#I was sick for a week and suddenly I'm so very behind now

[asteraceaye]

I am so stressed

[chuluoyi]

first ultrasound with gojo (love entries) headcanons?❤️

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 12:55 P.M 」

*sigh* why am i so weak to domestic requests... this is just a little thing i wrote in one sitting while stalling my nanami fic (and after coming back from the company retreat!) sobs, i'm going back to it i promise!! :')) this loosely takes place after daddy-to-be <3

a part of gojo's love entries

“now let us see…”

you were lying on the examination table as the ultrasound gel made contact with your still flat abdomen. the sheer coldness and the way the probe pressed hard on your skin made you wince a bit, until that discomfort was eased by a comforting squeeze of your hand, prompting you to turn your head towards the source.

your husband, gojo satoru, offered you a smile so warm it made everything else fade into the background. beyond his sunglasses was the way he always fondly looked at you, as if he was silently assuring you that he would be by your side every step of this journey.

you couldn't help but smile back at him.

“ah, here’s the baby,” your doctor gestured at the monochrome screen with a grin. “around five weeks now. it’s the size of a seed.”

a seed? your gaze fixed on the screen with a sense of wonder. honestly you couldn’t really pinpoint where your baby was, until you saw one dot that the doctor zoomed in.

and there it was—the tiny beginning of life. the product of you and your husband’s love, growing steadily inside you.

suddenly it felt so real that you were carrying a new life. your heart overflowed with warmth, swelling with emotion, and you struggled to hold back tears as your gaze shifted between the screen and satoru, who offered you a comforting pat on the head.

“hush,” he whispered softly, seemingly moved too after looking at the living testament of his baby on the screen. “don’t cry now, hmm?”

after seeing the sonogram and had it printed, both of you sat before the doctor as she instructed you to take things easy from now on, and through it all, satoru held your hand firmly in his, attentively listening to everything the doctor mentioned and even proactively asking questions in return.

“doc, she gets dizzy and nauseous easily, can you prescribe her something to make it bearable?”

“i can certainly prescribe some anti-sickness medication, but i highly recommend you to have plenty of rests and eat healthy food too to reduce morning sickness—”

“hmm, and can you recommend anything to improve sleep? she can have trouble sleeping too…”

honestly it touched you to see satoru picked up on these little things about you despite being away so often. only now did you realize that he had always been watching over you, without fail.

back at home, he sat you down on your bed, back to being a carefree clown who would draw laughs out of you.

“now, little mom,” he began, his lips already turning up into a grin as he took your hands in his, kneeling before you. “you need to listen to me very closely, okay?”

you snorted. “don't address me like that!”

“uh-oh, no squirming,” satoru warned playfully, pinching your cheeks, and you swatted his hand, holding back giggles.

oh my. just what a blissfully happy couple you were.

“first thing first, now you are to have lots of breaks and rest,” he declared, amusement melted a bit from his tone. “the doctor said so. it'll help with your nausea too. if you feel the slightest bit unwell, you have to go back and rest.”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, yeah...”

“and no staying up late too,” he added, fixing his clear eyes on yours. “especially not for waiting for me to be home.”

that got you to clamp up. so he noticed it too, the way you would always wait for him, even at the cost of not sleeping at all. satoru never really said anything all this time, but now you knew, he was indeed worried.

once again, your chest burst with love and warmth. but still...

“can you promise me that?” satoru asked you gently, his smile still in place, but you knew the underlying command behind those words. “i'm coming back. always. i have everything i want here, with you. there's no way i'm not coming back.”

you hung onto his every word, and much like spellbound, you let go of everything and nodded.

“and now baby...”

he then shifted his focus to your tummy, gently brushing his fingers across it, and the gesture stirred something inside you, making you throb with emotion.

“you only have one job. grow big and healthy, and you can even bother mama sometimes! just don't make her too sick or i'll worry...”

somehow your vision blurred with tears, hearing how unusually earnest he was. “satoru, you're so silly.”

but as always, he would pick this moment to flip the switch, reverting back to his usual teasing.

“hmm, what's that? you're getting soft now, aren't you, mommy~?”

“...why do you have to sound like that? you're making it lewd on purpose!”

in this little world of love of yours, it was just you and him, along with the tales of your life together. you had weathered various moments side by side, and now, as you were embarking on another significant chapter with him, you were certain that everything would be alright.

satoru pulled you to the bed and smothered your head with kisses, trapping you between his strong arms. “hmm, comfy now?”

“mmm, yeah. keep cuddling me...”

and from his side, he was sure, that right now, everything had never been and felt so right than ever before—with the love of his life and future in his arms.

[weasleyreidstyles]

on a night like tonight

wrote this for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge using the dialogue prompt!! just a fluffy (debatable) one shot for my favourite slytherin boy🫠🫠🫠

prompt 2: "are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?"

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin reader (although its not that important to the one shot, honestly)

warning(s): slightly suggestive (towards the end), alcohol consumption

~∞~ i love writing for mattheo😫 idk how i feel about this one but i enjoyed writing either way lol. and yes i titled this after a niall song (im still not over the fact that i saw him in the flesh like a whole week ago!??!?!) also happy international women's day to all of you sexy, beautiful women xxxx

The Slytherin common room was ripe with activity. The Quidditch team had beaten Gryffindor by an utter landslide (250-110), so it was only appropriate for them to throw a huge party to celebrate. The team were in the middle of the room, surrounded by their most loyal band of lovestruck followers, as they drowned in all sorts of alcoholic beverages.

Spheres of magical light littered the high ceiling, glittering like stars and creating an eerily green glow as they reflected off of the murky waters of the Black Lake. The seating areas had been cleared, and in place was a makeshift dancefloor of sorts, filled to the brim with students dancing, singing and laughing to whatever music was playing on a stereo that Blaise had brought in from his Ravenclaw friends.

You were stood against a wall beside Pansy, who was busy glaring at the girl who had draped herself against Theo's arm as he laughed heartily at something Enzo had said. Your best friend was seething with jealousy, but she was far too stubborn to do anything about her feelings for your Italian friend.

The two of them had been dancing around their feelings for months; it was downright infuriating.

"I don't understand why you won't do something about it, Pans!" You say to her loudly, so that your voice could be heard over the earshattering bass music. "I'm getting sick of the back and forth between the two of you!"

Pansy finally takes her eyes off of the floppy haired brunette, who is now whispering in the ear of the girl, with a suggestive smirk on his face. "I'd say the same for you." She scoffs and you turn to her with furrowed brows.

"Oh don't act dumb." Pansy says with a laugh as she turns towards you fully, the drink in her hand sloshing over the rim of the cup as she does. "I see the way you look at Matt. You're very obvious. Both of you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You say reluctantly, taking a lengthy sip of your firewhiskey to avoid her knowing look.

Had your affections for your friend really been so blatant?

And did he really return them?

You turn towards the middle of the room and the liquid in your cup is suddenly drained to empty as you watch Mattheo dance closely behind a pretty Hufflepuff girl.

You and Pansy return to your mutual solitude, letting your friends revel in their win against their greatest rival, while simultaneously becoming more and more drunk, the more you watch as Theo and Mattheo obliviously break your hearts some more.

~∞~

It's much later into the night, and the party has not died down. In fact, it only seems to have gotten busier as more and more people from the other houses joined in on the debauchery.

You are so drunk. Practically stumbling along behind Pansy as she drags you to and from the dance floor to get more drinks. The two of you are dancing on each other, her hips grinding against your's to the beat of the music as you both giggle tipsily. You're unaware of your surroundings and have surely pissed off many other partiers with your drunken moves. But it doesn't bother either of you, content to enjoy each other's company, until there is a presence behind you that has Pansy smirking cheekily at you.

You narrow your eyes at her, vision hazy as you feel hands cradle your waist, almost possessively. Looking up, you come face to face with the underside of Mattheo's sharp jaw as he says something to Pansy that you don't comprehend. Whatever he says has her disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to his mercy.

"Hello, Princess." He mumbles lowly, mouth brushing against the soft shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of your spine.

"Matty! Hi." You say, voice slightly slurred and you grimace at how drunk you sound. He only smirks before he's gently spinning you to face him.

"Haven't seen you since the start of the match. 'S been ages." He replies, voice raspy from how much he'd shouted and cheered during and after the match.

"It's not been that long." You say with a teasing smile as you take in his appearance. In place of the emerald quidditch robes he'd been sporting that afternoon, he's wearing a dark, black t-shirt which stretches tightly across his torso, emphasising his Beater physique and a pair of dark trousers drapes over strong legs. Your observation is slow and purposeful and the smirk on his face widens even further as you admire him more openly then you ever have before.

He's chuckling to himself and then says something that you can barely hear over the loud music that reverberates through the room. But the cadence of his voice and the way they almost seem to have been hissed out in a way you do not understand, makes you tilt your head to the side as he smiles.

"What did you just say?" You ask him, or rather shout so that he can hear you. He copies you with a tilt of his head as he looks down at you with his captivating onyx eyes.

He repeats it again, his hands tightening against your waist when you stumble slightly as someone jostles you in an attempt to get past, smirking when your face scrunches in confusion.

"Are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?" You ask, your hands coming to rest against his firm chest when you were pushed into him.

"Gods, Princess. How much have you had to drink?" He asks with gleaming eyes. It's the mischief in them that has you opening your mouth in feined outrage.

"You were speaking parceltongue!" You accuse and he lets out a laugh as you lightly whack his chest. "What did you say!?"

"Now why would I tell you that?" He replies, his face leaning closer to your's. You can smell the alcohol on his hot breath, mingling with your own and you can feel every breath he takes as it fans across your face.

"Because I'm your best friend?" You say with a smirk as you unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, leaning on your tip toes slightly so that you can be at eye level with him. The move has your hips brushing against his. You swear his eyes darken as you do.

"Theo's my best friend." He says in a tone of faux obviousness, mischief laced in his rough voice.

"But I'm your favourite, right? If you admit it, I promise that Teddy will never know. It can be our little secret, Matty." You tease and he's laughing again, before he says something else in that strange, reptilian voice, eyes flicking from you eyes to your lips.

You've always been my favourite, darling.

The ways his eyes sparkle, despite the harshness of the sounds against his tongue have you acting upon instinct as you surge forward and press your lips to his. It's as magical as you've always imagined, despite it being tainted by your twin inebriation. But you'll take what you can get.

Because Mattheo Riddle is finally kissing you and you reckon you could fall into a abyss of happiness as his pillowly lips caress your's with loving grace.

~∞~

The next morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dorm room and Enzo is smirking at you with glee. A tanned, muscular arm is draped across your middle and you're using the other as a makeshift pillow. Your face warms as you recognise the large, veiny hand that stretches across your stomach.

"Fun night?" Your friend asks with a snicker and you flip him off in response. He leaves the room after he's done teasing you, his loud laughter echoing in the corridor. You move to stand but an arm tightens around the skin of your waist.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Mattheo mumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

"Well good morning, sunshine." You reply, a smile spreading across your face as you turn to face him, to find that he is already staring at you, with adoration in his onyx eyes.

"Am I still dreaming, or are you really in my bed right now?" He asks as you trace a finger lightly over his naked chest.

"Oh it's very real. And I'm sure Enzo has already told the others what he just discovered." You reply with a giddy laugh.

"About bloody time, don't you think?" Mattheo's question is muffled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzles his face there. You smile in response, giggling as pieces of his curly hair brush against your soft skin.

"I'd still like to know what you said last night." You say but he doesn't give you the answer. Instead, he rolls the two of you so that you lie beneath his toned body, strong arms caging you in.

"That's my little secret, Princess." He mumbles as he presses languid kisses down your neck and chest, travelling lower until your rendered a moaning mess beneath him.

[backinmyphase]

Not your letter

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru wouldn't call himself a very anxious man. But now as he hears cries every night, he can't help but worry- about his darling wife.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3300 words

Series masterlist

Contains: arranged marriage, generational trauma, jujutsu clans and higher ups

I'm sooo tired, but I hope you enjoy! I'm really happy you all seem so sincerely to enjoy it. Like always your comments make my day <333

Gojo Satoru liked spending money far too much.

After the last few days, this became clear very quickly. Yes, he was rich. But the way things were going this week, probably not for long.

He probably wouldn't even read every book that was on the bedside table.

Every morning he was awake before you and explored the town the two of you visited. When you were awake he took you out of the little charming hotel and showed you what he discovered.

You wouldn't see any problem in it if he didn't always had his credit card ready, the moment you looked at something.

And the two of you didn't need that many souvenirs either. But at the same time, it was hard for you to tell him not to use his money.

And now, too. As you walked through the small village. You knew what was coming when you passed a small café.

His eyes grew wide behind his sunglasses and a smile stole itself onto his face.

"Would you fancy something sweet?"

Not really. But he smiled in a way that made you feel sorry for taking the wind out of his sails.

So naturally, you left with three bags of sweet pastries.

Your mother would wring your neck. You could hear her lessons. 'You should bake something for your husband instead of letting him buy it!

"Don't you want something?"

Satoru looked at you with a bitten cupcake in his hand and some icing on his cheek. At the same time, he held out a new cupcake to you.

Of course, you didn't just take it because of his smile.

"Thank you." carefully you took a bite, trying to not look messy while you eat.

As you looked over to Satoru, you saw how he swallowed the rest of the cupcake in one go. You couldn't help but smile as you saw him chew way too much at the same time.

"Satoru, you have no manners." It was refreshing.

He gasped. "Am I now not even allowed to eat normally in front of my wife? What has the world come to?" Dramatically he held onto his chest.

His eyes shut and head tilted a bit back, he expressed his 'hurt' so playfully you couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh Satoru, if that's how you eat normally, I'm really concerned for your stomach."

As you saw how shooked he looked at you, you regretted saying anything. But then he grinned at you and leaned a bit forward.

"Did I just see my darling wife laugh?"

"It's not like I never laugh." you muttered as you started to eat again, hiding your embarrassment behind the pink, sprinkled, icing of the cupcake.

"Well, never before in front of me."

"Nonsense." you shook your head, while making sure your face was clean.

"It's true." he took another cupcake. "You should do it more."

The warmth that shot into your face was now a regular visitor. Something had changed. His presence made you jumpy, your heart was suddenly working overtime.

And your head. Oh, your head.

The thoughts that crept into it became more and more jumbled. Every time your looks crossed paths you couldn't help but spiral in a trail of thoughts, that made you feel dizzy.

You were truly sick. But it didn't feel bad.

A scream shattered the relaxed atmosphere. Your stomach turned when you saw a woman with a baby behind Satoru.

The baby was thrashing around, his voice continuing to tear the air and his cheeks red from the water running down.

The baby clutched the woman's hand, crying desperately.

"Are you okay?"

You quickly turned your head away to hide the rising panic. "Yes, I'm just tired."

His look spoke volumes. Always being tired was probably not the best sign.

"Then let's go back." He stood up, the food tucked away carefully.

"It's alright. It's not too bad."

He shook his head. "You look like I'm forcing you to go out everytime. I don't want that."

Defeated, you also stood up slowly and trotted behind him. You really wanted to enjoy your trip away, and get to know Satoru. But the words of the higher-ups were like a pest, constantly reminding you that your duty wasn't getting to know him.

It was having a heir.

"I'm sorry." your voice was hoarse, embarrassingly quiet. "I'm always in the way."

He laughed, while slowing down, to adjust to your speed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm always breaking of our time." you shook your head. "We barely get to do something."

"Oh please." he chuckled. "We have still plenty of time. We are just three days away. And it's not a problem, I still get to know you."

He looked at you again, his sunglasses barely covering his skylike eyes. "And I know." He smiled at you. "That you are not sleeping very well. Or that you are very exhausted. Maybe both."

"Am I right?"

He was. You were sleeping terrible. Even though the reading helped with sleeping in, the nightmares didn't disappear.

The constant thoughts about your 'duties' were kept alive through them. You wished you could just forget all of these things. Satoru seemed like he could.

You just shrugged.

"Just try to sleep when we are back." Slowly, very hesitant, did his hand engulf yours. His hand was warm. So, so warm.

"I have planned something for later. And I want you to be able to enjoy it."

You were wrong. Gojo Satoru didn't like spending money too much. He just enjoyed spoiling you far too much.

~~

"So how do you like your little 'rebellion'?"

The dark surrounding you, engulfed your mother almost whole as she sat there in her chair. Her arms crossed like chains, heavy, ready to arrest you.

"It's not like that-"

"Yeah, yeah." she waved her hand, wiping your words away. "That's what they always say."

Her leg twitched, but her face remained a mask. She sat unimpressed on her throne, looking at you like you stole candy. "How did you imagine all of this?"

She crossed her legs, it's twitching being held down like a child. "What did you think will happen after all of this?"

You looked at her, your mouth thin as a line. Your tongue felt like it was chained down. Heavy, like a boulder.

"Perhaps…" She tilted her head. "Running away together?"

'Stop.' you wanted to say, no scream. 'Stop speaking.'

"Maybe a romance where he takes you in his arms? Just leaving jujutsu society together behind?"

Your body felt light and so so heavy at the same time. Dizziness overtook you mind, making your vision blurry.

"No Clans and no responsibilities. Like Paris and Helen." she laughed loudly, her voice made you shiver.

"That would never happen. You know that. You are no Helen. Helen was a beautiful, desired and foolish woman. She didn't consider her people."

She stood up, while you lost your balance, she was suddenly towering above you, looking down with this well-known expression.

"And Gojo is no Paris. As if he would start a war for you. This boy has no courage. That's just selfish to wish." she shook her head again.

"Stop mother." your throat was burning. "This is pointless. Satoru is not like that. Satoru-"

Her eyes narrowing like a predator ready to pierce her prey. "I'm just reminding you to not do something foolish. And after your recent behavior that seems rather needed."

Your hands were shaking, sweating. Your breath was heavy and your body seemed paralyzed. You felt like a kid again. Crawling to your mother crying.

'I don't want to marry someone I don't know!' you hiccuped, chocking on your own tears a bit. 'I don't want-'

You still felt the burning sting on your cheek. Still felt her unforgiving stare as she looked at you.

'You don't have to want. You have to fulfill your duty. And that's bringing connections to your clan.' she didn't scream. No she was in control of herself what made it so much worse.

"So stop whining."

You only saw darkness. Your body jolted uncontrollably, it felt like being pushed down into the darkness.

Like you were dying.

"Enjoy your time. And use it." She waved and-

Your consciousness came crawling back, while you were being shaken awake. You felt cold, unbearable so. The sweat on you rather sticky.

It was a nightmare.

"Everything is alright."

You felt heavy, eyes fighting to open. But in the end they lost. You were so tired. Every ounce of sleep was a fight with your conscience. It was almost… Unnatural.

Warm arms embraced you, pulling your limp, cold, and heavy feeling body towards their warmth.

"I'm here now."

You knew it was him. It was the only logical explanation. But it felt so surreal. Feeling his strength and reassurance so close.

His grip on you was not forceful. No, it was so soft you couldn't help but start slipping into unconsciousness again.

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know why you apologized. It just felt right.

~~

"How late is it?" you paced through the room, while Satoru layed lazily in the bed, yawning.

"Don't know. It's not that important." as he sat up his silver white, no snow white hair was sticking up in all directions. It was so messy, it was endearing. Which is obviously just a fact-

"I thought you had something planned? Why didn't you wake me up?" you gathered new things to wear, since you obviously had to take a shower.

"You were sleeping so peaceful." he shook his head like it was obvious. "That was the first time I saw you smile in your sleep."

You stop for a second, cheeks feeling like they were on fire. "You watch me sleep?" you joked, while you pretended to look for something in your suitcase.

"No! I-, that's not what I-, I don't…" he stopped and you couldn't help but chuckle at him. It felt so crazy to have him stutter. You looked at him over your shoulder, hoping to have cooled down your face.

As he saw you holding in a laughter, his panicked look fell.

"Oh, ha ha." he raised an eyebrow.

"What did you plan? Can we still do it?" You didn't want to cancel his plans. Not Again. Not because of you.

He scratched his the back of his neck while thinking a bit. "Do you know the time?"

"It's…" you search for the clock in the bath. "8:46 PM? How long was I out??"

He chuckled while murmuring something to himself. You wanted to ask but also didn't.

"Well it is a bit late. Don't know if you even want to-"

A long, loud growl from your stomach interrupted him. Silence set in while he was just looking at you. The warmth in your face returning.

And then he laughed. "Well I guess that answers my question. Can't let my sweet wife starve."

"Sure, Satoru." you muttered as you chuckled a bit too. "Because you are of course not hungry at all after being here the whole day."

He grinned crookedly, while pulling the blanket away and also standing up. "Let's just make ourselves ready and then go."

You nodded and gathered what you found for yourself. Standing up from the ground and gripping the door of the bath, you stopped as he spoke again.

"But if it's too much please say so right away. I don't want you to suffer through anything."

Hands sweating again, you smiled at him. "I will." Then you got ready.

~

Satoru was nervous as fuck.

It still felt so unreal. Having you in his arms, you holding so desperately onto him, but slowly over time relaxing.

You cried. During your sleep.

It wasn't a one time thing. You cried almost every night. It was very silent, almost not audible, but he could hear it.

And see it.

He wanted to help you, but didn't know if he overstepped a silent boundary. A boundary so carefully layed out the last days.

But today was different. You spoke. Saying something like 'Stop mother'.

And you whispered his name.

He didn't know why. Didn't know if you had a nightmare where he was a part of, but he felt like he had to help you. Like you called for him.

He didn't watch you sleep. He listened to you sleep. To your cries.

~

"Where are we going?" you looked around. This was not a street you two had explored before and it was dark enough that you couldn't recognize even if you did know it.

"It's a surprise. Guess you have to wait." he grinned as he went sternly, while still making sure you two were going next to each other.

"You are so unfair sometimes." you shook your head. "Can't believe I married you."

"Oh please." he grinned back at you, playing into your dramatics. "As if you don't love surprises."

"Oh, Satoru." you deadpanned at him. "I hate them."

For two seconds you just stopped and looked at each other. But then you started laughing at his nervous expression.

"I'm joking, sorry. But you should have seen your face!"

He chuckled lightly, while looking around. Then he grinned back at you. "Well I hope you were joking, because here it is!"

You looked around but only saw a fancy restaurant. After looking for any small places you usually had take out, it dawned on you that the restaurant was the place he wanted to go.

"Oh Satoru…" you looked at the old, but very preserved, Restaurant in front of you. The letters on top of it almost shy, not being big and very eye catching, but very elegant. It spelled Sato's Kitchen.

"If you don't like it, we can always go back-"

"It's not like I don't like it!" you interrupted him, before he could make false conclusions. "It's just… This was very expensive, was it not?"

"Why talk about money? Let's just have a nice evening." he smiled and you knew it was expensive. Defeated you sighed.

"Okay. But you have to stop spending so much money-"

"Alright, let's go!"

He just took your hand and pulled you softly behind him.

~

It was very late. So it wasn't so surprising that your reservation was already long gone. But as you stood there behind Saturo while he tried to get a table for you, you felt bad.

It was almost laughable how naiv you were.

Dragging him out at these hours just to be told that they didn't have any tables left and we should come back tomorrow.

"Is there really no way-"

"I'm sorry good sir, but we are out. We can rearrange your reservation for tomorrow."

They were very kind for that. But you still felt bad.

"That wouldn't be so bad, would it Satoru?"

He nodded, obviously a bit frustrated as he gave his information to make the reservation or furthermore rearrange it.

"Yeah, that's alright." he muttered to the waiter. After making sure everything was alright, yoi two left shortly.

It was a bit embarrassing. Showing up almost an hour and half late at such a desired restaurant. Another reason you felt bad.

"I'm so so-"

"Well we can still do it tomorrow." Satoru smiled. Smiled so softly at you that you felt like crying. It made you feel so stupid, so unstable.

"Yeah." you almost chocked at the word.

He started going again, silently trying to get you to walk ahain. Silently walking beside him, you tried to find the light words you just had said so easily. But there were none.

"Well we can still have take out." he walked closer than before. Not too close, just a bit closer. "If that's alright for you?"

You chuckle a bit, trying to relax. "Of course. That sounds lovely."

The night was beautiful. The moon was already high up and you could see countless of stars here. In Tokyo you could only rarely see the stars. It was comforting.

The silence between you wasn't awkward anymore. Maybe you two did start to get to know each other in a way. Even though Satoru was still a mystery to you most of the time.

It just was comfortable as a whole.

Going together to your favorite ramen shop. Eating in silence and slowly walking back.

It must be really late. But Satoru did bring the bag of the sweet pastries. And as you were walking back to your hotel, he did eat from them.

You couldn't help but watch him. It was cute really. How he enjoyed it so much. And a small smile made it's way onto your face.

"Did you Always like sweets this much?"

Satoru looks at you and thinks. A cupcake still in his mouth, he tries chewing faster to give you your answer.

"Well, I think I did." he coughs as his mouth was empty. "When I was a kid I wasn't allowed to eat anything sweet or unhealthy because of those obsessive higher ups. Said it would make my powers weaker, to keep me away from them."

He took another big bite after saying that and smiled at you as he chewed.

"Well," he was grinning like an idiot after he swallowed. "After I started eating sweets I didn't get weaker. In fact quite the opposite!" He laughed.

You admired him, as he took another bite. That he could just call them obsessive and wipe it away. You wished you could not care.

And as he took his last bite, you looked at the remaining cupcakes and wondered. Could you try making them for him? Would he like them?

It was too late to think anymore, after you got home you just got ready for bed and layed down while Satoru was in the bathroom.

But as you wanted to close your eyes, this uneasiness from before seemed like it was back again. You began to feel cold and wrapped yourself tighter in the blanket.

Satoru came out of the bathroom looking at you, like he was fighting with himself.

And in a moment of weakness and exhaustion you let yourself say the words you normally would only think.

"Do you want to sleep in the bed?"

He just looked at you, the darkness around you made it hard to see his expression. Also your vision started to get blurry because of your tiredness.

"If you don't mind.".

You yawned as your eyes fell close. "You helped…" you mumbled and didn't fight your exhaustion anymore.

And as you felt his warm arms around you, again you couldn't help but smile.

~

Satoru didn't want to wake you up, but he also wanted to do his daily routine round to get you and himself breakfast. Tough decision.

Before all of this he would have never gotten up earlier than he had too. But here with you it was different. So so different.

And he didn't want to let you go. But in the end he did get up and got ready to leave for his round.

As he went down the stairs, Hina's Grandma smiled at him like every morning.

"Good morning, Mr. Gojo. On your way again?"

He laughed a bit and nodded. It was part of the routine to talk to her a bit, as she was a lovely person and knew the place well.

"Well a two letters arrived today. Both adressed at Mrs. Gojo. So I thought I could give them to you for later."

She handed him the two envelopes with a smile.

He didn't mean to sneak into your business or anything like that. But he couldn't help but feel uneasy almost angry when he saw the names of the senders.

One was from the higher ups. And one from your mother.

And he felt cold as he wondered why they would only write you.

Ongoing Taglist (If you want to be added just say so it's no problem <3):

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[anonymityisfunwriter]

"Slut!"

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

"She goes through guys like a train-"

You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.

"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.

You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."

"I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"

"A slut," you finish for him.

His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."

You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.

It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.

It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.

They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.

You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.

You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.

There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.

And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.

In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.

For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.

That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.

You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.

This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.

Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."

"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."

It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.

Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"

"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.

"For what?"

"You warned me this would happen."

It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.

You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.

Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.

It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.

But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.

You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.

No one knew how bad it would get.

"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."

"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."

You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"

He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."

"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.

The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.

It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.

At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.

You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.

But it didn't end there. Not even close.

The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.

From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.

You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.

"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."

Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"

"I've been better."

"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."

"What now, Tony?"

"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"

"They want me to take over for you."

You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."

"No, don't do that. It's for dad."

"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."

"They broke into my house, Tony."

"What? Are you okay?"

"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"

"Where was your security?" Tony demands.

"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."

"I'm so sorry."

"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."

You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."

"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."

And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.

You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.

It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."

"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."

And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"

Steve Rogers Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a

[salemlinnet]

hey everyone!

a few news items right before we start up chapter 5. firstly i just wanna say thanks to everyone who follows my comics, it's been a pleasure as always. i've been keeping a longer buffer on patreon than usual, mostly for my mental health. publishing takes a lot of energy and i've really felt it necessary to just focus on production for a few weeks. at this point, patrons have seen most of chapter 5, there's only one more scene and about a page to be drawn. the quiet has been nice, i've caught up on a lot of house keeping, though i'm obviously very excited to present it! and on house keeping,

DOMESTICATED IS NOW LIVE AT IT'S NEW HOME!

to not go into the boring details (the old domain got trapped between to hosting sites in the middle of a buyout), it's not hosted at cod-domesticated.com (rip custom url you will be missed) it will instead be hosted at salemlinnet.com/domesticated (now you live at my house like you're my son why didn't i think of this sooner). if you find any errors in the pages i am so sorry i just formatted so many buttons TTuTT it would be super helpful to me if folks could report any specific buttons that don't work if it's convenient, it's been beta tested by the discord (thank you guys so much) but i'm just a dunce and i can't be trusted so there might be errors.

the simons are all wearing a little beret this chapter is my third point of business, i am losing it over the ghost beret. oh and the devil may care is up to chapter 18, will be chapter 19 within a few days. page 21 is out for patrons.

finally, to the people lurking for thistle and spade. i've wanted to say for some time, i'm really grateful that you've stuck around while i've been too sick to work on a bigger project. if you were here to see me start production for and then pull ghost #1, the story behind it is that i sort of suddenly learned i wouldn't always be as sick as i was, that i didn't have to rush anything, and that i could produce thistle and spade in chronological order with a bit of patience. that left me with no smaller project to draw and release in the mean time, except, see, i really like this game, call of duty. i was still on bed rest when i started domesticated, and with a ton of physical therapy i've been able to draw longer and longer hours. it's trained me up to be a better comic artist than i ever was before. it's grown into a sturdier project at the same pace. it's so unlike thistle and spade, whose chapters were written and edited over years and planned to every gesture and expression. i'm just winging it with domesticated, i'm usually rewriting massive swaths of dialogue as i sketch the scenes out, i just keep throwing out ideas until it's something i'm excited to draw and present as my imaginary "what happened outside of the games" day dream land. it's reminded me what i love so much about story telling and comics. it's made me excited to see thistle and spade go live again down the road. but first i have to rebuild its website too TTuTT

all right i'll see everyone pretty soon! thanks for hanging around as usual!

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: Being partners with Kick-Ass is far more intimidating when you have a huge crush on him, especially when he won't stop talking about his crush.

Prompt: hurt and comfort - "I'm so sick of pretending like everything is okay."

here you go, my darling @lavieenvalentina! ily! seeing you in my notifs always makes me so happy!

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

The night is humid and hot and nothing seems to be going your way. 

First, your costume had shrunk in the laundry making the middle feel three sizes too small. Second, it had been drizzling outside and now your hair is frizzy, and third—your partner, Kick-Ass, has been going on and on about this girl Katie from his high school. 

You know Katie. You've deduced you go to the same school. She's all sugary sweet on the outside, but she's been casually teasing you since middle school, which is something you can't exactly tell him considering your identity must remain a secret. 

It doesn't help that you don't know who Kick-Ass is either. Hell, he could be one of the stupid popular jocks for all you know and then you'd so feel silly.

"And her hair is so silky and smooth, I wonder how she—" Kick-Ass continues as you walk, grinning like an idiot. You don't know how much longer you can take this agony, but you try and listen to him anyway.

"You okay?" he asks after more rambling because he can now sense you aren't listening. 

You pause, stopping at a crossroads and then you turn to him. "I should go home, there isn't any crime happening," you say, needing some time alone and away from him. 

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, his voice low and hoarse. It's the tone that makes your cheeks feel warm and your heart flutters uncontrollably. Behind his mask, his bright blue eyes shine and he's looking at you like some poor puppy who can't understand why his owner won't give him a bone. 

"Don't look at me like that," you say, taking his arm and pulling him into a small alley. 

"Like what?" he sounds genuinely confused as he leans against the brick wall. 

"Like a damn wounded puppy!" you exclaim, throwing up your arms in exasperation, "As if I've kicked you or something stupid. Why do you always have to act like the one who's hurt when all you do is hurt me?!"

The words tumble from your lips.

"I hurt you?" he whispers, his concerned expression obvious even with almost his entire face covered. "How? I thought we were friends. You're the best damn friend I've ever had."

"You don't know me," you interrupt him and fiddle with the latex of your glove, "not really." 

"Well, I could know you," Kick-Ass says, sounding very determined. "You're the one who doesn't want to know me. I've told you a thousand times you can trust me. I've even told you my name."

Your eyes widen at this revelation. "What? When?"

"The first week we met, you never told me yours but whatever," he shakes his head and then outstretches his hand, "Here, I don't mind. I trust you. My name is Dave," he says casually.

You suddenly click all the pieces in your head and your smile drops.

"Dave Lizewski?" you whisper, suddenly recognizing his voice. Of course, how could you not have recognized him? You sit next to Dave in Pre-Calculus every single day. Dave hangs around with Katie all the time. You look him up and down.

His eyebrows crease. "How did you know that?" he asks suspiciously.

You think, screw this, and untie your mask from behind your head, letting it drop into your hands. You look up, almost afraid of his reaction.

Dave's eyes widen and he stutters out your name, the syllables stuck in his throat as he processes that it's you.

He didn't consider you a friend at school, but you always helped him in Pre-Calculus when you could so he liked you. Plus, you're gorgeous and he can't deny that before Katie Deauxma, he'd thought of you in inappropriate ways—sometimes he still does.

His cheeks burn bright red. 

"It's you," is all he can muster.

You shrug and look away from him. "This is so stupid," you say and then turn to him again, "We're so stupid for not knowing. I mean, we talk all the time."

Dave pulls off his mask. Luckily no one is walking around this dinghy alley to see you both. Your breath catches in your throat at seeing Dave, his hair messy and stuck to his skin, his glasses abandoned and dressed in his Kick-Ass suit. 

You start to laugh. You aren't laughing at him but at this absurd situation. 

Dave doesn't take it like that and he scrunches up his nose. "Are you laughing at me?"

You shake your head and look at him seriously. "No, I'm laughing because if I had known waking up today that the boy I have a crush on was none other than Dave Lizewski from Pre-Calculus—I think I would have pinched myself."

Your words sink and Dave's eyes widen until he looks almost scared. "What?"

"You know Katie thinks you're gay. That's the only reason she's your friend," you interrupt. You feel the need to tell him, like jealousy and pure venom is slipping from your mouth. Is it mean? A little, but you think it's time someone should burst his bubble.

Dave frowns, your previous statement slipping his mind momentarily. "I know that," he tells you, defensive. 

"Then why on earth do you have to go on and on about her all the time?"

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was inconveniencing you, Y/n," he snaps without hesitation, crossing his arms.

"Well, you are," you snap back, glaring at him and looking at him like this, knowing who he is, makes this a thousand times harder.

If Kick-Ass did turn out to be a stupid, meat-head, jock then this would be so much easier. Only he isn't. He's Dave Lizewski  and Dave is sweet and he's funny and he's brave and—

"I'm so sick of pretending like everything is okay," you blurt out and bury your face in your hands. 

Dave is quiet for a moment until he walks closer and pulls your hands down so he can look at you. "Okay, listen, can we please rewind for a second?" he asks, "y-you said you have a crush on me."

You shake your head and warmth spreads across your cheeks. 

"You did," Dave insists. 

"Doesn't matter, it's stupid."

"It does matter," he says and his hands cup your cheeks, hair falling and tickling his wrists as his mask hangs from his hand. "It matters because you're lovely and kind and I really like you." 

"Not the way I like you," you counter, "you like Katie Deauxma." 

Dave winces and he can't argue. His feelings don't just magically disappear, although he can admit that for some reason—after seeing you in this light—something inside him shifted. Something he can't explain right now.

"Y/n, you don't know me either," he tells you honestly, "you may know Kick-Ass a little, and you may like him, but you don't like Dave."

Not yet, you want to finish but you don't. You keep your mouth shut. He has a point.

"Just don't talk about her anymore, will you?"

Dave smiles a little, nodding his head. "Okay. Promise," he looks into your eyes, his gaze flickering to your lips. 

He has a really strong feeling he won't need to talk about Katie anymore. 

tags: @earth-elemental18

[mischievousmoony]

hello ! i saw that you were open for requests. could you do sick reader and james being the best bestfriend ever (and oblivious as hell) takes care of them? maybe they could be childhood friends so james doesn't realize that what he's doing in inherently romantic, like kissing reader's forehead to check their temp, giving his shoulder to them to lay on, sleeping in the same bed, and such.

AND even after reader is no longer sick, james still insist on spoon feeding them and acting like a helicopter mom.

- 🌱

what a lovely idea! thank you for the request <3 i love this because earlier this summer i had a nasty sinus infection for like 3 weeks :/ i wish i had a james potter then lol also i noticed you used they/them pronouns in ur req. im not sure if you wanted gn!reader, but i think it ended up being that way anyway. i didn't need to use pronouns, or even y/n, in this fic <3

𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 1.4k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, no use of y/n, no magic

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It was only an hour ago that you told James over the phone not to worry about you.

Now, he stands in your bedroom, having let himself into your flat with the spare key that you that keep at his parents' house for emergencies— which he uses very often, but hardly for emergencies.

"James," you complain in a nasally voice, "I'm going to get you sick."

He plants his hands on his hips and looks at you scrutinizingly. It reminds you of Euphemia when she would scold you and James as children, and truthfully, when she sometimes scolds you these days.

"Nonsense, my immune system is built like a tank."

"James," you whine further.

He ignores you as he approaches your bedside, frowning as he takes in your sickly appearance. He gently brushes away the sweat-drenched hair from your forehead.

"My poor thing," he comments before bending down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"You don't feel terribly warm, but you look flushed," James' wrist swivels to press the back of his hand to your cheek, "Do you feel hot?"

"A- a little," you croak, knowing full well that a raging blush is the real culprit behind your reddening face.

James' frown deepens as he dives into his next area of concern, "Have you been eating? You hardly had anything in your fridge."

"I have enough peanut butter and jelly to get me through an apocalypse. Why were you in my fridge?"

"I had to put away the groceries."

Your eyebrows draw together, "What groceries!?"

"I bought you groceries," he says nonchalantly.

"Why would you buy me groceries!?"

James is suddenly sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck, "It's not much. Mostly ingredients for the chicken soup I'm gonna make."

"Make? If you really must you could've just gotten a can of–"

"Eugh! I would never subject you to canned soup!"

You roll your eyes at his dramatics.

"That processed shit is just going to make you feel worse," he adds.

"Does Effie know she's created a monster?" you mumble to the ceiling.

James' chuckles, "Look, I'm already here, I've already bought the food. Just let me make you a nice soup and then I'll get out of here." James raises his hands in the air to indicate his surrender to compromise.

Your head hurts too much to continue an argument that you know you won't win, so you relent and wave him off to the kitchen.

Before James leaves you, "Are you comfortable? Do you need anything before I go?"

"I'm fine."

"You sound stuffy. Is there a lot of pressure? Do you like a hot or a cold compress?"

You wince as you imagine a cold compress, feeling like that would make your headache somehow feel sharper against your brain.

"Hot."

James smiles, happy that you're beginning to give into his care, and disappears from your sight.

He returns with a warm, damp cloth and a paper shopping bag stuffed under his arm. He starts unloading his haul onto your night table.

"I brought you the nice tissues, the ones with the lotion so that they don't irritate your nose. And are you taking medicine? I wasn't sure what your symptoms were or what you usually take so I got stuff for everything. I've got nasal sprays, decongestants, cough syrups— which I'm pretty sure you hate so I bought lozenges too."

You watch despairingly as he sets medicine after medicine down.

"I took paracetamol an hour ago," you inform him.

"That's it? You could at least use the nasal spray then. Here, let me–"

You place a hand over his that fiddles with the cap of the spray, "I've got it. Just go make your soup."

James looks up from the little white bottle, "Oh yeah, sure." But he hesitates before he goes, "You want a lozenge though?"

You yield to James' incessant efforts, figuring he would feel better if you let him do something for you. You hold out your hand to accept the lozenge but as soon as he sees you nod, he is already set on removing its waxy wrap and popping it in your mouth himself.

At last, he presses the warm, damp cloth gently over your closed eyes and retreats to your kitchen.

He reappears every so often to rewarm the cloth that's over your eyes, bring you cups of water or herbal tea, and make sure that you're still comfortable. He's offered to fluff your pillows five times.

The next time he enters your bedroom, he's finally carrying a bowl of steaming soup, one of your dishcloths a barrier between his hands and the hot porcelain.

You sit and hold out your hands to accept the bowl.

"Oh, it's far too hot for you to hold," James says, choosing to ignore the fact that he is doing just fine holding it himself.

He plants himself on the edge of your bed and starts blowing on a spoonful of the savory soup.

"You can't be serious," you mutter, sniffling.

"Just lean back and relax," James instructs, "let me take care of you."

James looks at you with the roundest, most doe-like eyes can can muster. Oh, those stupid big brown eyes— it's impossible to resist them.

You let James feed you what just might be the best soup you've ever tasted. Rich flavors dance on your tongue and you try not to let your eyes flutter closed in bliss, but the enjoyment is written across your face anyway. He refrains from teasing you, feeling too much pity for your being unwell to make any fun.

"Is this helping any?" James checks, blowing on another spoonful of broth.

You hum affirmatively, "It's really nice," you murmur, letting the warmth of the soup spread across your chest.

A prideful smile finds its way onto James' lips.

After he he scrapes the last bit of soup onto the spoon and brings it to your mouth, he places the empty bowl onto your night table. You realize that you still need to thank him and you share words of gratitude as you wring out your neck.

"You alright?"

"A bit stiff from being cooped up in bed," you roll out your shoulders.

"Well, you needed your rest," James says, studying you. "Here, scoot up."

You look at him curiously as he helps you scoot forward. When he starts settling in behind you, your eyes round.

"James!"

You've lost count of how many times you've uttered his name in scolding today. Your face flushes crimson and you count yourself lucky that he at least can't see it this time.

James shushes you, and your protests die in your throat when his hands apply a satisfying pressure to your neck.

He can't help but chuckle, nor can he help seek your approval, "Helping?"

"Uh-huh," you sigh, your eyes fluttering closed, and you feel James' body rumble with laughter against you.

The coming days play out similarly, and you've quickly ceased protesting against him. James attends to your every need and casually showers you in affection day after day.

He even insists on staying over some nights, which you do protest against, as he means to sleep on your couch which is not even long enough for him to lay flat. But you need not worry about that, because when night falls he ends up dozing off next to you in bed, where he intended to only stay until you fell asleep.

In the mornings, neither of you seem to mind waking up in each others arms.

Within a few days, your health improves, but this doesn't stop James from continuing to tend to you.

"I haven't run a fever in days!" you protest as James' lips still against your forehead for several seconds.

"You never know," James mumbles against your forehead before pulling away.

You huff as you meet his eyes on his retreat, "I'm not sick anymore, James."

"You still sniffle sometimes," he shrugs, turning to collect the empty bowl on your night table, which he fed you fresh stew out of for lunch this afternoon.

You chuckle at his antics, "It's just a lingering sniffle, it will probably clear up by tomorrow. Besides, I hardly need someone taking care of me for that."

James pulls his lips into a timid line, feeling quite sheepish. He hides his face as he turns to leave your room with the dirty dish.

He tsks as he formulates an excuse for himself, "Or it means that your illness is coming back for a second round. What kind of friend would I be if I don't make sure it's gone before I set you loose?"

James makes his way to the kitchen to wash your dishes, seemingly unaware that he might enjoy taking care of you a bit more than a friend would. Or maybe he’s simply embraced the comfort of being exactly where he wants to be.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Zoom In.

Muggle AU, professor of 18C literature and poetry Draco, celebrity Harry ✨️

~

Violet was the first to log in - again. In the minutes before class began - in the "waiting room" - while she stared at her blank screen, it felt like the only real few moments she truly had to herself.

She spent all those moments, like so many others, thinking about Professor Malfoy.

To every single straight girl, and the singular gay guy, in class, Professor Malfoy was prime wank material. Violet hadn't known her classmates to be as desperate for a good word on their assignments from any other professor. To think homework would feature so high on the to-do lists of some of the biggest lunkheads she knew...there was definitely something about him, that Professor Malfoy.

She could see the appeal. The eerily pale eyes, hair, and skin made to appear warmer by the fluffy jumpers - all in elegant shades of scarlet, burgundy, emerald, wine, golden yellow - he wore over crisply ironed button-downs and tailored trousers; the way he used his hands when he talked, long fingers like a pianist's; the slim golden spectacles he was constantly misplacing on his own head, the rich precision with which he pronounced the olde names and subjects that he spoke of - it was very difficult not to admire Professor Malfoy.

All of that, but nobody really knew much about him outside of uni.

They'd switched to virtual classes a week ago; hurrah for the new pandemic. The idea that she didn't have to sit in class with her tittering classmates, a stray cough sounding now and again, made Violet automatically sit up straighter and smile, just as the little boxes on her screen began popping into life.

"Aaaayyyy!"

"Tell me we don't need to have our faces on display."

"So, yes, before anyone asks: this is a real lip ring. An actual piercing. Yeah, I'm not blowing you, Greg, sod off."

"Is Professor Malfoy on?"

"No, I don't see him here yet. Did he grade your essay?"

"Yo, can someone please tell me how to turn this camera off, I am smashed out my--"

"Click on the camera icon, Bryan--"

"It's not even noon, what d'you mean "smashed"?

"No, you've turned off your mic. No, we cannot hear you screaming."

"First icon on the bottom left," Violet said, rolling her eyes.

And then Professor Malfoy was in class.

There was a beat of silence before everyone called out greetings, a chaotic round of cheerful hello's that nobody could quite make sense of. Least of all Professor Malfoy.

He was peering into his screen, his slim nose scrunched.

"All right, so I can see me. Can you?"

Cacophonic confirmations.

"Okay, so nobody can see or hear me. Right."

More shrill reassurances. One loud beer-belch.

"Damn it all to hell, I knew this would happen, I told him that I'll need--"

"We can see you!" shrieked Preiti.

"We can hear you!" Nora bellowed.

But Professor Malfoy was already twisting around in his chair, scowling heavily, and screaming, "OY! COME IN HERE, YOU MISERABLE WANKER!"

Violet, along with her classmates, just stared in mystified silence. The professor never spoke like that. He ticked them off if they did.

A tall figure in a too big hoodie appeared suddenly, hissing back at Professor Malfoy. There was a golden lion printed on the maroon jacket. The hood was drawn in close, and Violet could just barely make out the light from the computer screen glinting off a pair of round glasses, on which a shaggy fringe of dark hair fell.

"You need to turn the volume up. Git," said the stranger. "Your camera's already on."

"I hate technology," Professor Malfoy seethed.

"You hate so much else. I'm getting fish and chips." The man was already walking off.

"I want mushy peas too, with mine."

"What kind of sick bastard." The room door was shut with a thud.

"Sorry about all that. We are now officially in session," Professor Malfoy said, smiling and restoring his glasses upon his nose. "Do you all have--?"

There was a muffled shout from somewhere behind the professor. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Professor Malfoy called back, "No. No, I don't want a curry dipping sauce."

There was more muffled yelling.

"Harry, get out right now!" shrieked Professor Malfoy, and Violet, along with the others, just ogled.

Malfoy sighed. "Sorry 'bout that. Just my idiot husband."

"You're married?!" Violet had asked before she could stop herself.

Professor Malfoy sighed, flipping open a thick, spiral bound folder. "Yes. You've heard of Harry Potter, I'm sure. He's the poor idiot I married."

[madhatterbri]

Business Deals | D.P.

Summary: Damian Priest x reader request, please?? 😀. Instead of Rhea being out with an injury, it was Damian, but his relationship with the reader isn't toxic like Rhea and Dom's. Reader is in a relationship with Damian and a member of the judgment day. However, when Damian gets injured, Y/N gets sick of Rhea's controlling ways and decides to do business with Braun Strowman behind their backs. On the night that reader finally turns on TJD and attacks Rhea, Damian returns and confronts her. You can pick a happy or sad ending, and btw, the reader didn't cheat on Damian.

Author's Note: No part 2!

Damian Priest Masterlist

Requested by: anon

Taglist: @plentyoffandoms @theworldofotps @mrsarcherofinfamy

Y/N could feel the tension in the room when she was alone with Rhea. There was no more hiding their true feelings. They absolutely couldn't stand one another. At least when Damian was around, he was the buffer. Now it was all discord in Judgment Day.

"Can I count on you tonight to help me with the Liv Morgan problem?" Rhea asked stiffly. Her arms crossed over her chest.

"We won't have to worry about her anymore," Y/N answered and looked in Rhea's eyes. Her words have a double meaning. One that Rhea will find out during the main event. Mami smiled and walked away. Y/N glared at the woman as she left.

Samantha Irvin introduced them to the arena. The crowd gave a huge pop for Rhea. They absolutely adored her. The woman could simply do no wrong in their eyes. How wrong the WWE Universe was.

Y/N followed her like an obedient follower. This would be the very last time of doing this, she told herself. Liv was in a corner cowering in fear. Her arm pressed closely to her chest. The coward started to plead for her life.

Rhea went up the stairs and into the ring to talk to Liv. Y/N reached under the ring to grab a chair. Within moments, Y/N stood right behind her. All her weeks of planning were about to come to light.

"Y/N, show Liv here what happens when you mess with Judgment Day," Rhea laughed into the microphone.

Y/N grabbed the chair and raised it. She smacked the chair to the back of Rhea. The air in the arena was sucked out. The beloved Rhea Ripley fell to her knees and on the ground. Boos from the arena sounded loudly, but Y/N didn't care. She was finally free.

"I'm done with your controlling ways, Rhea," Y/N yelled in the microphone. She continued her assault on Rhea. The chair came down a few more times. Before the last blow, Finn and JD jumped in the ring.

They were yelling at her to stop. A yelling match broke out in the ring. JD reached out for the chair, but she backed away. Both men were trying to talk some sense into her. The damage was done, though.

Braun Strowman's entrance music played. The two men looked at each other and then the ramp. Braun stormed down the ramp. Each long stride of his legs, carrying him closer to the ring.

"Meet my new friend," Y/N laughed. Braun walked up the stairs and went over the top rope. Finn and JD ran out of the ring. Braun ran after them.

Y/N went back to hit Rhea one more time. Boos sounded once more from the horrified audience. Referees and Adam Pierce ran around the ring to stop the assault. No one could stop her or so she thought.

Damian Priest pushed his way through to the ring. He grabbed the microphone and demanded to know what she was doing.

"I made my own business deal. Aren't you proud of me?" Y/N asked with a huge smile. Damian stared at her in shock. This wasn't the woman he was in a relationship with before his injury.

"Braun is one of our biggest threats. He has berm against us for weeks. Are you really working with him?" Damian asked. He couldn't believe what he was hearing and seeing.

"I told him not to hurt you. I would never hurt you. Just join me," Y/N smiled and reached her hand out to him.

Damian shook his head. "I can't. We are done,"

Damian walked away as Y/N stood in the ring, suddenly feeling more alone than ever.

[linkemon]

I won't say I'm in love (Shroud Idia x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ɪᴅɪᴀ ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ᴍᴇɢᴀʀᴀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀᴄᴜʟᴇꜱ. ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ, ʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴏᴛᴏᴍᴇ, ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴀɪɴ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʀᴘɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʜʏ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ɪᴛ.

— Ortho, can you repeat that again? — Idia blinked rapidly.  

He stared at his brother as if he had suddenly sprouted three heads. In the darkness, illuminated only by the light falling from the screen, he had the impression that the dark, robotic silhouette had turned into Cerberus. A huge dog standing guard in the doorway. He would love to cross to the other side of this imaginary Styx but he couldn't. Such betrayal? His own brother stabbing him in the back?  

— Bro, you don't have to be so dramatic…— Ortho shook his head. — I invited [Reader] because you haven't seen each other for a long time and...  

— And you don't see any problem? You're a huge red flag for doing this behind my back. —The older brother hugged the pillow. The huge dakimakura seemed to help him shut out the world.  

The youngest Shroud turned on the light. The glow of LED bulbs seemed to peer into every corner. It was looking for colourful wrappers from sweets imported from abroad. It skimmed over every screw and scrap of metal from failed projects. It even discovered piles of comic books mixed with records falling out of their packaging. The room was a mess. Ortho was aware of this. However, he stated that it was not worth turning the knife in the wound. He did not comment on the state of affairs. Instead, he turned on the quick cleaning mode. Idia joined him reluctantly. Silently, with a suffering face, he threw the garbage into a large bag.  

Ortho wondered what exactly he had done wrong. According to his information, [Reader] and Idia did not have a quarrel. On the contrary. Since everyone had returned from S.T.Y.X. HQ, he felt like his brother had finally made some friends. People he likes spending time with. They played games together and sometimes he even let them take him outside, which was a big success in itself. The prefect didn't mind his enthusiasm for fantasy. She seemed happy to learn about the media that reigns supreme in Twisted Wonderland. She hadn't had much opportunity to explore this side of the world, so Shroud was quietly happy to introduce the, as he put it, noob to the most important corners of Internet.  

The contact ended quite suddenly. Ortho didn't need special programs to notice that something was wrong. He asked [Reader] directly but she said that Idia was apparently very busy with a new project. He would have believed it if he hadn't lived with him. How busy can you be watching the same old Premo concert for the thirty-third time in two weeks? His brother looked like he couldn't find a place in his own beloved room and didn't want to say what was going on. So Ortho did what he always did — he pushed him. The invitation was the first step. What he will do with this fact will be his initiative alone. With that thought he left the room.  

There was a faint knocking sound through the metal door. Idia felt like he had just had a heart attack. He had a choice:  

a) pretend he's not there (20% effective, most people on campus knew it wasn't true because he used this attack too often)  

b) say that he is sick (an even worse plan, because someone will definitely take him to the hygienist)  

c) ask [Reader] to go away (a tragic choice in RPGs that causes you to lose a companion; if she hasn't hated him by now, she definitely will after this option)  

d) open the door like a civilized person his parents tried to raise him to be (he will be given the fearful status but will gain +10 courage)  

He decided on the last option and, taking a deep breath, opened the door.  

— Hi! — [Reader] immediately went to her usual place on the huge pouffe. She fell on it like a giant starfish from the Octavinelle aquarium.  

The boy expected anything. Or at least reproaches. He didn't fully understand himself. Was he such a good liar? NO. He wasn't stupid. He knew his capabilities. He was never great at this. Unless we're talking about framing someone from the opposing team in games but that's not the case. Maybe he was annoyed that she didn't miss him as much as he missed her...  

— I brought us a new game. Cater recently mentioned that his sisters had some to give away because they were bored of them, so I took all they had.  

— What do you have there? — he risked a safe question.  

The girl handed him a colourful package. He guessed that the record was second-hand. The colourful cover looked like it had seen better days. However, after seeing a crowd of pretty 2D men, he guessed what genre he was dealing with. Visual novel. And not just any kind. In his hands he held an otome…  

— Reincarnated in a fantasy world with six princes after being run over by a carriage... Okay, this title is so long it doesn't even fit on the cover. Meet them all: rules-loving, wild, THIS ONE IS A MERMAID?!  

He didn't feel like reading the rest. Idia wasn't a noob when it came to otome. On the contrary. He ate his teeth on all possible game genres. Usually, however, he made sure that they maintained any level. However, this title seemed to him like a bunch of random tropes. Someone on the other side just had to wait to throw them all together and create their fan dream.  

— I guess we can just take making choices — he said, inserting the disc into the console.  

— Don't worry, good people, for ladyknightskibidi:3 has arrived! — announced the prince with the archetype of the mysterious figure.  

— Idia, you have the humor of a seven-year-old — said the girl, seeing the MC nickname written on the screen.  

— But admit it, you're enjoying it. — Shroud handed over the controller.  

The heroine's long hair waved in the wind. Her eyes seemed to contain the light of all the stars. Rose petals were floating in the air and their strong scent seemed to captivate everyone around. Even though it was the middle of winter and they basically should be dead...  

— You can even choose the colour of the horse. Do you think this is important to the plot? And what if we miss the illustration? — [Reader's] hand hovered over the controller.  

— It's an obvious move. They want us to think that white is assigned to the pretty guy and black is assigned to the mysterious guy. Meanwhile, it's quite the opposite. I don't know who the last one is assigned to but it doesn't matter — Idia said.  

The white steed, a brave companion on many journeys, headed towards the main gate, where ladyknightskibidi:3 met the archetypal prince with a heart of gold who was talking to an NPC. She made her purchases, although they actually had no impact on the plot and were just a cash grab to force players to buy new outfits for the characters. So she left without a new dress, which was highlighted in the illustration by the armor that did not match the idyllic setting. After all, who says you can't kiss in full armor on the beach...?  

— There's no way we're going to pay for any DLC. Who do they think they are?  

— Do you know what the process of publishing indie games looks like? They have to make money somehow.  

— I don't care, we don't pay! I got this from Cater. Free is a fair price.  

The heroine saw the ultimate villain of the series, whom she had to defeat. With the power of kindness, friendship and, of course, sarcasm. Mostly sarcasm. Dressed in completely mismatched clothes because good stats are the most important. Even if it means you get married in a neon hat... The most important thing is that MC and her groom rode off into the sunset. Good ending unlocked. Now just repeat this a few times and multiply it by each save to also make bad endings...  

— Is it the end already? I understand they had to cram in a few routes but this is so short. — Shroud shook his head.  

The screen showed a colourful collage of obtainable illustrations. The end credits and the creators' names were scattered between them.  

The chosen one of MC's heart seemed to be smiling mockingly at Idia from behind the glass. Here is another story where someone like Vil from Pomefiore wins a girl's heart. Handsome, rich and famous. The complete package.  

— Oh yes, beautiful and perfect type. Why am I not surprised that bishōnen won? — Shroud mumbled into his sweatshirt sleeve.  

Unfortunately not quiet enough.  

— Idia, need I remind you that you also made half of the choices. You're also responsible for the outcome — [Reader] commented, putting down the controller.  

— I chose exactly as normies do in real life.  

— It's not about the game at all, is it? — [Reader] looked straight at him. — You've been avoiding me for two weeks. — So he really wasn't a good liar after all, he thought. — I don't think I gave you a reason to be offended but if I did, just tell me. And if it's another S.T.Y.X. problem, I'll try to do something too but I can't help you if you don't talk to me at all.  

Communication was never his default stat. However, he had to admit that he rarely tried to put any points into this skill tree. He just didn't develop it. He really wanted to start but just thinking about it felt like the ends of his hair were starting to change colour. The edges of the metalic chairs reflected an embarrassing red. As always, his hair had to betray him.  

Idia was a nerd. He thought through the situation in several hundred different ways and came up with tons of potential solutions. So why wasn't this conversation in any of his plans? Why was it so difficult to put any of the imaginary conversations into action? His brain went into a glitch because he had to face this hopeless truth that he didn't want to reveal even to his own brother.  

What could he say? [Reader] didn't deserve this prolonged, embarrassing silence. But she waited patiently despite two weeks of being ignored. So he did what was the only thing that came to his mind.  

— I'm an NPC — he finally said.  

— Okaaay. — Prefect of Ramshackle tilted her head uncertainly.  

— No, you don't understand — he sighed, rubbing his forehead. — For example, take the MC from Reincarnated in a fantasy world... uh... the MC from this game. You are like her. The main character is always running around and helping all the characters around her, without looking at herself. She doesn't even realize that she is smart, selfless and beautiful. She always knows what to say to bad guys and is not afraid to fight. And then a prince arrives on a white horse. He's pretty, rich, and provides her with everything she needs. There are no flaws because that's not how you write ikemens. They just should be cool and that's it. Then these two come together and boom! Good ending. At their wedding, the creators will put the NPC who sells you items in the crowd because they don't want to make a new model, so they can use it. In the sequel, maybe he'll even say a few words and you'll find out that he has a brother, a magic workshop and will repair your carriage but that's where the relationship ends. He will stand by the gate and sigh because he loves her but he will never tell her because he is not even in this game. He was never selected so he didn't make it to the cover...  

Everything he said came to him with a delay. When it came to games, his brain had always thought faster. But now he cursed him inwardly because the statement seemed to hang heavy in the air.  

[Reader] looked at him searching for something. She seemed to weigh her words. But he was prepared for anything. He played so many bad endings. This one will just be another one of them. So why was his heart beating so terribly fast and he was silently praying to his favourite idols to just take him away?  

— There are almost always secret routes in otome — the girl said.  

— Huh? Idia blinked rapidly. — I've played more otome than you, I don't know if you should educate me…— [Reader]'s raised brow made him stop talking.  

— The truth is, I played it a little with the Cater's sisters. This game also has a secret route. The seventh romance character is hidden. You unlock it when you pass…  

—…all routes — Shroud interjected. — Okay, I'm seriously shutting up now — he added, looking down.  

— This character is an item NPC. — [Reader] paused in case the boy was to interrupt her again but nothing happened. — What I mean is that the MC can also choose an NPC. If only he tells her how he feels and wants to take part in the game.  

The screen illuminated her face with a pale glow and the boy realized that in the darkness she really looked like the main character. How can you seriously say something so cool, as if nothing happened? She stared at him with silent expectation. He wanted to scream into dakimakura but he probably wouldn't look too cool doing it. So he mentally prayed to his idols. If there was ever a time the Premos should help him, this was it.

— In the game, the MC makes decisions, so technically she has no causative power and... Ahem. Okay. I know that I'm going too far. Sooo... would you like to go on a date with me? But it's best not to go to Mostro Lounge because there are a lot of people there and for the first time it could be tragically scary and...  

— Idia?  

— Yes? — He swallowed loudly.  

— I'll go on a date with you but your hair is burning the controller right now...  

[rwshfordgirl]

can we be each other's company?

summary: on a rainy day in london, jude decides to take advantage of his free day before joining the national team and makes a surprise visit to his friend's house. pairing: jude bellingham × reader a/n: i'm inactive due to college activities :( i hope you like it 

no weather forecast warned me about the storm that hit today. but then again, how does a person who lives in london leave the house without an umbrella? i got home soaking wet and very angry with myself.

my mom laughed when she saw me walking past her in the living room "you're going to get sick if you keep getting caught in the rain like that." she reminded me that this wasn't the first rain shower of the week. what a horrible week, i just wanted to never leave the house again and i wish jude was here, he would laugh at me but would hug me afterwards. and i would definitely cry in his arms just because i took a shower in the rain twice in a week.

i threw my things on the floor as soon as i  entered my room and almost fainted when i heard a loud male voice in the room. "tough day, beautiful?" jude bellingham was in my room just as i asked in my mind, the heavens heard me. he was standing in front of my window and i ran to hug him. "why didn't you tell me you were coming? does my mother know you're here? why didn't she tell me?" jude was wet "and spoil the surprise?" he smiled "go change your clothes" he said.

i went to the bathroom and changed my clothes at the speed of light. it's been so long since i've seen jude and he's one of my best friends.

when i got back to the room, he was lying on my bed and he motioned for me to lie down next to him. and that's what i did, i  lay down there on top of his left arm.

"i missed you, you won't see me play anymore and hardly sends me messages."  i turned my face so i could look in his direction. "talk to my college professors and my boss, they are the reason behind it." i said "i was feeling lonely without you." he said "i doubt it, your spanish friends must have stayed with you." i said "not for a second." he replied. "okay then, if you say so."

if my mom opened the bedroom door right now, she'd see us in this position and set off fireworks in here. she keeps saying that jude and i are a couple and that i don't want to admit it. 

but i laugh when she says that, who would have thought that he and I could be a couple? well, maybe i imagined it sometimes, in the silence of the night when it's just me and the little voice inside my head. i would like to give jude little kisses and... thinking about it now, we already behave like a couple, there really is just no kissing part.

"shut up" i said mentally before getting out of bed. "i need to record a video with you, record this rare moment" i said as i picked up my phone. jude sat on the bed and i  approached him, again.

"after two months, mr. bellingham decided to show his face here." i said as i put my arm around his neck. the player looked at me and his face became expressionless. and suddenly, i was surprised by jude's kiss. i went to heaven and came back. jude bellingham kissed me. not on the cheek or forehead like he usually does, jude's soft lips touched my glossed lips.

"i've been wanting to do this for a while now." he admitted. i put my phone aside and brought our lips together once more. "i'm glad you did." i said.

kissing jude had been in my plans for a long time and apparently kissing my mouth was also in his plans. i was dating when i met jude and he was the person who supported me the most after the breakup, it was there that we practically became best friends. i don't think he approached me with ulterior motives, things just came up over time.

"i think we should try, you know?" he said "i agree" i said  "you know i like being with you, i like talking to you, i like hearing you talk and i hate not seeing you for a long time. i wish you could stay like this forever, stuck to me all the time." he vented "we can't just be friends." he admitted and i nodded "couldn't agree with you more, baby jude."

[nanamis-bigtie]

nonsexual acts of intimacy ↬ reacting to the other one crying about something

❧ kusakabe atsuya x gn!reader | cw: pre-relationship, mutual pinning, story takes part in a bar setting but there's no mention of alcohol ❧

It's been more of instinct than a conscious decision, Kusakabe must admit as he's lingering behind the door, hand clenched on the handle. He sprinted to his feet right behind you and followed—but now, once he knows why you left the party so suddenly, his confidence popped like a balloon and faded.

Part of him is glad it's not sickness, part gnaws on his conscience and thrashes his mind from the inside. What is he doing here? He's never been good with crying people; he should turn back and call Nanami or Iori… Does he even have tissues on himself?

But the sight of your slumped back and curled shoulders, shaking in that characteristic rhythm of sobbing, clenches his heart with pain almost dragging a cry out of him too. It should be his chest you should hide your face in, not your hands, out there in the cold, leaning over the railing in front of a bar.

Maybe if he wasn't such a coward and finally pushed the matters further than courteous coffee and snack dates after work—

Kusakabe scratches the back of his head and gnaws on a profanity pressing to his tongue. If he did A, there needs to be B, or else he won't be able to call himself a man anymore.

"Okay there, Y/N?" He tries to sound casual, peeking through the open door, his coat thrown over his arm at ready. It's just a smoking break, not a rescue mission, and it doesn't matter that he quit smoking two years ago. 

You jolt in place, wipe your eyes with both hands at once, your lips trembling slightly as you try to pull a smile, "Yeah, all good. Just needed fresh air."

Horrible liars, both of you.

He leans over the railing, close to you but keeping the distance suit for a coworker. 

"You sure you don't need to call it a day?" Trying to push through awkward silence, he observes you with the very corner of his eye. Not obviously staring, just casually monitoring the situation, like a good colleague should, right? "I can call a taxi—"

"I'm okay." At least your voice doesn't tremble anymore. "It's been… A rough week. Just needed to cry some. Five more minutes and I'll be back." 

You don't have any coat on, Kusakabe realizes and almost slaps himself for not doing so sooner. He should have grabbed yours, not his, if he really wanted to be useful. What is he going to do now, stay there with you awkwardly and dressed or return to the warmth, leaving you alone midst cursed December?

Just a coworker wouldn't—

"Here." He wraps his coat around your shoulders, his heart fluttering when your gazes meet. For a mere few seconds, he can't feel the cold anymore and the noise of the bar behind your backs seems as sweet as a rippling stream.

"And you—" You accept the offering and clench your hands on its skirts. Even if he were about to freeze, he would have no heart to take it back from you, no matter what you say.

"I just need one thing." Praying his hands don't tremble as much as he thinks they do, Kusakabe reaches into one of the pockets, soon fishing a lollipop out of it. "Here, for you."

He taps your nose with it, a stupid, childish impulse—but for the first time tonight you smile for real, soon even laugh a little, "Thanks. Thanks a lot. For checking on me and…everything. Thanks, Atsuya."

A second earlier he thought the sound of your laughter was the prettiest sound he'd ever heard. Oh, how wrong he was.

Even your laughter couldn't compare to the way you say his name.

a/n: I'll die on the hill that Kusakabe's iconic lollipop is a remain of smoking addiction. big thank you to my server peeps for support with my first time at trying writing him & to @clumsyraccoon and @lemonszesty whose Kusakabe writing served as inspo to reach for his drabble out of order! EDIT: it's been brought to my attention that Kusakabe's antismoking lollipop is canon via databook. I'll leave the og note cause the coincidence is just funny lol

[yumeaoka-chan]

Hunger Pains

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Ghoul! Hobie x Human! Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Tokyo Ghoul au, Blood, Ghoulified Hobie, no physical description of reader, can be read as gender neutral reader, scared reader, badass Hobie (I'm really not good at writing fight scenes, ugh), cursing, death (not as bad as you think), lovesick reader, lovesick Hobie, hungry boi Hobie, "The lion falls in love with the lamb" basically

Summary: You go to visit Hobie after not hearing from him for weeks.

A/N: Credit for the lovely banners goes to @the-shroom-garden !!! Late entry for week 3 of Octobie, I'm sorry @the-kr8tor 😭🤚 I got sick outta nowhere, so I'm currently laying in bed as I post this😔 I was going to write a Baldur's Gate 3 au but, the angst potential of Tokyo Ghoul kept screaming at me😭🤚

Taking a deep breath, you knock softly on the door, the houseboat calmly rocking on the water.

“Hobie? Are you in there?” You call out, a frown forming on your lips as you notice no lights are on inside. It's eerily quiet, especially at this time of night. You knew you should've waited until the morning. Tears sting your eyes and you inhale shakily, trying to will the feeling away. Hobie has been distant lately, almost as if he was avoiding you. If you call, he doesn't pick up. When you went to his band practice, his bandmates claimed he wasn't there. And when you went to his favorite hiding spot, the rooftop of a small local music shop that overlooks the city, he was nowhere to be seen.

Just when things were going so well, you thought to yourself as you slowly made your way off of his boat. You and Hobie had been friends for what felt like forever, being together through most of Primary school and all throughout Secondary. Even now, while you are enrolled in college, you two are thick as thieves. Throughout the years, your fondness and admiration of him had slowly formed into adoration and, dare you say it, love. You were in love with him, had been in love with him for quite a while. And just when you had worked up the courage to tell him how you feel, he practically ghosts you.

Walking through the shortcut through the alleyway to get to your dorm, you don't notice the set of eyes watching you from the rooftops, too busy lamenting over Hobie and what you could have done to push him away. The late night streets are silent, not a single soul out due to the frigid cold of the winter breeze. Shivering, you pull your jacket tighter around your body, sniffling from the cold or tears, perhaps. As you trudge on, you suddenly hear something behind you. The faintest of footsteps, the most quiet of chuckles. The very sound makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps raising on your arms. Taking a steadying breath, you keep walking, albeit quicker than before. No good would come of acknowledging the sound, that much you knew.

The footsteps draw nearer still, making your heart begin to pound in your chest. Your pulse quickens, your breath hitches, and you suddenly forget to remain calm. Zipping and darting through the deserted streets of London, you try to lose your pursuer through the series of backstreets. Fear grips your chest as you hear the footsteps grow even closer, the chuckles now turned into cackles. How could you be so stupid? Walking around this late, knowing full well that they lurked in the shadows. You want to cry when you slam into a tall metal gate, hurriedly looking over your shoulder. That's when you see him. Tall and broad and practically frothing at the mouth, the long blue appendage coiled around his arm gleaming under the light of the moon. His grin is unhinged, eyes glowing red with pulsing veins surrounding them. When they meet your gaze, you can see the eagerness in them. It makes you let out a fearful cry as you scramble to climb over the gate.

A hand suddenly grips your foot, making you slip and cut your palm open on the sharp metal. You let out a hiss and you struggle to free your foot, fear clawing its way into your chest. The ghoul behind you inhales deeply, salivating at the scent of your blood oozing down your arm.

“Been so long since I had such a good looking meal. I'll savor you, little lambchop.” He cackles as he wrenches you away from the gate with one strong tug. You yelp as you fall down harshly onto the ground, your nose the first to collide onto the asphalt. Head swimming from the impact, you hardly register the crimson dripping from your nose, eyes blearily looking up at your captor with horror. And as he pried open his dripping maw, you could see your life flashing before your eyes. Every joyous moment, every harsh disappointment. And yet, no memory shined brighter than those that involved Hobie. You were going to die before ever getting to reveal your feelings to him. Lips wobbling and tears falling, you gazed at the face of your demise and whispered the one you wanted to see most.

“Hobie…” Just as quick as those words left your lips, the ghoul in front of you was viciously ripped away. Eyes wide with shock and disbelief at the sudden rescue, you blink up at the figure suddenly standing above you. His back was turned to you and sprouting from it were eight long, sharp, spider leg like tendrils. They were as red as the darkest of wines and glowed brightly, illuminating the alleyway. Squinting your eyes, you could see the faint outline of his head, the hair on his head making you gasp. Not just the hair, the clothes too. The leather jacket on his back and the boots that adorned him were all too familiar. Sitting up a bit, your lips tremble as you utter his name.

“I-Is that you… Hobie…?” Hearing his name on your lips is like a godsend everytime, but not this time. Not when you're shaking like a leaf from fear. Hobie grits his teeth as he turns to look down at you, hearing the sharp intake of breath you make when you see his eyes. One brown and one a glowing red, angry red veins surrounding it. He gives you a placating smile before turning his head back to glare at the ghoul that's now standing across from him. The taller man snarls, spit flying from his lips as his coiled appendage glows brighter.

“You filthy One-Eyed! That's my dinner! I called dibs!” Crouching low and spider-like appendages curling around his form, Hobie glares harshly at the other.

“Touch a hair on this one's head and I'll fuckin’ kill you”, he utters lowly, voice on the edge of a growl. The taller ghoul cackles and points his finger at Hobie, eyes wild and sharp with mania.

“That right? I'll just devour you before I feast on the lambchop's flesh then!” With a roaring shout, the crazed ghoul rushes at Hobie, his sharp coiled appendage aimed straight for his chest. Fury rumbles in his chest as Hobie dashes forward to meet him, his deadly appendages shooting forward to harshly stab the ghoul's shoulder. The broad man howls with pain before twisting his body free of them, arm moving to swipe at the other's chest. Wincing as he feels it slice through his shirt and graze his skin, Hobie uses his appendages to propel himself into the air, before viciously bringing them down onto the man's head.

The fight goes on for several minutes, your eyes darting to and fro as you try to spot Hobie in all the madness. They're both quick and every blow you see him take makes you grip your chest, scared that he'll die in this violent whirlwind. Your heart hammers in your ears and it feels like the bloody battle drones on for nearly an hour. There's dust as they kick up and crack the asphalt beneath their feet, making it impossible to see through. Stumbling on your feet, your ears pick up the sudden wail of pain that rings in the air. It's silent then, the dust slowly clearing.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly walk forward, stepping closer to where you can hear the sounds of harsh panting. Just as you step into the circle of dust, you see a glowing red eye staring back at you.

“Don't!” Hobie's booming command rings in your ear and your body seizes up almost automatically. As the dust finally starts to settle, you can see how he grips his right side, blood flowing through his fingers. His other hand is held out in your direction, palm facing you in a clear indication for you not to come any closer. Hobie's face is scrunched up in a painful grimace as he watches concern flit across your features. He adamantly shakes his head, feet slowly backing away from you.

“Don't”, he says, softer this time, like he can't mask the agony that colors his voice. “P-Please just… don't…” He can't take it, can't take how good you smell. How good your blood smells. Skin that he knows would be so soft beneath his fingers, so giving as his nails dig into your arm, leaving marks that would never fade as his lips descend onto your neck. Hobie closes his eyes as the very image seers inside of his brain. It's so vivid that he can almost taste it, taste the way your skin gives beneath his teeth as he gorges himself on the divine banquet that is your flesh.

“No, no, fuck, no…”, he mumbles to himself, hand that was held out to you now gripping his hair. He tugs on the coarse hair, biting his lip so hard that he breaks the skin. “Not Star… Not my Star…” Because how could he ever think to harm you, his Star, his light in this oppressed world? Just the fact that he even imagined tainting you, defiling your body with his disgusting, atrocious hunger… Tears slip down his cheeks as he feels the gaping blackhole in his stomach nag at him, begging him to feast on you, the one he loved most. Because what is love if not to consume and be consumed in return?

You weren't blind to his internal conflict, seeing the way he leered at you before stumbling back, farther away from you. Taking a step forward, you're careful to avoid stepping on the body of the dead ghoul in front of him. Hobie's head shoots up and it makes your heart ache, seeing the waterfall of tears cascading down his cheeks. He's shaking his head furiously as he stumbles back slowly and you steel your resolve, even as he yells and curses at you. Shouts of “No, stay back” and “I'll hurt you, please stay back” ring in your ears and with a heavy heart, you press on. Hobie's back is pressed against a brick wall by the time you come face to face with him, his lips trembling and long legs shaking slightly.

“Hobie”, you breathe out softly as you press a shaky hand against his cheek, making him shudder. “Hobes… Is this why you've been avoiding me…?” His face twists into a visibly pained scowl as he clenches his eyes shut. Taking a careful breath, he slowly nods his head. Fear releases its icy claws from your heart, leaving only tenderness and concern for the man before you. You wait patiently as he calms his frantic breathing, the appendages surrounding him slowly retreating into his back. When he looks at you again, you see his brown eyes glistening, the hunger still lurking beneath the depths of his lipid pools. You give him a small smile, acceptance shining in your soft gaze.

“Tell me everything. From the beginning, okay?” Is what you whisper to him. Hobie can't help but bask in the bright light, the shining beacon that is you. It's then and there that he's determined to find a way to put that sickening hunger to sleep for good, his love for you stronger than his beast.

“It's… a long story, love…”

[spacebaby1]

Ghost of you (Law Trafalgar x Reader. ft Cora-San) Part 1

Your captain Law had warned you to stay away from the cold water in the dead of winter, but you just never seemed to listen to him, and it caught up to you. You were burning with a fever now and unable to leave your bed.

Law sighed as he placed the cold cloth on your forehead as Shachi and Bepo were hovering over their captain's shoulder, 'Why don't you ever listen to a word I say? Now you are burning with cold! Have you learned your lesson?' Law didn't mean to sound harsh, but you were sick, and he was terrified for you. You babbled something under your breath that he didn't understand.

'Is she going to be okay?' Bepo asked worriedly. Shachi joined, 'She's been like this for a week! Captain do something.' With a sigh, Law checked your forehead, still nothing changed. 'Okay, you two keep changing the clothes every two minutes and I will go find some medicine for her, don't be too loud, it might give her a headache.' Both Bepo and Shachi took their seat beside you after Law left to his office.

Later that night, Law gave you some medicines that helped you sleep better since you were having a hard time sleeping because of your fever. When you were fast asleep, Law got up to leave, closing the door behind him. Later that night, you woke up still a bit drowsy from the medicines, hardly able to open your eyes with the dim light shining in the room. You felt cold hands being placed on your head, you sighed in relief; at first you thought its probably your captain but you remembered that Law had really warm hands and these were very cold; Ice cold. But you couldn't open your eyes to look at the person that had their hands on your forehead howeve, suddenly you felt your body calmed down, as if the fever left your body and you fell back asleep.

The next morning, you were feeling much better. You were up when Law entered your room to find you sitting on the bed rubbing your forehead, 'why are you up? You need to sleep. You are bur-' he placed his hands to feel your head but frowned when he noticed your body wasn't warm like last night, he removed his hand, 'looks like the medicines worked, I'm glad you look better than yesterday. Do you feel better?'

You nodded, 'I feel better than before. Captain, can I ask you something?' Law nodded. 'Who was in the room last night?' He thought for a minute, 'No one? Why? Did Bepo disturb your sleep again?' You shook your head, 'No, no, it wasn't Bepo. I'd know if it was Bepo but I felt hands on my head and I thought it might be you but your hands are usually-' you took his hands in yours; they were warm, 'Huh, warm.'

'You are saying there was someone in your room last night? Cold hands?' He asked, thinking you might have a dream. You nodded, 'I guess, but I'm not sure I might be dreaming too, but it felt real.' You scratched your head. Law placed a hand on your head, 'it was probably a dream. You need to rest today, okay? I will tell Shachi to bring your breakfast here and try to rest. Don't go outside. it's still a bit cold.' You nodded, and he smiled before walking out of the room. You decided to nap a bit more after having your lunch later that day. By dinner, Shachi and Bepo brought your food and told you about the week you've been sick and everything that happened.

They left shortly after Law came by to give you the medicines. He told them that you needed to sleep more so you would be well rested. You waved them goodbye before taking your medicine and going to bed.

You woke up in the middle of the night feeling cold and had forgotten to put your sweater on before bed. Groggily you pushed the blanket to side and got up making your way to the closet before pulling out a gray sweater and putting it on but you stopped mid way when your eyes widened; from the corner of your eyes you saw a tall figure sitting on the edge of your bed near the window looking outside. Your blood ran cold as you blinked twice making sure you weren't hallucinating the person sitting there looking out of the window when suddenly he looked at you; the dim light in the room showed his sharp eyes and a painted red smile like a joker. He noticed that you can see him and his eyes widened causing you to scream in fear as you ran out of your room struggling to open the door before you actually managed to leave the room running to your captain and immediately Law threw open his door when he heard your screaming.

He was rushing to your room and you bumped into him in the hallway, yelping in fear when you bumped into him but immediately wrapped your arms around him when you noticed it was your captain, 'C-Capt- t-there i-is someone there! M-my room. Captain, there is someone in my room-hes big a-and scary-'

'You can see me?' You heard a voice and looked behind, still hugging your captain to save you from whoever that was. You screamed in fear when you noticed that same person standing few feet from you, you immediately let go of Law and hid behind him holding on his hoodie for dear life as your Captain just stood there looking at you like you had two heads and you pointed ahead but Law saw...nothing.

Meanwhile, you could literally see a man there standing. Why wasn't your captain reacting? 'M-Man- That man! Who is he? Captain?' You asked in a low voice as Law looked ahead then back at you, 'Darling, there is no one here.' The words hit you like a brick when you could clearly see that man standing there! He was there! Was your captain messing with you?

You refused to let go of Law's hoodie, the man got closer to you and you cried in your captain's side holding him so tight that you could rip his hoodie so Law sighed and turned you around and you hugged him tight still not looking at the other tall man, he placed his hand on your head and whispered something...'Calm.' You felt yourself calm down and slowly opened your eyes to look at Law; it was the same hand from last night, you recognised them.

Law was confused as to what was happening? Were the medicines making you hallucinate? He saw the fear in your eyes as you spoke, 'Captain, there's someone standing right next to me, help me.' Few tears fell down your cheeks, and Law felt the shivers as he wrapped both his arms around you protectively; there was no way you were hallucinating, but was this a ghost.

'I'm not going to hurt you, promise' the man spoke to you as you placed your head deep into your captain's chest now the moment his hands were on your head, 'tell him it's Cora-San, please...' You hesitated before you whispered it to Law, 'C-Captain, he-he said C-Cora-sa'

Before you could finish the sentence, Law spoke, 'Cora-San?' In shock, and you nodded, not sure what was going on, but it was terrifying you.

[lost-in-fandoms]

Hello hello helloooo!

I'm sick, tired, done with working so many hours but I wanted to say I MISS YOU and I miss reading your fics because they're often the highlight of my days. I think about your AUs a lot while I'm working (my way of trying not to stress myself) ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Also, I hope Daniel and Max are cuddling together after a lot of kisses and a lot of slices of pizza and a lot of laughter, the two of them in bed tangled together while they talk about nothing and everything ❤️

SENDING YOU THE BIGGEST HUG EVER 🥰❤️ You're amazing ❤️❤️❤️

you are so sweet and kind and i love you so much!!!! 💕you are always so kind about my writing and I hope work gets easier so you can come back because i miss you too!!!

the way i had just opened and closed a blank post because I wanted to write but couldn't find the words when you sent this!!! And suddenly i wanted to write again!!

This is soft but maybe not quite as filled with laughter and food as you would have liked. I still hope you like it 💕

Max closes the door of the motorhome behind him with a sigh, rubbing his eyes and taking off his cap, abandoning it on the small couch and heading straight for the shower.

He is tired. The race wasn't that physically demanding, nothing out of the ordinary, despite being fairly warm, but he is mentally exhausted. He's tired of feeling like he's having to fight the car at every corner, tired of not being heard, tired of having to drag the team over the finish line week in and week out. It's not fair and it's not how it used to be, and now that he's seen how good things can be, it's harder to handle this newfound struggle.

He's roughly drying his hair with a towel when he hears the door opening and closing again, something heavy dropping on the floor, then steps coming towards the bathroom.

"Hey," Daniel says, smiling softly at him. He's already showered, either in his own motorhome or before the team debrief, and Max takes a moment to be irrationally sad about it. He knows it's silly, since he is out of the shower already, but any missed opportunity to be under the spray together has to be mourned a little.

"Hey," Max replies, closing his eyes as Daniel cups his cheek with one hand, dragging him into a kiss.

He doesn't open them again when Daniel takes the towel from him, doing a much gentler job of drying his hair, feeling himself finally starting to relax, shoulders dropping.

"You did well out there," Daniel murmurs, putting down the towel and tangling his fingers in his damp hair, letting Max lean forward until his forehead hits his shoulders.

Max huffs, shaking his head slightly. He doesn't disagree, not really, he knows he has driven to the best of his abilities, but it was not enough. It's never enough these days, no matter how hard he tries. It feels shitty to complain about it when Daniel has been fucked over again, though.

"You did too," he says instead, moving his head to be able to drag his lips on the exposed skin at the base of Daniel's neck into what barely would count as a kiss. "Very good on the tires."

He feels more than hears Daniel's chuckle, his arms wrapping around Max's still naked waist to drag him closer in a proper hug. It feels like the first real moment of respite in the whole day.

"Have you eaten yet?" Daniel asks after a while, loosening his hold but not letting Max go completely. Max stays where he is, not quite ready to move away, humming.

"Had what Rupert prepared, but I still have some electrolytes to go."

This time Daniel does pull back, meeting Max's eyes with a slight frown, but Max stops him before he can say something. He doesn't want to have this conversation again, not now.

"He's keeping my weight under the limit. It's fine."

He watches as Daniel's mouth twists, thinks about the pizzas Daniel has been eating this weekend while he's been on a strict chicken and broccoli diet, the resentment he feels about it a guilty stone in his stomach, but Daniel doesn't push it.

Max hopes it's because Daniel doesn't want to have the same argument again either, and not because Max looks as miserable as he feels.

Daniel's expression softens again, and he leans forward to press a kiss on Max's cheek. Embarrassingly, Max feels his throat close up, tears threatening to choke him.

He's not going to cry, he's not, but he is so tired.

Something must show on his face because Daniel tugs him closer again, a hand wrapped around the back of his neck and the other on the base of his spine, letting Max lean against him again.

"Drink and then bed?"

It's early still, barely 9 pm, and Max feels guilty about having Daniel take care of him like this, but he still finds himself nodding,

Later, when they're both under the covers, he drags Daniel over him, using him as his personal weighted blanket. They can't sleep like this, Daniel gets too restless and Max gets too hot, but it's comforting to bury his nose in Daniel's hair, Daniel's hand tracing patters along his side.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Daniel asks gently, his cheek moving against Max's chest.

Max hesitates. He knows that Daniel would accept either answer. He would be content with a no and he would listen to all of Max's complaints if he said yes, would agree with him that the team has been fucking up over and over, would probably tell Max he has every right to be upset.

But Max doesn't want to put all of that on Daniel, after what was already a shitty race. They can debrief and be angry together tomorrow, when they're both less sensitive about it all, after a good night of sleep.

"No, not yet," he answers, pressing a kiss against Daniel's head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Daniel shakes his head, his answer more expected than Max's. Daniel almost never wants to talk about his own race right away, even when Max spends hours ranting about his, hands flying in the air.

"Want to watch something?" Daniel offers instead.

Daniel ends up picking some funny movie he's seen several times and Max never before, mouthing some of the lines against Max's shoulder as they sit on the bed together, both of them shaking with giggles.

At some point, Max's head ends up against Daniel's chest, his eyes heavy, as he struggles more and more to keep up with the plot. He knows Daniel usually would wake him up, hates when Max falls asleep during movies, but this time Daniel just cards his fingers through Max's hair, keeping him close.

"I'm proud of you," he whispers, words melting down Max's spine like warm water, loosening his muscles.

"You too," he manages to mumble back, barely audible, letting himself melt even further.

It's not perfect, can't be perfect when they're both struggling so hard with their cars, when they can't spend as much time together as they would like, when sometimes all Max wants is to drag the both of them away from it all. But it's close enough to perfect, falling asleep in Daniel's arms.