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theemporium · 7 months

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[4.1k] as it would turn out, you were serious about your offer. and luke was serious about accepting. it was just going to take a while for his body to remember that this was a glorified business deal between friends and nothing more. and he was definitely okay with that. (smut)

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Stupidly, Luke didn’t think you were actually serious.

In his head, the whole thing felt like a fever dream, starting from the moment he spilled his drink all over you leading to the moment you blatantly asked him if he wanted you to take his virginity. It felt like one of those weird dreams that made you wake up confused and bleary and unsure what year it even was, one of those dreams that linger in the back of your head for a few days before you eventually forgot about it.

Luke would have bet money on the whole thing being a weird dream that was haunting him if it weren’t for the fact he woke up one morning, a few days after the party, with a message from you on his screen.

cherry🍒: on a scale from one to ten, how likely are you to spill your drink on me again?

cherry🍒: also my place or yours?

He stared at the messages for an embarrassingly long time, like he was staring at the proof the whole thing wasn’t some messed up dream in his head. Luke had spent the better part of the summer wondering what would have happened if he had asked for your number that night like Jack always teased him about, and now he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself with it being a reality.

hockey boy: i cannot promise anything

hockey boy: you are welcome to come to my place but jack will probably be here so…

hockey boy: he’s nosy

hockey boy: and annoying

Luke frowned at himself, finger hovering over the messages like he would have a chance to delete them before you saw them, all one after the other like he was twelve and didn’t care about double texting. Or quadruple texting. But before he could even try to hide his own embarrassment, you were typing again.

cherry🍒: my place it is then

cherry🍒: see you at seven ;)

He also didn’t care to admit how long he stared at that message before he dragged himself out of bed, trying to ignore the odd buzz itching under his skin. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and his head was already spinning.

Luke was thankful enough that it was still preseason, that there wasn’t a game he had to prepare for because he wasn’t even sure he could concentrate on anything but your messages. He had noted Jack giving him odd looks whilst they both got ready for training, giving him more space than usual as they moved around the flat (which was odd considering Jack was usually glued to his side and pissing him off whenever he got the chance).

However, the overbearing older brother role didn’t completely disappear.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Jack.”

“You’re not sick or anything?”

“I’m literally fine.”

“Because we can tell the trainers—”

“Oh my god, dude,” Luke groaned, sinking further into the passenger seat as he shot his brother a look. “I’m fine. Calm down. You sound like Quinn.”

“Sorry for caring,” Jack retorted, his fingers tightening on the wheel before his shoulders sagged. “I’m your older brother and it’s your first year in the NHL. I just wanna make sure you’re doing alright, okay? The last thing I want is you having a shit rookie year.”

But the rest went unsaid. I don’t want you having a shit rookie year like I did.

Luke softened a little. “M’fine, promise. I’ll let you know when I need my big brother, okay?”

Jack sighed, a small smile on his face. “Okay.”

“Now, can you please shut up so I can sleep until we reach the rink?”

Jack snorted in response.

Though the conversation seemed to settle the worries his older brother had, Luke knew the other boys on the team were giving him the same looks of concern. It wasn’t as though he was playing badly, it was just very clear to everyone on the team—players, coaches and trainers alike—that Luke was distracted.

He had half the decency to be a little embarrassed when he overheard Jack reassure a few trainers that it was just rookie nerves.

But he felt restless, like he couldn’t quite keep still or focus on one thing. He felt like there was a buzz resonating through his bones, making him painfully aware of his plans later tonight. It was like an anxiety settled at the pit of his stomach, constant and foreboding and eating away at him as the minutes slowly dragged on through the day.

It was horrible and exhilirating in the weirdest possible way.

Luke had managed to make it through the rest of training, managed to avoid any stern talkings from the coach but unable to avoid the one from Nico in the locker room. It was sweet and awkward all at once, especially when the rest of the team were clearly listening in to make sure one of the new rookies were doing fine. The Devils were like a family and usually he would appreciate it.

However, he wasn’t exactly going to dive into the fact he was unfocused because a pretty girl offered to take his virginity to his captain or the rest of the team. He didn’t even want to imagine how that would have played out.

But it was sweet to know the team had his back, that they saw him as his own person rather than just Jack’s little brother who was tagging along.

…

Luke was relieved when you had mentioned him coming over to your place for your meeting later that day. Yet, what he failed to take into consideration was the fact his brother would still be a nosy shit on his whereabouts.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

Luke froze, keys gripped in his one hand and his phone in the other with your address already typed into Google Maps. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his pounding heart as he turned to Jack with a (hopefully) nonchalant look on his face.

“Just going to hang out with some friends,” he replied vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jack paused, the spoonful of rice hovering just above his plate as he narrowed his eyes at Luke. “Is Nico hosting some rookie thing or something?”

“Uh no,” Luke cleared his throat.

Jack frowned. “Is there a team thing happening tonight that I forgot?”

“No, uh,” Luke shuffled awkwardly, feeling like an interrogation spotlight was shining on him. “It’s nothing with the team.”

Jack raised his brows. “But you don’t have other friends outside the team.”

Luke frowned. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack retorted. “Unless you’re a part of a book club or something.”

He shot his brother a confused look. “Why would that be the only reason I have friends outside of the team?”

“I don’t know, college and shit,” Jack answered like that explained something.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Luke grumbled before he turned on his heel, making his way towards the door again.

“Are you at least gonna tell me when you’ll be back?” Jack called out to him, a hint of older brother overbearingness in his voice.

“Not sure.”

“I—” He heard Jack shuffle to stand up, his dinner now abandoned on the coffee table as he made his way over to Luke. The look of concern from earlier that morning was back on his face. “What dodgy shit are you up to that you can’t just tell me?”

“Jack,” Luke groaned, his voice tilting towards whiny as he let out a huff of annoyance. “I’m just going out to see a friend. Nothing dodgy, I promise.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first, just letting a slow smile spread across his face.

He frowned. “What?”

“Friend, singular,” Jack pointed out before he let out a bark of laughter, playfully punching his little brother’s arm. “Aw, little Lukey is sneaking out to hook up with a girl!”

His cheeks burned. “Shut up.”

“Fucking finally, I thought you were going celibate for your rookie year or something!” Jack continued to tease him. “Who is it? Do I know her? Oh my god, is it the girl from the party? Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“I am leaving now!” Luke shoved him away, making a beeline for the door as Jack continued to cackle behind him.

“Do I need to give you a curfew?”

“Fuck off!”

He could still hear Jack laughing when he slammed the door shut behind him.

His body felt like it was on autopilot once he got behind the wheel. He followed the instructions spoken through his GPS, kept his concentration on the road—on the journey—rather than the destination. He tried to pretend like he was just going to hang out at a friend’s, that he was back in Michigan going to one of his teammate’s houses he didn’t live with.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Except for the fact that once he reached your door, closed fist hovering over the wood, he felt like his body was buzzing too fast to keep up with and all the pent up anxiety over the day was about to make him explode.

He didn’t even realise he had knocked until the door swung open and you stood on the other side, grinning at him like it was a normal Sunday evening. You were dressed cosy, casual even. Just a pair of leggings, a baggy shirt and some fluffy socks that had—ironically enough—cherries printed on them.

“You’re early,” you noted.

Luke’s stomach dropped a little. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“I like my men eager, you’re fine,” you said as you waved him off, unaware of the fact your words just made his body feel like it was on fire for a whole other reason as you grabbed his hand and dragged him inside.

His eyes wandered over your apartment, taking in the small knick knacks that decorated the place. It was smaller than his and Jack’s apartment, but it felt more homely. His place had a habit of looking a little clinical, like a showroom they had moved into rather than an actual home. But between training and travelling and not really caring, neither he nor Jack had bothered to change it.

But, looking around at the small details of your apartment as you led him towards your living room couch, Luke found it endearing that he could see small insights into your personality.

“You still like Coke, right?”

His eyes snapped back to you, a light blush on his cheeks when he found you staring at him with intent. “Uh yeah, Coke is good.”

He settled down on the seat, awkwardly perched on the edge whilst you curled up in the sport next to him with your feet tucked underneath him. He tried to swallow the ball in the back of his throat, eyes wandering over the room once again before they landed back on you.

“Your place is really nice—”

“Tell me about hockey.”

Luke blinked. And then blinked one more time before he remembered to speak.

“What?”

“Tell me about hockey,” you repeated.

“You want to know about hockey?” He questioned, his brows furrowed together and suddenly the panic he felt moments ago was overwhelmed by his confusion.

“Well, no, I don’t really know anything about it,” you admitted with a shrug. “But you’re so tense over there like you’re about to enter the Hunger Games or something, I thought talking about something you enjoy would help you relax.”

Something in his chest stirred at your confession. “Oh.”

“Just relax,” you said as you lightly pushed him back until he was no longer sat on the edge of the couch. However, Luke’s body didn’t seem to catch the hint, something that was very clear with how tense he still looked sitting next to you. “We aren’t going to do anything tonight,” you assured him, your hand dropping to his forearm to give it a small squeeze.

He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. “We aren’t?”

You shook your head, a soft but cheeky smile on your lips. “You need to build up your confidence a little, to really feel comfortable with everything. There’s more to sex than just sleeping with someone.”

He blinked. “There is?”

“Yes,” you laughed, but it wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t feel dumb for asking you questions. “So just take a breath and relax. Now, hockey—what’s the big deal?”

Luke couldn’t help but snort. “The big deal?”

“Yeah, why do you like it?” You asked. “I mean, you love it enough to make it your job.”

Luke smiled and there was something less heavy in his laugh—but hockey always tended to have that power over him. He knew hockey. He lived for hockey. It was as calming as it was exhilarating. It was what his whole world revolved around since the day he was born.

“I come from a big hockey family,” Luke told you. “I could skate before I could properly walk, to be honest. It’s just something that’s always…been there. I couldn’t imagine my life without it.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Luke raised his brows in surprise. “No, I just do it to torture myself.”

“Okay, smart-ass,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, and he tried not to think about how endearing the action was. “I mean, you said it’s been in your life forever. Do you enjoy it or is it just familiar?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“I love it,” he replied honestly, sinking a little further into the couch as he turned his head to look at you. “It was always there but I also always sought it out, you know? I wanted hockey as much as hockey wanted me.”

“Lucky thing you were good enough to go pro, huh?” You remarked, a teasing glint in your words.

Luke’s lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, lucky me.”

“So, do you, like, fight people and shit?”

He snorted, the noise a little surprising but welcomed nonetheless. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Damn, the two hockey videos I watched before you came weren’t lying then,” you mused.

And, fuck, his chest was doing that funny-tightening thing again.

“You watched some videos before I came?”

“Colour me curious,” you answered with a casual shrug of your shoulders.

He swallowed. “Did you like what you saw?”

Your lips pulled upwards into a smirk. “Flirting with me now, Hughes?”

In an instant, Luke’s cheeks instantly burned a red shade with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness washing over him. “I’m sorry about that—”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” you interrupted, watching as his eyes widened a little in surprise. But the colour remained on his cheeks. It was cute, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Oh?”

“You’re not a shy guy, Luke, I’ve seen the way you are on the ice. You just need to bring that confidence off the ice too,” you told him, shuffling a little closer to him until your knee was almost brushing his thigh. “Think of this…what we are doing…as your training.”

“My training?”

“Mhm,” you nodded as your palm landed on his thigh, right above his knee. He was so painfully aware of your hand, of the way your touch felt like it was burning through the fabric of his sweatpants to touch his skin. “Gonna help you go pro.”

His eyes darted down to your hand before it snapped back to your face. “Cherry—”

“Can I kiss you?”

He blinked. “You’re asking me?”

“It’s sexy to ask,” you told him, your thumb lightly rubbing a small line just above his knee. You shifted a bit closer, watching the way his eyelids fluttered slightly. “Consent is really, really sexy.”

“Really sexy,” he repeated, eyes locked in on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked again, squeezing his leg a little to emphasise your need for him to verbally answer.

“Yeah,” he managed to mutter out, a slight crack in his voice but you didn’t seem to care as you closed the distance between you.

Your palm was soft and warm against his cheek, guiding his head until you pressed your lips against his. It was a soft kiss, almost sweet in a way. And maybe something about the tenderness of it all washed away the unease in his chest, that lingering anxiety that he had been smothered in since he woke up. It was like the kiss washed away the lingering concerns in his head, the ones that told him this was some twisted dream or malicious ploy.

You just wanted to help, you wanted him relaxed when he was with you.

And Luke had half the mind to trust you would do just that after the initial kiss.

Your thumb slightly swept along the high of his cheekbone, soft and reassuring as he sunk further into the kiss. He seemed happy to let you take control, to let you decide how fast or passionate it was. He seemed happy to just follow.

“Better than hockey training?” You murmured against his lips between kisses, the light smacking noises a vague echo in his ear but he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he ducked his head back down, eager to press his lips against yours again.

“Impatient,” you teased but didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. “Feeling confident already, Hughes?”

Luke could feel your smile against his lips. “Maybe.”

“Good,” you stated simply and before he got the chance to realise what you were doing, before his brain had even fully processed you had asked him a question, your leg was thrown over his body and you were straddling his lap.

Luke pulled back a little, looking up at you with his cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

“Remember, this is just your training,” you reassured the boy, though it was hard for him to focus on the words coming out of your mouth when your lips were red and kiss-swollen and probably a mirror image of his own. “Just practise, yeah?”

“Just practise,” he confirmed with a nod.

“So practise,” you told him as you reached for his hands where they awkwardly hung at his side. You gripped his wrists, giving them a small squeeze before you rested them on your waist.

He swallowed. “Oh.”

You raised your brows. “This good?”

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Luke,” you prompted until his glossy eyes found yours. “We can stop any time you want. Just say the word, okay?”

“I don’t wanna stop,” he reassured you, his hands giving a testing squeeze on your waist. “Not right now, at least. Promise.”

And when you smiled at him, he could have sworn his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

His chest was thudding with each racing beat, blood roaring in his ears and butterflies exploding in his fucking chest when you leaned down to kiss him again. It’s like his brain was locked in on you at this very moment, not a care or concept for the world beyond this apartment. It was just about you, you, you.

And then your hands were pushing through his hair, fingers tangled in his curls as you tugged his head back until the column of his neck was exposed to you.

Luke was almost embarrassed of the whimpering noise that left his lips when you tugged on his curls, a dull but desirable pain coursing through his whole body before your lips explored his neck. His breathing was heavy, borderline panting as your teeth scraped along the sensitive spot just below his ear. And, fuck, he felt like his whole body was on fire.

“Hmmm, pretty noises,” you murmured against his neck, wet and sloppy open-mouthed kisses pressed against his skin as his body squirmed beneath you. “You gonna keep making them for me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Yeah?” You nipped his skin lightly, almost teasingly, as his hips bucked up on instinct. “Keep moaning f’me, baby, let’s see what you like.”

His grip on your waist only tightened as you continued to explore his body, as you tried to find the spots that had him whining and panting beneath you. And just when Luke thought he had a hold on himself, when he could handle the way your hands felt in his hair and your lips on his neck, your hips slowly rolled down against his and he could feel a rush of pleasure race down his spine.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he choked out between broken moans, head thrown back against the back of the couch and eyes clenched shut. “Please. More.”

“You want more?” Your warm breath fanned against his cheek as you lifted your head, hooded eyes watching the way his face scrunched up in pleasure as you continued to rock against him. “Keep making those pretty noises, baby.”

The whimper he let out made his cheeks and neck burn bright red.

“Look at you,” you mused, the bulge in his sweatpants pressed against you as you continued to grind down on his lap. “Doing so well for me, telling me what you want.”

And it was too much.

The constant stream of praise leaving your lips, the way your face was inches away from him—even if his eyes were shut—with your breath hot against his cheek. The way your hips rocked against his hard cock, the way it was straining beneath the boxers he was wearing. The way your fingers gave another experimental tug on his curls and he saw white.

His grip on your waist was almost bruising with how tight it was, the way he held onto you as his hips bucked to meet your thrusts, the way your name left his lips on a loop as a hot flush of pleasure washed over his body, as you guided him through it.

And once his brain had caught up—once he was sure his heart wasn’t going to jump out of his chest—he was painfully aware of the sticky mess in his sweatpants.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, his whole body burning with embarrassment as he looked up at you. “I am so sorry—”

“For what?”

“I—” His eyes fell shut, his body wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself. “I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.”

You frowned. “What was? The fact you came?”

His stomach twisted a little.

“Luke,” you murmured, and he could feel your hands cupping his warm cheeks but he didn’t have the courage to open his eyes just yet. “If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have been grinding on your dick like that.”

He finally looked at you, but the hot shame remained. “You didn’t even…”

“Get off?” You supplied and he looked sheepish as he nodded. “I can still enjoy something and find it hot without getting off, Hughes.”

His brows furrowed together. “I thought the whole point was that you were teaching me how to make you feel good. For womankind.”

You snorted, grinning down at the boy. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get off too.”

Luke’s lips parted with a silent ‘oh’.

“I’ll grab you some sweatpants to change into,” you told him as you shifted off his lap, looking down at his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “You’re a good student, Hughes.”

He raised his brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned back at him, and his chest did that funny thing again. “And I wasn’t lying. You make pretty noises. I like my boys vocal.”

And Luke was thankful you disappeared down the corridor after that, saving him from even attempting to come up with a response.

And he was shocked that once he cleaned up as best he could in your bathroom, you patted the spot next to you on the couch and told him to choose a movie whilst you ordered in some food.

It was almost laughable to think about how anxious he had been all day, only to lead up to him sharing a pizza with you with some old Jim Carey comedy playing in the background like you two really were just friends. Like you were just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Like you hadn’t just made him come in his pants like he was some wound up teenage boy.

It made his head spin, in a good way.

And when he was dragging his feet through the front door of his apartment a little after midnight, there was a voice in the back of his head that was telling him this was risky, that he shouldn’t have felt so giddy or jovial after he had seen you.

You were just training him, helping him. You were just his friend.

But, for right now, Luke was happy to ignore the logical voice in the back of his head and instead focus on the fact that maybe—just fucking maybe—you were right and this whole virginity thing was far more bigged up in his head than he realised.

You were his friend. And he knew you were just his friend.

Who cares if his body took a little longer to remember than his brain did?

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

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literaila · 7 months

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keeping secrets

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you and satoru avoid each other

warnings: actual fighting, sad everyone, hurt/little comfort (sorry)

last part | next part

year four.

"did megumi give you a permission slip?" you ask satoru, leaning against the side of the couch, peeking at his phone. "it's for a field trip, but i haven't seen it. he says he set it on the counter."

satoru glances at you. then back, and shakes his head.

"he didn't give you anything to sign?"

"not recently."

you sigh. "i don't think he lost it."

satoru's lip quirks. "you think i'm hiding it?"

"i don't know. did you accidentally eat it?"

his eyes roll. "i have better taste than that."

"well, can you help me look for it?"

satoru sighs, head hanging back for a moment, then he throws his phone down, groaning as he stands up. after he stretches, he half-heartedly moves a pillow, pretending to look under it.

you snort.

but satoru doesn't look back at you, and moves to the table, to look at the stack of papers there.

and, admittedly, things have been a bit off.

you tried to ignore it at first--ignore the way satoru avoided your eyes, or kept himself five feet away from you at all times. you tried to pretend that it wasn't happening. that he wasn't giving you short responses, or only joking with you in dire moments (like when something you say goes over both of the kid's heads and they stare at you weirdly).

honestly, you hadn't even noticed anything was wrong until you'd realized that it'd been a week since he fell asleep with you. since he even bothered to come out of his room after putting the kids to bed. a week since he tried to squeeze you to death, or grossly kissed your cheek.

and... it shouldn't be weird.

no rule says that he has to spend a specific amount of time with you, or cuddle in your bed, or smile at you, or... do anything that your best friend probably shouldnt do.

but it's weird.

it's strange because your relationship with satoru has stayed relatively consistent, an upward slope for the past six years. you've grown closer, but never farther.

and, in the depths of your mind, usually when you're lying awake at night, you recognize that there's one single moment when it switched. that everything changed a specific morning, and you haven't been able to rewind it. to take it all back.

and you could just blame the alcohol for your confession, you probably should.

but then you'd also have to blame your sixteen-year-old self, the girl who'd been attracted to satoru in the first place. the eighteen-year-old who agreed to tie her life to his and take in the kids, or you now, still cursing yourself for falling in love with him.

it's not like satoru made you.

if intoxication is to blame, so is your heart, your soul, for starting all of this in the first place.

you'd decided to not blame anything at all, in the end. everything's fine.

"find anything?" you ask him, a bit cold in the room, feeling that same tension that's been there. those unspoken words, infinite amounts of distance.

you try to ignore it, really.

"just the receipt for tsumiki's violin."

"tsumiki's what?" you ask, blinking at him.

"i didn't tell you about that?"

"satoru, you can't just buy them things on a whim--"

he holds a hand up, stopping you. "she said it was for school," he says, giving you a quick grin. "plus, she's pretty good."

"there's no way she's good."

"you'll see," he says, "when we go to her recital."

"what?"

satoru shrugs, then he turns around, organizing the piles of papers into neat stacks. it almost makes you want to check him for a spider bite, a fever, remnants of poison. no way your satoru is doing that.

not that he's yours. he hasn't been yours in years, hasn't been your anything ever.

"oh, here," he says, eventually, handing you a paper which he already signed--of course--and shaking his head. "museums," he grumbles.

but he doesn't give you the chance to respond, turning to walk down the hall--towards his room--before you can even chide him for forgetting about it.

so, yeah. things are fine.

"where's gojo?" megumi asks, as the two of you walk through the door.

the house is empty without satoru there. colder, dimmer. and, of course, there's no one to irritate the boy right when he walks in.

you try not to wince at the question, or spiral into your own question of 'where's gojo?'

"uh," you lock the door, then unlock it. then lock it again. "he's on another job."

"again?"

you give megumi a bland smile, taking his backpack from him. "guess they think he needs more practice," you say, trying to tease.

it falls flat.

"did he get in trouble?"

"i don't know," you shrug. "probably."

honestly, it's not like you would know anyway. satoru doesn't tell you anything these days.

it's probably what bothers you the most, because if he's not saying anything, then neither can you. you can't ask him what he thinks about tsumiki's new friend, or if megumi should be eating more, or if you're just making everything up, probably going insane--

"when's he going to be back?"

"he said probably tomorrow. maybe the day after if it takes longer. i can't remember where they sent him..."

megumi looks mischievous. his eyes are bright. "so we can make those miso brownies? since he's gone?"

you laugh, ruffling his hair. "sure, when tsumiki gets home."

he nods, satisfied, and turns around. then he looks back at you, eyes trailing over your expression.

megumi looks at you quizzically, like he knows something you don't. "do you miss him?"

you roll your eyes. "do you miss him, megumi?"

he doesn't even think about it. "true," he says, then walks into the kitchen, grabbing something from the fridge.

maybe you miss him, you think, but only a little bit. it's not like he's been gone long.

just, you know, forever.

"hey," you lean against the desk in the office. satoru must be filling out a report, which should make you blink twice, but really it's him being out in the open that surprises you.

most days he goes to hide in his room. he locks his door and makes sure that you wouldn't dare to walk through. that you have no means to interrupt his solitude.

"oh, hey," satoru answers, not bothering to look up at you. his voice is low, familiar, and creates goosebumps on your skin.

seriously, why is it so cold in this house?

"i'm surprised those haven't gone missing yet," you gesture toward the papers, trying to be casual.

he snorts. "yaga said that if i lost them again, i was fired."

"he said that two years ago."

satoru nods, still scribbling. you want more than anything to just see his eyes for a moment, for him to look at you and grin like you're used to.

but you know he won't, so you tap your fingers against the desk. "do you have a second?"

"sure. what's up? megumi do something?"

"no, the kids are fine, i, um--" you pause. it feels ridiculous to have to ask him this, to not know the answer. it feels ridiculous to be nervous around satoru. you haven't felt anxious, or worried about asking him anything since you were sixteen and realized that it didn't matter. "shoko texted me about that work 'meeting' that's happening on friday. do you want to go to that? i just need to know so i can tell her..."

"meeting?"

your smile is teasing, not that he's looking. "i think she meant party."

"on friday?"

"yeah. she said that the booze is free, and i think nanami's going, so i thought..." you hint, not even sure what you mean.

i thought we could talk. i thought we could go together and maybe everything would go back to normal. i thought that we were friends, if anything, and that you cared about me--

satoru hums. "what about the kids?"

"tsumiki has a birthday party that night, and megumi likes the sitter from last time," you wince at your accidental mention of that night. "or he can come, i guess, but he'd probably hate it."

satoru snorts, nodding in agreement. you watch his hands freeze, then resume.

he's thinking the same things you are, you know. he's thinking about how stupid you are, how ridiculous it is to imagine him being in love with you, caring about who you are or how you feel.

you just know it.

"so..." you whisper, after a second. "do you want to go?"

you feel like you're standing on uneven ground. how can this be the only real conversation you've had with satoru this week?

how can you miss him this much when he's literally right there?

"i don't--" satoru makes a face, finally looking toward you. he sets down the pen. "i don't think so. but you can go and i can stay here with megumi," he suggests easily like he's not rejecting you. "we can have a guy's night."

"megumi hates guy's nights."

satoru has a cheeky grin on, but it's half-hearted. barely there.

like a glimpse of him in a peephole, a moment where he's not hiding completely from you.

he doesn't say anything, though. he doesn't even bother to come up with a better excuse.

it's clear as day that he just doesn't want to hang out with you, even in a crowd of people.

"that's okay," you hum, eventually, trying to keep your voice steady. "i don't really--"

"no, you should go. you haven't seen nanami in a while. you can have a night out," he says genuinely, but it sounds more like i need a break from you.

"yeah," you try to laugh. "i--um, okay. if you're sure."

he nods, looking away again. he hasn't touched you in weeks. your skin is almost molding, going completely stale. "i'm sure. we'll order dinner, so you don't have to worry about the brat complaining."

"okay."

"okay," satoru answers, but it doesn't mean anything.

and it's not okay.

the two of them walk through the door, and megumi looks... pleasant. he's got the makings of a smile on his face, a little jump in his step.

it's one of the only times you've seen him look like the ten-year-old he is, instead of someone who's concerned about economic collapse.

it makes you smile a bit, even if just the sight of satoru sends pangs down your chest.

"hey," you say, hand on his head as he lingers by you, eyes meeting yours in greeting. you look to satoru, who's pretending to wipe away a smudge on his glasses. "where were you guys?"

"we were--"

"gojo took me to that old hospital by my school," megumi says, "there were cursed spirits hanging outside. he let me and my divine dogs deal with them," he says this almost excitedly--as excited as megumi gets--and you can see it in his eyes. that little twinkle of pride.

your eyes widen, but you smile, trying to be genuine. it's difficult because you've been lying for weeks. "really?" you ask, trying not to look over at satoru accusingly. "how'd it go?"

"good," megumi, moves to the sink, washing his hands. "they're getting better at scenting them out. it didn't take long."

"that's great."

"megumi didn't need any of my help," satoru adds, giving you a short glance. "he's got good intuition."

megumi looks at satoru with a glare in his eyes, but you can tell that he appreciates the compliment.

you can tell that he's completely fine with this, that the two of them are going to act like it's normal, but you can't.

you try to ignore it when megumi looks between you and satoru, a slight furrow in his brows. he knows something wrong, you know. but you're not going to admit that.

you swallow. "do you have any homework you need to finish, megs?"

"uh..." he pauses. "i think so. reading?"

you smile, hand on his back as you lead him out of the room. "okay, how about you go work on that? i need to talk to satoru real quick."

he nods immediately, looking eager to leave--both the room and the tension.

as soon as he's gone, you turn to satoru, narrowed eyes as you observe him. he's already smiling because he knows that he's in trouble. because he knows that you're angry.

because, even if he hasn't actually spoken to you in weeks, satoru has always read you so well. he's always known what you're going to say before you say it.

but you can't care about it. it doesn't mean anything to him.

“you can’t do that,” you say, almost whispering. “not without asking me.”

“i knew you’d say no.”

you laugh, looking away from him. “exactly.”

“he’s fine,” satoru reassures. he shrugs, because why should he care about your concern? “he did good, and there’s not a scratch on him. i’m sorry for not telling you but—“

“no buts, satoru. you can’t take megumi out on missions like he’s a student. he’s not. and you definitely can’t do it without even telling me," there's a burning in your chest. your head is clouded over with anger.

just looking at him--at his ridiculous smile and stupid perfect face--makes you clench your fists.

how can he stand there and act like you're a team?

“it’s not a big deal. i was there the whole time—and he didn’t need me.”

“i don’t care!”

satoru rolls his eyes, his arms crossed. “i think you’re overreacting.”

“i’m not," you say, trying to get him to look at you--actually look--but he won't. it makes your chest hurt even more. "you’re not telling me things—fine, whatever, keep whatever secrets you want, gojo. don't bother talking to me. but you can’t keep secrets from me about the kids.”

“secrets? i’m not—“

you shake your head, hands in the air, trying to clear all of it away. you want the past month to go away, the past six years. “megumi’s just a kid. he’s ten. he can’t be going on missions, not until he’s ready.”

“i think i’ve already proved how ready he is.”

“well, maybe i'm not ready. he’s a kid.”

“yeah,” satoru says, obviously. he scoffs. “yeah, he’s a kid. but he’s also a jujutsu sorcerer. you can’t separate the two.”

his voice is all-knowing and his stance is firm. you know that you won't convince him otherwise--know that he's right, to some degree, but this isn't about megumi.

this isn't about cursed spirits or jujutsu.

“yes, you can," you say, clenching your jaw. "he doesn’t need to be seeing that shit right now. not until he decides he wants to. practice his technique with him all you want, but you can’t just take him to exorcise a curse with you.”

“like i said, he’s fine.”

“it’s not about that! it’s about you doing something reckless—again—and acting like there aren’t any consequences to your decisions. he’s my son,” you hiss, “he shouldn’t be going anywhere i don’t know about. you shouldn’t be making decisions about him behind my back.”

you shouldn't be pushing me away, you shouldn't be ruining this--

“so you want to lock him up here?" satoru asks, laughing at you. his teeth are sharp and he is still. "you want to take away his ability to defend himself?”

you scoff. “are you kidding? you think me saying i don’t want you to get him killed is equal to me—“

“he was fine. if anything—anything—had been there that megumi couldn’t handle, i would’ve taken care of it. i wasn't going to let anyone touch him. that’s why i was there! and he didn’t even need me," he's boasting, swearing to you--you can feel it as he rolls his eyes at you.

“you know what he needs, satoru? he needs you to treat him like he’s a little boy and not some experiment for you to play with.”

“i would never—“

you cut him off, “bringing him out into the open, where anyone could see him, could hurt him, and making him deal with your cursed spirit is not okay.”

“i didn’t make him deal with anything," satoru swears, chin up.

you snort. the two of you are standing in front of each other, arms crossed, head guarded. your muscles are tense like something is about to attack you. “oh, so he asked you to go?”

“well, no, but—“

“then you made him! you put him up against a monster and treated him like a student, like a 16-year-old, and not your son.”

the words feel nice to say. some version of the truth that's much better than whatever this version is. if satoru won't talk to you, you'll talk for him.

you'll make every assumption, every bad perception (because he's supposed to keep you from worrying, he's supposed to be there to calm you down, to save you from that spiraling). but if he's not going to try, neither will you.

satoru’s eyes grow hard. “what?”

“why can’t you just let him be a kid? why do you have to push him into these things—“

“we talked with megumi about who he is,” satoru grinds, “he knows about the privilege of his strength, and the fact that he has to work to use it—“

“a ten-year-old shouldn’t have to work for anything!”

he laughs at you. you can't see his eyes, but you watch his face as he tries to hide his expression, trying to keep his voice low. the kids are still in the house, so you shouldn't be yelling. but you can't bring it in yourself to really care.

“what do you think the point of him living here was? why do you think we took him in?”

you gape at him. “are you kidding?” you ask. “are you serious? we took him, and tsumiki, in because you’re responsible for killing their father! because they didn’t have anyone else, and that’s your fault.”

“you think i don’t know that?”

“well, i thought you did," you say, stepping away from him. some part of you wants to push him out, make him leave. the other part desperately wants him to stay--to say he's sorry. "but you just said that the only reason megumi is here is so you can teach him! when i agreed to this i thought you were facing the consequences of your actions, doing the right thing for those kids because you could. i thought you wanted to take care of them! to keep them away from our awful, messed up world.”

satoru is staring at you with his jaw clenched.

you continue, without consideration for the consequences of your words. “i didn’t think that you only wanted to keep megumi here so you could train him, like a dog.”

“that’s not what i said.”

you shake your head, a bitter smile on your face. “well it’s what you meant, and clearly you have no regard for his feelings or the way that curses might affect him—“

“don’t act like i did it just to mess with him," he interrupts, harshly. "it’s not a joke. i want him to be strong, i want him to be able to take care of himself—“

“and i want him to have a dad who isn’t so selfish!”

“what?”

“did you even think about it? what about the nightmares he’s going to have?" you wonder, rhetorically. "what about the fact that he’s different—that he’s already struggling to relate to other kids in school? what about him, satoru? why is it only about you?”

what about me? you don't say.

“i didn’t bring him for me—“

“you want a replacement. you want someone else to deal with everything, while you sit back and watch. i know what you’re trying to do—“

“really?" he points at you, the other hand clenched in the air. he's laughing again. "you can read my mind? you’ve already been let in on my plans—“

“don’t you wish that you’d had the opportunity to be just a kid?” you demand. “don’t you want that for megumi?”

he shrugs. “sure. but it’s never going to happen.”

“well, clearly, because you won’t let it.”

“he gets to be a kid every day. god forbid i take him to see one curse, to understand how to use his powers, to protect himself, and you treat me like i wanted to kill him.”

you laugh. your mind is a minefield, and everything he says ruins another part of it.

all you can think about is him, him as a teenager, him with you, telling satoru you love him and him having nothing left to say--

but you scoff again, shoving yourself further away from him. “do you know how many times i’ve wanted to go back to when i was ten and just got to live my life? do you know how often i think about how everything could’ve been different?”

“this isn’t about us."

“yes, it is. it is, satoru, because i didn’t get that chance and neither did you. and you just took away megumi’s chance.”

“i didn’t take anything away," he says, softly, like he's trying to convince himself.

clearly, you've struck a nerve.

“he’s never going to be able to look at the world normally, but he doesn’t need the burden of saving people before he’s even in middle school.”

“why is being strong so bad?” satoru asks you, demanding something more. why am i so bad? “why do you treat it like it’s a curse? like it’s going to hurt him?”

“look at you!” you respond. “look at suguru, and me, and shoko! look at any jujutsu sorcerer and ask them if being strong is worth it—is worth screwing your life over.”

satoru looks taken aback. he steps away from you.

“god, it’s like you think that we’re a different species," you tell him, never having felt like it's more true. "you’re human, satoru. you might be the strongest, but you’re still human, and you still have nightmares like all of the rest of us.”

he shakes his head at you.

“why do you want that for megumi? why push him into this right now?”

“i want him to be able to take care of himself. so that he doesn’t die like our colleagues, so that he doesn’t make the wrong choice like—“

he stops, his voice breaking before he can continue.

and maybe you know what this is really about, but if satoru doesn’t want to tell you how he feels, if he wants to pretend like it doesn’t matter—

fine. you will too.

“it wouldn’t make a difference. he’s already—his life is already messed up.”

satoru looks at you, his eyes ablaze. “don’t you think that if i was him, if i could’ve been stronger, if i could’ve saved all of those people—don’t you think i would do it in an instant? don’t you think i know that because i wasn’t strong enough, people died?”

this is the thing you've feared since you were eighteen, a brand new person responsible for two little lives. you've feared satoru's moral commitment since before you met him. since you saw him destroy a curse in an instant and realized he was different than everyone else.

“megumi isn’t you! he doesn’t need to be taught to take on the responsibility of everyone’s lives—“

“you can’t say that i’m selfish, that i don’t care, and then say that i care too much,” he says, shaking his head, unable to look at you.

he hasn't been able to look you in the eye in weeks.

“you’re both!" you say, almost yelling. "you’re everything. and you don’t think! you haven’t thought for a moment about what megumi might be feeling, who he might want to be—“

“and you have? what about what you want him to be?”

“i want him to be happy! i want him to grow up better than i ever did. i don’t want him chasing a bunch of cursed spirits around on the weekend like it’s a normal thing—“

“it is normal. for us, it’s normal. for him, it’s normal.”

you sigh, a weight on your chest, a burning in your throat. “well, maybe it shouldn’t be.”

you're not going to start crying now. not with satoru watching, not when he gets to know just how much you care.

satoru scoffs. “so you’d just have everyone defend themselves--"

"i don't know how you're arrogant enough to believe that you can save everyone--"

"--you’d just forget that we’re strong for a reason, that we--“

“but you’re never going to be strong enough, satoru. never.”

satoru stares at you. he doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t hesitate, and doesn’t bother to argue.

and after a moment he turns around. you reach your hand out to grab him--hold onto him and keep him here, because this isn't finished, and you're not done with him. you haven't even started.

but you run into a wall. you look down and your hand is dangling idly in front of his arm, stuck in the air.

you can't see satoru's eyes, but you can feel his heart--your heart--as it skips a beat in realization.

but then satoru shakes you off, pushes you infinitely farther away from infinity, and keeps going.

he walks out the door, slamming it shut.

you stand there for a moment, watching. you wait for the door to open again, for satoru to come back, for him to laugh--tell you that everything's fine, that it'll all be fine. that it's okay if you're angry, that he doesn't care.

but after a minute, he doesn't return.

and after another, you have to lean against the counter. your hand burns--but maybe that's just your imagination. you're pretty sure that infinity has no drawbacks, that there's no consequence for touching, for not touching satoru.

pretty sure.

but you still look over your skin, trying to see if he's left some mark. it would be nice to have some evidence of what he's done to you. you clench your fist, but the feeling doesn't go away.

and maybe it's not your hand. maybe it's your chest. maybe it's these weeks of feeling separated, feeling miles apart from him, feeling like it's all your fault that any of this has happened.

you... you can't even remember what you were arguing about.

you feel like a kid again, hiding yourself in your room just so your parents don't have to deal with you. you feel like that little girl who hid in the cupboards, trying to escape the monsters that no one else could see. you feel like that smaller, reckless version of yourself that left home at the first chance, who knew she wasn't allowed back.

are you allowed here? you wonder. is it going to happen again? are these monsters--real and fake--too much for your family to handle again?

you exhale, trying to catch your breath again. none of this feels right, normal, easy.

should you--should you call him? should you wait for him to come back?

is he going to come back?

the slam of the door is still echoing throughout the house when they creep down the hallway, making sure their footsteps are soft, but also loud enough for you to hear.

maybe you've only been standing there, waiting for satoru to turn around, for thirty seconds.

but it feels like an hour.

"mom?" a tiny voice asks, and both of them are turning around the corner, taking hesitant steps towards you.

you have to swallow. you need some water, an icepack maybe, to get rid of the burning feeling in your throat. the telltale signs that you're going to cry--that you've suffered blows to the core, and you can't backtrack now.

but you don't want to cry in front of them. you refuse to. if you didn't want to cry in front of satoru, you won't cry in front of the kids.

so you turn around, swallow again, and fill a glass of water.

you chug it down, wanting it to wash away that feeling, that ache.

you can't say anything just yet because then you'll actually fall apart.

megumi and tsumiki watch you, both of them silent as they wait for your direction. for some solution you should have.

you take a deep breath, then turn, almost faltering when you see the worried look on both of their faces, the concern in their eyes. neither of them should have to worry about this.

god, how could you forget that they were there? that they could hear everything?

how could you make another mistake?

"hey, guys," you say, clearing your throat. you want to be nonchalant, and casual, but you've never been either a day in your life.

"where did gojo go?"

"i, um," you take another sip of water, because that feeling crawls up your throat, makes itself known again. "i think he went on a walk."

"is he okay?" tsumiki asks.

"are you okay?" megumi follows.

"yeah, he's fine. he's good. i--he just needed some space, you know? um... a break."

"from us?"

your eyes widen. "no, no, no. of course not, never you guys. he's... just been busy this week. working a lot. and, i, well, he's good. we're good."

megumi leans on the counter next to you, looking at you very closely. "are you okay?" he repeats.

"i'm good, megs. it's..." you smile. "it's fine. um, did satoru get you anything to eat while you were out? i'm not sure what we've got, but i can make something if you--"

"when is he going to be back?"

you stop, sighing. you shouldn't have taught either of them how to read emotions, or how to eavesdrop. you shouldn't be speaking to anyone, or trusted with anything.

"i'm not sure, buddy. he'll be back when he's ready."

"is he going to stay out all night?" tsumiki asks, worried.

"no, i'm sure--" you stop again. "gojo will be back in time for bed, okay?"

they're both staring at you, waiting for you to say something profound, something to make it actually okay.

but you have nothing. is satoru going to come back? is he going to stay somewhere else? you know he'll exhaust himself just to avoid coming home--

this is why you shouldn't have moved in--

this is why you never should've agreed to this, allowed himself to burrow a hole in your heart, in your soul--

"hey," megumi takes a step towards you. and then, before you can blink the tears out of your eyes, reassure him that it's fine, his arms are around your waist.

he nuzzles his face into your side, squeezing tighter than you thought a little boy could.

theres only a second of this before tsumiki's on your other side, and squeezing just as hard.

your hands fall on both of their backs, and you take a breath that feels more like never breathing again. your lungs won't fill, and your chest is incomplete

but they stand there with you, and eventually, your heart begins to match theirs, and their little hands keep you together.

you can't cry, but you really want to.

satoru's entire body feels different.

he knows what it's lacking, the changes he's made in a short period of time--giving himself no time to acclimate, no pause where he slowly adapts to the differences.

he misses you.

it's been like this before--when suguru left and satoru couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror, nonetheless you in the eyes--but it's never felt so severe.

because you're right there. you've been there every day, waking him up, making the kids breakfast, laughing when megumi bullies him, smiling at tsumiki's attempts at mediating.

you're there in the morning, in the afternoon, and every night. you're right there for him--and he can't say a word.

he doesn't want this, this thing to be real.

denial is his favorite emotion, and recently, he can't even muster the strength to go through with it.

and now, he feels even more hopeless, lacking, never ever enough.

but he walks through the door because he has nowhere else to go. he has no other home--besides the three of you.

it's dark outside when he comes back, and the door is unlocked, so he knows that you've been waiting. that you had to deal with the aftermath of shouted voices and scared children who he felt lurking behind a wall before he got the chance to think about any of it.

he needs to talk to you. satoru knows that, he really does. but he's not sure what to say.

he could apologize for tonight--could tell you that he won't make any more decisions, that he won't wreck this thing you've built--but it's not enough.

he should probably apologize for the last seven years. for letting himself grow attached to you, and then continue to hold you at arms length. he should probably apologize for being himself, for being less than he could be.

but those words feel too rotten to say aloud.

so, when he walks up to your door, waiting to feel your obvious presence--to see it, like he always does, the wall of cursed energy that you are--he feels like running away again.

you don't even need to know that he's home. satoru could go to bed, and he could probably pretend that nothing happened in the morning and you would follow along.

but he doesn't want to do that. not to you.

and he needs to see you, needs to say something before he figures it all out--should he leave, or stay? should he continue to push you away to protect you? should he tell you all of it?

it doesn't matter, he knows, because he probably won't be able to do any of it.

and for the first time in years, satoru makes sure to knock before he opens your door. just a small repetition of his knuckles, but he might as well be breaking down a tradition.

there's no answer, but he's not waiting, so he creaks the door open, looking for you immediately.

and he sees you, lying in bed.

and he sees your shoulders shaking slightly, with you curled up in the fetal position, and he can hear the sniffle before the door is all the way open.

there's no choice, he knows. he's not going to let you cry yourself to sleep without saying anything. he's not going to leave you alone.

you don't turn around, but satoru knows that you must know he's there. he walks across the floor, sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting for you to turn to him.

and yell, maybe. tell him to leave again. tell him that you don't want to look at him anymore.

but you don't move. your shaking is slightly stifled, and satoru can tell that you're trying to keep your breathing low, to keep him from noticing you cry.

it's foolish, really, because satoru hasn't missed a single detail about you since he was seventeen.

he doesn't say anything, but it's a natural reflex to tap your legs, to stand and slip off his shoes, gently pushing you off of the edge of the bed, towards the middle.

and then he's laying there, curling his limbs around yours, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him.

immediately, there's a release somewhere inside of him. that yearning--that ridiculous need is finally satiated.

satoru swallows. he needs to say something, he knows, but he's not sure what. should he apologize right now? should he tell you that he hates it when you cry--that he never feels more desperate to be more than in moments like this?

should he whisper that he loves you, just to get it off his chest?

but you cough, body shuttering as you relax into him, never pushing him away. and your voice is so small when you say, "you can't leave."

satoru feels the pieces of him crack into even more.

he tries to hold you tighter, but you move in his hold, turning so that you're facing him, and you nuzzle your face into his neck--trying to hide, but making sure that he's there.

your hands cling onto him, leaving marks.

he can feel your tears against his skin, your entire body on overdrive.

"you can't leave," you repeat, voice breaking. satoru feels it against the very outline of his soul.

"okay," he says, quickly. "i won't."

"i can't lose you too."

he pales, body going still. his heart might stop for a moment. "you won't. i'm not going anywhere." he sighs. "i'm sorry."

"i can't--" you're still crying, and you begin to shake again. "i can't do this without you. i won't."

"you don't have to."

"you can't leave, satoru," you say, leaning up to meet his eyes--yours glistening with years full of hurt, a lifetime of secrets and unsaid words. "please don't leave."

"i won't," he repeats, feeling a bit desperate. what can he say to prove to you that he's not like everyone else? that he would trap you within his atoms, if he could? that he would stay in this bed, holding you, even if it meant nothing, forever?

there's nothing, he knows. nothing but the truth. but that doesn't come out--it can't, now. it's not the right time.

so instead, satoru wipes the tears from your face, even though they're replaced immediately, your breath coming in short, short bursts. he wraps his arm around your back, pulling you back to him again.

"i'm sorry," you whisper against his skin, so quietly that he can barely hear it.

"i'm not going anywhere," he answers.

and, just for tonight, it's enough.

he'll fix the rest of it tomorrow.

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hellyeahsickaf · 11 months

Text

The way addicts and chronically ill people are dehumanized is so exhausting

The normalization of this shit in medical and casual settings is genuinely mind boggling. Addicts and disabled people go through so much bullshit. I've dealt with many fucked up doctors when I just needed help

I had a kidney infection, some months back. This is always extremely medically urgent, and I was likely only hours from sepsis. I went to the hospital reporting my pain to be a 9/10. 9 because my 10 was gallstones. I experienced severe malpractice at the hospital and the doctor reported exams that never occured and false information while making me wait with nothing more than tylenol to hold me over (didn't touch the pain) and bring my fever down but that's a whole other story

They did however, deny me the pain medication I needed until it was time to go home. I'm deathly allergic to NSAIDS, but that's something an addict might say so they witheld pain relief because they'd rather me suffer just in case I'm a different kind of sick. An entire night, maybe 6 hours in the ER and they couldn't give me anything, not a small dose of morphine or one norco even a few hours prior to take the edge off of the pain while I was curled up shaking and crying. Just in case I was an addict looking for my fix, and my suffering was just withdrawals and good acting. In that case maybe I deserved it and should be denied my humanity. God forbid in that case I'm so desperate to alleviate unbearable withdrawals that I spend all night in the ER crying. Not the first time I've experienced red tape just to get relief from excruciating pain

But whatever. As per protocol I was asked to follow up with my pcp. So a few days later I called to set an appointment, but I'd also run out of norco and desperate to relieve the pain I asked if I could be filled even enough for a few days, until the pain was bearable. I had difficulty walking, laying down, and I again, can't take most pain relievers. The receptionist was nice and understanding, actually got me in touch with the doctor because she wanted me to be able to get my refill. Probably heard the pain in my voice even. She believed me

She transfers me over to the doctor and I tell him I'd like a follow up and ask if he could fill my painkillers. I would've acceped a no from him, I just needed my follow up. He asked about my condition, I told him my diagnosis and how much pain I was in

And he laughed.

Got a real hoot out of it, like he had me all figured out. Like he caught me trying to cheat the system. I must be trying to get high or make some money with a few days worth of norco as i'm nearly in tears from the pain even while calling

He tells me through his laughter "I don't prescribe painkillers for 'kidney infections'" saying it with a mocking emphasis on those words, as if I'd said "stubbed toe". Follows with "Yeah haha, bye." and hangs up on me. No follow up like I called for. Needless to say I no longer have a pcp but truly if he thought I was an addict trying to take advantage of him he should have still treated me professionally. Maybe not cackled when I said my pain was excruciating for a start

I just don't understand why the hell so many doctors can be so apathetic to people's suffering. Addicts deserve better and so do disabled people- whether you think they're addicts or not. The assumption that we're lying, trying to trick them and are feigning pain to do it is disgusting, listening to your patients is so important. And if that were the case they could have some sympathy and ask themselves what it would take for someone to go those lengths, take such drastic measures and go through that trouble to obtain those substances.

Addiction is not a moral failing. Many disabled and chronically ill people unfortunately rely on medications that have addictive properties. About 80% of heroin addicts first misused prescription drugs. However only about 4-6% of those addicted to prescription drugs switch to things like heroin. And instead of help or compassion for people who just need help (addicts or not), they just figure we're one in the same and treat us like subhuman degenerates, leeches on society. And I think people need to change how they view addiction. Doctors need to change how they view addiction

#cfs #chronic pain #chronic fаtiguе ѕуndrоmе #chronic illness #fibromyalgia #disability #actually disabled #spoonie #me/cfs #cfs/me #ableism #ableism tw #medical ableism #addiction #ok to reblog #medical stuff #tw drugs

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javierpena-inatacvest · 7 months

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Bonding

Summary: You and Javi just brought your daughter Lucy home from the hospital. While the two of you couldn't be more in love and excited at the addition of your newest family member, it doesn't mean that you both aren't feeling some of the nerves of being first time parents.

Word Count: 2.4K (She's reasonable, your honor)

Pairing: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: This is honestly just pure, sweet, sickening, fluff, mentions of body insecurity postpartum, worry/anxiety about being a first time parent, Javi snuggling a newborn baby skin on skin (it needs a warning fr), Javi being the cutest dad ever to exist, Javi is in full on dad mode, ladies and gents (gn) 🫡

A/N: This was inspired after reading @kteague adorable post about Frankie carrying his daughter in a baby sling, and I couldn't help but picture sweet Javi as a first time dad cuddling with his baby girl 😭🥺 and to @endlessthxxghts for being a bad influence 💀Y ou know for a fact that Lucy's got Javi wrapped around her finger from the moment she's born, and picturing the adorable bond these two have makes me want to melt into a puddle 🫠 also I have a raging case of baby fever, but let's pretend that wasn't entirely the motive to write this or that I'm not projecting at all WHOOPS

Part of the Forever and Always Series!!

From the moment you had found out you were pregnant, you had no doubt that Javi was going to be nothing short of the best dad you could have ever hoped for. Before your daughter was even born, Javi had completely flipped the switch into full Dad Mode, spending the past 9 months coming with you to every single doctor’s appointment, baby proofing every square inch of your home, and checking out (and re-checking out) every parenting book he could get his hands on at the library.

So it was safe to say, that once you brought Lucy home from the hospital to start your life together as a family of 3, if Javi hadn’t already been full force into Dad Mode, he sure as hell was now, and was going to do anything and everything he could to make sure that the two most important girls in his life were showered with every ounce of love and affection he had.

It was also safe to say that even though he wouldn’t admit it, Javi was also an absolute nervous wreck at the reality that he was now actually a dad to a tiny newborn daughter that had been brought into the world.

“You think that her diaper is snug enough? Should I get a bottle ready just in case she gets hungry? Different pajamas to sleep in before we put her down?” Javi asked, carefully cradling Lucy against his chest as you passed her off to him, planting a soft kiss on her head, gently bouncing her up and down.

“Javi,” You laughed leaning in to give your sleepy daughter a kiss on the messy tufts of hair ruffled on her head before looking back up at your husband, “I’m going to take a shower, not leaving for war. I’ll be quick, so that way if she needs me then I’ll-”

“Hermosa,” he paused, raising an eyebrow at you as he smiled, “take as long as you need, okay? I’m just asking to make sure so I don’t have to bother you. Take an hour, hell, take 3 hours for all I care, you deserve it, Momma. I can’t imagine how exhausted you are. Me and Lucy Goosey will be just fine, won’t we, mi amor (my love)?”

The two of you smiled as Lucy quietly cooed, your grin spreading even wider watching Javi’s face light up with joy as he looked down at his daughter, your heart practically bursting at the seams with how in love he was with her. But even through the pure bliss in Javi’s eyes, you couldn’t help but sense a nervous twinge in his voice, knowing that in the short day and a half that you’d been home from the hospital, even though you were only a room away, this was the first time that Javi was in charge of Lucy all by himself. And because you knew your husband better than you knew yourself, you knew that despite the fact Javi was probably better prepared for parenting than you were, he was secretly terrified he was going to do something that would hurt his precious baby girl, and the thought of that? That scared the shit out of him.

“Javi?” You said again, gently rubbing your hand against his arm, forcing his gaze to shift on to you and your tired smile. “Honey, you know you’re an amazing dad right? But, I can guarantee that even though we would do anything and everything for this stinker, we’re gonna mess up at some point. You love her so much, and that’s all that matters, okay? I love you, Jav.”

You could feel some of the tension begin to ease from Javi’s body, looking back down at Lucy before back to you, taking in a deep breath, and softly nodding his head to himself.

“I know, it’s just- She’s so perfect. I wanna give her everything. I just, I just wanna be a good dad. I just want her to know that I love her so much.”

As if you weren’t already an emotional mess, watching the tears well in Javi’s eyes as he gazed down at Lucy, looking at her like she was the only thing the world that existed, had your hormonal heart bursting into a million pieces, now trying to wipe your own wetness streaming down your cheeks.

“Javi, I don’t think it’s possible for you to love that little girl anymore than you already do.” You sighed, stepping in to press a kiss onto Javi’s lips before another onto Lucy’s head. “Okay, I’m gonna go shower before I become even more of a hot mess than I already am. You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Thanks, Osita. We’ll be just fine. I love you.”

“I love you too, Jav.”

“And hey, you’re not a hot mess, just hot.” Javi smirked, making you roll your eyes as you gestured to yourself and the undeniably disheveled state you were in.

“Javi, I look like I just rolled out of a dumpster. I am literally wearing an adult sized diaper.”

“And no one’s ever made an adult sized diaper look hotter, Hermosa.”

You couldn’t help but let out a snort, shaking your head at your husband as you finally turned to head out of the nursery, giving Javi and Lucy one last wave before disappearing out of the door frame and into the bathroom for a much needed shower.

“Alright, it’s just you and me, pollita (little chicken).” Javi smiled, rocking Lucy against your chest, taking a deep breath of reassuring confidence, feeling more self-assured about his time alone. “Let’s get you into some pajamas, huh?” With another kiss on Lucy’s head, Javi carefully laid her down on her changing table, reaching into one of the drawers to pull out a tiny onesie covered in pink flowers and strawberries.

He couldn’t help but laugh to himself at how absolutely tiny the pair of pajamas felt in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief at the fact that all of this was real- for so long, Javi had been convinced a family of his own would never be in the cards for him, and for as much as it hurt, he’d come to accept it. But when you had come into his life and given him the second chance that he had so desperately longed for, he still couldn’t quite believe how he had deserved to find himself here with a beautiful family, a wife and daughter he loved more than life itself, and how he couldn’t have been happier to be dressing his newborn baby girl into a pair of tiny pink pajamas.

Checking Lucy’s diaper and tossing her clothes into the hamper, Javi zipped her up into her pajamas, noticing that she was starting to get squirmy and fussy, he quickly picked her back up, pressed against his chest as he made his way over to the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery.

Despite the steady movement back and forth and the gentle rocking, Lucy’s cries only started to become louder, Javi trying his best to keep calm despite the fact his heart was racing, thinking he had already done something wrong to upset his daughter in the few short minutes they had been together.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhhhh, it’s okay bebita, it’s okay.” Javi cooed, gently patting Lucy’s back to try and soothe her. “What’s wrong, huh? It’s not your diaper, Momma fed you before she got in the shower, I wonder if it’s-”

Before Javi could finish the rest of his mental checklist outloud, he was looking down at his shoulder to see the little dribbles of spit-up drooling from Lucy’s mouth onto his shirt, quietly laughing to himself at the mystery that had seemed to solve itself.

“Alright, well that was easy. Let’s get you cleaned up, messy miss.”

Standing up to bring Lucy back to the changing table, he laid her down to reach into another drawer to grab one of the many burp cloths that had been stored away to wipe up Lucy’s little face before he was back to the pajama drawer, pulling out another pair to change her into. But as he tossed Lucy’s second outfit in 10 minutes into the laundry, he couldn’t help but notice the giant spit stain drenching his own shoulder. Not wanting to have to lay Lucy back into his damp shirt, he stared down at his daughter in nothing but her diaper, thinking back to the advice from the plethora of parenting books he had consumed and a few days ago after Lucy’s birth, where the nurses had been adamant about making sure both you and Javi spent plenty of skin on skin time with the baby.

Trying to fight off any self-doubt or need for reassurance, Javi took a deep breath as he stared down at Lucy, still restless and crying on her changing table before stripping his own shirt and tossing it in with the other tiny items of laundry that had quickly accumulated throughout the day.

“Okay, c’mere mi amorcita (my little love), it’s okay, I’ve got you. Shhhhhh, I’ve got you, baby girl.” Javi cooed, carefully cradling his daughter to his bare chest, feeling the heat of her tiny body pressed against his as he sat back down in the rocking chair, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t cry, pollita, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

After a few seconds of whispered reassurances and gentle rocks back and forth, Javi let out a quiet sigh of relief as Lucy’s cries began to lessen, slowly fading from wails to muffled tears against Javi’s chest.

“That’s it, see, it’s okay, baby girl.” Javi softly smiled, pressing a tender kiss into Lucy’s soft hair before reaching over to the small bookshelf next to the rocking chair, pulling a well loved copy of “Goodnight Moon” into his lap, trying his best to maneuver it open to the first page with his one free hand. “You never got to meet your Grandma Lucia, but that’s who you’re named after. A long time ago, this was Daddy’s favorite book to listen to her read. This is his book when he was a little boy, and now I’m so happy it gets to be yours.” Almost as if little Lucy knew, her crying began to calm even more to listen to her dad as he began to read.

“In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon and a picture of…”

As Javi began to read each page, Lucy became quieter and quieter, and by the time they had said goodnight to kittens and mittens, and clocks and socks, Little Lucy was sound asleep on Javi’s chest, her soft snores rumbling on his skin.

“Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere. And goodnight my sweet Lucy Goosey. Daddy loves you so much.” Javi cooed, gently rubbing his thumb in circles along Lucy’s back as he tilted his head against the back of the rocking chair, the back and forth and weight of his sleeping daughter on his chest slowly just enough to the weight of his eyelids droop to a close right along side Lucy’s.

After a long, hot, and much needed shower, you had changed into some new pajamas, throwing your still damp hair into a towel as you headed down the hallway towards the nursery, surprised and slightly concerned by the lack of noise coming from the room.

“Hey baby, I’m all done with the shower if you want me too- Oh my god.” Before you could even make it all the way through the door, you were stopped in your tracks, covering your mouth with your hand to try and cope with the cuteness overload that was in front of you.

There, in the corner of the room sat Javi and Lucy in the rocking chair, the pair sound asleep and snoring as Lucy lay against his bare chest, “Goodnight Moon” half open and slipping out of Javi’s lap from what you assumed had to have been the book he was reading to her before they clonked out.

Your footsteps down the hallway must have been enough to wake Javi to the point that his eyes began to blink open, scrunching his face in a half awake yawn as he recognized your frame in the doorway, quickly shaking his head to bring himself back to full consciousness, immediately looking down at his chest to make sure Lucy was still there before looking back at you and the lovestruck grin spread between your cheeks.

“You two having a good nap?” You giggled quietly, making your way over to stand next to the rocking chair, gently running your hand through the dark curls of Javi’s messy, sleep ridden hair, kissing his forehead, admiring your tiny daughter perched on your husband’s chest.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, hermosa. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep.” Javi whispered, steadying his grip around Lucy as he sat up straighter.

“Javi, don’t apologize, baby. I’m glad that you were able to get her to sleep for you. Did you read her “Goodnight Moon”? Glad to know it still works like a charm. I think she must already have it memorized at this point.” You smiled, picking the book up off of Javi’s lap, turning through the well worn pages, knowing how excited Javi had been to finally read it to her as he held her, despite all of the times he had read it to your belly while you were pregnant when it was the only ways to bring you some relief from the constant kicking in your last trimester.

“Yeah we did, didn’t we, sleepy girl? Although I didn’t realize that “Goodnight Dad” was the last page of the book I must have been missing all this time.” Javi laughed, readjusting Lucy as she let out a tiny yawn, stretching her little body against Javi’s.

“Well, if every time you read “Goodnight Moon” to this little cutie, you end up shirtless with Lucy asleep on your chest, I don’t think that I’ll have anything to ever complain about again, except for the fact I’m gonna die of cuteness. God, you two are so adorable. You have a good time with your Daddy, baby girl? I hope you know that you’ve got him wrapped around your little tiny finger, Little Miss. He loves you so much.”

“God, you’ve got that right. Have you ever seen anything so perfect? She’s perfect, Osita. I love her more than anything. I love our family so much. Thank you.” Javi whispered, trying to fight back the tears welling in his eyes.

“Thank me for what, Javi?”

“For giving me everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Taglist

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

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liv3laughlev · 6 months

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BABY? BABY!! // ★.⁗☕️⚬☆

content warnings: nsfw, fem & afab reader, hubby!toji, reader is written to have hair long enough to be played with and pushed away, breeding kink, creampie, toji has baby fever, rough sex

author’s note: thank you guys for the support on my first post i hope you guys like this one too :D

masterlist !!

toji never really wanted children, for the most part, he actually disliked them. they were loud and sticky and honestly more expensive to take care of than anything. but today you had agreed to watch your nephew, who was only just a few months old.

you would carry him all over the house, spoiling him rotten with affection. and when toji came home from a long day of work he was a little surprised to hear the sound of a baby giggling while you tickled him.

“what’s this about?” he asked as he sat on the couch, observing the smile you had on your face as you played with your nephew.

“i’m watching him because my sister had to go to work early and her husband couldn’t watch him since he also had work!” you said with a sweet smile as you looked up at him from the floor.

“alright..” he sighed as he sat back, just deciding to observe you.

he noticed how you were basically glowing while playing with your nephew, the sweetest smile on your face. it had him thinking— what would it be like if the two of you had your own kid? he was stuck thinking about what it’d be like all evening until your sister came to pick up her son.

now alone with you he was watching tv with you, his arm wrapped around you while you were snuggled up next to him.

he wanted to say something about earlier, no- needed to. but to be honest we wasn’t sure you’d be into the idea. having kids is such a big step. there’s no guarantee you two won’t regret it down the line. but it was now or never.

“babe?” he spoke up, playing with your hair a little.

“yes?” you asked sweetly, tracing your finger on his stomach some.

toji struggled to figure out how to word what he wanted, which wasn’t often so this was a little nerve wracking for him. “fuck it..” he murmured. “i wanna give you my baby.” he spoke.

your eyes widened a little. “do you mean.. you wanna have one with me?” you asked, biting your lip a little. you had been wanting this basically since the two of you got married a year ago, and part of you didn’t believe this was actually happening.

“yeah.. saw you with that kid and honestly it made me realize it.. do you want that too?” he asked, pushing your hair out of your face some. the nod you gave him was all the confirmation he needed.

“oh fuck!” you whimpered as he had you bouncing on his cock— his cock was reaching deep inside you, his hands gripping onto your hips while he fucked you. you couldn’t even think at this point, hands reaching behind to grasp onto his arms.

“that’s it, baby.. keep bouncing like that..” he groaned, eyes glued to the way you would grind back against him. he couldn’t even think straight either at this point, the only thing in his mind is his determination to get you knocked up.

“toji.. ‘m getting tired..” you whined, your thighs burning a little from riding him. you had probably came already twice and he hadn’t came once, and he planned to dump a couple loads inside you.

toji smirked and didn’t hesitate to bend you over in front of him completely, your ass up while he pushed your face down a little. you cried out in pleasure when his cock bullied deeper inside you. “that better, baby?” he teased, giving your ass a nice slap before his hands rested on your hips while he fucked you so well from behind.

“f-fuuck..” you whined out, your eyes rolling back ever so slightly. “please.. need it.. i need it.. can’t handle it much longer..” you rambled while you felt his hand reach down to toy with your clit, his thumb rubbing it in tight circles.

“i knoww baby.. just a little longer..” he chuckled, “i’m gonna cum soon.. gonna dump it all in that pretty pussy of yours..” he moaned, his eyes taking every reaction you had to what he did.

you nodded desperately, your moans getting a little sharp as you neared another orgasm. “please.. yes please..” you whimpered.

toji groaned as he heard you begging for him. he felt the urge to rest his head back but he wanted to see you as you came more than anything. he loved the way your body shook, your voice suddenly high as you squirmed under him. you gasped, your hands searching for something to hold onto as you finally came. toji nearly lost it as he felt the snug feeling your cunt gave his cock, and he didn’t hesitate to slam his hips against yours one more time before his cum spurt deep inside you.

you two took a minute or two to catch your breath, and toji gently pulled out of you. he watched the way his cum slowly seeped from your pussy, feeling his cock stir right back to life.

he kept you in bed for at least two hours after that to fuck you more, but it definitely paid off because a few weeks later you showed him your positive pregnancy test.

#lev.com☁️#dividers by cafekitsune #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji x reader smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #toji jjk smut #smut #toji fushiguro jjk smut

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byte-your-tongue · 1 month

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Dungeon Meshi Characters x Sick Reader

(Platonic, Gn Reader)

AN: Was written with platonic intentions but ig any of them could be read as romantic???? I'm so sick i'm dying which is why i wrote this. That and i wanna get back to writing headcanons when i have the time

Laios:

Will try to get you to eat all sorts of monster parts that are said to give good health. He's trying to help, but some of the stuff he feeds you is questionable....

He will try to perform small healing spells on you if you are in pain.

He would probably ask the rest of the party how to help you and you will end up with a ton of stuff done to you as Laios takes all of their varying advice.

If you snap and tell him to just let you rest he will feel slightly bad for bothering you, but you know he didn't mean any harm by it.

If you want him to keep you company he will info dump about monsters for hours. Don't worry about falling asleep while he's talking, he's just glad you are getting some rest.

"Ahhh... i think they fell asleep. I'll just tell them about this monster when they are feeling better!" He smiles and whispers to himself when he hears your breathing change.

Chilchuck:

Will do all the traditional stuff to help you, but probably isn't well versed in actual medicine.

What he does to help is more like the natural remedies/old wive's tales your mom would give to you. Not all of them are backed by science but he swears they will help and he seems so confident so what choice do you have but to trust him?

If you're nauseous or have a fever he will sit by your side with a cold wet rag and run it over your face.

Will brew you tea and swear it will fix everything (my mom did this w yerba buena tea lol)

Will load you up with citrus fruits if you have a cold.

Is the type of person to tell you to gargle warm salt water if you have a sore throat

He will scold you for getting sick, telling you to take better care of yourself. He will say mean stuff but he's also tenderly staying by your side and caring for you... so like.. do with that what you will.

"Ugh it's such a pain taking care of you, you better not get me sick!" He complains, but he's still by your bedside attending to your every need.

Senshi:

Will cook for you. Expect a LOT of soup while you are sick.

He plans out your meals to have lots of vitamins and nutrients to help you recover faster.

He will sit by your bed and stay with you in silence.

If you want him to talk to you he might tell you stories about his time in the dungeon and all the things he's learned and the people he's met.

He is keeping you SO hydrated you will be forced to drink water constantly.

"If ya don't eat well, yer body won't have what it needs to recover. So take care of yerself and make sure ya eat up!" He says while presenting you with your 3rd bowl of soup today.

Izutsumi:

She does NOT know how to care for a sick person. But she's trying..??

Will cuddle up with you and purr. It gives comfort if nothing else.

She might also lick your hair or otherwise groom you.

If you express concern about her getting sick from being around you she will brush it off saying that as a beastman her immune system is probably better than yours.

Doesn't know how to help you but she's worried about you.

She probably tries to tell you some superstition about sickness she learned from Shuro's party that she believes is totally real.

Might drag Chilchuck or Senshi over to you to take care of you.

Don't expect her to fetch you most of what you need, she will probably sleep more than you do while sick. You can try to wake her up and tell her to get something but she will grumble about it.

"huuh..? You want me to get you food? Why don't you just ask Senshi?" She says while yawning and curling back up in your bed.

Marcille:

Tries her best to look through books she's read to find anything that can help.

She panics quickly and worries the worst will happen even if you are only slightly sick.

Might try to get Falin to help take care of you if she's around.

She probably is more worried about your health then even you are.

She gets overwhelmed and tries a lot of things to fix you but it probably takes Senshi or Falin to remind her that you just need to rest and will get better with time.

She gets very anxious and will stay by you the whole time you are sick. She probably ends up getting sick after you do and you get to take care of a whiny Marcille. (It's ok she's sort of cute while sick)

"*sniffle*, You have to take care of me now cuz you're the reason i got sick!" She whines while curled up in her bed with a disheveled appearance.

Falin:

Will perform healing magic on you if you are in any pain, she will do what she can to sooth your discomfort.

Might cast a spell to put you to sleep if you need the rest.

She's very chill about it and will sit with you and keep you company. She will joke and talk with you while you are in bed.

If you fall asleep she will read or quietly slip out of the room.

You might think she's one of the more level headed ones here and that she wouldn't do anything weird to you. You would be wrong. She is 100% doing some weird thing that's from the village where her and Laios grew up. She's convinced this is good for you even if it's super weird.

She will read stories to you if you get bored. Or she might even come up with stories on the spot to keep you entertained.

"C'mon! Eating raw onions is said to help bring your sense of taste back and help your nose stop being congested!" She says smiling sweetly, meanwhile you're pretty sure she is trying to poison you.

#✧byte writes✧#x reader #chilchuck tims #laios touden #falin touden #izutsumi #senshi of izganda #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #marcille donato #marcille x reader #falin x reader #laios x reader #senshi x reader #chilchuck x reader #gn reader #gn y/n

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miltonbarbie · 6 months

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hiiiiiii can you please do Kokichi, Kaede, and Shuichi (separate) with a fem!s/o who needs help feeding themselves? Like at home one of their older siblings or parents has to help them bring the spoon to their mouth and/or spoon feed em because they're so nervous about eating? I have OCD type ARFID and I'm always really scared of eating to the point I need help feeding myself and comfort from my favorite characters might help 😭 im so sorry if this makes you uncomfy

No its alright! I dont mind at all <3

Kokichi, Kaede and Shuichi spoonfeeding their s/o (fem!y/n)

Kokichi

He'd think about it for a moment, pretending as if he's against the idea but it's just to tease you, he'd feed you every day if he was asked to.

He loves being able to feed you because not only is he being helpful, but he feels good about himself knowing he can take care of your needs.

Definitely starts giggling every time you open your mouth to take a bite.

Like I'm not even joking, sometimes he'll drop it before he can even feed you because he's kicking his legs too much.

You'll raise a brow at him because he's starting to twirl his hair, and now he even insists on calling himself your wife.

"Kokichi wtf are you doing?" "Shhh.. Let wifey take care of you... Blinks eyelashes aggressively"

But the first time when you asked him to, it wasn't that he was uncomfortable, but you could've sworn he started to sweat and his hand was shaking the whole time.

When you ask him if he's okay, he'll "Nishishi~ Don't worry about it!" it's off but he's trying to make sure that he doesn't hit your face with the spoon or something.

Also he does a taste test before he feeds you. Just to make sure that it's not poisoned, yk? Totally not because he wants to see if the food is yummy.

Imagine if you look inside your bowl because for some suspicious reason, the spoonful's aren't even full. They're just tiny portions. And the bowl is like, 80% empty because your stupid boyfriend ate everything.

It's a disaster, but it's out of love.

Shuichi

REALLLLLLYYY shy about it.

He wants to so badly but it's like he can never get used to it. Not when you look so cute whenever you let out a little "aah" before taking a bite.

He'll short-circuit halfway through putting the spoon in your mouth.

Apologizes for EVERYTHING.

If even a bit of food was on your lip, he's gonna give you a thousand apologies, and he's not gonna stop until you tell him to politely shut up 😭

"IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN T-" "Shuichi.. It's okay.. You can stop now.."

He's a clever boy, when you asked him to feed you because you needed help, first thought was just to do what you asked for because it was probably for something important.

He's not the best at it, but much better than Kokichi. At least he doesn't eat your food..

Insists on giving you seconds because he wants to make sure your satisfied and healthy.

If you're eating or munching on something unhealthy like ice cream, he'll probably sneak a few bites though. Not because he wants to actually eat your stuff, but he just doesn't want you getting diabetes or smth LMAO

Anxious little baby, and it's obvious too

Kaede

Hands down literally the best most caring sweetest girlfriend ever it's baffling.

Even if you don't ask to, she's still gonna feed you because she loves showing that she cares.

She's smiling the whole time and it makes your face get all hot every. single. time.

Starts humming in the middle of it

When you're finished, she washes all the dishes, and plays some piano for you afterward.

It gives you baby fever because she has that motherly kind of care to it.

When you asked her the first time, her face lit up like a Christmas tree and she didn't even ask any questions about it either.

"Hey Darling? Could y-" "Of course cutiee!~"

She makes sweet little comments while you're taking bites like "Awh your eyes are so pretty!" or "Have I ever told you how perfect you are?"

She always blows on the food before giving it to you so you don't burn your mouth.

If you're eating soup or having something messy, she'll tie your hair up first so nothing gets in the way of you enjoying your meal.

She's such a romantic it makes me wanna melt.

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eowynstwin · 2 months

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Hi everyone. It's been a while—exactly a month since I last posted to this blog. How have you been?

A month isn't really all that long, but it's enough time to be able to look at everything that happened and understand it better. In the end, the whole situation (I've been calling it The Fuckening in my head) really didn't have anything to do with me. I was unlucky enough to run across someone willing to hurt anyone they could for attention, but also lucky enough that everyone who mattered to me in this fandom went to bat for me.

So I’ve decided to come back to this blog. I'll be posting about call of duty again as well as posting my writing. I also plan to blog about other fandoms (I’d already been doing it anyway); I've been getting back into rdr2, for example, and there's some writing I'd like to do for that.

There’s more context which I’ll put below the cut, but that’s the most important part of what I have to say; I often regret how long winded I can be, so the rest is just self indulgence if you can forgive it. I’ve thought a lot about this choice and I’m satisfied with my decision. I hope none of you will mind.

So, lol, things were not great outside of fandom stuff when it all kicked off, though I didn’t mention it publicly because we all know by now that asking for any sympathy when you’re the target of a mob is more likely to just get you raked over the coals harder. I’m still not entirely sure about talking about all of this, but I have a bad tendency to clam up when I really should be asking for support. So:

I mentioned briefly before the accusations started flying that I was dealing with bedbugs—turns out it was actually something else, but leading up to a doctor’s visit I was convinced I had an infestation, and I was stripping my bed every day to look for them. I had alarms set to wake me up twice a night to see if I could catch them, so I was not sleeping all that well. I couldn’t find anything, but I had no other explanation, and it was driving me fucking crazy. Post doctor visit it turns out I had a viral infection. No idea where I caught it, and nothing to do but wait it out. I had a massive, gnarly looking rash all over my body, and to add insult to injury I developed a fever that took me out for a whole weekend. (I’m recovered now but I have a nifty new scar on my hip from getting a biopsy.)

Next to that, I was having some PTSD flareups of my own. This was (mostly) unrelated to The Fuckening. Now, I understand that that might be hard to believe, given “Myka’s” claims, and I can’t make you believe me. Nor will I provide details to convince you, other than to say there were some things going on in my neighborhood that recalled a period of time in my life that was extremely unstable, and I found myself irrationally terrified to go home every day. For those of you who don’t experience the symptoms of PTSD, I think it’s appropriate to note that it isn’t just emotional turmoil; I, personally, experience physical pain in my entire body that lingers for hours, days, or even weeks after being triggered. (Everything regarding this, too, is fine now. I have a great therapist and a supportive family.)

All of this to say, I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally when I decided to leave this blog and fandom. And I regretted the decision almost instantly.

However, I didn’t want to let grief make any decisions for me, and also I was still VERY scared Myka was going to hunt down my personal information and either dox or harass me elsewhere. I think this fear was justified; it has happened to other writers in this fandom before.* So I decided to take some time to cool off and watch the situation develop without me.

I don’t think I need to get into the details—although if you’re interested in them, @fulltacs has been keeping track of the drama. Given the most recent development with the four obviously sock puppet blogs that popped up and immediately began stirring shit up again, I realized Myka probably would have done what she did with or without me. I just so happened to give her the ammunition she needed to do something REALLY big. It was pure bad luck.

(Also—and I’m sorry if this is just stirring the pot, but after everything they did to me I feel I deserve to make the accusation—I’ve suspected for a while that the two loudest blogs leading the witch hunt against me were far more involved in this farce than anyone has assumed. I have no proof and I do not want anyone to do anything about it on my behalf, leave them the fuck alone. But I will not forget the distress they caused me for a long fucking time, and the only way for me to let this go is to say my piece. So there. Done. Let that be the end of it.)

Having this hindsight, I feel comfortable coming back. I’m still very touched by everyone’s support, which in the end was louder than the harassment. I also think it’s important for people who care about fighting racism in any community not to run at the first sign of trouble, which I did, and I feel pretty sorry for.

That’s the gist of things. If you’ve read all of this, thank you for doing so!

*I was going to add a paragraph about halfmoth-halfman’s situation but decided against it. For one thing, she wants to be left alone, and for another, talking about the experiences of fans of color, particularly black fans, deserves its own post separate from my white experience, if I should even post about it at all.

#state of the knee brace #the fuckening

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fictionaire · 1 year

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I got this prompt idea from Tiktok. You are pregnant and Bucky isn't very trusting in touching your bump with his metal arm.

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You were in your eighth month of pregnancy and everything had been going very smoothly. The baby was healthy and so were you up to this point.

The past couple of days had been pretty rough since you developed a pretty nasty cold. You visited your doctor who said you didn't have anything to worry about since you hadn't contracted a fever. But if you did and it was above 100 you needed to go to the hospital.

Bucky had been taking great care of you throughout your entire pregnancy but now with the cold he wouldn't even let you stand on your own. He actually made F.R.I.D.A.Y notify him when they detected you had stood up. It was ridiculous but also incredibly sweet.

It was now day three of your battle with the cold and you had been going through hot and cold flashes. Bucky had to go on a mission yesterday but promised to be back today and made sure Nat was watching over you.

You kicked off the comforter that had comforted you in what felt like an arctic room five minutes ago but that had now changed into death valley.

"How you doing?" Natasha asked, tapping lightly at the door that was ajar.

"I feel so hot" You complained, putting a cool rag over your belly. "And the baby adds fifteen degrees to whatever temperature i'm already feeling."

Natasha giggled at your dramatics and held the thermometer up to your forehead.

"98.6" She said, hitting the power button. "You're normal"

"Tell that to the desert I am laying in."

You heard heavy footsteps heading down quickly towards the hallway

"They're back" Nat said, getting off the edge of the bed and walking out the door as Bucky walked in.

"Hi, doll." He said, walking to your bedside out of breath. "How ya doin?"

"Burning up."

"Are you feeling any better?" He asks, taking a seat on the side of the bed.

"Other than these hot/cold flashes I feel okay."

He reaches his metal arm up to your shoulder, rubbing it and you can feel the cold through your shirt sleeve. You grab his hand and lower it to your belly, the cool relaxing you until he yanks his arm away, replacing it with his real hand.

"The cold felt nice." You whined, jutting out your bottom lip.

"Yeah, but - uh I need to take this off, it' probably gross from the combat."

"It's okay, Buck." You say, reaching out to grab his hand again, to which he stands off the bed and takes a step away.

"No, (y/n)." He says, sternly.

You look at him, shocked. In all the time you have been with Bucky he's only ever talked to you in that tone twice, both while on a mission and you had done something a little more reckless than you should have been doing and he was worried for your safety.

"I-I'm sorry, Doll." He said after taking a breath. "I'm just scared to touch you like that with this arm. What if something happens like it glitches or - "

"Buck, the Winter Soldier is gone. It's been five years." You say, sitting up in bed. "I trust you completely. I think you need to trust yourself a little more than you do."

He makes his way back to the bed and sits where he was before, not taking his eyes off the ground.

"I just worry and I wouldn't want to ever do anything to hurt you or our daughter."

"It's all okay, I trust you." You lay your hand gently on his metal one and look into his eyes, asking if it's okay without actually saying any words. He nods and you place his hand back on your belly, humming gratefully at the feeling.

"Just tell me if you start feeling uncomfortable." You say to Bucky.

"I trust us."

#avengers #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x pregnant! reader #Steve rogers x reade #Tony stark x reader #bucky x y/n

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cacoetheswriting · 2 years

Text

celebrity skin. (part two)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.5k summary: your night with eddie continues to haunt you. and now you have to work together — what could go wrong?

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: smut with a plot, oral (fem receiving), aftercare, suggestive & mature themes, other mentions of sex (nothing graphic), adult language, use of pet names, mutual pining, emotional hurt / comfort, topics of guilt / regret — if i missed anything, pls let me know!

psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

Eddie Munson hurt your feelings.

Granted, you were just as much to blame. Rockstars are always nothing but trouble and you knew that when you jumped into bed with him.

‘Cause why would Eddie Munson be any different from all the other musicians you’d slept with in the past? He gave you no reason to think otherwise. He never promised you anything.

Letting him occupy your heart and mind after only one night together was your own damn fault, though it was easier to blame him. And you could make a list of excuses, reasons as to why you did what you did, but it really came down to one simple thing: Eddie seemed… different. Almost as if he also wanted to continue this past some single fling.

You asked to stay over. He immediately agreed.

Why? If he was only going to say the night meant nothing to him, why did he agree? Why did he pull you under the silk covers and wrap his arm around your bare shoulder, placing a gentle kiss to your crown? Why did he hold your hand close to his heart, allowing you to feel his heartbeat as he opened up about his past? Why did he let you trace your fingers along his scars?

If it was just about having sex with you, why did Eddie act like he cared what you thought of him? He could have kicked you out the second you came down to earth following your orgasm, not kiss you again with a feverness that made you believe he was silently begging for more — which foolishly, you gave him.

Then you didn’t call immediately, like you said you would. Again, only you were to blame here, but in your own defence, you didn’t think he’d act so coldly towards you. It was just one delayed phone call and he knew better than anyone how plans often change when you’re in the limelight.

Proof was in the pudding. Eddie didn’t like you nearly as much as he led you to believe he did — as much as you liked him.

And it was fucking foolish of you to fall for him the way you did. Holly thought so too. She actually had a lot of opinions after you told her why you bailed on her at the party.

“Boys are all the same,” she stated while applying the finishing touches to your makeup. “They have one thing on their mind and when they get it, no matter how sweet they act towards you, you’re unfortunately disposable.”

“Eddie doesn’t seem like that,” you defended, which only caused Holly to roll her eyes.

“Hate to be the one to break this to you, but Eddie Munson is exactly that type of guy.”

The cherry on top of this godforsaken mess was your Nana who somehow caught wind of your salacious activities with the Corroded Coffin frontman. She confronted you at her charity luncheon of all places and was actually the main reason you had called him with such a delay, meaning she was also partially to blame for how things turned out in the end.

“You’re not to go anywhere near that boy again,” it almost sounded like a threat. “He’s no good for you or your image. Can you imagine the news? America’s sweetheart canoodling with a devil worshipper. You would be ruined.”

“He’s not a devil worshipper—”

“I don’t want to hear you defending him,” your Nana interjected and looked around, probably to make sure no one was listening in on the conversation. “Honey, I’m just trying to protect you. You’re still a little young to understand just how long our mistakes can follow us around for.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “But I guess you have experience in this area.” And with that you walked away. She didn’t follow.

A few days later, after your brief conversation with Eddie, you showed up at her apartment with tears in your eyes, repeating how she was right — not necessarily the devil worship stuff, just the “not being good for you” piece.

Mid-September 1992, Eddie was supposed to be in New York with his band to perform on Saturday Night Live. He told you that in between trailing kisses down your jawline: “Just in case it’s hard for us to find time to see together,” where his exact words, “This one is a guarantee.”.

You half-debated going to the after party. It wouldn’t be hard to get your name on the guest list, just one simple call from your management team. You even knew what you could wear. Chanel had sent you this gorgeous little black blazer-dress from their Fall 1991 collection, gold buttons at the front creating a v-neck that perfectly accentuated your chest. It was tame enough to keep in style with your image, but bold enough to hail the attention of the Corroded Coffin frontman.

As you stared at the dress however, you knew going would be a mistake. He’d likely view it as an act of despair and the last thing you wanted to do is give him any more power in this situation. So you opted to watch the show from the comfort of your own sofa. Your younger sister Valentine, named after the most romantic day of the year (according to your parents), Val for short, came over to watch with you.

Turns out Val is a big Corroded Coffin fan. Luckily, she remains blissfully unaware of what had gone down between you and the lead singer of her favourite band.

Val ended up being the person who pushed you to do the feature on Corroded Coffin’s upcoming single. She is the person who actually got you to listen to the demo in the first place.

The opportunity first presented itself around January of 1993. After weeks of trying to forget about Eddie Munson, and the way his touch made you feel, your team flushed all that hard work down the toilet in one short meeting. They presented an idea you really wanted no part of — a quick feature that was gonna cost nothing, but make you (and them) five times as much, if not more.

Your initial reaction was a plain and simple no. You had brushed it off as their music not being within your wheelhouse and for a second, they agreed. Only Val had come to the meeting with you. She was only supposed to be a silent observer and take notes for her Business Management module. Of course, she didn’t listen.

“Oh my god! Your voice blended with Eddie Munson’s would make for an automatic hit,” she exclaimed and you swore then you were going to kill her.

“Their sound is just not my thing,” you explained calmly.

“At least listen to the demo before you make any final decisions,” Val reasoned, earning herself nods and yeses from your management team.

Losing the battle, you made your way to the nearest empty recording room with the CD in hand. Knowing this was already hard enough, you asked to go alone. Val was the only one to put up any sort of fight, but older sister rules and she quickly changed her tune.

When the first few notes began to play through the speakers, you felt gratified because the song was totally opposite of what your fanbase enjoyed — just like you rationalised. However, then the melody slowed down. The heavy guitar from the intro was instead replaced by a more acoustic sound, and the loud drums, reduced to a simple beat. They were a mere decoration to the main event. Eddie and his hypnotic vocals.

“Honestly, you got me fallin’ to my knees It’s like ecstasy, this feelin’ inside of me Let’s call it honesty

You’re a devil in disguise No, that’s what I want you to be ‘Cause in reality, hon’, you’re a hypnotic dream An angel for sure To a non-believer like me Oh honesty, what have you done to me, honestly”

You’re not sure at which point of listening to the demo you started to cry, but you did. The tears are slow, trailing down your cheeks as you clutch the empty CD case tight to your chest.

Was it egotistical to think he’d written this song about you? Most definitely. Yet the sheer emotion in Eddie’s voice, not to even mention the lyrics themselves, made it quite hard to say otherwise.

“Why do they want me?” You asked once you had returned to the room, after listening to the demo three times in a row and taking an additional ten minutes to compose yourself. “They can have any female singer on this, why me?”

“The request came from someone above the band.”

It wasn’t the answer you had secretly hoped for, but you agreed to do the feature nonetheless. There was no denying, the track had huge hit potential, especially as a duet. And Val was right, your vocals mixed with Eddie’s were going to make history. Your reasons for saying yes, however, were a little different. You really just needed to be a hundred percent sure Eddie wrote this song about you.

March 1993 and the day you’d been stressing about since you agreed to do the song had finally arrived.

You had put on the most comfortable yet sexy outfit you could find and done your makeup differently to what Eddie would have seen you in. sprayed on some rose-scented perfume and plastered on a big smile, the fakest sincere shit you had become quite the expert at over the years — your trademark.

The band's manager, Marianne, greeted you on arrival. Holly and your bodyguard, Hank, had come with you to the recording session. You asked Holly to be there as emotional support and Hank was there just to get his paycheck. Either way, you were quite glad not to be facing this alone.

Everything’s fine, you told yourself as you followed Marianne across the building and to a studio where the producer and a handful of sound technicians were waiting for you. Finn, Jane, Kit, and Gavin — in no particular order of importance, their own words. Happy to be working with you, can’t wait to make some magic, big fans of your work, etc. You just smiled. Then Marianne opened the door to the room behind the sound-proof glass and a shiver ran down your spine once you walked through.

Although you did your best to not look his way, Eddie’s presence was instantly known to your senses. As though no one else was ever here, all you could feel was his eyes on you and it caused your heart to rattle inside your ribcage. The sheer fact of being in the same room as him again, after all this time apart, was infuriating yet exciting at the same time. You wondered what he was thinking, was he happy to see you? Surprised? Annoyed?

Holly was on your heels, saying her charming hello’s to everyone you had just introduced yourself to. She actually met Jeff at Eddie’s party so the two of them hugged like old pals and within a split-second, they were off to the side, catching up. You lost your protector quite possibly at the worst time.

“And our frontman, Eddie Munson.” Marianne introduced, one hand hovering over your back while the other extended in the direction of the curly-haired man,

You focused your attention on her arm, refusing to look up and meet Eddie’s chocolate gaze. From the corner of your eyes, you could see as he wiped his palms on the pleather of his pants and held out his right hand in your direction. You glanced at it briefly, the smile on your face faltering.

Suddenly, he was right there. Right at your fingertips. Just take his hand, you thought to yourself, it’s not that big a deal, just take his hand and look at him.

“We’ve met before,” you said with little to no emotion, and without meeting his gaze, then quickly turned to Marianne. “Should we just get started? I listened to the song, I have no notes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Marianne seemed to be taken aback by your abrupt change in attitude. She glanced at Eddie then back at you. “Uhm, yeah, sure. Of course. Right this way.”

The two of you silently left Eddie’s side, though you continued to feel his eyes burning into your frame. This whole situation was honestly nauseating. Not only were you forced to face the memories of this one magical night you shared with the famous rockstar, you were also about to sing a duet together, a song he most likely wrote about said night. All while pretending you don’t care about him or the night in question.

Marianne propped you in front of a microphone and handed you a set of headphones and shortly after the band had taken their places. You glanced across the room at Holly who gave you an encouraging thumbs up before hurrying out to re-join Finn, Jane, Kit, Gavin, and your bodyguard, Hank.

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. This was so beyond fucked, you almost wished it wasn’t too late to back out. The only thing making this just a little bit worth it was Eddie’s clear discomfort. He was the last to take his place at the microphone placed only a feet away from yours, his movements reluctant. You still refused to look at him, focusing instead on the carpet between your feet, hands now on your hips.

“You know what I’m gonna say,” Marianne’s voice echoed through the room, “The day I don’t say it though is gonna be the day we make a shit piece of art so, here goes, good luck and have fun.”

An unsettling silence filled the air as soon as she closed the door behind her.

You weren’t sure how their band sessions really went, who took the lead and who followed. You hoped someone would speak so you wouldn’t be the first, but no one did. Eddie’s eyes were burning into the side of your head. At this point you were starting to think the universe was playing some sick joke on you. So you glanced upwards, first behind the glass to where you located Holly who gave you another thumbs up, and then you tilted your head in the direction of the man next to you.

You exhaled softly and leaned in closer to the microphone before saying, “Honesty, take one.”

Eddie had thought about you every single day since that fateful night in August. The memory of you, your smile, the colour of your eyes, how you felt to the touch, the pretty sounds you made just for him, it had occupied his mind permanently. And he tried to get over you, really, but nothing seemed to do the trick. Not the drinking, not the weed, not losing himself in music, not even hooking up with strangers after the bands’ shows.

He was a goner, yet too fucking stubborn to call or try contact you in any way.

But now here you are, a mere arms-length away, and you’re singing the song he wrote about you, harmonising with little to no effort as you stare right into his big eyes. Eddie is staring back at you, holding your gaze ‘cause he’s afraid if he’d look away, you’d never look at him again. He wants to know what you’re thinking. He’s trying to decipher the angry sadness behind your eyes. Not like he deserves anything from you, but he wants to know how you’ve been. Most importantly, he wants to know if you even like the song?

“Okay,” Marianne pops her head in as the track ends, “Let’s break for lunch.”

Everyone starts to gather whatever they might need for the next hour — bag, bottled water, smokes — before following Marianne out of the recording studio. You’re still staring at Eddie and he’s thinking now’s his chance to talk to you. However, just as he’s about to open his mouth to start perhaps the most awkward conversation, you drop his gaze and hurry out the door.

“Shit,” the curly-haired rockstar curses under his breath then proceeds to follow you down the long hallway until you disappear into the ladies toilets. “Shit,” Eddie swears again as the door closes in front of his face. He runs a hand through his locks, debating whether he should continue his chase, though, eventually, he decides going inside would be a total breach of privacy. Instead, he leans across from the entrance, lights a cigarette, and waits. You’re bound to return at some point and when you do, he’s going to be here and you would have to talk to him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long.

The door opens slowly and you emerge, wiping your hands on your denim skirt. Attention solely on fixing your outfit, it takes you a second to realise Eddie’s there ‘cause honestly you didn’t even know he followed you. As you take a step forward and his worn-out converse sneakers come into view, you swallow.

Closing your eyes momentarily, a desperate attempt at some kind of composure in this situation. Ultimately, there’s no use in continuing this childish game of cat and mouse so you gaze upon him.

“Hi Eddie,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

He exhales a puff of smoke, then replies, “Hey, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at the moniker and you can’t help but wonder if it’s a nickname solely reserved for you, or if he goes around calling everybody he sleeps with. After all, with the way things turned out to be, you were simply a number on his undoubtedly long list of conquests. You weren’t special.

“It’s nice to see you,” Eddie admits, though his words only twist the imaginary dagger he had jabbed into your heart. “You look… great.”

This makes you roll your eyes. Truthfully, you didn’t have high expectations for your first conversation with the Corroded Coffin frontman, but there was something about him casually flirting as if nothing had happened, that made your blood boil.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

He’s taken aback by your words and the harshness behind them. Obviously he messed up, treated you with an indifference no one deserves to experience, especially someone with a heart as pure as yours. To hear you say that though, mixed with the pure agony behind your eyes, it makes him feel sick.

About to walk away, you turn on your heel. Eddie puts out the half-finished cigarette against the wall, letting the bud drop to the floor, and reaches out to grab your arm. Surprisingly, you don’t flinch at his touch, not at first anyway, which gives him enough time to step in front of you and lift his hands to cup your cheeks.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie begins in a whisper, thumbs caressing along your cheekbones. Your skin is softer than he remembers and it only makes his heart ache more, mournful for the time lost.

“Let me go,” you plead quietly and shake your head, fingers attaching themselves to his wrists, digging at the dips in his knuckles and the valleys of space where his hold met yours, in an attempt to separate the two of you.

Eddie doesn’t budge. He’s stood firm as you claw at him, trying to break free from his grasp. If anything, he inclines closer and in the space of a single heartbeat, you can feel his hot breath as he dips his head to your level, forcing you to meet his gaze. There’s a sense of despair behind his brown eyes and you almost stop fighting.

Almost.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

His words, although an apology, didn’t sound like one. To you, it seemed like Eddie wasn’t actually sorry for his actions, he just hated the fact that you were giving him the cold shoulder. He wanted to be in your good graces not ‘cause your night meant something to him, but because he had a bruised ego. A cruel joke really.

So you clear your throat and call on the only person guaranteed to get you away from his situation.

“Hank,” there’s very little power behind your voice and Eddie furrows his brows a little confused at first, but then you move your head to the best of your current ability past Eddie’s shoulder and say his name louder, “Hank!”

“Please—”

“Hank!”

Eddie drops his hold on you then and runs a hand down his face as you take a single step forward, arm brushing against his a little too steadily to be called an accident. Seconds pass and neither of you moves, each staring in a separate direction while your bodies continue to press together. Eddie extends his fingers. You feel the metal of his rings and the air hitches in your throat.

How come one second you cannot wait to get away from him and the next you’re aching for his touch? One second you’re pushing him away and the next your fingers are intertwining themselves with his. It was fucking messed up, hating him yet caring for him at the same time, and you didn’t want to feel this way anymore.

When your army-veteran bodyguard appears at the end of the hall, you snatch your hand away from Eddie’s grasp and plaster a fake smile on your face.

“Everything okay, miss?” Hank asks, glancing between the two of you.

“Can you call the car? I’m not feeling well.”

He nods. “Right away.” Then disappears just as fast as he rushed to your aid.

You’re once again left alone with Eddie. Only this time, the Corroded Coffin frontman makes no attempt to reach out for you. Instead, he slides his hands in the pocket of his jacket and tilts his head in your direction. You can see him from the corner of your eyes and it takes all the strength you have to not look his way.

“I am sorry,” he says in a defeated tone, “Whether you choose to believe me or not.”

With that, he walks away.

The world hadn’t stopped spinning since your earlier interaction with the Corroded Coffin frontman.

You felt sick while recounting the moment on loop. The sad look in his eyes, the defeated sound of his voice. His body language was screaming I wanna be closer to you, unfortunately, you couldn’t figure out if he was being sincere, if this whole situation really weighed on him as deeply as it did you.

Holly had berated you for even indulging in a conversation with him, to which you huffed and puffed ‘cause she’s the one who left you alone in the first place for “not-a-date” lunch with Jeff.

“Hope you at least got some,” you tease, rummaging through your half-unpacked suitcase for the box of smokes you carefully hid in there, for emergency situations only.

Holly laughs from her spot on the sofa. You can’t see her face, but you can tell she’s smiling. “Shut the fuck up,” she deflects with a giggle, “We went for some friendly burgers. I wasn’t looking for anything else.”

“Was Jeff?” You quip, placing a cigarette between your lips and reaching for the ashtray. You carry the item towards one of the hotel windows before lighting the tip, slowly inhaling.

“You’re unbearable, you know that?” Holly jests, shifting in her spot to look at you. “Just ‘cause you’re sexually frustrated.”

You smirk, exhaling some smoke. “What gave you that idea?”

Holly raises a brow, an amused look spread across her face, and points to the cigarette you’re holding onto. Before she can make her point of you only smoking when you’re stressed or craving some action — and in this instance, it’s clearly both — there’s a knock on the door. The two of you glance in its direction then back at each other.

“Where you expecting—”

“No,” you answer before Holly can finish her question, “You?”

She shakes her head in response. There’s another knock, louder this time. You quickly put the cigarette out and waved the curtain around, your best attempt to somewhat ventilate just in case this was a surprise visit from your Nana who, despite being a heavy smoker herself, would kill you for indulging in the cancer sticks.

While you spray some perfume on, Holly walks towards the door. She shoots you one last glance, making sure you were presentable for whoever was on the other side of that door, then opens to reveal someone you both were least expecting.

Eddie fucking Munson.

“Oh,” he breathes, brows up, “I didn’t think—”

“What are you doing here, Munson?” Holly interrupts, holding onto the door so he knew he wasn’t welcome inside.

“Shit, if you just let me finish.” Eddie grumbles back. “I didn’t think anyone else would be here. I came to see her.” He looks at you then and your heart twists the second your eyes meet his.

Holly tilts her head in your direction and a sigh escapes her lips. There’s a reason she’s your closest friend. She can read you like a book and the expression on your face right now, gaze not leaving Eddie’s even for a second, is telling her to let the rockstar in — whether she agrees with that or not.

So she drops her arm and pushes the door wider before stepping to the side. Eddie looks at her then back at you. He walks inside, not wanting to waste this opportunity since he didn’t know how long it would last, as Holly approaches you. The girl places her hands on your cheeks, forcing you to focus on her just for a moment.

“If you need me, I’m right next door, ‘kay?” Holly whispers and you nod. “Shout, scream, do whatever. I’ll come runnin’. I’m here for you, this time.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“Always,” Holly affirms then lets go of you. She straightens her top before turning around and walking back to where Eddie stood with his hands in his pockets. She sizes up the curly-haired man, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she shuts the door with a timid bang.

Silence settles in the air. Once again, it’s just you and Eddie staring at one another with immense longing yet sadness. Only, unlike earlier today, you don’t want to run away.

There are approximately three pieces of furniture between the two of you and the longer he continues to look at you with his doe-eyes, you’re calculating how exactly to manoeuvre around them to hug him, putting an end to this entire charade.

Something is still holding you back, however.

“What are you doing here, Eddie?”

He swallows and proceeds to hesitantly walk towards you, past the sofas you were debating jumping over mere seconds ago. He stops about an arms-length away, careful not to totally invade your personal space in fear of you pulling away again. Instead, he leans against the back of one of the couches and tilts his head to the side.

“What do you think of my song?”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“Do you like it?” Eddie asks, but doesn’t give you enough time to answer, “I’m thinking you do since you agreed to be on it, but then again maybe you don’t and your reason for doing the feature is to mess with my fucking head.” His fingers are at his temple, pointing to emphasise his words.

There’s an ache in your chest. “You really think that low of me?”

Eddie’s face falls at the deflated tone of your voice and he’s cursing himself for hurting your feelings again. He didn’t mean to. Word vomit, is how his uncle Wayne described it back when Eddie was still living in Hawkins, it’s as though Eddie’s mouth and brain didn’t connect.

He sighs, running a hand through his locks. “I gotta get something off my chest, just in case you kick me out and we never get a chance another to talk alone,” he says then takes in a deep breath, “You probably don’t wanna hear this, and you probably won’t even believe me, but I genuinely cannot stop thinking about you.”

Your face softens at his confession, though you remain in place, arms crossed.

Eddie continues. “And I’ve never experienced that with anyone. I certainly didn’t expect to feel these things for you, especially after spending only one night together. Which is why I acted like a dick when you called. I was hurt that you hadn’t reached out sooner considering how near perfect that night was.”

A timid smile circles your features. Briefly, you’re cursing yourself for giving in to his charm so easily. Very briefly.

“Mr. Rock ‘n’ Roll isn’t used to having someone else’s life take priority over his, huh?”

That’s when Eddie laughs, and the second the melodic chuckle falls from his lips, you drop your arms and take a step towards him. Your fingers reach for his instinctively and he takes your hand gladly, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Totally not, no.” He admits. “But I am willing to change.”

“Hmm,” you hum, lifting your other hand to brush a loose strand of his brown locks away from his face. “Hope you’re a man of your word ‘cause I’m booked and busy. Can’t have you throw a fit every time I don’t call you.”

The smile on Eddie’s face widens. His right arm makes its way around your waist and he pulls you in, effectively closing the gap between you. His gaze drops to your lips, if only for a split second as he licks his own, then meets your eyes once again.

“I wanna do this right,” he mutters, his grip on you tightening. “I don’t want us to just jump the gun again and leave things lost in translation, so before we do anything else, I’d like to take you on a date, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat ‘cause who knew Eddie Munson was such a damn romantic — definitely not you.

“And where would we go on this date?” You muse, “Since we can’t really blend in with a crowd.”

Eddie purses his lips together, pondering your question. He lets go of you and places his hands on his hips as he walks around the room. You’re following him with your gaze, the smile ever-present. Then his eyes twinkle.

“Well, how about right here, baby? We can order some room service and watch MTV in bed.” The rockstar announces, pointing to the California King and wiggling his brows.

So that’s exactly what the two of you do.

With a tray of overpriced hotel food between you and the current top tracks blasting through the television speakers, the evening was perhaps the most normal you both have felt in a really long time. Eddie, of course, gave his opinion on every song that played in the countdown while stuffing his face with french fries. Most were unsurprising, like Whitney Houston’s I WIll Always Love You, well Dolly Parton’s is miles better in his humble opinion, or Bon Jovi’s Bed of Roses, the guitar makes the song. Then came number three on the list.

You visibly grimace while moving the now empty tray to the floor beside the bed and Eddie chuckles lightly.

“Not a fan of your own music?”

Shaking your head, you sit back although closer to him since there was no longer anything between you. “Just not my best song, is all.”

Eddie nods, resting his hand on your thigh and turns his attention back to the TV. Suddenly, you’re feeling nervous. For one, he’s touching you, thumb gently rubbing circles into your bare flesh. Then there was the music video which, as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, Eddie seemed to be totally hypnotised by.

And full transparency, he was. How could he not be? It was a one-shot type video of you singing while walking down the street as it poured rain. The outfit you had on was sticking to your skin as a result, hair wet and makeup smudged. Raw, is the first word that came to Eddie’s mind. Not to mention completely different from your usual vibe.

“You gotta give yourself more credit, sweetheart.” Eddie says after a minute and tilts his head to look at you. “Personally, I like this a lot more than your other shit.”

You meet his gaze. “You don’t think it’s too… desperate? Like yeah, the song is making rounds and charting in all sorts of places, but it’s so—”

“It’s about me, isn’t it?” He interrupts, scanning your eyes for the answer he already knows.

“Yeah…” You exhale. “Like I said, desperate.”

He squeezes your thigh before effortlessly throwing your legs across his lap and pulling you in even closer. One hand remains in your lap while the other makes way around your lower back, settling on the curve of your ass — all without breaking eye contact.

“There’s nothing desperate about you, sweetheart.” He mutters, face now inches away from yours. “I wrote a song too, remember? One we’re actually performing together, which is arguably way worse.”

That makes you chuckle lightheartedly as Eddie continues, “Plus, you look fucking hot in that music video. Anybody that says differently is stupid and/or blind. If anything, I’m glad I inspired all that.” His voice fizzles into something darker for the end of that sentence while his eyes snap to your mouth.

You can feel him under your legs as he presses his forehead to yours, all of him. It doesn’t help that he’s so pretty from this angle. The curve of his jawline. The dips in his cheeks. His doe-eyes focused solely on yours, dimming by the second with longing. And just like that, almost as if no time had passed, you’re back where you both started. Hearts beating in tandem. Eagerly waiting with anticipation for the other to make the first move.

“I really wanna do this right, baby.” He repeats his earlier statement, but the way he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, dragging it down till it bounces back gently in place, betrays his words.

“We don’t have to do anything right now.” And although you mean it, you hope he doesn’t give up too easily.

Eddie exhales. Eyes closing momentarily. He’s fighting every urge ‘cause he doesn’t want to fuck this up again. For once in his life, he wants to see where things can go. But the feeling of your skin, the smell of your perfume, and the memory of you moaning his name so sweetly, well it’s got his heart racing and his dick harder.

The hand on your thigh tightening in grip, causing you to whimper delicately. And that’s when he loses the internal battle.

“Fuck it.”

He wastes no more time, slamming his lips to yours in an eager sloppy kiss. You immediately kiss him back, hands settling on his neck, nails digging into the sensitive skin. He’s groaning against your mouth at the contact, pushing into you further so that you can feel his cock twitch against your leg. And you’re convinced that if you were standing, it would make your knees buckle.

Heads rotating side to side, nose grazing against one another with each wet kiss, Eddie adjusts your positions so that you were now fully resting on your back as he lingered over you. One of his hands was now on your waist, holding you firmly in place as he starts to grind his hips into yours.

“Eddie…” You moan against his puffy lips.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl.” Eddie affirms quietly, trailing hot kisses from the dip of your lips down your jaw. And he desperately wants to stay true to his word so before you get a chance to react, he’s removing your underwear then slides down until his head is between your thighs.

You let out a tender giggle as his facial hair grazes against your skin. Eddie shushes you and after adjusting your skirt for easier access, he begins to place kisses along your inner thigh, drawing closer and closer to his desired destination. Aching for his touch, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at his curls. He smirks against your flesh and proceeds to spread your lips with his fingertips, revealing how wet you truly are, then blows several cool breaths over your hot clit.

He proceeds to gently slide his tongue up and down your pussy, so slowly, you feel every moment of pleasure. Then he flicks his tongue over your clit, sucking and licking the sensitive area until you’re a panting mess. And when you moan his name, Eddie works a little faster. Then continues to increase his speed as his tongue darts in and out of your dripping cunt.

Just when you think you’re on cloud nine, he forces two fingers into you, his lips focusing on your clit. They arch up to reach that sweet spot he didn’t have a hard time finding the last time and you clasp your hand across your mouth, muffling a scream. He’s relentless in his movements and you find yourself grinding into his face, meeting the pace he’s set with overwhelming frenzy.

Faster and faster, his tongue licks up and down, spreading your pussy lips further as his fingers dig deep within your cunt, sending you over the edge with every thrust. Your legs start to shake and thighs clasp hard against his head, trapping him in place, while he continues to sucking till you go limp.

It takes you a moment to recover and Eddie’s feeling mighty proud as he places a tender kiss to your cheekbone before moving to your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips and it’s enough to drive you crazy all over again.

But Eddie’s got other plans. He’s decided this night is all about you, so despite the desperate hard-on currently concealed by his trousers, he cleans you up before asking where you keep your pyjamas. Your heart soars as he helps you get changed and eventually settled under the covers.

“Stay with me.” It’s a request he’s happy to oblige. Throwing off his t-shirt and jeans, he joins you in bed briskly. The two of you fall asleep shortly after that, MTV still playing in the background. As first dates go, this one was pretty perfect and you were starting to feel like everything with Eddie was going to be this way.

Unfortunately, the serene moment was short lived, which, in hindsight, you should’ve known people of yours and Eddie’s stature weren’t privy to normality.

The following morning, you were both abruptly woken up by a frantic Holly. She doesn’t say anything about Eddie being in your bed, for which you’re grateful, just chucks a newspaper into your lap while you wipe the sleep from your eyes.

Slowly, you sit up then reach for the paper. Glancing between your friend and the guy in your bed, you unfold it. Eddie rests his chin on your shoulder and you both focus on the front page.

“Shit,” he expresses exactly how you’re feeling at that moment ‘cause gracing the front page, with a rather raunchy headline, is a photo, taken yesterday, of the Corroded Coffin frontman towering over you, his hands cupping your face.

#celebrity skin.#rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson story #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

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fatuismooches · 1 year

Note

I've been brainrotting about reverse comfort and sickfics a lot recently. There are HCs about harbingers taking care of sick reader, we can do the same for them😤

In my imagination, excluding Scara for obvious reason, harbingers are separated into 3 groups when sick:

1. Compliant ones. They understand they can't get any of their work done when sick and will calmly rest until full recovery

Capitano - he's reasonable enough to understand he can't get any of field work done when sick, so he'll patiently wait for recovery. He advises you not to spend too much time around him, fearing you'll get sick, but you insist on taking care of him. Capitano won't express it, but he's so grateful

Columbina - she's so sad bc her throat is sore and she can't sing😔 But she takes this as opportunity to rest well and take a lot of naps with you taking care of her🥺 Even when healthy she's very affectionate, but when she's sick it's x10! I hope reader doesn't forget to wear a mask in all of scenarios

(Platonic) Pulchinella - he's way behind rebellious era, as an old man he knows that going around when sick won't do any good for anyone. Like Capitano, he insists that you shouldn't spend your time around it, but not only so you won't get sick, but bc you're young - there are better ways to spend time as a youngster than caring for an old man, especially since he knows how to handle himself

La Signora - her pyro magic will be a death to her when sick😔 she feels like she's boiling in her skin so even if she wanted to disobey reader and work, she couldn't and she feels so so weak;; Signora needs not only medicine, but good amount of comfort too😞

Pantalone - initially, I thought about putting him in group of rebellious ones, but then I gave it more thought... I think Panta has very good immune system, so when he gets sick it hits him like a truck. Like Signora, even if he wanted to work, he physically can't. And getting sick brings Pantalone back to times, when he couldn't afford any medicine ;; Memories hit him harder, than fever does so please distract him from them

2. 50/50. Stubborn, you'll need to convince them to rest, they might complain, but eventually give up

Arlecchino - I see her as a person, who doesn't want to seem weak in Reader's eyes, plus someone has to run orphanage, so she'll stay on her feet for as long as she can. You'll have to forcefully drag her to rest, she will protest. Just tell Arlie that she will get kids sick and that's a much more worse problem than spending a week bedridden and she'll give up. While she's sick, you're the one who watches over Heart of the Hearth

Tartaglia - he's restless. Insists he's fine, but you look at his red cheeks, glassy eyes and order him to rest, making sure he doesn't escape to do field work or something else in cold of Snezhnaya, like fishing, so you'll have to keep him entertained while he's bedridden. I think Childe actually can recover quickly and doesn't feel that bad, unlike Signora or Pantalone

3. The "I'll to tie you up if you don't go back to bed right now!!" group, enough said

Pierro - why he's here? Well, I think as a Director of the Fatui he has lots and LOTS of work matters to attend to, so it'll take you lots of convincing to get him to rest, bc as soon as you try to, some fatui underlings fill a report on Dottore for threatening them, Pierro also has to attend meeting with harbingers today and make sure it goes smoothly, then he has to get through reports of fatui agents from all over the seven nations... Old man, please, your fever is so high that you read the first page of report for the 4th time already. Fatui won't fall apart if you lay in bed and rest for a week, trust me

Dottore - I'm not sure IF he can get sick, Dottore probably modified his body to avoid this but for the sake of headcanon, let's say he can. He just gulps some pills and continues his experiments. Imagine the following scene - fatui underlings, who work in constant fear of upsetting their harbinger, see reader scolding Dottore for not only not eating and sleeping properly, but also for working while sick - all without a single shred of fear😨. Dottore brushes it off and says he'll just inject medicine and will be okay in no time but you want to hear none of this. Off to bed you go! Dottore will escape from your grasp to check on his experiments though...

Sandrone - like you wrote in bathing HCs - get her own automatons to work against her! No, Sandrone, your projects can wait. You can't focus properly! Now say "aaah", I promise this medicine is not bitter. But as soon as you fall asleep, she will try to get back to her projects, but since you got her automatons to cooperate with you, they will stop her, waking you up in process. No, young lady, I'm not letting you work until you recover and that's final!

HOLY IM CARESSING THIS SO DEARLY WTF I LOVE THEM ALL DEARLY😭😭😭🥺 I will take care of ALL of them 😤😤

Ah Capitano,, the bb. The idea of that huge deadly man becoming sick is kinda funny to me. You probably didn't even know it was possible at first. But you easily recognize the signs and order him to stay in bed (he is surprisingly compliant but he turns to mush around you in general, also he trusts your human advice very much since he's unaware of these things) Gosh and since he's afraid of hurting you in generally he'd be scared of making you sick too :( Even after you insist you'll be fine he comments on your safety every now and then. To which you reply he'll have to worry about his own safety if he keeps this up. (He doesn't understand you're jokingly threatening him.)

COLUMBINA NOOOO BABY GIRL... It feels so quiet without her lovely voice :( You miss her singing dearly but Bina promises to sing you her latest tune as soon as she's better! Make sure to brew her some nice soothing hot tea. And oh she's so shamelessly clingy. Neither of you is leaving her room!! She wants you to take care of and pamper her so much, comb her hair for her and choose her outfits, nurse her back to health. And also explain to Pierro why she's slacking on her duties <3 (Yup make sure to take precautions otherwise they'll be taking care of you next 😭)

WAHHH PAPANELLA MY HEART- He's a reasonable man, he can easily understand his situation and the consequences of what would happen if he tried to fight it (he probably did in his younger years) so he doesn't object to bed rest. Papanella knows it's really boring and you could be doing more productive things, but he's glad when you decide to stay ;( He's so happy he has such a good-natured child around, not many people are as kind as you nowadays. He'll happily go on about his younger days even though he's supposed to be resting, he still wants to keep you happy and entertained 🥺 (He just loves talking to you in general, he loves when you listen so intently)

Oh Signora, she's so vulnerable right now, even her Cryo Delusion is of no help :( She can't remember the last time she got sick and she completely hates it. She's a very independent and strong woman so she loathes the feeling of powerlessness,,, when she's under the weather you're the only person she wants to see, otherwise she'll get irritated. Make sure to tuck her in and stay by her side as she sleeps, she doesn't want to wake up to you not by her side. Also cook her some homemade soups and stews from Mondstadt, she'll internally get a bit emotional.

STOP IM DISINTEGRATING AT PANTALONE'S... He definitely has a really strong immune system from all he went through as a child. So he hasn't gotten sick in a while so when he finally does he's just like. Oh. And he tries not to let anyone know/see because he really hates this feeling since it's coupled with a lot of bad memories from his childhood. From when he had no one to take care of him. No one who cared. Still having to work to survive. Wondering if he'd be the next to succumb to illness like the many others he'd seen. Pantalone gets oddly quiet when he's sick so you'll have to talk a lot to distract him :( He appreciates it more than he lets on though - having someone genuinely love and take care of him during this is something he's always wanted since he was a child.

Oh Arlie bb... you don't need to keep up your walls in front of your lover :( I agree, she always tries to appear calm and composed to you, she doesn't want you to worry about her. So she acts as though she's completely fine. And since she's good at pretending you don't notice her fatigue until a few days later (even she can't hide from you forever, you know her better than everyone) and immediately you try to convince her to just rest. Arlie will try to deflect and deny your accusations until you wear her down with your arguments. In the end she has to accept your logic (and also the fact that seeing you upset because of her hurts her more than she liked to admit.)

Childe is always the one taking care of his family when they're sick, so when he finds himself as the sick one he is surprised and tries to ignore it. He's tough, he can handle it! He's been through way worse battles and survived! You will have to block the entrance to the door physically and push him to bed, which he'll resist and whine at first, but in the end, he won't say no to you. I don't know, use some reverse logic against him too. Ask him if he'd want to fight someone who's not in tip-top shape. No? It wouldn't be satisfying? Okay, then don't put your enemies through that! He has a soft spot for being pampered once in a while, so read him some stories and steal his recipes please :)

OH GOD Getting Pierro to rest is one of the hardest things you can put yourself through 😭 He's so swamped with all kinds of work, he stays in the same seat sorting through paperwork for hours on end. You swear the only break he takes is when you barge into his office to bother him to take a break! (Along with a meal because he NEEDS that despite denying it...) I don't know, you'll have to be a bit creative... steal his pens I guess? Either way, when you finally get him in bed, barricade the doors. Please relax Pierro, the Fatui is full of very questionable characters but they're capable at least. They won't die without you!

Ahaha Akademiya Dottore definitely got himself sick at least, whether it was from nonstop experimenting or from some unknown plant in the forest he got into contact with. He was hella grouchy but he was still physically human here so he had no choice but to listen to you begrudgingly. I bet he was giving you instructions on the next steps for his experiment while sick in bed (he's a silly guy.) For Fatui Dottore he definitely completely ignores his physical state and just downs some medicine and injections and continues on like nothing is wrong 😭 The Fatui soldiers are in tears while the clones are just like another normal day at your scolding. You won't be able to get this crazy man to rest fully but it's better than nothing right? Just try to stay awake as long as possible because he'll slip away once you're sleeping.

SANDRONE MY BELOVED!! Ahhh i will always be in love with the idea of the Automatons that SHE made working against HER because of YOU. Like, I'm your creator, you shouldn't be disobeying me! Too bad that some of them developed feelings and love seeing you with her :3 and will happily assist you with your desires. Sandrone will try to escape, but she knows better than anyone the strength of her Automatons. So after seeing how fruitless her attempts are she will eventually have to comply with you and stay in bed (maybe bring her something mechanical to do in bed 😭 she's really bored) At least now she will be a little more attentive to her condition now that she knows you are going to do this to her.

Since I'm biased I'm throwing in modern! Scara where he's not a puppet :3 I can see him being a mix of group 2 and 3 since he refuses to admit he's sick and just tries to keep pushing himself. Ignoring your pleas. He still hates appearing to be weak, especially in front of you. Though once you finally, finally get him to stay in bed he probably gets all clingy and demanding for you to stay by his side. He wants your attention on him so bad :( Please feed him some soup and stay by his side as he rants and then falls asleep <3

I feel like all of the Harbingers are super resistant to viruses and such, I wouldn't be surprised if they're even immune to different kinds of poison. So I think the main way of them getting sick would be overworking themselves along with added stress 😭 which honestly happens to all of them- please make sure to pull them away from their desks for a nap and cuddles every now and then 💞

#smooches talks #harbingers love notes <3 #I JUST WANT TO SQUEEZE THEM ALL BYE #i was giggling n kicking my feet more than writing #I LOVE THEM I CANT #LMFAO THE FATUI FILING A REPORT ABT DOTTORE IM DEADDD #the regular fatui members def gossip abt u bc of how much u have the harbingers in a chokehold 😭#pantalone x reader #dottore x reader #pierro x reader #capitano x reader #scaramouche x reader #la signora x reader #arlecchino x reader #sandrone x reader #childe x reader #columbina x reader

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creative-caramel-coffee · 6 months

Text

Actually Asthmatic

Summary: Reader comes to work despite being sick and pepper makes sure you’re ok.

TW: asthma, fever, overworking, sickness lol

Pairing: pepper x Platonic!Reader

Words: 2.5K

A/n Part two coming soon (part two will have natty and wands >:). Also, so much has happened since I posted last and I’m so sorry it’s taken this long. I’ve been super busy with uni. But… I got a girlfriend :) I also have a ton of uni work I have to keep up with and I have like no time for anything now. But I will do my best to keep writing. So expect my updates to be a bit more spaced but I’m NOT giving up on this account :)

Living in a dorm was an interesting thing. You had a room, kitchen and bathroom to yourself, but it was lonely.

You knew you were in for a rough time when your lab partner came to a lecture sick. Not only that, but they were coughing … a lot. You knew no matter how hard you tried you were bound to get sick and mentally you resigned yourself to your new fate.

Lo and behold the next day your throat hurt, but it was manageable. Another day passes and your head had begun to feel like it was stuffed with cotton. A truely lovely experience. To make matters even better, you had three classes and work today. Your shift at stark industries was something you couldn’t miss even if you wanted to.

Pepper was coming to check on your branch of the company and you needed to be able to show her the numbers at the meeting you were both attending. You needed to prove it hasn’t been a mistake to hire a collage student with crippling debt and insomnia to run a branch of what was probably the most successful company in New York if not the world.

You flipped the page on your textbook and bit back a sigh. There was still an hour left of class and the world seemed to be against you, time was moving slower, and it felt rather personal.

You rested your head on the table and tried to block out the droning of your collage professor, he was a great guy, but your head felt like it was being run over by a bus and your cheeks were warm and your fingers cold.

You must have drifted off at some point because before you knew it someone was nudging you. You groggily sat up and squinted into the light, a frown marring your face.

“Y/n/n, get up. Class is over.” It was one of your friends, you gave a half grunt and looked around.

The lecture hall was quickly emptying out and so you grabbed your bag and textbook and stood, swaying slightly.

“Whoa. You good?” Your friend asked and you nodded mumbling something about standing up too fast before beelining for the door.

You bid goodbye to your friend at the train station and boarded the tube that would take you to work.

It was about a five-minute walk from the train to stark industries, but the cold weather that threatened your lungs working in tandem with your asthma and what you were now beginning to think was the start of a nasty chest infection, made it seem like hours of hiking through the amazon after dark.

You adjusted the backpack on your shoulder and waited for the train to slow, the next stop was yours and despite it being the quiet carriage there was still the loud sound of train tracks passing under making your head feel like a drum being beaten by a tone-deaf monkey on steroids.

The train almost had pity on you as it slowed just as you thought the monkey had found an amp to make his music ‘better.’

You stumbled off the platform and hurried up the steps to the footpath. The crowd jostled you and you felt more than desire to just let the ocean of people sweep you out with the tide.

But you forged on. So did the monkey.

You must have looked like death incarnate by the time you arrived at the lobby. You were flushed at the very least and you could hear the wheezing in your breath as you took in air by the lungful.

You scanned your keycard once you had located it in the mess that was your backpack. Stepping into the clean white walls of stark industries made you feel like a racoon in an upper-class neighbourhood.

You made your way to the elevator that would take you to the board room and finally paused to catch your breath which was now just a string of wheezes. You knew that because the look the lady at the reception shot you was one that was a mix of concern, confusion and pity.

Your throat was raw, and your face was congested as well as your chest. You sounded like you swallowed a frog, and the frog was also now sick and subsequently congested.

When the lift arrived you thanked Stark, who was your own personal god that there was nobody else in it. You stepped in and lent against the railing after thumbing the button for your floor with what was probably more force than necessary.

You sat back against the cool metal bar and watched the numbers climb higher and higher as you approached the master board room which was also the same floor as peppers office. A place you rarely visited except when you had the quarterly board meeting like today.

As the lift pinged and the doors slide open smoothly you stepped off and gathered your bearings.

You caught sight of a door at the end of the hall with peppers name on it and smiled. She was also one of your own personal heroes. She worked like a horse and kicked ass like an avenger all while wearing heels and a smile that said, ‘don’t fuck with me before I’ve had my coffee’.

You navigated your way to the board room and cracked the door a bit. So far there were a few people in there and it was still early. You smiled at the unfamiliar faces and sat down.

You didn’t know any of them yet and so you kept to yourself as you and the others waited for pepper and the rest of the companies branch managers and board members to come in.

After a bit pepper entered looking as swauve and elegant as ever. She took her seat at the head of the table and took note of the empty chairs with a small frown.

“It seems some people are still absent, so we’ll wait for a bit until the numbers are more … concrete.” She said with a smile drawing a few laughs from around the room.

You kept your head down, but your eyes kept straying back to pepper.

After a few minutes of you being sat there doodling in your notepad, the meeting started.

You paid attention to most things but once you had presented your numbers you had more or less zoned out. At one point you caught pepper looking at you closely and decided to try and pay attention again.

But the meeting droned on and soon your chest felt tighter and tighter. Your face flushed with the effort of suppressing a cough. The wheeze that had left you in the elevator had seemingly returned and you were doing your best to keep it quiet.

Your eyes looked around the room for an escape and you caught pepper looking at you again. She looked worried.

‘Are you ok?’ She mouthed and you nodded but she looked unsure.

You decided to leave, just to step out for a moment to get some air and let your lungs do their thing.

You waited until all eyes were back on the man presenting before slipping out the door.

You beelined for the bathroom which were luckily empty with everyone currently on the floor in the meeting.

You braced yourself by placing your hands either side of the sink and let out a string of deep chesty coughs. The wheeze got worse, and you cursed yourself for leaving your asthma inhaler in your backpack in the board room.

The coughing still hadn’t ceased, and it seemed the attack was making it harder to catch your breath than normal.

You barely registered the door to the bathrooms being opened and the sound of high heels click across the floor in hurried steps.

You felt a hand press between your shoulder blades as someone drew slow circles on your back. Someone was telling you to breathe and you recognised the voice.

Pepper.

You felt something being pressed into your hands and looked down to find a glass of water.

You gratefully took a sip and found it soothed your throat pretty well.

After a second, the fit ended and you just had the wheeze to worry about.

“Are you alright?” Pepper asked looking worried and trying not to fuss over you.

You shot her a weak smile.

“I’m ok.” You grinned unconvincingly. She gave you a look you assumed tony often received and caved. “I’m sick.” You rasped.

“I’d have never guessed.” Pepper joked rolling her eyes and guided you by the shoulders out the door.

“Where are we going?” You asked still holding the water.

“Well, you need to rest, and the board can handle the rest of the meeting. I want you to get that cough looked at and i have some emails to check. So, we are going to my office, you are going to lie down and I’m going to get some work done.” Pepper said with a smile, and you looked at her like she had hung the stars in the sky.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“That’s quite alright honey.” She smiled and then her brow crinkled as if she just noticed your wheezing. Which spoiler alert… she had.

You avoided her eyes as she scrutinised you closely. After a second her pace slowed and yours matched it before she stepped in front of you and placed a hand on your chin. She tilted your head back to look at her and met your gaze with a motherly worried expression.

“You’re wheezing.” She noted.

“And you’re pepper potts.” You said back looking nervous.

“Yes.” She deadpanned in response. “Y/n, are you … asthmatic?” She asked and you looked away.

That was enough of a response for her as she sighed. “Wheres your puffer sweetie?”

“Back in my backpack in the meeting room.” You mumbled.

“Alright here’s what we are going to do. I’m going to get you set up in my office and then go and get your bag for you.” She said and resumed her pace to her office.

When she arrived, she scanned her keycard and opened the door. It was an amazing office. Floor to ceiling windows in a corner room made the whole space perfectly lit with natural light.

You stepped inside in awe, and she guided you over to an expensive looking blue couch with a fond smile.

“You stay here, I’ll be right back.” She said and you grinned and nodded still star struck.

You could see the New York skyline from up here, the city bustling below.

You had barely blinked by the time pepper had returned.

She handed you your bag which you took and thanked her again.

“Now take whatever you need to and try to get some rest, I’ll be at my desk just there if you need anything.” She said with a smile, lingering to make sure you took your inhaler.

After you had uncapped the small blue device and administered the medicine, she gave you a curt nod and headed to her desk.

Almost as soon as your head hit the soft fluffy throw pillows on the couch you were out.

The next few hours were spent toeing the line between sleep and wakefulness. At one point as you dozed you heard pepper talking to someone on the phone before you returned to sleep.

Pepper had sat down to get some work done but had barely typed out one email before her eyes were back on you. You seemed so small in this moment. Just a young adult, you reminded her of peter. She wanted to make sure you were ok and the small wheeze coming from your lips made her worried.

Your face was slightly flushed, and pepper was sure nobody had been messing with the room temperature controls. Feeling maternal, she picked up her phone and punched in the number for Bruce’s lab. Better safe than sorry.

After a short conversation with Bruce in which she relayed your symptoms, he decided he wanted to see you to run further tests and rule out pneumonia. Pepper had looked over at you and agreed, you had been sleeping for nearly four hours now and seemingly weren’t doing much better, and including your asthma she didn’t want to risk anything.

Bruce and pepper agreed to bring you to the avengers' tower to check your lungs and maybe put you on a nebuliser to be safe as the wheeze was still lingering.

When the phone call ended pepper stood from her desk and walked over to the couch, gently she sat down beside you and nudged your shoulder. You groaned and rolled over trying to escape.

Stifling a giggle pepper placed her hand on your arm, frowning when she felt heat radiating off you. She paused and then lifted her hand to your face, laying the backside of her palm to your forehead and feeling for a fever.

Finding what she was looking for, pepper gently rubbed your arm again.

“Y/n? Honey, you have to get up. We’re going to the doctor sweetie.” She said softly and you whined and buried your face in the couch.

“Tired and don’t wanna move.” You mumbled into the cushions.

“You can lean on me the whole way to the car, alright?” Pepper said carding her hands through your hair.

“Okay.” You mumbled and blinked your eyes open to look at her. The haze of fever was settled in and the pink hue of your cheeks made you look both dazed and cute.

With peppers help you stand up and lean into her side. She had already called happy to bring the car around and he was going to meet you both out front.

With your bag slung over one shoulder and you curled into her other side, pepper slowly began the trek back to the lift. The board meeting had ended hours ago so it was just the two of you left on the whole floor.

After a slow and sleepy trip down to the car pepper got settled into the backseat with you so she could keep an eye on how you were fairing.

Your cheeks had darkened slightly, and she felt your forehead again as happy peeled out of the car park. Your fever had definitely risen, and she frowned as the glossy look in your eyes was increased ten-fold.

Part two coming soon :)

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