt to peel herself off him in the aftermath. Instead, she mourns herself dry for the next hour, snivelling wretchedly on his lap.

When her crying stops, the air is still laden with something. Hesitation rolls off her in waves, dense with the renewal of fear. He supposes it must be hypocritical of him, to both strike her with terror and expect her to overcome it, but he hums anyway, nudging her temple off his shoulder in an appeal to state what’s on her mind.

What comes instead is a deceptively simple question.

“What’s your name?” She asks. Doesn’t demand of him to tell her. Doesn’t set up grounds for him to ask for something in return. He can either answer, or not. She leaves the choice up to him. Clever girl.

He grapples with it a moment too long. A long dead man beats at his ribcage and demands to be heard. A meal he never managed to digest. Hissing. Snarling. S-Si-Si–

“Ghost.”

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creative-caramel-coffee · 21 days

Text

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 1

Summary: Reader gets caught hiding out in the avengers tower. In the end it turns out for the best.

TW: non-sexual nudity, illness, fainting, swearing

Words: 4.1K

A/n: Super long first chapter

маленький паук – Little Spider

It defiantly wasn’t part of your life plan to be living with your bother again in your adulthood.

You had spent an excellent few months on your own having finally moved out of May Parker’s apartment, it had been perfect. Well … as perfect as life could be for a parker.

Then … you guessed it … parker luck struck again. There was a huge fight, one you had been itching to join but your brother, peter parker, had it covered. And since nobody knew that you sometimes wore the spider-man suit when peter wasn’t able to, it would all be over if two Spider-Man’s ended up fighting some of the weird aliens that had invaded New York.

You see, you and your brother had more in common than most siblings did. Peter parker had been bitten by a radioactive spider on a school trip as was known to a few people. But, at the same time, you had been eighteen and chaperoning the field trip.

When peter had snuck off to the side you had gone after him. When he was bitten, so were you.

But for now, you had decided to try and stay away from the superhero lifestyle. But when the itch came, peter lent you his suit so you could scratch it.

You had helped him refine his web-fluid and had your own web shooters as well as one of his old suits just in case. May knew about you and peter after finding out a while ago. However, peter and you had kept everything about your existence from the avengers so you could live a semi-normal life. At least for now.

But the day the avengers were fighting off the aliens, New York had taken some heavy damage. You had been running a small illustration business out of your apartment in queens. Your apartment … which was now levelled in the fight was gone. Along with your business.

Since you had moved out young, May only had one spare bedroom in her apartment which peter was occupying. Leaving the Parker’s with one option.

As peter had a room in the avenger's tower, you could stay there or with aunt may. Peter being Peter didn’t want to ask tony if he could stay in the tower for the unforeseeable future without arousing questions. So, you had been secretly living in the tower for about three days now.

Peter brought you food and had bribed Jarvis to keep your existence a secret. You had his old suit if you wanted to leave the tower, you could swing away instead of walking through the building and getting caught.

It was a pretty solid plan and it had been working pretty well. Until the day you got sick.

Peters' bedroom in the tower was on the floor with the other avengers, meaning you had to be somewhat quiet so Natasha, clint or the others didn’t find you. But it had begun to get colder out, and Peters old suit didn’t have a heater. It had been made before tony had found out spiders, including peter and yourself, can't thermoregulate. And swinging around New York without a heater in the nippy winter air had left you with a pretty nasty cold.

Unlike peter your powers didn’t give you super healing. In fact, your powers differed from peters in more ways than one. For one thing you had small fangs which you could retract, they didn’t do much, but they were cool, and peter was mildly jealous. Another thing was you had taken on aspects of jumping spiders as you could jump higher due to your super strength and some weird spider quality peter lacked.

Like peter the bit had given your excellent eyesight, increased metabolism, a lack of thermoregulation, the weird sticky thing, the spider sense and super strength and the allergy to peppermint. But due to sharing the suit anytime you went out as “Spider-Man” you had to refrain from using your own unique powers, so you didn’t give anything away.

The thermoregulating thing may have finally come back to bite you now that you were in peters old suit. After taking one of his patrols for him so he could finish his assignment and you could get out of his room in the tower, the cold had made you sick. Heres the thing about having a high metabolism when you don’t have an increased healing factor. It went one of two ways. Either you had flash colds which were taken care of quickly and at a much faster rate than the average human, or if it was stronger than your immune system, it was quickly made into a bigger problem than it should have been due to your body processing things faster and speeding up its strength.

Anytime this had happened in the past, due to not being able to go to a regular hospital, you had thanked the gods for May choosing a career in nursing. Though she had been able to treat you superficially with regular medicine and not anything made for super soldiers or spiders as that was a Bruce banner specialty that was unique to the tower's med bay. So, you often just had to ride it out and if things got really bad, peter would try and smuggle you some of his medicine out of the tower for you.

So, this is where you ended up. Curled up in Peters bed in the tower, stifling rough sounding coughs into his pillow and making a mental note to wash his sheets soon. You were doing your best to remain quiet and not alert either of the super spies to your presence or any of the other avengers. You thanked Thor that only you and peter had super hearing which meant you could usually tell if someone was in the halls.

Feeling miserable you buried yourself further into the sheets and shivered, it was so cold but in reality, you probably had a high fever. Your lungs let out a wheezing noise whenever you exhaled, and you were beginning to think maybe your asthma was back. Unlike peter you had not been so lucky as to have had it cured by the bite.

Your asthma puffer was one of the few things that survived your apartment being destroyed. As you laid in bed feeling awful you thought back to that day.

You thanked the gods you had been out at the time. You had gone to a coffee shop downtown with your sketchbook, laptop and usual things you took out, including a range of art supplies and of course your emergency puffer which peter had managed to smuggle out which had doses that worked with your metabolism.

You were broken from your daydreams as another harsh coughing fit wracked your body. From what you could hear nobody was in the halls, but you did your best to keep quiet regardless. The wheezing that trailed after each breath was getting worse and your lungs were feeling tight.

You had been trying to use the puffer sparingly so it didn’t run out because you didn’t know if and or when peter could get you another. But as drawing breath grew harder you made the executive call to use it. You rolled over in the bed and threw an arm down to fish around for your red backpack. Finding it you fiddled with the zip before your fingers wrapped around the cool plastic of the device. Tony being tony had insisted it have a Spiderman case thinking it was peters which ended up being rather ironic as it was fitting for you too.

You tried fruitlessly one last time to draw breath before achieving nothing but a crackling wheeze. Screw it. You uncapped the red lid and held it to your lips, propping yourself up on an elbow in an attempt to sit u straight to take it.

You exhaled and inhaled repeating it once more before drawing in a lungful of the super-medicine. Almost straight away you began to feel better. Your fast metabolism speeding up the medicines process.

Feeling like you could breathe again you replaced the cap and put it on the nightstand before curling up in the sheets again feeling cold still but also slightly damp from the thin layer of sweat that had been forming all morning.

You were dressed in spider-man pjs which had a thin t-shirt and long pants. You had considered getting up to grab one of peters hoodies to get warm or another blanket but the idea of standing up made your head spin.

You nestled back into the sheets and let your eyes fall shut despite it being almost midday. The curtains were drawn and so it didn’t bother you too much. You began to drift off into a semi-peaceful sleep broken by harsh coughing fits which were becoming harder to stifle in your half asleep and fevered state.

Meanwhile the avengers had just finished their morning training session, one which Peter had joined for once. Peter being Peter had barely broken a sweat and as a result had opted to hang out on the communal floor while everyone went o freshen up.

Stark had designed the tower well. With Peter’s bedroom being on the same floor as Natasha’s who was rather protective of her younger spider counterpart as well as Wanda’s, Yelena’s, Kate’s and a few spares. The rest of the avengers were a floor above.

At first peter had been a bit miffed about being on a floor of just girls but he ended up liking it a lot. And he had a second bedroom in the master suite with tony and Pepper which he proffered anyway. The one on the avenger's floor was more for if Tony and Pepper were away, and he wanted to be around the others.

Natasha was headed for her room after waving goodbye to peter who had settled down to watch more star-wars, when she paused in the hallway.

Retracing her steps she found herself stood outside peters bedroom door. Frowning she pressed an ear to the door and froze. Someone was inside and coughing. Knowing it wasn’t peter, nat carefully twisted the door handle.

Peter being peter had prepared for almost anything. As soon as Natasha had set foot inside peters room Jarvis had alerted peter of her presence.

Meanwhile Natasha peered into the dimly lit room. The lump in the bed was wriggling around and coughing. Nat was on high alert by now. She realised this person was ill but how had they managed to get in without Jarvis knowing? And why were they in peters bed?

She crossed the threshold and walked over to the bed. Taking note of the backpack on the floor and puffer on the bedside table as well as your spider-man pjs which had been a gag gift from Peter last Christmas.

Nat stood and observed for a second. Looking down at your flushed face which was burning with fever and the harsh coughs that were wracking your weak form.

Nat watched helplessly for a second unsure of how to deal with a sick intruder.

She hesitated before extending a hand to your forehead and feeling a very high fever. She sucked a breath. Despite being an intruder she had some ideas as to why you may have been here. Your likeness to peter wasn’t hard to spot. Yet. She was unsure.

Peeling of the blankets to get a better look at you, as she did you made a small noise of discontent and curled into a shaking ball still fever addled and half asleep.

Before she could continue the door opened and peter looked in.

“Uhh M-Ms Romanoff…” Peter said looking guilty as he stepped in and closed the door again.

“Peter, do you know who this is?” Natasha asked getting straight to the point. Peter hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Y-yes.” He said looking at your sick form with a frown.

“Peter.” She said crossing her arms. “Care to share whats going on?” Nat said as she headed for Peter’s bathroom.

“Um… She … she’s,, my sister.” Peter said unsurely. Natasha returned after a second and nodded. Now holding the first aid kit from peters bathroom in her arms.

“Anything else i should know?” She asked walking over to the bed and sitting down to rifle through the first aid kit.

“Petey?” You mumbled hearing his voice.

Peter seemed to break out of his trance and came to your side. “I’m here Y/n.” He said.

“‘S cold.” You mumbled making peter frown.

“Actually, I think she has a fever.” Nat said as she found what she was looking for, pulling out a thermometer from the kit.

Nat gently placed the thermometer under your tongue and turned to look at peter.

“Pete, you’re not in trouble but i need some more information.” Natasha said.

“This is Y/n. She’s, my sister. Her apartment was levelled in the last attack and so she’s been staying here ever since. She’s not a threat I promise.” Peter said almost tripping over his words in order to explain.

Before Nat could respond the thermometer beeped and she removed it to look at the small screen, drawing another round of coughs from you. Natasha rubbed your back with one hand while frowning at the screen.

“Peter… she should be dead. This says 106. There’s more isn’t there.” Nat said with some urgency as she began peeling the rest of the blankets off you in an attempt to cool you down.

“Ahh … yes. She had powers. Like mine. She … she wears the suit sometimes.” Peter said standing nearby and watching with a worried expression.

“Ok. So, she has spider powers? High metabolism, super strength, etc.” Nat said and Peter nodded. “Why hasn’t her healing fixed this?” Nat said feeling your forehead again.

“She doesn’t have it. Her powers differ slightly.” Peter explained as Nat cursed softly in Russian.

“Her fever’s still rising.” Nat said making a decision. “We need to cool her down fast before she gets too hot for her own good. Jarvis?” Natasha said and peter looked panicked for a second worried about more people finding out about you.

“Ms Romanoff-“ he started.

“Pete, we need to cool her down stat. I need some help.” She said and peter nodded still looking nervous. “Jarvis call wanda to Peter’s bedroom.” Nat said and peter relaxed slightly. Wanda was ok. She would be good for the situation.

“What are you going to do?” Peter asked.

“She needs a bath and I doubt you want to do that.” She said with a small smirk and Peter flushed for a second.

“Defiantly not.” He said shaking his head.

“Is there someone we can call? Someone who she’d be ok with dressing her once we cool her down. She may be sick but i don’t want to invade her privacy.” Nat said as she scooped you up from the bed and into her lap while they waited for wanda to arrive. You cough harshly again and wheezed making nat frown and look to peter.

“Asthma.” He said.

“Runs in the family huh?” She joked reaching over for the puffer on the bedside table.

“Uh… about that.” Peter said looking guilty. “Mine was cured by the bite. I need the puffers for her.” He said looking sheepish. Expecting Nat to be mad she grinned.

“You’re a good brother.” She said as she uncapped the device and pressed it to your lips.

“Exhale.” She instructed and by some small miracle you complied. When you went to inhale, she administered the medicine and told you to hold.

Recapping the device, she rubbed a hand up and down your arm. “Good job sweetie.” She said and felt you relax into her arms some more as you let out a breath.

The two sat in silence for another second before the door opened again and wanda slipped inside.

She was freshly showered, her hair damp and she smelt like jasmine and honey. She was dressed in a simple faded black t-shirt and grey track pants.

“Whats-“ she began before pausing, her eyes caught on you laid in Natashas lap half asleep.

“Wanda,” Nat said. “Meet Y/n. Peter’s older sister.” She said.

“Okay…” Wanda said looking lost before her expression morphed to concern as you coughed. “Is she ok?” Wanda asked.

“No. That’s why you’re here. Long story short, peter smuggled her into the tower, and she has spider powers and her fever is really high. We need to cool her down.” Nat said and wanda swallowed and nodded. “Peter?” Nat said turning to the younger parker.

“Yes?” He said looking up from where he had been studying his shoes closely.

“You never answered my question. Is there someone we can call to come and get her dressed after wanda and i bathe her?” Nat asked and peter blushed again and nodded.

“I can call May. It’s her day off.” He said and Nat nodded.

“You do that. Wanda and I will look after Y/n. We promise not to go further than her outer clothes.” She said and scooped you up into her arms. She headed for Peter’s bathroom with wanda trailing behind. You remained limp in her arms snuggled into her chest in an unconscious need for companionship.

Once the two redheads had you in the bathroom wanda looked at nat. “Now what?” She asked and Natasha smirked.

“Now we take her clothes off.” She said and gently she lifted your arms from where you were laid on the floor in her lap and pulled the spider-man t-shirt off over your head. Wanda blushed slightly at the sight of your red sports bra despite having seen Nat and herself train in about the same if not less clothes.

“You wanna help?” Nat asked with a grin that only served to make Wanda’s blush deepen. You squirmed slighting in Nat’s lap but stopped when she gently rubbed your arm after you buried your warm face into her stomach.

Wanda rolled her eyes in an attempt to feign nonchalance despite being way past that point.

She lifted her hands, and the familiar red glow of magic surrounded her hands. Her magic lifted your hips so Nat could slide off your pants. Wanda blushed again at the sight of your Black Widow boxers. Natasha however grinned at them finding it both adorable and very cute.

After a beat Wanda met Nat’s eyes again. “Now what?”

“We get her in the bath. She needs to be cooled down Asap.” Nat said hoisting you into her arms again as you wriggled, turning and grumbling into her chest.

“Not gonna lie she’s pretty cute.” Nat said and Wanda avoided her eyes as she used her magic to fill the bath with tepid water.

Natasha gently lowered you into the tub ignoring your whining protests and running her hands through your hair which seemed to calm you down as you relaxed again.

“So … now we wait?” Wanda guessed and Natasha nodded.

“Yep. Unless you really want to steal May’s job of getting her dressed again.” Nat teased making Wanda splutter slightly. “Im kidding.” Nat said. “I know what hot women do to your brain.” She winked and wanda slouched slightly.

After a second you grumbled and blearily opened your eyes, squinting at the two women.

“Peter is so dead.” You mumbled before letting your eyes drift shut again. There was a pause before wanda and nat both started laughing.

You groaned. “Peter!” You yelled before coughing again making Wanda and Nat frown. But before they could do anything the door opened to show a beat red peter with his hands covering his eyes.

“Yes?” He said in a small voice.

“When I get out of here, you’re dead.” You mumbled with a foggy glare sent in his direction.

“Hey. Peter did the right thing.” Another voice said from behind Peter.

“May?” You called. “Oh, wtf is going on right now.” You mumbled.

“Whats going on kiddo is that, once again, you failed to ask for help which landed you here.” May said entering the bathroom with a change of clothes.

“Nice to see you Ms Parker.” Nat said and wanda echoed.

“Please. Call me May. And thank you for looking after her.” May said and you groaned.

“I hate all of you.” You said hiding your face in your hands.

“Uh huh. Sure, you do.” May teased.

“It was no problem. Ms- May.” Wanda said. “We’ll wait in peters bedroom while you… yeah.” Wanda said before making a hasty retreat. Nat laughed and followed her out.

May gave you a disappointed frown once she had shut the door and turned back to you with a sigh.

“Honey.” She said.

“I know… I know.” You said still feeling like death but slightly less so. “Did the black widow and scarlet witch just really see me in my underpants?” You asked.

“Yes, and I serves you right for hiding illness … again!” She said as she came over, rolling up her sleeves and helping you out, practically holding all your weight for you as your head spun.

May frowned and guided you over to the covered toilet seat to dress you again.

Gently she began to towel you off and change you into fresh clothes.

“I can do it myself.” You whined but May shot you a look and you knew better than to challenge the angry Parker and you and peter had called her as kids when she was upset at you for something.

“Now, once you’re dressed you are going to thank those two for their kindness and your coming home with me.” May said.

“But-“ you began.

“No buts.” She said and helped you up, now fully dressed.

She helped you over to the door opening it despite still holding you up. The two of you shuffled into the room where Peter, Nat and Wanda were sat on Peter’s bed talking in hushed voices.

“Pete. I love you but I can hear everything you’re saying dumbass.” You said rolling your eyes and May lightly hit your arm.

“Right.” He said rubbing his neck. “Super hearing.” He nodded.

“I’ll add it to the list.” Nat grinned and you groaned before May jabbed you in the side and looked at the two girls.

You coughed at her actions making her frown but quickly got it under control for the sake of your already fragile image.

“Thank you, Wanda and Natasha, for helping me.” You said still leaning heavily on May. Now you had been standing for a bit the room began to spin. Your face went a shade paler making Natasha frown and stand. It was a split second before you stumbled, almost bringing May down with you in the process. Luckily strong arms wrapped around you, and you looked up into Nat’s pale green and worried eyes.

“Y/n?” You finally registered she was talking to you. “Y/n?” She asked again a little louder.

You let out a soft groan and she huffed. “Right. Up we go.” She said hoisting you into your arms and making the room spin again as you buried your face in her arm.

You felt her gently set you down on the bed and feel your forehead.

Distantly you heard May saying something along the lines of taking you home and the sound of Natasha arguing they were better equipped to help with your powers and sickness. May relented and you went back to dozing.

“What happened?” Peter asked from where he was stood by the door.

“Probably got too dizzy from standing up. Her body’s already trying to fight off sickness.” Natasha said and Wanda nodded.

“Peter? Don’t you have a super high metabolism?” Wanda asked.

“Yeah?” He said looking lost as May seemed to catch on.

“Y/n when did you last eat?” May asked and you groaned and buried your face in the pillow. “Well, that answers that.” May said rolling her eyes.

“Peter, do you have any of those energy bars that steve uses?” Wanda asked and peter nodded and headed for his bedside drawer.

He fished around and pulled out one of them and passed it to nat. She unwrapped it and shoved it into your hands.

“Eat.” She said and you made a groan of protest. “It’ll help.” She said in a softer tone.

“Fine.” You said sitting up against the headboard and nibbling on it slowly.

“Better.” Nat said and you frowned.

“You know you’re cute when you’re mad.” Wanda said looking surprised by her own words and blushing at Natasha’s knowing gaze.

“Get some rest маленький паук” Nat said once you had finished eating, and she begun to shepherd everyone out of the room.

PART 2

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ludwig-van-gaythoven · 13 days

Text

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader) Part 3

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

ED mentions.

Parts:

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3

When you wake in the morning, Regina is already gone. She’s probably gone to meet with Karen and Gretchen for breakfast, pushing food around her plate more like. You’ve noticed some of your leftovers have gone missing, you don’t mind though. At least it means she’s eating something.

You’re not sure why she seems to relax around you enough to eat, something she can’t seem to do around her supposed best friends.

You have to remind yourself you aren’t her friend but the sketch is still neatly folded under her pillow, whatever that means.

You have a quick shower, throw on some jeans and a band tee and go to the campfire pit to hear what activity you’ll have to do today. It might mean being paired with Regina again, although she acts like a completely different person with you in public. You can see straight through her act. The more you see of her, the more you realise she’s not cruel, bitchy or formidable. She’s scared and a little insecure.

“Today half of you will be boating and half of you will be climbing! Cabins 1-6 follow me and cabins 7-12 meet your leader at the high ropes in 5 minutes!” The instructor calls.

Fuck no.

You try and sneak away slowly, if there’s one thing you’re afraid of, it’s heights. Maybe you can sneak off with the boating group, that sounds less scary, and safer.

It doesn’t work, Mrs Norbury catches you and sends you off in the direction of the high ropes. It’s not like they can force you to climb, right?

They’re laughing about something, you can’t tell what. Maybe Regina’s already making fun of you, maybe she’s gone through your bags to find anything embarrassing to tell her best friends. Maybe she’s taken a photograph of your sketch to prove you’re a loser, freak or whatever. She did similar to Janis, what’s stopping her from doing the same to you?

Maybe not.

You think you saw a glimpse of the real Regina underneath all the pink and glitter, last night.

An instructor calls out that the session is starting. For once this week you stop thinking about Regina.

You can already feel your heartbeat in your ears as you approach the climbing frame. You’re instructed on how to correctly fit your harnesses and told to line up and go over one at a time across the high ropes.

It was like an assault course in the air. First some wooden stepping stones, then walking across a tightrope with just a rope above to balance yourself, and then finally a zip line. You felt your stomach flip, there had to be a way out. You couldn’t have Regina see you having a full-blown panic attack.

Regina is just in front of you in the queue, she doesn’t turn to look at you even once. You’re slightly hurt but not surprised. It’s not like one evening of civility means she could be seen with you in public.

The plastics climb up and start to walk across. Gretchen and Karen walk in front, screaming and giggling the whole way. Regina saunters across, nothing phases her. As she climbs across the rope you can see the muscles under her pink crop top tensing, it makes you momentarily forget about what you have to do until the instructor calls out that it’s your turn next.

Okay, just breathe and whatever you do, don’t look down.

You climb up to the top platform. It’s just a walk across some stable wooden platforms. You can do this. You stare straight ahead, ignoring the thumping of your heart, your hands clammy against the ropes. As long as you don’t look down you’ll be fine.

By some miracle you make it across. The next obstacle is a walk across a tightrope. This one makes you cold sweat.

You start to shake more. Regina is already across the other side standing and waiting to go across the next obstacle. She still looks like a goddess, and you probably look like a sweaty mess. For the first time today she turns and looks at you, her expression is hard to work out, maybe pity? Probably amusement.

You put one foot tentatively on the rope and hold for dear life onto the top rope. You shuffle across in an ungraceful manner. Hopefully Regina has turned her back by now. This would definitely be blackmail material.

Every time the rope moves you feel like you’ll fall, any second you could faint, or throw up, or maybe have a heart attack.

You edge closer to the finishing platform, you can see the edge of it and make the mistake of looking down.

The ground becomes blurry and feels like it’s 3,000 feet away.

Your stomach lurches and your foot slips.

Desperation fills you and without thinking you desperately reach your hand out, hoping Regina will grab It, pull you back up and you won’t feel that dreaded falling sensation.

Instead she shoves you.

Hard.

You fall from the rope, your heart nearly stops and you can’t open your eyes. The harness catches you but you’ve swung sideways from the rope and the force of Regina’s push makes you come crashing back, your hip colliding with the wooden platform.

The pain is immediate, and searing.

An instructor lowers you down and a teacher demands that Regina comes down too to take you to first aid.

She does this begrudgingly, her little minions whining that it’s not fair that she has to pay the price when you ‘just slipped.’

You don’t look at her or speak to her on your way to first aid. With every step your hip explodes with pain. You try not to show how hard it is to walk. This wasn’t the same Regina you hung out with last night.

Never show your weakness to a predator. That was your first mistake.

“ I wouldn’t have had to do that if you didn’t try to touch me.” She spat, staring at the ground as you walked. Was she ashamed?

“Whatever Regina. I don’t care.” You sigh, wincing again as you step.

She huffs and rolls her eyes at you as you finally make it to first aid. She leaves you at the door.

The first aider confirms that she doesn’t think it’s fractured or broken. Just badly bruised. When she asks what happened you lie and say you slipped. She doesn’t buy it but she doesn’t push any further. She gives you some pain medicine and an ice pack and suggests you go and rest for a bit in your cabin.

You go back and lie in your bed on your back with the ice pack slowly melting away at your hip, making the sheets wet and cold.

Luckily Regina is out somewhere, she’s probably snuck off to one of the plastics cabins.

It’s not like you care anyway.

You decide not to get dinner today. The thought of limping all the way to the campfire sounds awful and you don’t want to give Regina the satisfaction of knowing she hurt you so you try and get some sleep.

Your phone buzzes and lights up on the nightstand. It’s Janis.

“Heeey Dude! How’s the school trip? Wait why are you in bed it’s not even late” the voice of your best friend rings out down the phone.

“Long story, I slipped climbing.” You don’t know why you lie to Janis. You don’t feel like talking about Regina.

You know that despite them being on civil terms now, Janis and Regina still held a grudge respectively. Secretly you knew Janis definitely still had a crush on her, not that she’d ever admit it. At first you didn’t understand why Janis would fall for someone so fake and shallow but now you’ve seen the other side to her. Or is it just a disguise for her to gain your trust? You trusted she’d catch you and instead she pushed you away.

“Are you even listening to me?” Janis breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Huh”

“I said, has Regina fallen in mud, or ruined her boots or had bugs in her hair yet?” You can hear the grin in her voice, and a slight hint of excitement from speaking about Regina.

“Uh, I don’t know… I haven’t really seen her.” You lie again. Why can’t you stop lying to your friend?

“Anyway Janis I have to go, I should probably go and get dinner now, the teachers will wonder where I am.” Another lie “Bye!” You add quickly and hang up.

You sigh and throw your phone back onto the nightstand. You close your eyes again and try and get some sleep.

The painkillers have kicked in and you finally drift off.

You’re in the middle of a forest in a clearing. For some reason you feel uneasy. The trees are all looming around you, as if they’re trying to warn you, leaning closer to whisper “Run” in their windy breath. From between the trees you see a bright pair of blue cat eyes. They’re fixed on you. Unblinking.

You try to get up to run but you can’t move, you’re fixed to the spot as a lion emerges from the trees, claws sharp and teeth bared just about to clamp down on your neck-

Something shakes you awake. Or rather, someone.

“Get up.” You hear Regina hiss.

“What, why?” You mumble back, rubbing your eyes. Her silhouette is blurry above you.

“Come with me.”

“Why the fuck should I.” Your response shocks both of you,she scowls and grabs your wrist to drag you up.

“Just come with me.”

“Fuck off, Regina.” You spit

She doesn’t say anything, just tightens her grip on your wrist and pulls you up.

There’s no use resisting. Stupidly you follow her. Why would you trust her after she pushed you, you’re walking yourself to your doom.

She leads you to a clearing in the trees. Just like your dream, everything in your body is telling you to run.

And then you see it.

A hot pink blanket is sprawled out on the floor and you recognise various containers of food you’d bought laid out on the blanket. There’s two fluffy white pillows either side of the blanket.

“Say something, dumbass!” She barks, she doesn’t meet your eyes and you notice a slight blush on her cheeks

“What’s happening.” You stutter. Surely not, why would Regina have gone to all this effort? Is she trying to apologise?

“I saw you weren’t at dinner and I didn’t want you to starve or something. I’m not sleeping in the same room as a corpse.” She quips, going to sit on one of the pillows. You follow and sit on the other, are you still dreaming?

You eat in silence for a while. Every now and then stealing glances at Regina. She’s actually eating some of the food, looking down at the blanket in thought. The sun is setting and the light manages to catch her in a way that makes her even more perfect. Her cheeks are slightly rosy and you notice she’s taken off most of her makeup. She looks softer, like her guard has dropped slightly.

“I’m sorry I pushed you.” She whispers and her eyes catch yours. She looks genuinely sorry.

Against better judgement you immediately forgive her. You can’t hold much resolve against her when she’s sitting at a picnic she made for you and the sun is reflecting off her skin like that.

“It’s okay, I’m fine anyway.” That’s half a lie, it still hurts quite badly. “Thanks for this. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted you to know I’m sorry, really, and…. Your food is better than the shit they serve here.” She fidgets nervously “It’s nice to eat without Gretch and Karen commenting on the fat content of it.”

That makes your stomach sink. You wonder how anyone could ever think that Regina was anything but beautiful.

“We could have dinner together tomorrow too, if you wanted” that definitely didn’t come out as confident as you wanted it to.

She doesn’t say anything but she smiles at you. Your heart skips.

After you finish eating you pack up Regina’s cute picnic and make your way back to the cabin. You resist the fleeting urge to hold her hand. You don’t want to get shoved again.

She goes to the bathroom to shower and you pull out your sketchbook. You draw the same forest clearing before, sketching in all the leaves, except this time the lion is lying on a blanket, eyes closed, peaceful.

You put the sketchbook back in your bag and get changed into pyjama shorts and a top before laying on top of the covers on the bed.

You’re drifting in and out of consciousness when Regina comes out of the bathroom, you hear her pad quietly towards your bed.

As if not to scare her off you stay perfectly still, eyes shut, and pretend to be asleep.

You feel her hand pull the leg of your shorts up at the side to reveal the darkening bruise at your hip.

Your heart nearly implodes when you feel her gentle lips press a soft kiss to your hip.

It’s over in a second, she goes back to her bed and pulls the covers over her head.

You let out a shaky breath and decided you would probably never be able to figure Regina George out, but at this current moment, you didn’t really mind.

#mean girls #wlw #mean girls 2024 #mean girls fanfic #regina george #regina george fanfic #regina george x reader #regina george x you #renee rapp #cabin fever

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spinzolliii · 2 months

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God, I love sickfics that cut between a Whumpee’s current illness, and illnesses they’ve had in the past. Before, being sick was traumatic and lonely. Maybe they were neglected or even ostracized for their illness. In the present day, they don’t know how to handle being loved.

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loud-sturniolos · 26 days

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Babysit

A Chris Sturniolo one-shot

Summary: Having to run an errand, and not being able to find a last minute babysitter you message your last resort; your boyfriend, Chris.

Warnings: Not much, just fluff, slight dad!Chris vibes?, reader still lives with parents, baby sister is 1 years old, very short bc I just want to write something😭

A/N: I’ve had so much baby fever recently😭 They’re js so cute hehe

Chris got out of the uber and headed up your driveway, unlocking the door with the spare key he has. He walks into your parents house, finding you, already dressed and ready, and your baby sister, Ayla, sat at the kitchen counter. You turned around and smiled, setting Ayla on your lap as you stood up and walked over to him.

“Hi, baby,” Chris said, kissing your forehead before taking Ayla from your arms and kissing the little girls forehead too, earning a soft giggle from her. “Hi, I really need to go run this errand, so I will see you later, okay?” You say quickly, pressing your lips to the boys cheek before grabbing your bag and leaving the house.

Now alone, Christopher decides to go sit on the sofa and play Fortnite on your xbox, he settles himself into the sofa and places Ayla on his lap, her back against his stomach. He grabs the controller and starts playing, but as he keeps getting distracted by the little girl on his lap who cant seem to stop giggling, so after the first round he switches off the xbox and just decides to stay on his phone with SpongeBob playing on the TV in the background.

As he scrolls through Instagram on his phone, he decides to snap a quick pic of Ayla on his lap and send it too you.

(ignore the tattoos on the hand💀)

Looking at your phone as you got back into your car, now finished with your errand and about to head home, you smile at the cute photo and save it before putting your phone down and starting the drive back home.

You parked your car in the driveway, then got out and locked it before heading into the house. As you walked towards the living room, the voices of SpongeBob and Squidward filled your ears from the TV, and just as you walked in to greet Chris, you found him and Ayla fast asleep. Ayla resting peacefully on his lap, his fingers still in the grasp of her little hand, Chris’s head is on the back of the sofa, lips parted in peaceful slumber.

Slowly making your way over and standing behind the sofa you looked at Chris’s upside down face, listening to his soft breaths and taking in every detail about him, before leaning down and pressing your lips to his in a quick, soft kiss to wake him up. His eyes slowly opened, looking confused for a second, before he smiled and leaned up to get another kiss.

“Good nap?” you teased, trying not to laugh at his sleepy expression as you walked around the sofa to pick up the still fast asleep Ayla from his lap. “Yeah,” Chris groaned out as he stretches his arms up above his head, “Really good nap actually.”

#loudsturniolos #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolos #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher owen sturniolo #Spotify #baby fever

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chuunai · 4 months

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baby daddy dazai ! who first feels a wave of panic when he sees the discarded positive pregnancy test in the bathroom trash can. you’re pregnant. with his baby. the thought of leaving you during the night briefly enters his mind, but it soon leaves after he remembers the promise to odasaku that he made. be on the side that protects people. well—that includes this baby, too.

baby daddy dazai ! who decides to bring it one night when you two are cuddling in your shared futon. he’s there to hold you as you cry and cling onto you, reassuring you that he wouldn’t leave and that’d he be there for you and the baby. later, when you’re calmed down, he insists on sleeping with his head on your stomach.

baby daddy dazai ! who’s there for you during your brutal first trimester. the constant morning sickness, fatigue, mood swings, etc. he lessens his suicide jokes and attempts, focusing on you.

baby daddy dazai ! who brags about your pregnancy at the ADA. instead of doing his work, he shows off your ultrasound photos—hanging them up on his desk so everyone can see. kunikida’s happy for you both, but he’s done hearing about baby this, baby that.

baby daddy dazai ! who marvels over your swelling belly, rubbing it hesitantly. he spent years taking lives, and now he’s made one with you. it terrifies and excites him. he’s glued to your baby bump—have fun trying to keep his hands off it.

baby daddy dazai ! who complains to your unborn child about work and how annoying chuuya is. as annoying as that redhead is, he’s deemed godfather of the baby. someone’s gotta pay for the expenses.

baby daddy dazai ! who refuses to let you do anything when you reach the end of your pregnancy, even learning how to cook your cravings so you don’t strain your body. you want to go pee for the tenth time today? he’s carefully leading you there. your waddling is funny, too, and so he can’t resist giggling. you shut him up with a swat to his head.

baby daddy dazai ! who can’t wait to hold your hand during labor. to see the product of your love and hold it in his arms. protect and love it, too. he hopes it’s a boy. odasaku’s name would suit his baby well.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts

#bungou gay dogs #bungou stray dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #fem reader #dazaibsd #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #pregnancy #baby fever #baby daddy #comfort fic #inbox open #osamu x reader

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totalswag · 10 months

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dinner and sunsets — DREW STARKEY

authors note first off, thank you all so much for the love on my last two fics. writing this took me a few days and i wrote over 2k words too. i hope y’all enjoy reading. feedback is always appreciated <3

summary drew has been gone filming his upcoming movie in Italy for a few months. you make the decision to fly out to surprise him with your three month old daughter.

warnings none just a bunch of cuteness of dad!drew with baby his baby girl.

Drew has been filming in Europe for quite some time now. When he first left it was extremely hard because you guys are usually together. Tears were falling from your faces dropping him off at the airport. In all seriousness, you couldn’t be more proud of him and all his accomplishments he’s done to get where he’s at now in career.

Leaving was hard for Drew because he was leaving you and your four month old daughter, Tatum, home while he’s thousands of miles away. You knew you would come visit him and see what Europe is like. So, that’s what you did. The plane ride was long but it was worth it the moment you made it to Italy.

For the most part Tatum did a good job before and during the flight. There were moments where she would fuss and cry but settled down once you calmed her down. In other words, flying with a baby isn’t easy.

Drew’s manager and you have been texting back and forth about the whole thing. When you got to Drew’s apartment he’s been living in, you were in complete awe when you walked into his bedroom where a picture of Tatum and you were placed on his night stand. His manager said that he would be coming back in an hour once they are done filming for the day.

Tatum laid on her back kicking her feet like all over the place and making a bunch of noise while you unpacked your clothes. Tatum was a spitting image of Drew especially in the eyes and especially the facial expressions she makes. She continues to grow by the day, you wish time didn’t fly by so fast.

“Are you excited to see daddy?” grabbing both her tiny feet, moving them up and down, making her giggle at your gesture.

An hour passes, Tatum’s sleeping, and you are on your computer looking up stuff. You look up from your computer to your phone, Drew should be here any minute, you thought. Taking your phone, placing it towards the door to get Drew’s reaction, and hitting record when you heard the front door open. Surprisingly Tatum didn’t wake up from his walking inside.

Footsteps slowly made their way towards the bedroom. Your heart is beating at a rapid pace as he gets closer to his room. Taking a seat by the edge of the bed, placing both hands on your lap. Drew’s on his phone typing when he enters the room, you playfully roll your eyes, clearing your throat to grab his attention.

He looks up from his phone quickly.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me” his face lit up once he saw his two beautiful girls on his bed waiting for him. He puts his phone in his pocket, opening his arms.

“Hi baby” you run into his arms, “i missed you so fucking much” you whispered softly.

“I miss you guys so much, you have no idea” he explains, placing both hands on your cheeks, and kissing you on the lips. Fireworks exploding in your stomach as your lips touch.

You let Drew pull away first. You guys just stare at each other, not saying a word. He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. You don’t know what you would do without him in your life.

Drew goes to open his mouth but is interrupted by Tatum yawning; you let out a chuckle when he shuts his mouth then grins, looking at Tatum who’s opening her eyes.

“My little angel is up from her nap, huh?” he coo’s with the biggest smile. You see a smile creep up Tatum's mouth from her dad’s words. She gets a little too excited and starts moving her body – she usually gets like this with Drew.

He picks her up, placing her on his hip, and kissing the top of her head. The bond they share is unbelievable. From the moment Drew held Tatum in his arms you knew they were meant for each other. Before you got pregnant all Drew would talk about was he wanted a girl for his first child and when he found out, he couldn’t stop crying.

He was so relieved to see you both. Every text, facetime, and phone call, he always mentioned how much he misses his girls and wishes you were here. Now he has you both, he feels complete and so do you.

“When did you guys get in?” he asks.

“About two hours ago. She slept for most of the time and I took a little nap too” you explain, taking the last set of clothing from your suitcase.

“How long are you staying?” He says without hesitation.

“A month” you said dragging the th at the end.

His jaw drops.

“This is the happiest day of my life.”

“I’m glad you got here safe though. I think we should stay in for the rest of the day and relax since my two beautiful girls had a very long flight to see daddy” Drew exclaims while making eye contact with Tatum, lightly tickling her with his right pointer finger. Little giggles left her mouth.

“Sounds like a good idea to me” you smile, admiring the two.

Two days go by, Italy is so beautiful. You don’t want to leave this place. Drew brought you and Tatum on set to watch him film a few scenes and meet the cast. Going to the museum was one of your favorite things to do as a family and especially looking around the markets with all the fresh fruits and vegetables then buying them afterwards.

Spending time as a family makes your heart full.

Drew wanted to take you out to this amazing restaurant he went to with a few cast members one of the first weeks he arrived. He wasn’t kidding when he said the pasta was to die for. The service was great, pasta tasted delicious, and the wine was unbelievable.

The sunset looked absolutely stunning from your perspective. With the music playing in the background and lights made the experience feel magical. You grabbed your phone from your purse, taking a couple pictures.

You told him what life’s been like back home – you’ve been busy with work, hanging out with friends, planting flowers in front of the house, and taking care of Tatum obviously.

Drew talked about filming and how it’s been going for the last few months. One of the things he said that stood out the most is how proud he is of himself for coming this far and never giving up. Actually tears started to build in your eyes.

“Baby, you saying that makes me so happy because you’ve gone through so much in your career. This job you have right now is huge for you and the fact you got the role is even a bigger accomplishment” you say with joy.

“Thank you baby, that means a lot to me”, taking a hold of your hand, gently squeezing it.

After Drew paid for dinner, he insisted you guys take a walk around for a bit and you agreed. The weather felt nice with the breeze.

Drew pushed the stroller with Tatum in her car seat playing with her toys— she started putting one of them in her mouth and talking to herself in her own baby language. It caught Drew and you off guard.

After dinner you guys decided to walk around the area and try to get Tatum to close her eyes. Since you are staying for a month, you want her to get used to the time change. You guys walked into a shop with a bunch of snacks; you couldn’t take your eyes off the varieties of different snacks which aren’t like the snacks in the states.

Picking out a few snacks that caught your eye and bringing it to the cashier. Drew recommended these chips he really likes.

“Should we walk around more or start making our way to the apartment” you suggested, putting the bag with the snacks under the stroller.

He thinks for a second, scrunching his eyebrows together, “let’s walk around.”

“I can’t believe you are staying for a month with me” Drew beamed, placing a kiss on your head then softly patting your lower back.

“I can’t believe it either. Flying with a three month old definitely is not easy but this will be an amazing month with my husband and our baby girl where we’ll make memories that will last for a lifetime” you say with honesty in your voice. You meant every word you said too.

Drew called his manager that you guys were ready to be picked up and where you guys were waiting. Tatum started to get fussy in her carseat– she was uncomfortable in the position she’s been in for thirty minutes.

When she sees Drew reaching in to unbuckle her she calms down instantly. She lets out a dramatic sigh making Drew and you laugh.

You bring your hand up to Tatum’s face, gently brushing your thumb across her cheek like you always do when admiring her cute face. As your thumb touches her cheek, she shyly turns her head into Drew’s chest.

You were about to say something about how cute they look but were interrupted by Drew's name being called from a group of girls across the street catching your guys attention right away. Since you arrived in Italy a few fans have asked for a picture with Drew or you.

Drew waves the girls over, they squeal when he acknowledges them. They introduced themselves the second they stood in front of you three. Tatum’s face went from happy to why is there a group of girls in front of me.

When the girls saw Tatum they all said aww and complimented her outfit you picked out for her tonight. Fans don’t always get to see Tatum out like this but when they do, you guys kindly ask them to not take video or pictures of her.

“Can we please get a picture please?” one of the young girls asked nervously.

“Of course we can, Y/N can you take her” you nod, taking her in your arms.

You held Tatum in your arms while Drew talked with his fans. They were so sweet and respectful the whole time. They started asking you questions about how the trips have been and what it’s like being a mom.

Ten minutes later, Drew’s manager pulls up behind the girls. He gives them one last hug before parting ways with them. You could tell by the look on their faces that they didn’t want to say goodbye, that made your heart break. Tatum was already strapped in her carseat when he walked over to put her in the middle seat.

The drive back to the apartment wasn’t bad. When you walked into the apartment you guys made your way towards the bedroom. Only thing on your mind was taking a shower. Drew stayed with Tatum while you freshened up then showered after you. Tatum was able to get her bath in like she usually does.

Drew gave her a bath while you did your skin care, brushed your teeth, and put lotion on. Giggles from Tatum filled the bathroom while you were in the middle of washing your face. You walked out of the bedroom to the washer to wash your towels then back to the party in the bathroom

You could hear Drew talking to Tatum as you got closer to the room. You stop your tracks when you enter the room, leaning against the wall, listening to Drew talking.

“You are the cutest baby on this earth” you can imagine the smile on his face as said those words. “You even have your moms beautiful smile too. You are lucky to call her your mommy. I’m so lucky to have you both in my life.”

Your hand lands on your mouth. Why does he have to be so sweet all the time?

His head turns when he hears you walk in. He smiles at you as you lean down, giving him a kiss on the lips. He pulls away but you grab his face kissing him again.

“I love you, you know that” whispering in his ear. “I know and I hope you know I love you more.”

When you put your attention on Tatum, she had the biggest smile on her face when she splashed everywhere; her little legs and arms moving fast. Drew couldn't help but laugh at his daughter enjoying her bath. She loves getting her hair washed, she does this face where she closes her eyes and puts both hands in a fist and does this look like she’s in heaven. She has a lot of hair too.

“Are you enjoying your bath? It looks like you are having a grand old time” Drew says in his baby voice, gently washing Tatums hair. She replies in her baby gibberish then brings her right hand to his wrist, gripping on it. She’s never done this before.

You both gasps, turning your heads making eye contact. The look on his face says it all. You scoot closer, laying your head on his shoulder.

Once you were all settled for bed, Drew and you made your way to the bed. You breastfed Tatum till she fell asleep then handed her to Drew and had her on his chest while burping her with you laying by his side.

Inside Drew felt complete with you here with him after being away for a few months. Having his baby girl on his chest and the love of his life lying next to him makes him smile in the moment.

Spending a month in Italy seems like it’s going to be filled with love and memories.

my taglist <3

@runningfrom2am @winterrrnight

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sweetchildcloud · 4 months

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||MINI ME|| written by me ☆~♡~◇

Plot: Gojo being an affectionate father as he meets his baby for the first time.

Tags-Breast feeding mention,lots of cuddles,fluff,fatherly love,heartwarming,cute overload.

“You’re cuter” Gojo teases, but he is pleased. He likes watching you nurse Hotaru. It’s a special moment, for the both of you and your child. “He’s adorable” Satoru continues, his voice dripping with affection “but his mother… hm, far more gorgeous" Satoru laughs softly and pulls the baby in for a tight squeeze. Then, he lifts his head and stares at him once more, holding him at arm's length. The baby’s eyes are wide and bright, like stars in the sky "You have my eyes, little one. You have my eyes...and that adorable chuckle" He adds, before grinning to himself. It feels good looking at his baby. Good and strange. The whole situation was a bit surreal, in a good way, but... "I think I'm starting to understand what being a dad means"

Hatoru yawned as he wobbled scooting near his father chest and laying his head on his shoulder.

Satoru grins as he feels the weight of his son’s head resting on his shoulder. He gently caress Hotaru’s head as the baby falls asleep, and Satoru’s hand comes down to rub soft circles on his son’s back.

Hatoru yawned and he whimpered softly as he couldn't sleep continuously sifting in his dad embrace.

Satoru looks down at his son, noticing the baby’s tired, watery eyes. Immediately, he feels guilt again, realizing that his son is still adjusting to his new surroundings and hasn’t gotten used to falling asleep by himself yet. With a gentle sigh, he pulls Hotaru close to himself again, his grip tightening around the baby as a way to offer more comfort. “Shh” Satoru whispers quietly as he rocks his son “It’s okay… I’m here. I’m here….”

But that didn't help much as Hotaru whimper continued, his tiny fists clutching to his chest as he whimpers, more maybe he needed his pacifier.

Satoru’s heart twists when he hears the cries continue. He couldn’t stand seeing his son like this, with his tiny fists clutching his cheeks and his big, blue eyes so watery. Without a second thought, he pulls out a pacifier from his pocket and pops it into Hotaru’s mouth. The baby chews on the pacifier with an adorable expression, sucking on it as he does. “Better?” Satoru smiles, letting out a breath of relief.

Satoru stares at his son for a long moment, his breath caught in his throat over how *tiny* the baby is. His tiny fists on Satoru’s chest, his chubby cheeks as they wobble with his yawns, a small smear of drool as he sucks on the pacifier—everything about the little one makes Satoru’s heart swell. The baby looks incredibly adorable right now, and Satoru can’t help but feel a little happy to see the little one so calm.

"Boop" Gojo said soflty as he booped softly Hatoru little bitty nose with the tip of his finger and the baby made a cooing noise curling up his nose.

You sighed looking at the two of them and how cute they were before you let a yawn of your own "Let's go to bed sweetie" you said tiredly at Gojo.

“In a few minutes” Satoru pouted whispering, his gaze still on his son. “Just…” The baby’s sleepy eyes are adorable, and he can’t help but feel affectionate seeing them in this state. “Just let me cherish this moment, please?”

"Oh my god you're so adorable, you're not having a baby fever now are you?" You asked smirking looking at him.

“Maybe a little...” Satoru smiles, not denying it. The entire situation with them becoming parents was a bit overwhelming, but... it was so worth it. He loves it here, with his son in his arms, smiling at him just as he is. “You’re not jealous are you? And “If you mean ‘is seeing my baby like this making me feel all kinds of feels’? Yes” he answers, feeling a bit sheepish “And if it’s not baby fever, then… I don’t even know what to call it. Just watching him sleep makes me smile for some reason”

He paused before adding

“Is that weird?” He asks, still admiring Hotaru’s sleeping form. “I just feel…” A strange feeling of warmth erupted throughout his body. Love, maybe? “I feel content”

"No,not at all,it just means that you love your son and I feel the same" you said caressing softly the baby cheek as he sleeps

The warm sensation spreads through Gojo’s chest as he stares down at his son. Hatoru is so small and innocent that he makes Gojo want to cover him in kisses and hugs. He never imagined being a father would make him feel like this. Love and affection, sure, but this… this is a whole new world of emotions that he’s never experienced before. “It’s a nice feeling” he murmurs. “A very nice feeling”

“We should get to bed now, right?” He asks, still watching his son’s sleeping face, then looking over to you. He doesn’t want to miss this moment, but he also doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself.

"You can bring the baby in our bed so that we can sleep together"

Satoru looks down at Hotaru at your suggestion and his heart flutters. Yes. He wants that. He wants that very, *very* much. The two of you could sleep in bed with the baby together. Hold him close as he sleeps. It would be the most content moment of his life. Satoru swallows, trying to keep himself from smiling like an idiot. “That’s a great idea”

Satoru nods and gets up, taking his son in his arms once more. The baby is *so* light. So delicate. So cute. He chuckles as he follows you up the stairs, and walks into the bedroom. Your bed is large enough for a king, and it doesn’t take you long to climb into bed and pull Hotaru with each of you at either side. “We’re a family” Satoru whispers, his voice nearly breaking. “We’re a family now”

"Are you crying?" You asked giggling softly at your husband antics.

Satoru gives you a sheepish smile. It’s true, he has tears in his eyes. Not tears of sadness, but tears of pure joy. “Am I crying?” he chuckles softly, wiping his eyes. “Maybe just a little. This—” he gestures to their family in bed “—it’s just so beautiful… so precious…” “We created this…” He continues. “Me and you, together, we created this perfect thing” Satoru smiles again, his voice cracking with emotion as he stares down at his son. “There’s nothing better in the world than this”

“You’re a sentimental idiot” you giggled and rolled your eyes amusedly, but you didn't object when Satoru sweeps you up in a warm embrace and pulls you close to hug you. You’re a family now. Hotaru is yours, and together, you are more than you’ve ever been.

Bonus:

Satoru laughs softly, pressing his face against you “I’m a sentimental idiot” He agrees, smiling against your cheek. “But my God, I don’t think there’s anything in the world that can make me so happy right now. You and our baby…” He trails off as he continues to embrace you contented and completely at ease as you both slowly drift off to sleep.

♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤

Me thinking about this:

☆Happy,happy,happy~☆

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napakmahal · 6 months

Text

Baby Fever

This may or may not be a call out towards myself cause I will swear up and down I don’t want kids then see a baby in public and be like “goo goo gaga”

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that working on slow days is beyond boring. What’s even worse is when the only people that come in on slow days are shitty customers.

“The manners of today’s working class have depleted in ways I cannot fathom!” Hiro came bursting into the back of the café restaurant with a look of disbelief on his face.

Without looking up from his phone, Tadashi answered “Wow those are some big words, little brother, I’m impressed.”

“Shut up!”

You laughed while sitting on the wooden countertop, arms hugging your boyfriend’s back. “What happened?”

Hiro plopped down on the stool in front of the sink and started to rant. “This woman comes in here and she bought a mocha latté and then complained about it being six dollars. Like I’m the one who makes the fricken prices! Surprise, surprise she didn’t have enough. So what did she do? SHE REACHED INTO THE TIP JAR AND GRABBED TWO DOLLARS! But then after I took her order and started making her drink, she followed me around the entire time watching me. She pointed at the simple syrup and was like ‘Can you add another pump?’ LIKE UNLESS YOU’RE GOING TO PAY THE EXTRA 25 CENTS NO I CANNOT! And when I finally gave it to her she said I took too long and that the place down the street makes them faster and they taste better. THEN GO THERE AND STOP WRINGING OUT MY PATIENCE!”

By the end of his story, you and Tadashi were losing your minds over how hard you were laughing. Granted, Hiro being upset wasn’t funny but his storytelling abilities were unmatched.

Customers could be very difficult and earlier that day someone had told Tadashi they wanted a manager because they were being pissy about not being able to get a refund on a drink they ordered and drank half of. If it were any other day, he would have just gone to get his Aunt. But Aunt Cass went out for a girl’s day with her friends since all of them happened to be in town and relatively free at the same time. As you get older, hanging out with friends is a privilege.

A couple of dings from the bell on the front counter rang signaling the arrival of a customer. Hiro’s fight of flight sense kicked in and he practically jumped off the floor.

“No, absolutely not.” He shook his head. “I’m not taking them, my workday is over.”

“What?” Your boyfriend looked at his little brother. “It’s been two hours!”

“Yes Tadashi, it has been two hours!” He hissed. “Two hours of my life I will never get back. These people are insane!”

Hiro took off and locked himself in the walk-in pantry. He then proceeded to slam his face into an unopened bag of flour and scream his heart out.

“Oh my gosh, he’s so dramatic.” Tadashi stared at the door of the pantry, listening to his little brother’s muffled cries.

The bell was still ringing outside, the customer was still waiting. You laughed into Tadashi’s back, taking in his smell. Tadashi’s a clean person and not only that, his natural body smell is just pleasant. Just about everything you own smells like him, and you love it.

“Do you want me to get it?” You mumbled against his cardigan.

Your boyfriends turned around to look at you. “What? Why would you do that?”

“Just to help out.” You shrugged.

“Hun, you don’t work here. You really don’t have to.”

You scoffed, “You don’t work here either. Technically.”

“But I live here, so I kinda have to.”

“Tadashi, I practically live here.”

He laughed at that. It was pretty true. The only times you ever really went home were to get things you didn’t have, do your laundry, or if you felt like they were getting sick of you. Plus you never really feel like that anymore because the last time you said you feared Aunt Cass wanted you out of her house she almost started crying. She was afraid she’d done something to make you feel unwelcomed. Besides, you’re her girl in a house full of boys and their bots.

“Are you sure? I can get it, or force Hiro to do it.”

“No, it’s not a big deal.”

He leaned over and pecked you on the lips. “Okay, thank you hunny. I appreciate you so much.”

You walked outside the curtain only to be met with a young couple and their baby. He was holding onto her and trying to rip away a claw clip from her baby grip.

“Yeah, mommy’s clip is pretty.” He said in a small voice. “But we can’t eat it though.”

“What is she doing?” The mom asked looking back at her partner and their baby.

“Trying to eat your clip. I’m telling you she’s going to get sick, last night it was the pen then-”

“Hi there!” You walked towards them smiling. “So sorry about the wait.”

The mom shook her head. “No, it’s fine. We were trying to calm her down anyway.”

“What can I get you guys?”

They went on to order one green apple Italian soda with redbull, an iced hazelnut coffee, and a small warm almond milk with a cake pop. The entire time you were making their drinks, you couldn’t help but notice the babbling of their baby. She was adorable, dressed in a pink sundress and flower-shaped sunglasses. Everything from the sound of the blender to the noise the can of Red Bull made when popped open made her giggle.

During that entire time, you couldn’t help but wonder: What if Tadashi and you had a baby? What would you name them? If it was a boy, then you could name them after him or Hiro. Naomi was a beautiful name for a girl. You could buy them little themed onesies and decorate their rooms. They would say ‘dada’ before ‘mama’ because it’s beyond simple to connect with Tadashi. And they could go to school and crush their science department and say it’s because their dad is a genius.

By the time you snapped back into reality, you’d already made all their drinks and made sure to cool down the small milk for the baby. When you placed everything on the dropoff, the little girl reached her hand down from where she was being held and poked the back of your wrist with her tiny finger.

“Hello there!” You smiled at her. “Aren’t you adorable?”

Your face only made her start to giggle and placed her hand on her chin and flicked it outwards. Thank you in sign language. In return, you placed your hand flat on your chin and pulled it down towards your chest to say ‘You’re welcome’.

“She’s beautiful.” You spoke to her parents. “What’s her name?”

“This is Nyla,” Her mom smiled at her baby. “She just turned ten months, so we’re almost there.”

You gently clapped your hands together, “Oh that’s amazing. Congratulations.”

“What about you?” Nyla’s dad asked.

Her mom joined in on the questioning. “Any little ones?”

You almost choked on your own saliva at their question. I guess to them it didn’t seem too extreme. They barely looked three years older than you.

“No, I don’t. I haven’t been with my current boyfriend long enough for that. And I don’t even know if he wants any.”

Nyla’s mom gave you a sympathetic face. “Well, if you end up wanting any I hope the process is smooth.”

You thanked them and signed “bye” to Nyla. Despite them being gone, the baby fever they’d given you without trying lingered all the way into the night.

——————————————————————————

While you were lying on your boyfriend’s bed scrolling on your phone through countless baby videos and falling down the rabbit hole of how skin-to-skin connection works and how to swaddle them correctly so they don’t scratch themselves when they sleep. As your back was turned you felt a dent in the bed as your boyfriend started kissing your back from your tailbone to your shoulder blades.

“What ya’ lookin’ at hun?” He plopped down next to you and started snaking his arms around your waist.

“Just scrolling,” You kept your answer vague out of fear of freaking him out. “Hey, did you know that if you rub a teething baby’s mouth with warm garlic it will make them feel better than cold cloths?”

Tadashi kissed the side of your jaw, the tingle of his minty toothpaste prickling your skin. “I did not, that’s pretty cool.”

“When you swaddle babies you’re supposed to get them little mittens because they have really sharp fingernails.” You added.

Tadashi’s face contorted with confusion. “Why all this baby talk? What are you watching?”

“Just a bunch of baby videos.”

“Why?”

You sighed and put the phone down to turn your body down and look him in the eyes. “Well, while I was helping those customers earlier. They had such a cute baby and we just talking about having kids and stuff and I think they gave me like- baby fever or something.”

To your surprise, he started to laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” You poked.

“I’m sorry,” He grabbed your wrists. “I didn’t mean to laugh, you just caught me off guard.”

Your heart flipped in your chest out of nervousness. Had you freaked him out? “Is that bad?”

“No, no it’s not.” He assured you. “So, you want a baby?”

You covered your face with your hands and groaned. “I mean, right now yeah but then I think about like the birth process and then I’m like ‘nuh unh.’”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you’d make a fantastic mom.” Tadashi smiled into your neck.

You leaned over and rammed your head into his stomach. “Can we have one?”

The feeling of Tadashi’s stomach fluctuating while he laughed pushed against your head. “Maybe later, hun.”

“So you do want kids?”

He grabbed you by the face and forced you to look back up at him. “Yeah, I’ve told you that before. I’ve said I want a daughter, and I want her to look like you, and I want to decorate her room and throw her birthdays, and go to all her school and sports events.”

“I want her to have your nose.” You admitted.

Tadashi started laughing and shaking his head. “No, no she will get bullied. Trust me I know.”

“No matter son or daughter, they should take Japanese lessons.” You added.

“Yeahhhh,” Tadashi breathed through his teeth. He knew enough Japanese to ask someone for very general directions. But the second a native speaker started talking a little too fast, all his comprehension skills started to deplete.

You could have kids in future years, when you had a shared place and both of you were done with school. Besides, it’s not like anything at all could break the two of you apart.

#baymax #big hero six #big hero 6 #tadashi hamada #hiro hamada #bh6 x reader #tadashi hamada x reader #hiro hamada x reader #disney #fanfic #napakmahal #baby fever

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pupkashi · 8 months

Text

gojo’s favorite hobby is being your personal nurse

a/n: hi friends ! this is incredibly self indulgent seeing as though i am currently sick and need comfort as i fight this tough battle (studying for exams) i have no idea if this good or not because my brain isn’t really working ,,, sorry if it sucks </3

wordcount: 2,036

masterlist

it started off with the itch in your nose, just the slightest sensation that you brushed off. the pollen count wasn’t too high anyway, the short walks between lectures should be fine.

you ignored the scratchy and sore feeling in your throat, maybe it was just because you had too much of a fun time at the football game? but you were not sick.

“sweetheart you look like death” satoru pouted, closing the apartment door behind him as he walked in. he easily slipped his uniform jacket off, holding it loosely in his hand, leaning over you and gently pressing his lips to your forehead.

“are you sick? why didn’t you tell me this morning before i left?” he frowned, tossing his jacket to the side and immediately b-lining for the kitchen.

“‘toru what are you doing? I’m fine!” you mumble, the scratchy feeling in your throat making it harder for you to argue back.

“what is it? your allergies? were any of your friends sick? they said the cold was going around again…” he’s mainly mumbling the last part to himself as he trails off.

you can only hear the light clatter of mugs and pots as you peer over the kitchen bar from your spot on the couch. your laptop was open, still untouched as you pulled the blanket closer to your body.

“what are you even doing? i can take care of myself” you sigh, already standing up, heading to the kitchen before satoru’s deep voice has you stopping in your tracks.

“sit down sweets” his voice is firm, leaving no room for argument as you settle yourself back into the couch. only moments later he’s walking over to you slowly, a mug in his hands.

“drink this while it’s still hot, i added some honey in so it tastes a bit less bitter” he smiles, setting it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit, i want that tea finished by the time I’m back, ‘kay?”

“where are you going?” you ask, eyes peeking from behind the hot mug, the hot liquid soothing your throat.

“gonna get us some pho” he smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he’s vanishing in front of your eyes, the slight gust of wind hitting you softly.

you let out a small sigh, sipping on the tea in front of you, thankful for the brief relief of pain it brought you. your eyes fell on your laptop, a pout on your lips as you realized it was already 6pm and you had yet to do a single thing on your to do list.

before you could even think of grabbing your laptop and doing some work satoru was unlocking the front door, bounding in with two bags of food, setting them on the table and heading over to you.

he didn’t hesitate in closing your laptop, stopping your protests as he sweeps you off your feet and places you softly in the dining chair.

“here take this medicine once you’ve finished all the food” satoru hums gently, sitting down next to you and handing you the gel capsules. “wouldve made you chicken noodle soup but all the chickens frozen” he smiled sheepishly.

“it’s okay angel boy” you hum, sipping on the hot broth, “this is great too” satoru can’t help but smile, glad that you hadn’t lost your appetite.

he’s carrying the dishes to the sink, making sure to wash them and put them to dry before you can even mutter a word argument. ‘you’re sick you should be resting not washing dishes’ you had reprimanded him, a soapy finger pointing to the bedroom, ‘now go get ready for bed.’ your own words biting you in the ass as he repeated them back to you months later.

it wasn’t long after you’d brushed your teeth and changed clothes that satoru joined you in bed, frowning at how badly you were shivering.

“c’mere sweets” he murmurs, already pulling you into his chest.

“what if-” satoru doesn’t let you finish, brushing your hair out of your face a bit before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“stop worrying your pretty little head about me, I’m not gonna get sick” he smiles, pulling you even closer to him. you relish in the radiating heat of his body, more grateful than ever that he had always ran much warmer than you did. “I’m the strongest remember?”

the words have you rolling your eyes at him, not having enough energy to argue back. you’re only mustering a light smack on his chest, fighting back a smile when satoru whines out a soft ‘ouch!’ before squeezing you a bit tighter.

the nighttime medicine kicks in quickly, and between your body aches and runny nose, there isn’t much protest on your end when giving in to the drowsiness.

“gnight angel boy” you mumble, already half asleep as the words tumble from your mouth. satoru peeks his eyes open a bit, taking in your flushed skin, parted lips and messy hair.

“goodnight sweetheart” he smiles, heart pounding against his rib cage. how do you manage to look like the epitome of love and perfection even when you’re sick?

the next morning satoru’s side of the bed is empty, and there’s a hot cup of tea sitting on the nightstand. it’s as you’re taking the first sip of the steaming liquid that satoru walks in with oatmeal and fruits for you.

“how’s my sweetheart doin’?” he asks, his lips pressing to your forehead, the gesture doubling as affection and assurance that your fever didn’t come back.

“‘m okay” you mumble, blowing a bit at the food infront of you to cool it down. “i have lab at 8 though i need to get ready” you sigh, muscles screaming at you to stop moving.

“you feeling better?” he asks, sitting at the foot of the bed, making sure you took your medicine and ate your fill.

“worse actually” you sigh, setting aside the now empty plate and swallowing the gel capsules along with the warm tea.

satoru frowns at your words, your skin still flushed and goosebumps trailing along your arms despite being swaddled in the fuzzy blanket. he’s holding out the thermometer infront of you, hoping for his initial guess to be wrong, but as he reads the thermometer his frown only deepens.

“you’re burning up” he sighs, already pulling his phone out and dialing shoko, walking out the bedroom before you can say anything. “yeah can you make a doctors note for y/n? they’ve got a fever and i don’t want them leaving the house for another couple days.”

you can hear the smile in his voice as he thanks his friend, walking in with a wide grin on his face as he takes the plates from your lap.

“shokos making you a doctors note so you don’t have to worry about working or class or anything until next week” he grins, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“i still have some homework i have to finish up tonight” you frown, falling back on the plush pillows behind you. satoru’s footsteps are quiet as he leaves the room, and you can vaguely hear the sound of the kitchen sink running as he washes the dishes.

you don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you wake up hours later, the sun shining through the still closed blinds and your just a tad bit sweaty, most likely from the fever your body was still fighting off.

your muscles are still aching as you throw the blanket off your body, suddenly feeling much too hot for the layers of clothes you have on.

you’re peeking your head out from the hallway, the tv playing softly and satoru has your laptop in his lap, fingers typing away as his eyes land on you after a minute.

“what are you doing?” you ask, slowly making your way towards him, fatigue hitting you the second you sit down.

“i wrote your paper already so you didn’t have to worry about it, you can check it over before you turn it in, also emailed your lab instructor so you can get a makeup assignment for todays stuff” he smiles, turning the screen to you.

“toru you didn’t have to” you pout, warmth blooming in your chest, this time not related to your illness. satoru is smiling at you, pressing his glossy lips to your nose, taking a second to smooth your hair down before shaking his head.

“it’s the least you deserve,” he replies, “don’t want you stressed while you’re sick, focus on getting healthy for me again.” the slight twinkle in his blue eyes is enough to make you cave, knowing there was no way to talk him out of this one.

your body wiggling it’s way under one of his arms is enough of an answer for him. he can feel how hot your skin feels against his, but he doesn’t mention it as you doze off against him, only waking you when his timer goes off.

“what’re you timing?” you ask, still slightly asleep as you watch him head to the kitchen.

“your soup is done! it’s time for you to take medicine again.”

your lover is attentive and doting if nothing else, serving you a generous bowl of his home made chicken noodle soup. he’s explaining the benefits of each vegetable as he plates the food, telling you how he made megumi some when he used to get sick and how the boy always seemed to get better soon after.

“it has everything to do with the secret ingredients and not with the medicine i was making him take” he grins, placing the bowl on the dining table and ushering you over.

you bring the first spoonful to your lips, fully expecting to have to lie through your teeth and tell your lover how amazing the soup was. but you didn’t have to lie, and the evident shock on your face was enough to boost satoru’s ego through the roof.

“oh wow” you mumble, bringing a second spoonful to your mouth, “this is actually really good.” your brows are slightly furrowed as you finish the soup, sniffling a bit as you set your spoon down.

“not bad huh?” there’s a giant grin on his glossy lips as he smiled at you, and even sick and feverish you’re rolling your eyes at him and crossing your arms over your chest.

“what’s the secret ingredient?” satoru is quick to light up at your question, pressing his lips to your cheek before replying.

“love!”

you can’t help the smile that plays on your lips, giggling a bit at his one word reply. “no wonder it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you reply, the words making his smile grow wider as he follows you back to bed.

satoru doesn’t say anything as you burrow yourself under the blankets again, instead he helps tuck you in, kissing your forehead the moment you’re finally comfortable.

it’s like that for the next few days.

breakfast in bed, satoru waking you to make sure you take your medicine every six hours. he’s taking your temperature avidly, holding you tightly when you’re sleeping, pressing feathery kisses to your flushed skin.

he’s cooking you home made meals and buying you anything you want, keeping an eye on you at all times when he’s home. he’s waving yaga off when he calls, telling him there’s a much more pressing issue at hand and leaving nanami in charge of his students until further notice.

“angel you know i can take care of myself right?” you mumble, your fingers are tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m not even that sick anymore actually.”

satoru furrows his brows at your words, shaking his head softly at you, “don’t be silly sweets, I’ll always take care of you.” he doesn’t bother giving you time to respond, instead he’s squeezing you a bit tighter, pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead before letting out a soft sigh.

“now get some rest, you need all the sleep you can get.”

“whatever you say dr. gojo” you tease, smiling as he grins down at you.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @orihimeii

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sickiehugs · 6 months

Text

Tough and hot-tempered characters becoming extremely protective of their sick partner

Getting angry at anyone who dares ask their Sickie a favor while they're supposed to be resting

#sickfic #whump #whumpblr #sickie #fever whump #sickfic prompts #sickfic tropes #sick fanfic #promptiehugs #sicknario

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somber-sapphic · 4 months

Text

Cooking With A Cold

〖500 Follower Prompt: “Oh sweetheart, you’re worse than I thought” + “Sorry, I can’t stop sneezing” + 🏥〗

〖Summary: You hurt yourself while trying to cook a romantic meal for your girlfriend.〗

〖Word Count: 1.5k〗

〖Pairing: Natasha x Sick Reader〗

〖A/N: Hello! So, some of you may know there was a bit of a "situation" last week which threw me off a bit and I decide to postpone posting this. I know, it's been months, but I really needed to recompose and regroup which changed my plan. Sorry, I know this is a bit long but I hope you enjoy!〗

☾Masterlists☽ ☾500 Masterlist☽

Natasha had just gotten home from a long mission and when she had come into the kitchen you’d screeched at her to get out, not wanting to ruin the surprise. She’d left laughing and was currently sitting on the couch in preparation for what she didn't expect to be an incredibly fancy dinner. She knew that you hated to cook and assumed you’d just thrown a few frozen things in the oven and mac and cheese or something on the stove.

Instead, you had taken it upon yourself to make her favorite dinner and a dessert to go with. Over the two weeks that she had been gone, you’d been watching cooking videos and practicing in your spare time. There was a lot of spare time. You had decided to make her a medium-rare steak with baked asparagus and sauteed mushrooms. Following that there was a cheesecake in the fridge that had come out much better than you’d expected.

When planning this fancy meal that you very much didn't know how to cook, you had been so excited. You were thrilled to get to spend real time with your girlfriend and you wanted her to tell you everything about the ocean and beach and blue skies. It hadn't been a particularly dangerous mission, and you were sure that she’d be happy to tell you all of the more fun details.

So of course, your body had decided to throw something at you. Maybe it was the long nights spent awake wishing you weren't alone in your bed, maybe it was the fact that one of the Avengers (Clint) seemed intent on spending time with you even though he was clearly sick (it was probably the second one), but the cause didn't matter because you were sick. Sick sick.

You didn't have a little sniffle that you could push through with a dose of cold medicine and a few tissues, you had a full-on everything hurts, whole body feels hot and cold, stuffy and runny nose, dizziness, chest cough that won't let up kind of cold. Or maybe the flu. You weren't sure, but that didn't particularly matter to you either. For now, all that mattered was you staying upright for long enough to finish this meal.

Between breaks of sitting on the floor and about one million tissues, you’d managed to get down to the last stretches. The steak was done, and ready to be cut. The mushrooms were sitting on the stove covered by a pot lid to keep them warm. All that was left was the asparagus sitting in the oven and the timer for those had just gone off.

You pulled yourself to your feet and stumbled slightly, the world shifting quickly around you as your center of gravity changed. It was all you could do not to grab the hot stovetop and stumble into the counter instead, hoping that you hadn't made too much noise. You may have felt awful, but you didn't need Natasha to know that.

With your brain on autopilot, you stuck your hands into the oven and grabbed the metal pan with a bare hand. You were so out of it and ready to be finished cooking dinner that you hadn't realized you had forgotten the oven mitt until you felt white-hot pain shoot through your hand.

You pulled back with a strangled gasp, catching the back of your hand on one of the oven racks as you did. Tears of pain clouded your vision momentarily and you clutched your hand to your chest, unsure what to do. The gasp led to a fit of coughing that left you doubled over and panicking. If you just kept standing there your dinner would burn, but you were pretty sure that your hand was useless. And the room was still spinning.

Now you’d have to get Natasha and she would be upset because not only had you ruined dinner, but she’d also need to take care of you. You stood there frozen, and to your utter horror, you began to cry. The frustration of it all was too much. All you’d wanted to do was make a nice hot dinner for your incredibly busy girlfriend and now you needed her help.

“Hey Nat?” You called out in a watery voice, congestion seeping into your worlds. You sniffled and brought your tightly clenched hand up to wipe your nose on your sleeve, doing your best not to disturb the burn. A tiny part of your brain was telling you that you should probably be running it under cool water or at least stick it in the fridge, but it hadn't quite caught up to the part that was shutting down the pain.

Natasha, bounced into the room, her smile lighting up her eyes falling as she saw the twisted expression on your face and the protective way you were holding your hand. You could feel your lower lip quivering and your nose might have been running again but you weren't sure, you were just humiliated. To be safe, you swiped your hand against your fist and sniffled.

“Oh dorogory, what happened?” She asked, rushing over to wrap her arms around you. You laid your head against her shoulder and let out a whimper, wishing that you didn't have to admit to your failure out loud. This was all so humiliating.

She pulled back for a moment and cupped your cheek, lips pursed, and eyebrows furrowed. She glanced back at the half-open oven, then at your hand, then back into your eyes and you watched her face go from pure terror for your safety to understanding concern.

“Show me please?” Nat murmured, not wanting to force your hand open and risk hurting you more. You started to nod, but quickly wrenched away to sneeze into your elbow. One sneeze turned into four which turned into a bout of raspy coughing which made you glad you’d managed to turn in time. You didn't want to get her sick too.

You extended your hand at the end of the fit, revealing the blistering burn across your palm.

“Oh, Y/n, I could tell you were sick, but sweetheart, you’re worse than I thought!” She exclaimed, studying your burn intensely as she flicked her eyes up to your mess of a face. You wrinkled your nose and sniffled again, blinking rapidly at her. Black dots had appeared in the corners of your vision in these last few seconds, and you were beginning to wonder how much longer you’d be able to stand up.

“Shit, okay. Let's get you sitting.” You didn't have to say a word, Natasha was right there wrapping her arm around your waist and leading you to the living room. She even managed to turn the oven off as she practically carried you out and set you down on the sofa.

You leaned against the arm of the couch and rested your head on the cushion, another low rumbling cough echoing through your chest. It hurt to breathe, and you could hear a slight wheeze that might be more audible to those with less clogged ears.

“Okay. This hand really doesn't look great baby and I don't like the sound of your breathing. You’re going to hate this, but there’s an Urgent Care a few minutes away and I think we need to go. They might be able to get you something for the pain and something to open up those lungs, okay?” She didn't bother to sugarcoat (much) and her tone made it clear that she wasn't asking. Whether you wanted to or not, you had earned yourself a trip to Urgent Care.

Instead of answering you sneezed again, barely able to direct the sneezes to your lap rather than in her direction. You knew it was gross, but you couldn't seem to make your limbs cooperate the way you wanted them to. Lifting a pinky felt like lifting a thousand tons.

“M’sorry. I can’t stop sneezing.” You mumbled, hoping those words were enough to convey just how sorry you were, not just for the sneezing but for everything. Natasha kissed the top of your head and pressed a tissue to your nose, guiding your uninjured hand to hold it there.

“No apologies my love, just sit tight. I’ll get your shoes and your favorite blanket then we’ll head out, okay?” She soothed, running your fingers through your hair as she talked.

Her voice was the sound of summer rain on a warm night, slow rolling waves on a white sand beach, and birds chirping in a lush green forest. It was every comforting thing anyone could think of plus ten more. She was all that. She never failed to make you feel safe, loved, accepted, and, most importantly, worthy of feeling all of those good things.

You nodded wearily and let yourself melt against the couch as she moved around you, turning off lights and gathering whatever she thought that you would need. You were dreading whatever might happen at Urgent Care, but if she was there you knew that it would be okay. She’d make sure that it was all okay. And when you felt better, you’d make her that damn dinner.

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ludwig-van-gaythoven · 12 days

Text

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader) Part 4

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

Implied ED, Claustrophobia

Parts:

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3// Part 4

You can feel Regina’s lips on your skin all morning. The aching pain in your hip is now replaced by a warm longing. It’s a pretty good metaphor for Regina herself. She can bruise you so easily and then make it all better.

She kissed you.

Why did she kiss you?

Was it because she felt so guilty about hurting you and couldn’t find the words to tell you? That had to be it. The other option briefly crosses your mind but you quickly dismiss it. This is Regina George. Less than 2 days ago she didn’t know you existed. She’s the Queen of the school, why would she want to be anything to someone like you? The thought is disheartening but it's much better than falling victim to a disappointing fantasy.

Regina is already gone, as usual. At least it gives you some time in the morning to sort your thoughts into nice neat boxes and get yourself ready without the distraction.

You know that today's activity is caving. Working your way through a man made cave system sounds much better for you, at least your feet are firmly on the ground. You decide on a pair of jeans, another band tee (Is that really all you packed?) and throw a hoodie on top. The caves might be cold and it’ll stop you scraping up your elbows while you navigate tight crawl spaces.

You make your way to the Campfire pit to be shown today's activity. The instructor tells you all to find groups or pairs. You don’t even bother glancing in Regina’s direction, she’ll be with Gretchen and Karen. You don’t mind going through it alone. It’s better than being paired up with a stranger. It would be much more fun with Janis and Damien though.

You feel a slight not in your stomach at the thought of Janis. She’d tried to call again this morning but you didn’t have the heart to answer in case more lies came tumbling out of your mouth, so instead you just sent back a quick text letting her know you’d call this evening and put your phone on silent.

You’re led to a door in the side of what looks like an oddly shaped hill which contains an intricate man-made cave system. Some of the group drop out saying they’re claustrophobic and don’t want to go through. It’s understandable, you wish you’d been given that option on the high ropes.

The instructor lets each group go through every 10 minutes to allow the first group to be a decent way through and avoid traffic. You end up behind the plastics in the queue again. It’s not exactly accidental. Hopefully Regina doesn’t notice this.

They go through first, you try not to make it too obvious where your gaze lands as Regina gets on her knees to crawl through the cave entrance. She’s wearing a pair of tight, black leather trousers and a pink tank top. It frames her body perfectly and you understand why most of the boys at school stare openly when she walks by. How are you only just noticing how hot she is now?

10 minutes later you’re instructed to go through. You crawl, squeeze and climb through the narrow passages of the cave. It’s pitch black, you have to use the head torch on your helmet to navigate.

It’s quite fun, you like the challenge. The further you get into the cave system, the harder some of the tunnels get. Some have passages you have to squeeze through sideways. Some you have to be on your stomach, sliding under. Every so often there are larger chambers you can have a break in and stand up fully. You slip through a narrow tunnel and into a larger chamber and your headlight catches a pair of eyes. You have to physically put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself screaming when you see a human figure cowering in the corner of the cave. You realize it’s Regina and she looks terrified. Her makeup has run slightly as if she’d been crying.

“Hey, are you okay?” You try softly, but Regina is shaking too much to respond. You crouch down to her level and try and meet her gaze.

“Where are Gretchen and Karen?” You ask. From what you can tell, they’re nowhere in sight and you can’t hear their chipper voices up ahead.

“They went on ahead.” She answers, her voice barely a whisper.

She glances over at the next tunnel, you can tell because her head torch illuminates the passage. It’s tight. Possibly the hardest one to get through so far. You move to look through and see another chamber with specks of light. This must be the final challenge.

“I’m pretty sure this is the final tunnel. I can see the light on the other side.” There’s no response from the blonde, she must be really scared.

Why did Karen and Gretchen just leave her like this? You know you wouldn’t have. Did Regina ask them to go ahead so they didn’t see she was this afraid? She doesn’t hide her fear in front of you, she eats with you and she laughs and plays geeky games with you. You guess she only agreed to go through to protect her reputation, it seems more than its worth keeping up her act.

“I can go first, then you follow and I’ll pull you through so you’re out quicker.” you say, standing to walk over to the tunnel and offering her your hand.

“Please don’t! you’re going to leave me here.” She cries, her lip is trembling. You wish you could comfort her better but you’re not sure what she’ll allow and you don’t want to push your luck.

“Regina, I promise I won’t leave you. I’ll crawl through and pull you out the other side. You just have to follow after me, I won’t let anything happen.”

“....You promise?” She whispers.

You take one of her hands

“I promise”

Her hand is so soft, just as you’d expect. Just how you’d expect the rest of her to feel. You squeeze her hand in encouragement before you bend down to crawl through the tunnel. Once you reach the last chamber you see there’s an exit door. You sigh in relief.

“Come through now, I’m at the other end, there’s a door here!” you shout, hoping she can hear you from the other side.

You hear shuffling from the end of the tunnel and bend down, ready to pull her through. As soon as she’s in arms reach you swiftly pull her out and she lets out a shaky breath. She quickly puts her arms around your neck in a gentle hug.

“Thank you”

Her breath tickles your neck and you’re overwhelmed by everything about her. You don’t move to reciprocate the hug, you’re still understandably wary after what happened and you don’t want to do anything that’d make her let go any faster.

And then she’s gone. When you leave the final chamber you see her back with Gretchen and Karen, subtly wiping her eyes to make sure nobody sees her smudged makeup. It’s impressive how quickly she can recover and put her mean girl act back on. You wonder how long she’d had to wear that mask.

You head back to the campfire pit for dinner, but you don’t bother going to eat anything. Regina had said she wanted dinner with you again. You couldn’t shake the thought that it felt like a date, but you couldn’t let yourself think like that. Regina had Boyfriends, and had already bullied Janis for her sexuality. You had to be more careful.

You wait for about 30 minutes after dinner at the campfire pit has ended. Regina doesn't show up. That serves you right for thinking Regina even thought of you as a friend, let alone thinking of your secret dinners as a date. You’re just there for her convenience.

You feel a squeezing sensation in your chest. Why did you let it bother you this much? You decide you need a distraction so go to the river close by the camp and ask one of the instructors if you can borrow a canoe. You’e allowed but you have to sign the boat out and make sure it’s returned within 3 hours. That’s fine, you want as much time away from the cabin as you can. Away from Regina’s stuff, away from her sweet vanilla scent, away from her giggle that still felt like it was trapped between the walls, away from Regina.

You take the Canoe to the edge of the river and lower it in, you hop down into the small boat and pick up the oar ready to set sail.

“Hey, what the fuck?” you hear a familiar voice yell.

All of your resolve to forget about her disappears when you see her at the bank, above your boat with her arms folded and one eyebrow raised. It’s intimidating.

“I saw you walk off earlier. What happened to dinner?” She scoffs “ Nobody stands me up, where are you going?”

“I didn’t think you were coming, I waited for half an hour.” you respond, you wish you could sound as confident as Regina but it just comes out as guilty, like a scorned puppy.

She drops down into the boat and sits facing you. Her eyes are challenging.

“I’m coming with you. I’m not allowed to go back to Karen and Gretchen’s cabins anyway.” That stings a little. So she’s not just spending time with you because she wants to.

“And I guess you’re not bad company.” She adds, rolling her eyes.

That makes your heart flutter and you hand her an oar and push off from the bank. You’re not sure where you’re going and Regina doesn’t really help row much. Luckily the flow of the river helps pull you downstream.

You’re not sure what possesses you but for a moment you forget who you’re in a boat with and dip your oar into the water, you pull it out fast and splash the blonde who is now looking at you with an incredulous expression.

“What the FUCK!” She screams as the cold water hits her.

You can’t help but laugh. It wasn’t a lot of water but you can see some droplets running down her cheeks. She growls in frustration and dips her hand in the river to splash you back.

You shriek at the sensation of sudden cold, but you’re still laughing. You see her lips curl in a smile too. You’re not sure if she’s laughing too or just proud she managed to get you back.

Unfortunately your oar can create a much bigger splash than her hand and this time you hit her with quite a lot of cold water to her chest, narrowly missing her face.

The look she gives you makes your knees weak and you regret the choice immediately.

Shit. You might have taken it too far.

She lunges for you, grappling for the oar. You lean left, trying to stretch the oar right out of her reach. Her body is sliding against yours, you can feel the cold patch where the water soaked into her top. Her face is millimeters from yours and you glance down at her lips. If you just moved forward a tiny bit your lips would meet, she probably tastes like vanilla too. She leans on the edge of the boat, inching forwards. Everything feels like it's moving in slow motion.

The weight of both of you on one side is just slightly too much and the canoe flips, dunking you both underwater. It’s freezing and makes you gasp when you breach the surface in a state of absolute shock. Regina splashes her way to the surface beside you, she’s gasping and her eyes are wide, black mascara dripping down her face.

A giggle erupts from your lips and it's not long before it's a full blown laughing fit. Regina giggles too, its a loose and carefree sound, it might be your favorite.

You swim over to her and flick some water at her, she squeals and throws some back your way. No use going easy now, you’re both soaked.

You manage to flip the canoe back over with some effort and both climb back in. You have no change of clothes and you’re both so cold your lips are turning blue so you decide to turn back.

“I’m so sorry I left you earlier. I didn’t think you were coming.” You chatter between shivers.

“I even stole these sandwiches from dinner for us, but I don't think we can eat them now.” She shudders back, pulling out two dripping wet sandwiches from her pocket. This makes you both burst into another giggling fit.

She shifts over to sit next to you and rests her head on your shoulder. Even though you’re soaked you feel your whole body heat up, especially your cheeks from the interaction. You rest your head on top of hers, surprised when she doesn’t pull away.

You make it back to the bank without going for another unexpected swim and tell Regina to go back to the cabin while you return the boating equipment. There’s no use in both of you staying freezing.

She’s already showered by the time you’re back and sitting on the edge of her bed. She gives you a shy smile and you dip into the bathroom to warm up. The water gives new life to your icy skin, as it washes down your face you can’t help but remember Regina’s soft lips just centimeters from yours. What would have happened if the boat hadn’t tipped? Probably nothing right? You’re just overthinking it.

As you start putting your pajamas on you notice your phone buzzing again. It's Janis. It’s reasonably late enough to pretend you're asleep so you swipe the screen to decline the call and put your phone in your pocket.

When you go back into the bedroom, Regina is under the covers, scrolling her phone but she sits up as soon as you come in.

“Hey, uh I wanted to say thanks for today.. you know, helping me, and I had fun.” She thinks for a moment. “Having fun with you is easy.” she adds with a small, sleepy smile.

“If I check my schedule I’m sure I can fit you in tomorrow evening.” You laugh, pretending to think over exaggeratedly.

She rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Goodnight Loser.” She yawns.

“Night Regina” You reply

Just as you’re about to lay down you hear a muffled voice from your pocket.

“What the fuck, are you talking to Regina?”

Shit.

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