#PUT ME ON BEDREST

[satorisoup]

just watched the new mha episode… i will never recover… katsuki </3

[owletstarlet]

patron saint of the lost causes (1/2)

“You can stop looking at him like that.” Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind. Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. “Like you broke his best friend."

(For @goodlucktai. You know what you did.

ao3 link | part 2

The thing is, Katsumi really doesn’t want to hear that he couldn’t have known what was going to happen. He knows. Knows because nobody will let him forget it. Knows from his 2AM search history the night after, curled up on his side on a guest futon in the Fujiwaras’ sitting room, feeling pinned down by the blue glow of his phone screen under the duvet.

Here’s how it happens.

***

It’s not that it’s uncomfortable, exactly, to be alone with Tanuma Kaname while walking the forty-five minute round trip between the temple and the combini through nothing but trees and rice paddies and still, thick summer air. Tanuma’s a decent guy. Quiet, thoughtful. And, as he’d made very clear within two minutes of Katsumi meeting him, fiercely loyal.

All good traits, really. But carrying a completely meaningless conversation with someone he honestly doesn’t know all that well doesn’t seem to be within his skill set. And that’s fine, it’s whatever.

It’s just that Katsumi’s starting to feel like a jackass when he’s the only one who’s talking.

School’s been out less than a week, and for some godforsaken reason he’s been talked into coming all the way out to Hitoyoshi by the group chat he’d been added to months ago, for some other godforsaken reason. The conversation had turned to potential vacation plans—the seaside, or a theme park. And it’s not like Katsumi would’ve said no; he’s got a whole month to fill here. But when Tanuma had either hedged or failed to respond altogether, the others had gotten it out of him pretty quickly that the better part of the month both before and after Obon would be full up with temple preparation and events. Apparently, even back when the temple had still stood vacant, some of the locals who had ancestors’ graves out in the crumbling cemetery there would still come out to tidy up as best they could and leave behind their flowers and incense and prayers. This is the second Obon since the temple had reopened, and not only were more visitors expected, but they’d need to be able to properly host them and provide an adequate place of worship.

From just that couple of messages, the others seemed to work out in short order just how overwhelmed he was. Which was news to Katsumi; sure, the guy wasn’t much of a texter, or talker, for that matter—but the messages had just seemed brief, concise, and apologetic.

But when they all show up on the temple doorstep a week later and Katsumi sees the way Tanuma’s shoulders sag with sheer relief, he knows the others were right.

Thus began a multi-day frenzy of scrubbing wood floors, polishing every metal surface within an inch of its life, weeding, dusting, and near-vicious refusals of Tanuma’s father’s offers to compensate them for their efforts. Katsumi certainly wasn’t against the concept of getting paid for busting his ass like this all day, but the man was drowning in paperwork and nonstop phone calls and visitations on top of whatever else it is that priests do all day, so he’d let it drop.

“He really does just radiate that dutiful son energy, huh,” Katsumi says to Kitamoto one day, leaning on a rake and blinking the sweat out of his eyes in the brutal 2PM heat, watching Tanuma pause to tug a crooked, bright red knit cap back into its place on the head of a tiny Jizo statue with endless care. He didn’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds kind of dickish coming out of his mouth anyhow. “Just looking at him is making me tired.”

Kitamoto hums. “That’s part of it,” he says, at length. “But this is his home, too.”

***

Katsumi feels sort of bad that Tanuma has to make this annoyingly long walk just because he himself doesn’t know how to get to the nearest Lawson. He’d lost a fierce, best-of-ten coin flip battle with Nishimura over whose turn it was to pick up snacks. It’s not that it’s a nightmarish distance away considering they’re on the bare outskirts of town, it’s just the late afternoon sun beating down on them that makes him ready to commit  homicide. And most of the way there between the wooded temple grounds and the main residential area is along a dusty gravel road between sunken rice fields, riddled with potholes and not especially worth it to navigate with a bike.

And Lawson isn’t even good.

Precisely none of this is Tanuma’s fault. This is an objective fact that he, of course, knows.

But they’ve only just left the store, and Katsumi ran out of random topics to fill up the stagnant air about ten minutes ago. The best he’s got at the moment, short of intermittent bitching about the heat, is his completely unfounded opinion of some new game he’d seen an ad for at the register which he never intends to play.

And Tanuma doesn’t look especially anxious, or at least not like he’s here under duress or anything—he was the one who volunteered to show Katsumi the way— but he doesn’t look especially comfortable, either. He’s already fished a bottle of tea out of the shopping bag, fiddling with the wrapper between sips and watching the dusty gravel crunch beneath their shoes. His responses aren’t rude, just a little off key, a subdued smattering of ‘oh’s and ‘hm’s and ‘I see’s that don’t always quite sync up with Katsumi’s words, a second too late or too early.  

Maybe it’s the truly ridiculous heat that’s getting to the guy. But he’s drinking his tea, and he’s wearing the same old wet towel he’s had slung around his neck all week, ojiisan style. He’d just re-soaked it again in the little sink outside the combini bathroom. It’s funny, Katsumi thinks, that Tanuma’s such a painfully self-conscious person, but then there’s these odd little things here and there that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him to be self-conscious about at all. He didn’t get out much as a kid, from what Katsumi’s heard. It’d be almost endearing if Katsumi was in any sort of mood to be endeared. As it stands it’s too fucking hot out here and now he kind of wants a stupid neck towel too.

Katsumi doesn’t want to make shit awkward, not when he’s staying in his house. But why had it been somehow easier to talk to Tanuma when they were being chased around some hell-mansion about to be murdered by some ghost-doll-things.

He’s not gonna take it personally. Even with his actual friends, where he seems most at ease, Katsumi’s seen him get fidgety, fingers worrying at a fraying shirt hem or drumming on his knee like he doesn’t always quite know how to physically handle too many eyes on him at once, or so many voices in the room. And more often than not, if one of the others picks up on this, he’s seen them seamlessly take the volume down a notch, give him some room to breathe, a little radius of calm. As though his comfort level is some sort of sixth sense for them all.

And Katsumi’s starting to wonder if running his mouth so that Tanuma wouldn’t have to was really the best course of action here. Maybe silence, comfortable or otherwise, would’ve spared them both.

Hell, too late now.

“…and it’s only available on the newest consoles, because of course it is, and even though Sakatani managed to get his hands on a copy and says he’ll let me play, apparently the graphics are kind of ass, so—uh. You good over there?”

Tanuma’s pinching the bridge of his nose, mouth twisting a little and pace falling a half-step behind Katsumi. He doesn’t really answer, just gives an absent diplomatic little hum like he has done for most of the conversation.

Katsumi stops walking.

“Hey.”

And Tanuma honest-to-god almost shuffles right past him, reaching up to rub at his temple now. He only stops when Katsumi snags the strap of the little freezer bag that he’d brought in a thoughtful yet desperate bid to keep the drinks cold and the tops of Nishimura’s chocorooms from all melting together inside the box. Tanuma blinks hard, like all the dust in the air has gunked up in his eyes.

Katsumi frowns. “Your head hurts?”

Tanuma just blinks again, nods once. The look on his face is strange. Vague, kind of.

Katsumi swears under his breath. “Hey,” he says again, louder, when Tanuma’s gaze slides away and out of focus. He grabs his shoulder, shakes him just enough to get his hazy attention back.

“Is this some youkai thing?” He tries to make the words slow and clear. “’Cause if we need to run…” Their chances wouldn’t be stellar, probably, out in the very-wide-open with no visible houses or people that Katsumi can see, but if they booked it they might make it back to the temple in 20 minutes. Barring being gutted in a rice paddy by invisible monsters.

Tanuma frowns, like he’s trying to grasp at the edges of his focus. “I don’t…”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t think so?” If there were time, Katsumi would feel like an ass for getting in his face and snapping at him. But he can feel Tanuma listing forward where he’s still gripping his shoulder, and he puts another hand under his elbow to steady him. “Should I call someone?”

Blink, blink. Apparently, that was too many questions at once. “…hot,” is what Tanuma finally settles on, in a small voice. Then his knees buckle.

Fuck.

Katsumi just barely manages to keep Tanuma from a total faceplant. He’s not so heavy, but it’s so abrupt that trying to catch him sends Katsumi falling back hard onto his own ass as Tanuma’s knees hit the ground.

Katsumi yelped as they went down, but Tanuma hasn’t made a sound. They’re both on their knees. Katsumi’s got him by the shoulders, and his head’s lolling forward, bumping into Katsumi’s chest.

And, shit. He was not lying. Katsumi can feel the heat rolling off him. He manages to maneuver a hand up to the side of his neck, and very nearly yanks it away, hissing through his teeth.

“Right, so,” he mutters. “Probably not youkai shit, then.”

Probably not doesn’t mean definitely not, though, and even as he’s trying to lower Tanuma fully onto the parched ground, curled onto his side, Katsumi’s fishing out his phone.

One bar. He’ll take it.

He hesitates for a second, torn between dialing Natsume, firing off a group message, or just calling an ambulance. He settles on the first—Natsume’s got the fastest mode of transport, which also happens to be an apparently giant and terrifying monster, if Sensei’s own words are to be believed, so that’s two birds one stone.

He hits Natsume’s name, fingers shaking.

And, dead air. Not even a dial tone.

He swears, checks the screen. Zero bars. A stupid little red x where the bars ought to be.

Goddamn backwoods towns and their goddamn backwoods reception.

“Hey.” He lays a hand on Tanuma’s shoulder. Katsumi can’t see his face, but his breaths are coming short and harsh. “I’m gonna borrow your phone.”

Less than one minute later and he’s given it up. Tanuma’s got the same network carrier, and an older phone to boot. It’s like there’s some fucked-up barricade made of yellowing rice fields, choking air and far-off cicada screeches between themselves and outside human contact.

Well then.

Tanuma’s eyes are open now. Not a lot, but that’s got to be better than passed out. Katsumi manages to work an arm under his shoulders, get his opposite hand under his head and neck. “Let’s get some tea in you,” he says, because he’s not sure what the fuck else to do. He can feel a pulse that’s far too quick thrumming under his fingertips, can see the intense splotchy flush across his cheeks that seems to have crept up out of nowhere. Tanuma doesn’t answer him, just scrunches up his eyes against the direct sun on his face, makes a small pained noise that makes Katsumi feel ill.

Making him drink turns out to be less than an inspired plan. He doesn’t seem to register the tea at first, letting it dribble down his chin, but then after a few slow gulps, he gags. And then proceeds to be sick, all over Katsumi.

“Eh. Didn’t like this shirt, anyways,” Katsumi tells him, hoping to exude literally any emotion other than pure terror, and barely managing to turn Tanuma’s face away in time before he gags again.

By the time he finishes, there’s tears in his eyes, and his breaths are coming ragged and loud. He doesn’t seem to notice that Katsumi’s dug through the combini bag, sliding the 2 liter of mugicha under his head and neck like a pillow, and tucked the bottle of Calpis that Taki had asked for underneath his armpit. The rest of Tanuma’s own bottle he upends over his neck and chest, soaking his towel and the top of his shirt. That, at least, elicits a reaction, a faint confused “hm” that would be perfectly reasonable for anyone whose friend has just drenched them in a bottle of jasmine tea.

It makes Katsumi smile, just a bit. “Gotta cool you down. Sorry.” He’s got no idea if it’s the correct thing to do; he’s based the entire tactic on some random lackluster TV drama he’d seen years ago, where some captain of a school track team overheated during a practice, and her teammates tried to care for her on the field while someone fetched a teacher.

At the very least, it didn’t seem to be hurting. His eyes are open wider now, marginally less clouded over. Katsumi’s positioned him on his side again in case of more puking, his cheek squashed against the tea bottle, and he seems to be focused on some spot on the gravel past Katsumi. He looks like he wants to say something, mouth forming around the shape of words, but nothing comes out.

Katsumi turns. There, lying maybe a half meter away on the ground, is something small and rectangular. Some kind of talisman, Katsumi thinks; it’s made of thin pale wood and covered in some inked-in kanji and symbols he can’t make out. He doesn’t touch it, at first. “This is yours?”

Tanuma nods, just a little, then screws his eyes shut like his head is protesting the movement. But by his side his fingers twitch vaguely in Katsumi’s direction. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when Katsumi was getting his phone. Katsumi scoops it up and places it in his palm, and Tanuma’s fingers close immediately around it.

He digs his own phone out again, an exercise in futility, and dials 119, resisting the urge to chuck it into the field as the call refuses to connect. It’s not like he couldn’t half-drag, half-carry Tanuma back towards the nearest house if he really needed to, but god knows how long it’d take, and even with his net zero medical expertise it seems like a bad idea to be moving him from this spot unless it’s on a stretcher, or on the back of a giant invisible wolf monster.

Tanuma’s staring at nothing at all again, his knuckles white from gripping the talisman. Katsumi frowns, grabs Tanuma’s wrist.

“You’re gonna break it. The wood’s pretty thin.”

Tanuma, predictably, ignores him. Even as weak as he is, with his thumb digging into the center of the thing, he’s likely to snap it in half.

But he doesn’t, or can’t, resist when Katsumi takes it from him. “Let’s keep this in one piece, huh. We need all the damned luck the gods want to chuck our way right now.” He’s about to slide it safely back into Tanuma’s pocket when he pauses, glancing down at the talisman.

“You’re sure nothing’s about to pop out and eat us, right?”

But Tanuma’s eyes have fallen shut again. He doesn’t seem to have passed out; he’s still gasping like he’s run a marathon.

“Right. Gonna take that as a yes.” He finishes tucking the talisman away, then slides his hand up under Tanuma’s fringe. He frowns. The intense heat, he was expecting. What he was not expecting was the desert-dryness of his skin. Katsumi’s own hair’s been plastered grossly to his forehead all week long, only to poke up and frizz at odd angles throughout the day. He hadn’t noticed earlier because of the damp towel and the tea-soaked shirt, but Tanuma’s not sweating.

He swallows back panic. God knows how he’s got any more panic to spare, really. “Look,” he says, not expecting an answer. “Nobody’s coming, because apparently nobody in this entire fucking town uses this road except us, so I’m gonna get help.” He blows out a breath. “I think we passed a pay phone. Ten minutes ago? Maybe less. I’ll make it five. If you get eaten by monsters while I’m gone and I ran in this weather for nothing I am gonna be pretty damn irritated.”

***

The only coffee the vending machines have, at least on this floor, is some dismal off-brand that only comes black. But Katsumi resolutely ignores the acid roiling in his stomach when Kitamoto passes him one and pops the tab. It’s something to do. Chug coffee, scroll his phone. Rinse, repeat. At least it’s cold.

“Hey.”

Something lands in his lap. A squashed-looking cinnamon roll, another vending-machine offering.

“Eat that too or you’ll puke again, probably,” Nishimura tells him.

Katsumi has to bite back the reflexive dickish retort. Nishimura looks just about as shit as Katsumi feels, but he’s still got it in him to be kind. Katsumi’s got nothing in him but raw nerves and stomach acid, at this point.

“Right,” he mutters. “Thanks.”

There’s not even a good reason anymore for the weird shitty haze over his brain. When Tanuma’s dad had called, just before three AM and only two-ish hours after they’d been forced to leave the hospital last night, the news had been good. He was awake, talking a little, and the fever definitely wasn’t gone but the numbers were creeping back downwards. They’d need a few days, at least, to run some barrage of tests and keep an eye out for lasting damage. Tanuma’s dad had been judiciously vague about just what kind of damage, but the half dozen browser pages on heatstroke currently open on Katsumi’s phone had given him a pretty grim idea.

The Fujiwaras’ house had been closest to the hospital, so they’d spent the remainder of the previous night all sleepless and huddled together on the floor of Natsume’s room. Katsumi hadn’t even put up a fight when they’d dragged his futon into the very center of the room between Kitamoto’s and Natsume’s, when Nishimura had idly flopped his own legs over Katsumi’s, or when Taki pulled up some aggressively cheerful magical girl anime on Natsume’s laptop to fill the dead air. When Sensei had tucked himself in by Katsumi’s hip and gone to sleep. When Touko-san had patted his arm, after their very late dinner, her eyes so gentle it hurt. He’d felt liminal, then, like he’d take off and run if he could just escape his own skin, but at least with the others all squashed up against him he could remember to breathe.

It's past 10 in the morning now. Visiting hours had started at 9, and they’d all piled on the first scheduled bus towards the hospital this morning and arrived before 8, anyhow. They had, of course, not been allowed to step foot out the door without a bag loaded up with bento lunches and a firm promise to Touko-san they’d be back by late afternoon when visiting hours had concluded to get some rest. Though she’d been saying something about “getting some things ready” to bring over herself for Tanuma and his dad, and based on the look on her face when she’d said it Katsumi’s half expecting her to march through the waiting room doors in the next hour or two like a woman on a mission with half the contents of the closest supermarket and drugstore loaded up in her arms. The thought makes his chest feel tight.

But they’d shown up just in time to be informed that Tanuma had an MRI among other things scheduled that morning, and that no, they did not know how long it would take.

Across from Katsumi, Natsume’s dozed off, despite his own best coffee-fueled efforts. He’s slumped sideways onto Taki, lank-haired and restless, flicking through an old magazine with disinterest as her heel bounces on the scuffed linoleum. Sensei’s perched across both their laps, still absurdly half-stuffed into the duffel bag in which they’d smuggled him through the hospital doors, which seems pretty pointless to Katsumi if he’s just going to sit there with his entire head sticking out at this point. But he seems entirely unbothered, his eyes closed; maybe asleep, maybe not. But they’re the only ones tucked over in this little alcove of a waiting room, and damn if not a soul has interrupted them for a good two hours.

It’s probably for the best that Natsume’s getting some sleep, really. He hadn’t gotten any more than Katsumi had; Katsumi had heard his muffled hitched breaths last night when they were all pretending to sleep. Out of all of them, he’s said the least this whole time.

“You can stop looking at him like that.”

Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind.

Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. 

“Like you broke his best friend,” Nishimura says, lowly, before letting out a slight oof like he’s been elbowed in the ribs.

Damn. Alright then.

None of them seem to be holding their breath for him to respond, at least. They don’t seem to know what to say, either, really. He’s weighing the pros and cons of just fleeing to the bathroom when Kitamoto finally says, “Natsume knows better than anyone that this isn’t on you.”

“Why?” Katsumi feels his gut give a little lurch. “Was it some kind of youkai shit after all, then?”

Taki shakes her head. “I mean, you’ll have to ask him, but. Sensei did go and check the area out last night and ask around and everything, and it all seemed normal.”

Sensei remains silent, naturally, but his ear flicks in Taki’s direction.

Kitamoto’s mouth twists. “What I meant was, just keeling over in random places with no warning or explanation is like. A hobby of Natsume’s.”

“We love it,” Nishimura mutters. “It’s great.”

Sensei huffs.

Katsumi glances at Natsume, still slack and dead to the world on Taki’s shoulder. And okay, maybe he kind of still looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over. But much less so than when they were kids. Less so even than the first time Katsumi had come to this town. “How many times constitutes a hobby?”

And Nishimura frowns, then honest-to-god starts counting on his fingers.

Taki watches him, mouth twisting like she’s considering it. “I guess it depends what counts as keeling over. Or what constitutes a warning.

“Enough times,” Kitamoto says, decisively.

Nishimura scuffs his toe on the floor. “And with me and Acchan, he’d just be lying through his teeth about it, for months, because he didn’t think he could—“

Could what, Katsumi wonders, but Nishimura never finishes the thought. Kitamoto bumps their shoulders together Nishimura huffs, apparently relinquishing the rant building inside him, but Katsumi thinks the look on his face, the tightness in his eyes, is just this side of grief.

“Anyways,” Nishimura says, after an uncomfortable beat, sounding only slightly more subdued. “Even if you don’t wanna hear it, you’re the Big Damn Hero in this situation. No ifs-ands-or-buts, okay. We all know it. Natsume knows it.” Taki nods, flint-eyed like she’s daring him to argue.

“You can’t predict this stuff,” Kitamoto adds, after a moment, his expression hard to parse. “With anyone. And you’ll just make yourself crazy thinking you can.”

“Okay,” is all Katsumi can think of to say. It sounds dismissive, probably, but it’s all he’s got right now. He watches Natsume scrunch up his nose in his sleep. The council hath spoken, and he is too goddamned tired to refute them.

tbc

[syvrae]

>:(

[scwibbs]

im so delusional im making the most self indulgent re5 au where wesker survives just so i can draw him with a soft tummy

[eyeballcommander]

soo...Commander Peepers. How's everything going? We haven't heard from you in a long while and I just wanted to check in to make sure you're alright

Bad. Not really feeling social.

[augustinewrites]

“sunflowers or peonies?”

“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”

“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”

shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”

the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.

he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.

shoko stitches him up neatly, cleaning and covering it up with a layer of bandages. she offers him a hand to help him sit up, but he bypasses it to plant his palm against the cot, pushing himself up with a groan.

she rolls her eyes, peeling her gloves off and pulling her mask down, tossing them both into the trash. “clean and dress it at least twice a day. no sudden movements of strenuous activity for at least a week. if you ruin my work, i’ll put you on bedrest.”

she digs through her cabinets as he awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. his mind drifts to you as he does so. he’d lost his phone in the fight, so he hadn’t been able to tell you about cancelling.

he wonders if the pout on your lips is painted your lips that shade of red you’d been wearing when he’d first met you. wonders if you’re waiting wearing the dress he’d gifted you last week.

he’d really wanted to see you in that dress.

nanami sighs heavily as he does up the buttons, prompting shoko to glance over her shoulder at him.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks, setting a small bottle of painkillers on the tray table next to him.

“i’m missing an important dinner,” he grumbles, wondering if just a bundle sunflowers or peonies from the small stall outside is enough. he should order you a proper bouquet from a shop. perhaps he can also book you a massage or—

a knock at the door interrupts his spiralling.

“oh!” shoko suddenly gasps. she reaches up, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead and fixing it as best she can.

“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely confused in this moment.

“you’ll see,” she simply grins, sending him a wink. then, “come in!”

the door to the infirmary opens to reveal…you.

“kento,” you breathe, the quiet click of your heels echoing through the empty room as you quickly walk towards him.

he’s shocked, but lets you carefully wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest.

but before he knows it he’s holding onto you too, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of your perfume and focusing on the steady beat of your heart.

“what are you doing here?” he asks once you finally release him, taking your hands in his.

“shoko called me,” you tell him. “apparently…apparently i’m your emergency contact.”

his face is suddenly hot with embarrassment. he’d honestly forgotten about that. he hadn’t even realized he’d done it when yaga had asked him to update his information with the school. your name had been the first and only name to pop into his mind.

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, dropping your hands. he jumped the gun, didn’t he? you’ve only been dating for six months… “i should have asked you first but—”

but no one knows me better than you.

a soft sigh slips from your lips as you sit next to him, with a gaze so reverent that it strips him to the bone. “i love you, kento. i will be your emergency contact as long as you want me to be.”

he whispers the words back to you, suddenly shy.

sometimes nanami lets himself slip a little too far into his own head, overthinking and a little insecure. but you’re always there, ready to coax him back into the light.

“you look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. he’s seen you in a lot of dresses, each one making him weak in the knees. but this dress…this one makes it a little hard for him to breathe.

“well, you still owe me a date,” you tell him, helping him up off the cot. “we could go to the ramen place across from my apartment.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with his. “i’d go anywhere with you.”

[inkdrinkerworld]

Post!prision!Reid seeing his daughter for the first time after he gets out 🥹 he gets so emotional because he can finally hold his baby again!

OMG OMG OMG!!!! can you imagine how teary he'd be!! post!prison dad!spencer x mom!reader, I hope you enjoy <3

You wish you could’ve been with the team at the prison, see him come out there in person, but you’re still on bedrest with your baby girl. Georgia is only a couple weeks old, but she’s so much Spencer’s twin- the same unruly curls, the same nose and the same want of you. 

You’d written all about her in your letters to Spencer, describing every feature he’s going to see today in so much detail you were sure he would see her clearly in his mind. 

“Honey?” He doesn’t shout lest he wake his daughter as he walks in, his fingers twitching with the need to see both of you. 

“I’m on the sofa baby,” it’s almost as if he was never gone. You lean over the sofa to see him pass through the kitchen, his hands holding a small bag. “I’m sorry I can’t stand to kiss you, Spence.” 

He tuts, leaning down over you, “Nonsense, how’re you feeling?” His eyes flit over to the cot beside you, roving over your daughter before settling back on you. 

“Like I missed you longer than you’ve been gone.” You’re waterlogged immediately and Spencer rounds the sofa to pull you into him. 

“I missed you too,” his lips press into your temple, “God I missed you both so much.” Tears wet your hairline but you can’t seem to care, Spencer’s home and he’s able to see your baby girl together. What more could you want?

“I brought you some snacks, I figured you hadn’t been able to get any of your cravings.” He says gently, opening a bag to show you all the chocolate malt balls, the yoghurt raisins and the nuts you’d just run out of. “I got something for Georgia too.” 

“Spence,” you gasp when you see the orange stuffed octopus that he pulls out, it’s just as big as Georgia is now. He wipes the tears that fall on your cheeks, kissing your nose before opening the tub of nuts for you. “Seventh smartest animal in the world.” you recall softly. 

“Can I hold her?” He asks finally and you nod, watching him stand and hover over the bassinet. 

“Just scoop her up Spence, she’s going to be so happy you’re home.” 

Spencer doesn’t say a word, practically holding his breath as he does as you say- scooping Georgia up in record time and holding her close to his chest. There’s a moment right after she wriggles a bit when she settles and Spencer feels an ungodly wave of emotion crash into him.

Of course, he’d read that men only feel like fathers the moment they hold their babies, and everyone had told him (everyone being Derek and JJ) that you can’t control the way your heart kind of cracks open to make room for this new love, but he still hadn’t expected it to be so immediate and visceral. 

“Hi Georgia,” he whispers, his tears rolling down the bridge of his nose as he strokes her cheek. “Hi sweet girl.” You’re enamoured already, looking at Spencer holding your daughter like she’s made of fine China. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were born, baby. But I promise I’m not missing anything else where you’re concerned.” 

Tears pool in your eyes as your daughter wakes up, no crying or wailing, just small coos and gurgles as she looks at Spencer. 

“It’s your daddy, Georgia.” You murmur, sniffling and wiping your eyes as Spencer hiccups as she reaches for his face, her little fist bumping into his jaw.

Her almond eyes stare up at him, blinking all slow as she takes him in. Then she smiles, as if she's put a face to the man who spoke to her every night, telling her all the facts he'd read and learnt about babies, animals and whatever soothing topic he could find to tell her while she lived in your belly.

“Your mom lied to me, you look just like her.” You scoff, rolling your eyes as Spencer gives you a little glare. “Those eyes are all her, Peach. Maybe you won’t get your daddy’s brain either- it’s no fun being smart and getting beat up.” You throw a cashew at Spencer then, making him chuckle and come sit beside you. 

“I’m so happy you’re home.” You whisper, stroking Georgia’s cheek as you press yours into Spencer’s bicep. 

“I’m happy to be back, angel.” his eyes remain transfixed to Georgia all day, holding her and touching her foot when he can’t because you have to feed her. Spencer thinks to himself that he’d live through prison a thousand times over if every time he gets out, he can come back to this moment, to the peace and serenity in your home with you and your little girl and the life you’d made together colouring every wall of the house.

[multific]

In Sickness and In Health

Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Paul fears leaving you while you are sick.

Paul hated to leave you alone, especially since you haven't been feeling so well lately.

Paul knew he needed to go with his father, but he didn't want to.

"I will take care of her." his mother tried her best to reassure him, but Paul was worried.

The love of his life, his beautiful wife has been forced to bedrest for the last few days.

The doctors examined you and determined that you had a simple illness.

A simple one, yet you suffered greatly because of it.

You had a high fever, you could barely eat and sleep was a difficult task.

You were separated from Paul the second day of your illness, now, he was only allowed to visit you.

He was kind enough to bring you books or read you some of his own.

"You must go, Paul, your father expects you to."

"I do not care. I don't wish to leave you alone."

"I understand, but I will be fine, I do feel better already, so please, don't worry too much."

"My mother said she will visit you often," he said as his grip tightened around the book he was reading to you. "I still don't want to leave you." he promised to be by your side, in sickness and in health.

"I will be fine." you said with a smile. Your smile made him believe that it might be all fine after all.

Yet, his worry never left him.

The next day, he left with his father.

Lady Jessica kept her promise and visited as often as she could.

You even started conversations with her. And she did enjoy talking about Paul when he was young.

Then, she even mentioned her marriage, and how she wished you and Paul wouldn't have to face the same or similar difficulties.

The week soon passed, and you were much better as you awaited Paul's return.

And soon enough, you were told that he was landing.

You rushed over, by the time you got there Paul was already off the ship, making his way to you.

"Paul!" you smiled as you slowly jogged over to him, he fully started running.

You opened your arms and wrapped them around him as he lifted you off the ground. You giggled into his ear.

"I'm so happy to see you." he said. "You look so much better."

"Your mother gave me a special tea, it truly helped," you said as he finally put you down on the ground and kissed you.

"I missed you so much." he said and you laughed a little.

"I missed you, Paul."

Paul never felt so relieved in his entire life. He was worried about coming back, so when he saw you, full of life and smiles, running over to him, the weight from his shoulders just disappeared.

All his worries left his body in a matter of seconds.

He held onto you tight and strong, afraid to let you leave his sight as he watched your face, full of life, your eyes, filled with love as you looked at him.

Not even in his best dreams did he ever imagine coming back home and finding you like this.

He was forever grateful for his mother for healing you.

He made a vow to never leave your side ever again, and it is a promise Paul intends to keep for the rest of his life.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[alotofpockets]

When your heart stops beating | Part 2 | Leah Williamson x Lioness!Reader

Where you go down on the pitch and go into cardiac arrest

Warnings: previous cardiac arrest, medical talk, short mention of ptsd A/n: thank you to the woso writers fanfic club for your ideas on this one & @dyke-medic for your advice on the medical aspect of the recovery!

Read part 1 here

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.7k

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As a person who is generally very active, always on their feet, and doing one thing or another, bedrest has been hard for you. You knew it was what your body needed to rest, so you listened to the doctor’s advice, still it was a struggle to not just slip out of bed and go on small adventures inside of your home.

Leah had been absolutely amazing. Without a second thought she had called Sarina to tell her that she was pulling out of camp to take care of you. Sarina had completely understood, she had been there on the pitch when it happened, and was just glad to still have you and that Leah was there to take care of you.

Your girlfriend also knew how much of a struggle bedrest for you would be, so she had been distracting you with all kinds of light activity things to pass the time. You had started with movies like on the day that you came back from the hospital, but Leah quickly realised that your brain needed more stimulation than watching a movie, to get through this bedrest. 

So, while you were sleeping, she got her mum to help her get a few things to the house. Within an hour, Amanda had been at the door with a few puzzles, two lego sets you had been wanting, some canvasses and an array of painting supplies. 

“How is she doing?” Amanda asked when Leah handed her a cup of tea and sat down on the couch with her mom. “Other than struggling to stay put, I think she’s doing fine. She hasn’t complained about any pain, though I know she has to be in some. The doctors said her chest can feel sore for up to a month from the CPR.” Amanda didn’t miss the way her daughter’s eyes turned glossy for a second.

“And how are you holding up, sweetheart?” Her mom’s concerned voice got to her. So, when she looked up to her mom, tears welled in her eyes. “I just keep seeing her down on the field and-” She had been trying to stay strong through everything for you, but now that it was just her and her mom, she broke down. Amanda was quick to pull Leah into her. “Oh baby, I know that must have been so scary. It’s okay, let it all out.”

After Leah had shared all her troubles with her mom, and cried all the tears she had been holding back, she heard something behind her. “What are you doing out of bed?” Her eyes widen when she sees you standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Baby, you shouldn’t be walking the stairs all on your own.” She rushed to your side to stabilise you. “Love, I’m allowed to do light activity if I feel good enough, which I do. So, really it’s fine.” 

Amanda saw by her daughter’s body language that everything was moving too fast for her, so she stepped in. “Sweetheart, why don’t you take a shower? I’ll keep y/n company in the meantime.” Leah sighs reluctantly. “Fine,” She turned to you next, “but you, you will sit down while doing light activities.” You knew she was just worried about you and that she meant well. “Alright love, I will. Now go take a shower, I’ll be right here until you come back, I promise.” You sat down at the kitchen table. 

“I know it might seem like she’s being too overprotective, but our girl means well.” You smile when Amanda puts a sandwich down in front of you. “Yeah, I know she means well. I was a mess after seeing her do her ACL, so I can only imagine what it’s like for her, you know?” Amanda nods, “Yeah, maybe you two should stay away from injuries for the rest of your careers.” Her joke makes you chuckle, “Trust me, I am not planning to do anything like this ever again.”

When Leah gets back down she watches from the door frame as you’re laughing with her mom, at the dining table where you had promised to stay put, now with a puzzle in front of you on the table. She knew you were in good hands with her mom, still she worried that something would happen when she wasn’t there and she wouldn’t be able to do anything.

A big part of the afternoon was spent finishing the puzzle with the two Williamson women. For the first time since you left the hospital you had felt normal. Leah also noticed that you were way more relaxed like how she had thought something more interactive would do. 

Leah saw you physically getting stronger again, and it was helping ease her worries little by little. Today was the second full day at home, and you were ready to get some fresh air. It took some convincing for Leah to be okay with you going on a walk, but with her hand tightly wrapped around your hand, you were finally outside again. The fresh air did wonders to your mood, and having Leah with you was always an added bonus.

Though the walk was nice, you were exhausted after. This time it was Leah who had to do some convincing. It didn’t take much though, to get you to lay down and take a nap. She laid with you, and let you fall asleep in her arms.

After a good nap, you felt much better again, and Leah had lined up another activity. While she intended these for your recovery, she found herself enjoying them a lot. It wasn’t often when you had the time to do stuff like this during the football season. With both of you being starters for Arsenal and the Lionesses, your schedules were rather full, and when there was some free space, you were often found hanging out with friends and family. While this time stemmed from a bad situation, you made the best of it and enjoyed the time you got to spend together.

You were putting the finishing touches on your painting while Leah was staring at you lovingly. “Stop, you’re distracting me!” You chuckled. “Hm, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You rolled your eyes in a joking manner, while you got your painting done. Leah had seen a few TikTok videos where couples would paint each other and then revealed them to each other at the end. 

“Please don’t be mad.” You looked over your canvas and to say it kindly, you were not artistically inclined enough to make your girlfriend look as beautiful as she was. “Oh, now I am very intrigued.” You showed off your masterpiece first. Leah tried to hold back her laughter, but failed miserably. “How does that look like me?” She said between tears. “Ehm, a blonde with Gunner earrings, there is no one else it could be.” You both had a laugh before it was Leah’s turn to show off her painting. “Oh my god, what are you complaining about, that doesn’t look any more like me than my painting looks like you!” 

You had also started on building the lego sets together, but you decided to do a couple pages a day to make the activity last a bit longer.

Over the next couple of days, you were able to walk further and further again. You wanted to try running again, but Leah managed to talk you down from that. “Let’s wait for the physios to be there, shall we?” You knew she was right, but you just wanted to get back out there. 

Another activity you had picked up was cooking together. Everyone knew that Leah was no chef and that you were a pretty decent home cook. So, you used the injury card to get to teach Leah some new things.

You were walking around the kitchen again as if nothing happened, and that is exactly how you felt. No more pain and no more energy loss. You were ready to get back to training, and tomorrow was finally that day.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” Leah asked as she plopped herself down on the counter. “I'm a little nervous, but I am ready to get back out there.” You get a bit of the pasta sauce you made from scratch on a spoon and feed it to Leah. “Hm, tastes amazing, love.” Stepping forwards, you stand between her legs. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” She puts her arms around your waste. “It should be about you.” You shake your head, “It might be my comeback, but you and the team were the ones that experienced the scary part. Your feelings are valid too, and I want to know them.” Leah told you she was nervous too, but that she was confident that the physios and the rest of the medical team would take great care of you.

The next day you felt nervous on your way to the training centre, Leah tried her best to comfort you, but nerves were bound to happen. While the doctors said everything should be fine, it was still your heart you were talking about, so every precaution would be taken. 

The moment you walk into the dinning hall, you are hugged by your teammates, who are all happy to see you. All of them had come by on short visits over the past week, but nothing compared to seeing you decked out in your full training kit.

Leah’s eyes did not leave you for even a second, as you were training to the side with the physios. With a cardiac monitor to track everything properly, you were starting training slowly. Building up step by step, and you couldn’t be happier to be working on your comeback.

During a small break, Leah was by your side instantly to ask you how you were feeling. You hugged her and kissed her on her cheek. “I feel great.” Leah smiled at your enthusiasm. “I am so proud of you baby.”

-----

Lionesses just posted

Lionesses: Things we love to see! After being diagnosed with commotio cordis following a blunt trauma to the chest last week, Y/n has made her comeback to training. She will be training seperately from the team, so we can monitor her well. A full return doesn't seem far away!

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💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[mochinek0]

In Sickness and in Health

"Damian, I need you to work with the new student on this project." his history teacher stated.

"What new student?" the young Wayne questioned.

'There's no one new here. Has he finally lost it?'

"Stay after class, please." they replied.

Damian simply nodded.

'At least if the new person is all in his head, I can work by myself.'

"The new student isn't here today as she's sick. They're also a transfer student." The teacher spoke, "Here is her address."

"You want me to go there and become ill?" Damian speculated.

"Not at all, Mr. Wayne. All I am asking is that you, at least, speak to her about the project." the teacher sighed, "She'll know better than anyone how long she'll be absent. Get her to write a note saying, I don't know, she gives you full control on the project or something. I'll deal with it from there."

"I can do that." Damian accepted.

'At least I can still work by myself.'

Damian looked down at the address in his hand an then back at the seamstress shop. Confused, the young Wayne entered the store and looked around for someone his own age.

"Can I help you?" asked an elderly lady.

"I was given this address for a classmate of mine." Damian explained, "I believe they mixed it up. Excuse me."

"Are you looking for Marinette?" they questioned.

'Marinette? Is that her name? Not American; he did mention they were a transfer student.'

"Yes." he answered, still unsure.

"Go through the blue curtain in the far back." the lady smiled, "There's a set of stairs that will take you to the apartment above the store."

Damian nodded and went to the back of the store. There was blue cloth hung up on a shower rod that parted slightly.

'A door would be better suited.'

Damian walked up the stairs to the second story and found single door. He raised his hand and knocked on the door. The door opened and he was shocked. There in the doorway was a girl with blue hair, up to his chest. She was wearing what seemed to be pajamas, had a blanket draped over her shoulders, a face mask, and a cooling cloth attached to her forehead.

'She is obviously seriously ill. How did she open the door? Why didn’t anyone else open it for her?'

"Who are you?" she questioned, hoarsely.

"Damian Wayne." he declared, "I was told to talk to you about a history project for school."

She moved away from the door and went stright to the kitchen.

"Sit anywhere you want. I haven't sat in the living room in three days. I'd offer you a beverage, but I don't want to get you sick and asking you to get it yourself, seems rude." the girl spoke.

'Polite; unexpected.'

"What are you doing?" Damian questioned, as he watched her stir a pot.

"Making soup for the week." Marinette answered.

"So, I should not expect you to return this week." he suggested.

"I usually eat soup when I'm sick and for the following days, to keep my immune system cleansed." she explained, "So, history? Leave me the details and I'll work on it."

"Mr. Hayes suggested you could write a note putting me in charge." Damian spoke.

"I can work, Damian." Mari remarked, "I don't need you coddling me because I'm sick."

'Coddle! I-The last thing I would do is….coddle her!'

Damian snapped, "I am giving you a way out! Get your rest and I will do it completely!"

"I'm on bedrest and as you can see, I'm functional." she growled back.

Marinette began to cough heavidly, enough to make her grip the kitchen counter. Damian watched as her breaths became labored, as if she had trouble inhaling.

'She calls this functional?'

Marinette grabbed a mug and poured hot water from a near by kettle. Damian watched as she spooned a small amount of tea leaves into a container and place it in the mug.

'Peppermint? She should try lemon, ginger, something citrus.'

"When are your parents getting back?" Damian asked, not moving from the doorway.

"I'm emancipated." she smiled.

'She's by herself?'

Damian looked around and noticed a small table with one chair. The living room had enough to seat up to three guests. There was also one door to the left, behind the living room.

"Leave the form and an email or something so I can send you my portion." Marinette called out, "If you don't like it, I can work in my room and you can work from out here."

Damian took out a pen and quickly wrote down his email at the top of the paper.

"I'll be back, tomorrow." he stated, leaving the apartment.

'Why is she so stubborn? She needs to rest. The simplest solution would be for her to rest this week while I work alone. What is she trying to accomplish?'

The moment she opened the door, Damian stared at Marinette annoyed. She had showed recently, but her hair was still wet. At the very least, she was wearing different clothes.

He scowled, "Where is the bathroom?"

"Oh, in my room, on your left." Marinette pointed out.

'Guess he really needed to go.'

Damian came back with a towel and threw it over her head, without notice. He quickly began to rub her head to get the moisture out.

"You're going to get worse with you hair looking like a wet mop." Damian stated, "Dry it completely."

Marinette remained silent and still. Damian stopped his movements.

"Marinette?" he asked, moving to face her.

'Shit!'

Marinette's eyes were wide and she was practially hyperventilating. She was clenching and unclenching her hands.

'She does not handle physical contact well. Is she going to be okay at school?'

Damian kneeled in front of her and showed his hands were raised in front of him.

"My apologies." Damian whispered, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Damian reached out and dragged his bag, next to the couch. He pulled out a small cylinder.

"I brought you some tea leaves. Citrus help you recover from illness." he began, "I don't believe peppermint will work." as he handed her the container.

Marinette took it and looked at it. She opened it and sniffed the tea leaves. There was lemon, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. There was some other stuff she couldn't make out.

"You......made this?" Marinette questioned.

'Why would he give this to me?'

Damian remained silent, but nodded. He didn't think she would noticed he took his time to make her something.

"I make my own teas." he replied.

Mari smiled, "Thank you."

Damian watched as her expression softened. She got up from her seat, letting the towel fall from her head, and quickly began to get things ready to brew the tea. Once it was finished brewing, she took a sip.

"It’s delicious, Damian!" Mari smiled, happily, "Maybe I should go to you for all of my teas."

Before he could respond, Marinette took her tea and went into her room. Damian picked up his things and saw she had gotten comfortable in her bed with her laptop on a tray.

"Were we not working over there?" he questioned.

"I don't want to get you sick." Marinette replied, "Besides, there's only one chair. I'll just email you-"

Damian left the room and returned with the chair from her kitchen table.

"I don't get sick, easily." Damian declared, setting the chair down a few feet from her bed, "h quicker we finish this, the more you can rest."

Marinette worked silently, sipping on the tea Damian had brought her. After an hour, Damian packed up his thing, declaring he'd return the next day.

This time, when Marinette opened the door, he could tell she was moving much more sluggish.

'She got worse! She's pushing herself for me. Damn her stubbornness!'

Damian quickly picked her up in his arms.

"You're-" she began.

"If I get sick, I will blame you later." Damian claimed.

"Sorry." Mari whispered.

Damian placed her back in her bed. He quickly rushed to the bathroom in search of a first aid kit or at least, a thermometer. Once he found it, he brought it back and held it out. Mairnette looked at it, in dissapointment.

"Use it." he demanded.

Marinette shoved it in her mouth and waited. The quick beeping notified them both something was wrong. Mari took it out of her mouth n tried to hide it. Damian was able to grab it with ease.

'102.5'

"I'm fine." Marinette declared.

"You are far from fine." Damian stated.

Damian took the thermometer to the bathroom and washed it, as well as his hands. When he returned, he found Marinette fast asleep. He found a cooling pad near by and placed it on her head. Damian remember a small cloth by the sink and wet it. He quickly cooled off her arms, her neck, and her legs, before covering her up. Damian took out a sticky note and wrote down his number.

Marinette woke up to the room being dark.

"Damian?" she called out.

She grabbed her phone and saw it was close to two in the morning. She set her phone down and felt a paper.

'Sticky note?'

She turned on the flashlight on her phone and looked at the note: Call me if you worsen-Damian.

'Aw. He's really sweet. I feel so bad for falling asleep on him.'

Marinette stood up and made her way to the bathroom. She grabbed the thermometer from the medicine cabinet and took her temperature. It read 99.2; it was the best it had been all week. She washed the thermometer and took some medicine. After, she made more of Damian's tea.

'Gonna need it.'

Damian arrived back from patrol to find an email from Mari.

'I thought I told her to call me if she got worse, not email me!'

He opened it in a panic and found it was her completed work for the assignment. Damian looked at the time. It was now three in the morning and she had sent it thirty minutes ago. He grabbed his phone and opened his contacts. Then, he froze.

'I don’t have her number! Fuck!'

Damian went over the next day and was surprised to see her more active. Marinette had answered the door happily and was dressed in white tank top, pink shorts, and slippers. She wasn't even using a blanket to keep herself warm.

"Damian!" She smiled, "Hey, did you get my email?"

"I did." he answered.

"Is everything okay?" Mari asked, "I didn't think I'd see you today."

"Why did you send it so late or early, I should say." Damain questioned.

"It was when I woke up." Marinette answered, "I'm sorry for falling asleep on you. I decided it was best to work on it, while I had a clear head. I'm feeling a lot better, so I should be able to see you at school tomorrow. I'm sure it was all thanks to your tea."

Damian nodded and held out his phone for her to grab. Marinette looked at it confused, but took it.

"I planned on yelling at you, for being up so late, but I didn't have you number." the young Wayne stated.

Marinette giggled, "And I should give it to you, why?"

Damian remained silent. He didn't think she would refuse to give her number to him.

"In case we are paired up again." he quickly spoke.

Mari added her contact information and handed it back.

"Sick Girl?" he questioned.

"So you know it's me." Mari answered.

He hated how right she was. It was likely that if she had entered her name, he would have forgotten it in a week and deleted it.

"Do you want to come in or was that all?" she asked.

"That was all." he said and quickly left.

Marinette closed the door an giggled.

'He's like a stray cat that came to say hi.'

Damian sat in class and kept his eyes on the door. Marinette hadn't walked in, yet, and it was almost time for the bell to ring.

'Is she still sick? Did her fever come back? I should have called her this morning to make sure she was feeling fine.'

The bell rang breaking him from his thoughts and then, she rushed in.

'Marinette.'

"Late." their teacher declared, "I will forgive you, this time, since you have been sick, Miss Duapin-Cheng."

Marinette nodded her head. It was finally time for history class and it was so different to see her in uniform. Damian could admit he more use to seeing her in pajamas or shorts, with her blanket curled around her. He was even use to her falling asleep, but some how the uniform felt less personal. He hated it. Damian watched carefully over Marinette. He had to make sure she was completely better. Her damn stubbornness left him worried about her pretending to feel better for his sake. Then, he saw it; the tense smile on her face. She was surrounded by their peers. It reminded him of the smiles his brothers' gave at parties. Damian walked over and grabbed her wrist.

"We need to talk about the project since you have been absent." he declared.

"Oh, okay." Marinette answered, as he pulled her away from everyone else.

"He could have been nicer."

"It's Wayne. When is he ever nice?"

"Lucky bitch."

"I can’t believe she was his partner."

"He probably did it himself, already."

"Yeah. He's just gonna give her a copy and put her name on it."

"I can’t believe he touched her."

"True."

"Better than him yelling at us to move or scram, again."

Marinette frowned as she heard what they said about Damian. That wasn't the Damian she knew.

"Thank you." Marinette whispered, once they were far enough.

Damian looked at her questioningly.

"For rescuing me." she answered.

"You appeared uncomfortable." the young Wayne spoke, " I was uncertain how you would react if one of them touched you. I understand if I made you uncomfortable, as well. My apologies for forcing you. Next time, tell them to leave."

"I'm not good at dealing with people; not anymore." Mari declared, "Besides, they should forget about me soon. I'm still 'new' in their eyes. I'm not trying to gain anything by talking to them. I don’t want to get to know them."

"I thought you weren't coming." Damian spoke, changing the subject.

"Huh?" she asked, confused, "I told you I was coming today."

"You were late." he growled.

"Oh." Marinette winced, "Uh….I have a feeling I will be in detention a lot."

Damian stopped and turned to her, waiting for an explanation.

"I have always been late to school, even when it was across from my house." she stated.

Damian sighed, "I'll pick you up in the mornings."

"No!" she cried out.

"Why?" he demanded, "Is that an issue? I have been to your place before, have I not?"

"I'm not a morning person." Mari replied, looking down.

He sighed again, "My brother isn't either, unless he has had coffee. I can bring you some." making a mental note to steal Tim's coffee in the morning from now on.

"Really?" Mari questioned, perking up.

"You better, at least, be dressed." Damian retorted.

"Pajamas count as being dressed, right?" she squeaked.

Damian glared at her, "Why would you still be in pajamas?"

"I'm not a morning person!" Marinette glared back, "I work late and-"

"The shop keeps you that busy?" he questioned.

"Oh." Marinette spoke, "No. I help in the shop sometimes, but that's not my job. I do commissions. She asks me to help some times, but she's going to let me use the sewing machine for free until I can buy one."

"How….long do your commissions take?" he sighed.

"Depends who it's for. If it's for my uncle, I tend to work three weeks straight. It also depends on the pay and timeline. If he called me right now and asked for something in six months, I wouldn't worry unless things began to pile up. It could also be one of my aunties."

'What the fuck is with her family? No wonder why she is emancipated! I can't believe they would work her that hard.'

"You're moving into the manor." Damian declared, "I'll even get you a new sewing machine."

"I am not!" she cried out, "I barely know you! All I know is you name and you make tea!"

"At this rate, I'll have to get you dressed and drag you to school!" Damian cried back.

"Who the fuck made you my babysitter?" Marinette shouted.

"Someone should be." he huffed, "You obviously need someone to take care of you. I don’t see why it shouldn't be me!"

Marinette squeaked and turned red. Realizing what he said, so did Damian.

The teacher watched as Damian took Marinette aside to talk. He was well aware that their assignment had been turned in three days ago. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was the closest he had ever seen Damian be comfortable around anyone. He also was aware of Marinette's past school and being bullied.

'I knew getting them to talk would be a good thing.'

DAMINETTE TAGLIST: @meme991001 @umbreon-worshipper @stainedglassm @jasmine-the-fox @psychicdelusionwerewolf @vixen-uchiha @mysteriouschar @missmadwoman @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dissarraymania @tundra1029 @abrx2002 @mrsjacuinde @ledalasombra @animegirlweeb

TAGLIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @tigresslily @legodetectivemalsblog

[satorisoup]

NEW BOKUTO OFFICIAL ART !! :3

@6okuto kou YIPEEE !! :>

[sl-ut]

Pretending to be hurt or sick so abby takes care of you with those big ass muscles because my dramatic ass would do that

no bc same

it def starts out when she's actually hurt tho. if we're talking canon abby, i mean like in danger, hurt, and likely to die if abby wasn't there to save her poor ass

they're out on patrol and some infected come out of nowhere while they're in the midst of fighting some scars, coming up behind y/n and giving her literally just enough time to roll out of the way so the infected goes for the scar that was on just about to kill her instead.

she's already winded and pretty messed up from the scar, but her last-second somersault out of the way leaves her with a bum knee and what's likely to be a concussion. she's a little out of it, and the runner coming at her would have had the perfect opportunity to rip her to shreds if abby hadn't jumped in and snapped it in half, wasting no time in scooping up her girl and sprinting away to safety. when they get back to the arena, y/n is basically put on bedrest for weeks until she's better, which she though she would hate, but she was quickly reminded of how wonderful it is to be doted on by her hunky, caring, and oblivious girlfriend.

by the time she was able to lean a bit of weight on her knee again, she quickly realised that she missed having abby help her shower, holding her against her firm chest as she gently helped her wash her hair. she missed getting carried up and down the stairs in abby's big meaty arms like she weighed nothing. so, then she did the obvious, she faked another injury to give herself another week or so of abby's constant hovering, but then quickly came to regret it.

it never really occurred to her that their sex life would be so affected by it. when she was actually hurt, she did not have much of a sex drive to begin with, and when she did, abby was glad to get her off with her fingers whenever she needed. but now, she was better, and she wanted nothing more than to get absolutely plowedddddd, but poor oblivious, lovestruck abby still thought she was hurt, and would only give her no more than two fingers at a time. she quickly sped that up, but abby kept her at arms reach until she was finally "better", and finally gave her what she wanted a full eight weeks after the initial injury.

now if we're talking sweet cliches!abby, she's harder to trick. let's think for a sec, she's premed, so she's on top of y/n's care and maintenance while she's hurt, so she also knows exactly when her symptoms go from real to fake, but she thinks it's really cute and certainly doesn't mind getting to shower and feed and love on her gf all the time and keep her cooped up in her apartment all to herself and watch movies and do self care and cook and omgomg omg omg i love her smmmm i need a big beefy premed gf to take care of me and deal with my nonsense like where is she

[wonfilms]

looking after enhypen [౨ৎ] when they’re sick

( rbs are very appreciated !! ) | pairing. ot7! x fem reader wc. 0.9k cw. sick ppl (jst fevers and colds!) genre. fluff a/n- i loved writing niki's sm idk why, i hope u guys enjoy this, this is mostly bc i'm sick rn and i'm projecting

lee heeseung:

heeseung’s so pouty when you try to look after him, trying to insist that he’s completely okay despite his flushed cheeks and very evident fever

mumbling under his breath about something along the lines of, "don’t worry about me baby" when all you can do is worry when he’s been tucked in bed all day, napping

begging you for another blanket to stay cosy, even though it's gonna make him feel warmer and worse, till you cave and swaddle him up

lets you feed him soup and press kisses to his forehead even though he’s complaining about how you’re gonna catch his cold too, (he’d be lying if it didn’t make him feel so loved and cared for, he’s already plotting how he’ll make it up to you when he's feeling better)

park jongseong

jay’s already trying his best to take care of himself , sleepily attempting to make some soup when you arrive back home in a rush, arms decked with supplies to help him feel better.

hates to complain, he's practically insisting he's absolutely fine even though he's so tired

giving him the princess treatment, even though he insists that’s usually his job. 

letting him lean on your shoulder, combing his soft hair as you feed him the little warm dumplings you bought for him as a treat :(

kissing his forehead telling him about your day while he dozes off slightly on your chest just because he likes to hear your soft voice lulling him to sleep

keeps saying thank you over and over even though you told him to rest his voice, because he appreciates you looking after him so so much sim jaeyun

so cute n whiny about it actually lets you tuck him in bed and put on a movie while he's plowing his way through a box of tissues..

swears that he's going to pass away from his little cold, and it's cute even though he's been a little drama queen just for your attention

says he can't move just so you can feed him, another man who deserves princess treatment

won't let you kiss him though, doesn't want you to get sick!! but he knows he'll fold if you keep asking,

whenever you say he's getting hot, his go to response is "aren't i always baby?"

keeps up the flirting even though he swears he's on his 'deathbed'

park sunghoon

he never gets sick, he’s always somehow at the peak of health, usually it’s his job to look after you when you catch colds but this time it’s his turn to be coddled, quite unlike his usual taste

cheeks and nose all red and he’s clinging to you, even though he swears he’ll be okay in a day (he was not)

hugs you from behind as you make him something warm to drink because he just wants to be close

even tries to insist he’ll sleep on the sofa because he doesn’t wanna get you sick, pouts when you shut that idea down before he can even finish explaining himself

gets really irritable and groans about how much he could be doing right now if he wasn’t all ill and if it wasn’t for the fact you’ve put him to bedrest for a while

kim sunoo

very much a little drama queen like jake but sunoo’s sweet about it. insists on trying to take care of himself, failing miserably when he almost falls asleep trying to make toast and having to call you to help him

sunoo very much enjoys the coddling and princess treatment you’re giving him, but does promise he’ll make it up to you even though you’re only doing it because you love him

running him a warm steamy bath to clear up his sniffly nose and making warm herbal tea to share~

he loves you so much, constantly mumbling about how much he does in his delirious state

yang jungwon

tries to be productive even when he’s coughing his lungs out and half lucid, that’s always been his issue

complies when you drag him to bed because he loves you too much to go against your words

does complain about it though, saying he’ll be okay and it’s just a cold.

almost falls asleep as soon as you start brushing his hair gently 

even though you’re scolding him for not taking care of himself, he can’t help but smile at how much you care for him

cuddles you tight, even after saying he doesn’t want you ill too, because he doesn’t wanna be apart right now

“you look adorable all bundled up like this” “hehe yeah <3”, 

nishimura niki

is an absolute brat, in all honesty

complains the medicine tastes bad, and you have to plead and beg for him to take it.

“just take it niki” ”what will i get if i do?” “you’ll get better, that’s what you’ll get”

whines complaining how he can’t kiss you now, tries to sneak in a couple cheek kisses though

bundling him up in 3 blankets because he’s shivering.

won’t give up the drip even though he’s sick.. he’s gotta keep up hot boy appearances and let everyone know that his hot girlfriend has a hot boyfriend too

 taking him on a walk and hes trying to leave his coat at home because it ruins his outfit.

moans about the fact he looks like a kid, when you pull a coat, scarf and a hat around him before you take him out, making him look so so cuddly

takes a nap on your chest after you get home, when he finally shuts up and calms down <33

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You open the cupboard and rummage through the contents. Rice crackers, no. Protein powder, please. You scoff and find what looks to be chocolate but as you rip the wrapper open and bite into it, the bitterness nearly gags you. You rush to the sink and spit it out. 

“Glad to see you making yourself at home,” Steve muses from the doorway. 

You look to him and fold the wrapper back around the bar. You scowl and go to put it back. You shake your head. 

“I’m starving,” you say. “So hungry it hurts.” 

You rub your stomach as a wave of dizziness bobbles your head. Between waves of nausea and fatigue, the ravenous need consumes you. You search around, forgetting him for the pang in your stomach. You pull open the fridge and pull out the yogurt. You peel the lid off and grab the sugar dish and pour it into the container. 

“Woah, woah, that’s not good for the baby,” Steve rushes forward. 

“Don’t,” you warn as you slide open drawers in search of a spoon, “do you have pickles?” 

“Pickles? With yogurt?” 

“I’m fucking hungry!” You growl, a surge of rage searing through your veins as you grab a spoon. “If I have to be here, let me eat, at least.” 

“I don’t mind you eating, but you gotta be careful--” 

“Pickles,” you remind him. 

“Don’t got any, sorry. But I can go grab some, I guess. If you make a list--” 

He gets closer and you recoil. You wave your hand at him and plug your nose, “don’t come any closer.” 

“Excuse me?” He grimaces. 

“Your cologne or something. It’s setting me--” 

You spin and hold the spoon behind you as you puke into the sink. Your body lurches with each violent wretch. The bile does little to deter your appetite. You simply rinse out your mouth and the sink and go back to the hunt for satiation. 

“They said the symptoms will probably be worse than usual,” he leans on the counter and watches you. “Nausea, hunger, hormones...” 

“Goddamn? Ice cream? Do you have ice cream?” You snarl down at the freezer drawer. 

“I’m not much of a sweets guy.” 

“No pickles, no ice cream. Baking chocolate and sour yogurt.” You rant. 

“I told you, I’ll go get you some stuff-” 

“Then go.” You snap. 

“Hey, watch it.” 

“Or what?” You face him defiantly. “I’m carrying your baby, Steve Rogers, so you can’t do shit.” 

“I can do whatever needs to be done. You might require bedrest.” 

“Bedrest? I’m fine.” You insist and turn your back to him. 

“You’re tearing apart my kitchen and slathering like a dog,” he reproaches. 

“Slathering like a dog? Tell me again about how in love you are.” You snip, “Jeez.” 

“I didn’t mean—honey, sweetheart, I’m just trying to help you settle. We both gotta learn to live with each other. We only got seven months or so to do so.” He crosses his arms as you pull out the loaf of bread and load the toaster. 

“Hmm, you know what will help me settle in? Peanut butter and jelly. Oh and cream cheese. Mmph, yes,” you march around the kitchen and grab the butter. “Also, oreos--bagels!” 

“Okay, I’ll head out,” he sniffs and shifts flat on his feet. 

“Great,” you go back to the toaster as the scent of the browning bread drives you wild. 

He approaches you from behind and you do your best to ignore him. You bounce on your heels impatiently and tap your fingers. You stiffen as he rests his hands on your hips. You have nowhere to go. 

“A kiss before I go?” He asks. 

You hold back a heave, “I just puked.” 

“I don’t care,” he squeezes, “please. It’s been a while since that night. I’m a bit... neglected.” 

You lock your jaw and stare at the tiled wall. You force the tension out and steel yourself. You turn to him and your insides coil uncomfortably. 

“Fine,” you croak. 

He leans in and presses his lips to yours. You hold back an eruption of disgust. Objectively, he’s handsome. He is the great golden Captain America but you’ve seen the real him. You’ve seen his callousness, his cruelty. You have witnessed his delusion. You wonder if the serum did that too. 

The toast pops and you tear away just as his tongue pokes out. You grab the butter knife and take the lid off the container. You slide out a hot slice and spread the dairy across it. He sighs and looms close. 

“Anything else I can get?” He asks. 

“Just food. Lots of food,” you say as you shove a piece of toast in your mouth. “Mmm, ohmagrddddd.” 

“Alright, I’ll be back. Call me if you need anything.” 

“Sure,” you munch loudly.

Maybe that will keep him away. If you can make yourself as gross as possible, you won’t have to worry about him begging for kisses and touches. Right now, you don’t want anyone near you. 

[augustinewrites]

“itadori, please respect his personal space—”

“kugisaki! stop hitting him—”

“megumi, don’t you dare bring that elephant out in my classroom—”

peace and quiet is short-lived whenever the first years are around.

you manage to quiet them down with the threat of assigning an essay, allowing you a moment’s respite to massage your temples and lean back in your seat, glancing at your phone to check just how many minutes you have left with them.

a notification pops up as you do, bringing on a whole new headache.

[satoru]: send nudes?

you quickly turn your phone over so it’s screen-down, face burning as you look around to make sure no one had seen.

peace and quiet is also short-lived whenever satoru calls out sick. because the strongest sorcerer of your time…currently has a cold.

he is, predictably, very dramatic whenever he’s sick. a mild fever means he puts himself on bedrest. a sore throat means he needs to be spoon fed a very specific homemade soup.

but the worst…oh, the worst is when he has a cold.

when satoru’s sinuses are clogged, he’s an absolute menace to deal with. his sneezes shake the apartment and his whines about sinus pressure are all you hear at the dinner table.

luckily, the students have resorted to quietly bothering each other, so you slowly turn your phone back around to deal with the man child who is likely littering the living room floor with tissues.

he’s stuck at home, which means he’s got nothing to do but annoy you.

[satoru]: haha jk

[satoru]: unless…?

huffing, you quickly type back a response.

[you]: NOT funny. i’m at work.

[satoru]: so what you’re saying is you’ll send them during lunch right ;)

“miss!” itadori shouts, his arm raised. “can fushiguro come to the arcade with us after class?”

“of course,” you say. “but please don’t forget to finish your essays on cursed technique origins. it’s due on monday.”

yuuji’s practically bouncing in his seat as he grabs megumi’s arm. hear that, fushiguro? you hear as you pick up your phone. your mom said yes!

megumi, who usually comes home on the weekends, still looks to you for approval. you assure him with a small nod and smile.

sometimes you just want to wrap him up in your arms and never let go. he may have been another couple’s blessing, but ultimately he’s yours and gojo’s pride and joy. possibly the only one you have left, as it stands.

thought you’re a little sad that he won’t be home for dinner tonight, you remind yourself that he’s growing up. for as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been a sort of lone wolf. but a lone wolf is still a wolf, and a wolf needs a pack.

he’s finally found friends he’s comfortable with, and it’s good that he wants to spend time with them and vice versa.

your phone buzzes insistently in your hand.

[satoru]: pleeeeeaaaase?

[satoru]: i think it’ll really help with my recovery…

[satoru]: if this cold kills me the last thing i want to see is a picture of you

oh, that’s actually kind of—

[satoru]: nude, preferably

maybe it’s a good thing megumi won’t be home tonight. you don’t need any witnesses to the crime you’re about to commit.

[you]: what’ll help with your recovery is a visit to the infirmary.

there’s a short pause, then you watch the little bubble appear and disappear about six times.

[satoru]: shit

[satoru]: is this a scene?

you roll your eyes, waving at the kids as they head out to catch the train.

[you]: i hate you

he doesn’t answer, so you get up to hurry over to your office, shutting and locking the door behind you.

you wait a moment, opening the camera on your phone as you do so.

once the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall disappears, you start unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt—

you scream when a loud sneeze startles you, satoru suddenly appearing at your side.

he doesn’t miss a beat, plucking a tissue from your desk and blowing his nose loudly. he throws it in the general direction of the bin before slapping his palm onto your desk.

you can tell he’s attempting to be some sort of seductive, but it’s dampened bu the way he sniffles loudly, his face a little red.

“hello, doctor,” he says, a lazy grin spread across his face. “i’m here for my physical.”

“honey,” you laugh, gently cupping the sides of his face. “you need to rest.”

“but ‘m not tired,” he pouts, leaning in to nose at your neck. his skin is warm against yours, much too warm for your liking.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “since i’m your doctor, i’m prescribing a nap.”

“a nap does sound kind of nice…”

he gets up, taking your hand and dragging you over to the couch with him. he locks you within his embrace, sighing contentedly as he presses you to his chest.

“wait, satoru i have to supervise the second years’ training—”

it’s too late. he’s already asleep, snoring loudly in your ear.

so you take out your phone and text nanami, asking if he can cover for you this afternoon.

because a sick satoru is a needy satoru, and you won’t be leaving this couch for a while.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Pineapple (The Surprise, Part 23)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregnancy times, no smut but definitely allusions to sex, nudity, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.7k

Summary: You're on partial bedrest to avoid preterm labor, and both you and Emily are going a little stir crazy with it.

Week 33: The Pineapple

“You’ve gotta get out of here,” you told Emily as she stood behind you in the shower, lathering your hair.

She yanked your head back gently to rinse the shampoo out, and you felt a familiar bolt of arousal shoot through your body.

“You’re not supposed to be standing for very long,” she argued. “It’ll go faster if I help”

“I’m not sure that’s true.” You shuddered as she ran her soapy hands over your shoulders, your neck, down your arms.

When she made it to your chest, you grabbed her hands and held them away from you. “You have to go.”

“Honey, just let me help you.” She rubbed her thumbs across the backs of your hands.

You threw open the shower door and pointed. “Go. You can help me with whatever else, okay? You can make me dinner and rub my feet and keep me entertained, but for the love of god, you can’t do this. I’m not supposed to get turned on.”

The shit-eating grin on Emily’s face as she stepped out of the shower made you simultaneously furious and horny.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm as she toweled off. “Am I just too much for you?”

You flicked water at her and she flinched, laughing, as you went back to soaping up the rest of your body.

“You’re in the shower with me, Em. Naked. With your hands all over me. What’d you expect? I’m pregnant, not dead.”

Emily giggled and tied her robe around her waist, biting her lip. “You’re pretty when you’re mad.”

You shook your head, turning off the shower and stepping out to snatch the towel Emily held out to you.

You glared at her as you dried off. “Don’t forget that you’re not getting any either. For a long time. So you better watch it. I can’t help you if you get too turned on.”

“Well, of course not,” she observed, looping her arm through yours to support you as you walked back to the bedroom. “That’d turn you on.”

You didn’t need help walking, but ever since you’d been put on bedrest last week, Emily insisted she walk you everywhere. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so sweet.

Emily also wasn’t used to not working, and she was restless, which currently translated into… overbearing in an endearing kind of way. She pulled socks onto your feet and a sleep shirt over your head as you sat on the edge of the bed. She helped you poke your toes out of the bottoms of your maternity sweatpants, and when she was done, she planted one kiss on your baby bump and another on your forehead as she rose to her feet.

“Do you need anything?” she asked, cupping your face in her hands. “Massage? Earl grey? Pupusa run?”

You grabbed Emily’s hand and kissed her palm. “Will you just snuggle with me for a bit?”

“Twist my arm…” Her voice was sarcastic, but her smile gave her away. She crawled behind you in bed, pressing her body into yours and nuzzling her face into your neck. Emily exhaled deeply, as she always did as soon as she got comfortable with you in bed like this. You loved her little huff of breath, the way her muscles seemed to relax afterward. You were proud, honored, to be someone Emily let her guard down with, someone who made her feel safe and calm.

“You know I love you?” she whispered, her breath warm against your neck.

“Mmhm.” You were in that glorious space between waking and sleeping, warm and cozy and snuggled up with the person you loved most in the world. You could stay here forever.

“You love me, too?”

And her voice was timid, almost scared, a rarity for Emily. You rolled over so you could look her in the eyes, tracing her with your fingers. Her eyebrows, the bridge of her nose, the small wrinkles that were forming at the corners of her eyelids, the strong length of her jawbone.

“What kind of question is that?” you whispered, holding her face in your hands and running your thumbs along her cheeks. “You know I do. I love you more than anything. More than breathing. More than pupusas even.”

When Emily didn’t grin or laugh at your attempt at levity, you knew something was wrong.

“Hey,” you said softly, eyebrows furrowed, pulling Emily close to your chest. “What’s going on, huh? Talk to me.”

She let out a shaky breath, then mumbled. “I feel like you’re getting tired of me.”

If she’d looked up, she would have seen the most dumbfounded expression that had ever found its way to your face. “What!?”

“It’s just… we’ve been home together all the time for almost a week now and… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like you… like you don’t want me around.”

“Oh, honey, no,” you breathed, running your hand through her hair. “I absolutely want you around. What did I do that made you feel like that?”

She shrugged, but you insisted. “Tell me, Em.”

“Well, the other day while you were working in the office. I came to sit and work with you and you asked me to leave the room.”

“Em, baby, that’s just because you’re so cool and pretty and fun and I love having you around so much that you’re kind of a distraction when I’m trying to work. It’s not that I don’t want you there, I promise.”

Emily nodded, but still looked sad. You kissed her forehead. “I love you, okay? I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want you there. I should have communicated better. Anything else?”

She buried her head in your chest and you rolled your eyes. Getting Emily to admit she had feelings was like pulling teeth sometimes. “Out with it, Emily.”

Her voice was so quiet, you had to ask her to repeat herself. “You didn’t want me in the shower with you,” she mumbled.

You giggled and cradled her head in your arms. “Aw, Em. Honey. You gotta let that go. I’m sorry we can’t shower together right now, okay? You’re just too damn sexy. I can’t handle it. Look at me, baby.”

It took a minute, but you finally got Emily to look you in the eyes, and you were amazed, as you always were, by their openness, their vulnerability. This was not a side of Emily that many people got to see, let alone comfort and heal.

“I love you. Okay? I love you so much. I love being with you. I love having you around. You are my favorite person in the universe. Got it?”

Emily nodded, and you placed a quick kiss on her lips, knowing that if you let it get any more passionate, you’d get too turned on.

“I’m having your baby for fuck’s sake,” you grumbled as Emily wrapped her arms around you, lifting her head up to place a kiss under your chin. “I wouldn’t do that for anyone else. Ever.”

Emily exhaled shakily and played with your fingers. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m feeling so insecure.”

“You’re allowed to feel insecure, honey,” you insisted. “It’s okay. I love you, alright?”

She nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

After a few minutes, you giggled.

“What?” Emily prompted.

“Honestly, I thought maybe you were getting tired of me.”

Emily furrowed her eyebrows at you. “Why would you think that?”

You shrugged. “I work from home. And I’m so introverted. I’m used to spending a lot of time alone, so it’s no big deal. But you work with people all the time. With your friends, even. I don’t know, I thought you might be getting antsy.”

When Emily didn’t say anything, you grinned and tickled her until she squirmed. “You are getting antsy, aren’t you!?”

“It’s not you!” she protested. “I’m just used to working all the time and now I’m… a little bored? But not of you! Never of you, sweetheart.”

“Em, it’s fine,” you reassured her. “You’re allowed to have a life outside of me. Why don’t you see what JJ and Penelope are doing right now?”

Emily sat straight up and glared at you. “You’re on bedrest. How are you gonna go to the bathroom?!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said, sarcasm rolling off your tongue. “Just pee in the bed, I guess.”

Emily threw up her hands. “I’m serious!”

“I’m serious, too!” you retorted. “Em, I will survive for a few hours without you. I can carefully hobble myself to the bathroom and back.”

She looked at you for a moment, studying you, as if making an incredibly difficult decision. “You’ll call me right away if you need anything?”

You grinned. “I will.”

Emily kissed you quickly, once on the cheek, once on the lips, then launched herself out of bed and toward the closet.

“What are you doing!?” you asked. “You haven’t even asked them yet!”

“It’s girls night,” Emily replied, peeking her head out from the open closet door. “They’re already at the bar. I just… I told them I couldn’t go, but if you’re really okay with it?” She stared at you pointedly, as if making doubly sure you were okay with her leaving.

“Go!” you said, throwing a pillow at her. “Have fun!”

She emerged from the closet in a classic black dress with a neckline that would have driven you crazy if you were allowed to be driven crazy right now.

“Jesus,” you said, biting your lip and looking her over. “You’re not making it easy for me, you know that?”

She leaned over to kiss you, just deeply enough to leave you wanting more. “Enjoy your alone time, honey,” she said, winking at you.

You opened your mouth to protest, but she stopped you with another kiss. “No matter what you say, I know you love being alone. Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything.”

“I will,” you said, squeezing her hand before she walked to the door. “Hey, Em?”

She turned to look at you, and you could’ve stared at her forever. If you could have freeze-framed the moment, you would have done it. Those wide eyes, trusting and hopeful and so, so in love with you. “I love you,” you told her. “More than alone time.”

“I love you, too, honey. Be safe.”