#but i've only ever really accepted nicknames from one or two people and they were folk i was super super close to

[melonyfelonyfellonme]

What if... I know Manfred doesn't really like nicknames but what if Rook starts calling him a nickname further into their relationship with Emmrich and maybe it's the only nickname he actually likes

And it's maybe Manfred's way of accepting Rook as part of his family in some way

Imagine how surprised Emmrich would be at that lol

[blue-blue-blooms]

A Little Crush   

Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Part 1

Summary: In which Eddie develops a crush on the Henderson sister.

You weren't sure exactly when your life had gone to absolute shit. Was it when you found a strange, superpowered adolescent girl living in Mike Wheeler's basement? Was it when you walked in on a baby demogorgan eating your cat? Or was it when you were drugged by evil Russians operating under Starcourt Mall? You couldn't even remember a time when life was normal. If someone had told you that you would become best friends with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington and fight literal monsters from an alternate universe alongside Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan 'The Creep' Byers a few years ago, you would've laughed in their face. Now? You'd survived the most traumatising events of your life alongside these people. You were bonded for life.

The last few years had also made you closer with Dustin. You loved your baby brother and his weird friends, especially since you'd spent so much time babysitting them. But no amount of love could make you say yes to what they were asking of you.

"Please?" Dustin begged, following you down the hallway as you made your way to Ms. O'Connell's class.

"No! I have, like, three essays due this week, Dustin. I don't have the time to sub." You respond.

"It's only for tonight! Lucas can't make it and we really need a sub. We're nearly done with the campaign and Eddie will kill us if we make him reschedule!" Dustin pleads.

You were really happy that Dustin and Mike had found a safe space in high school. Lord knows those two idiots needed it. Freshmen year is probably the toughest of them all. You're new, scared, and lonely. You were really glad that they'd found friends, a place where they could be their nerdy selves and feel accepted. Hell, even you'd dabbled in their interests when you'd babysat them. DnD wasn't half bad, and not nearly as hard to undertand as you once thought. You'd spent many nights in Mike's basement playing with them. The first few times, you'd get your character killed in the first fifteen minutes. But after a while, you started making progress (even though you're convinced that the party was exceptionally lenient with you after you once burst into tears over getting killed off).

"I'll do your half of the chores for a week!" Dustin exclaims.

That makes you stop.

"A week?" You turn around to look at him, "Make it two weeks and I'll sub."

"Two? Are you insane!?" Dustin yells, making a few people lingering in the hallway turn and look at you both.

"Two or no deal, Dusty Buns," You tease, "And be quick, I'm late for my class."

"Fine!" Dustin says, "And stop calling me 'Dusty Buns'"

"Why? Is that nickname just for Suzy Poo?" You tease.

Dustin glowers at you as you walk off.

♡♡♡

"So, who's the DM?" You ask as you walk alongside Dustin and Mike.

"It's Eddie, Eddie Munson. He's a senior. Long hair, wears a hellfire T-Shirt, I talk about him constantly. God, do you ever listen to me?" Dustin claims exasperatedly.

"Oh! Eddie as in your new favorite older male best friend who Steve's weirdly jealous of?" You ask, "I've seen him around. Is he the one who jumps on lunch tables and yells a lot?"

"Yup." Mike responded, "He's a bit scary when he's revved up. Just warning you beforehand in case he comes off...a bit intimidating."

You nod.

"Hasn't he been held back, like, three times?" You ask.

Before either of the boys could answer, you reach the room. The first thing you see is the table where the game is set. There are three boys sat around, all with Hellfire T-Shirts on. Your eyes fleet from one to the other until finally landing on Eddie. You recognise him immediately from the amount of times you've seen him yelling in the cafeteria.

Dustin and Mike failed to mention how cute he was, you think.

His hair was long and wavy. He was wearing multiple rings. And he was covered in tattoos. You're pretty sure you saw a few bats peeking from under his sleeve.

"Who's this?" One of the guys asks, making all three turn around and look at you.

"This is Y/N! She's subbing for Lucas!" Mike says, the words spilling out fast and nervously.

Why the hell are they so jittery?

"Yeah, she's my sister! The one I mentioned a couple days ago." Dustin adds.

"Does she even know how to play DnD?" The other boy asks.

"Okay, excuse me, I wouldn't have come if I didn't know how to play," You finally speak, waving your hand a little to get their attention.

"So, this is your infamous sister?" Eddie finally speaks, his eyes landing on you, "You know, I thought he made you up. What's your class and level? Level One Elf?"

Elf? Is he mocking me?

"Are you mocking me?" You ask incredously.

"Is he mocking me?" you turn towards Dustin and Mike who immediately start gesticulating, probably asking you to shut up.

"My name is Aeren Sirenfall and I'm a level 14 chaotic good half-elf rogue. I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow...agonising...death." You say, your voice slow and hard as you glare at Eddie, "So, are we gonna play this stupid game or not?"

You're pretty sure you hear one of the boys mutter a 'she's terrifying' to Dustin.

You watch as Eddie's eyes slowly soften and a grin emerges on his face, "Welcome to Hellfire Club."

[nickscodthoughtsblog]

On and Off Duty Whiplash (König&Reader)

CW: minor blood and injury

It wasn't really something you ever focused too hard on, but it became clear to you how different König was on missions than he was at base, idling away the time. 

The first time you met him was when you joined KorTac, on your first mission with the group, and he seemed like he had a powerful personality. Rough, hard, aggressive. If his gunplay was anything to go by, at least. The sharp tone of his orders, getting your small team to form up for a breach. The subtle growl in his voice when he declared the room clear. The lowered pitch when he ordered you directly to take a silent kill. You didn't think you'd ever see his eyes smile.

But first impressions aren't the best at telling you everything about a person. He'd be around you from time to time, checking in and asking how your night was. He was professional, a few words after training or a nod in passing. At first your preconceived perception of him made you think he just preferred keeping things short, since he didn't ask much more than that. 

It was when you found yourself talking to some other recruits as well as him that your perception shifted. He didn't say a lot, only really responding with a few words when spoken to directly, but his tone was soft. He didn't keep a tense or intimidating stance as he stood around, and he seemed to bend down a bit around some of the shorter members. Some of the recruits were quite intimidated by him at first, but he always spoke softly and made sure to be friendly and polite. 

You paid more and more attention over the first month. Whenever he saw himself in a mirror, he'd take a second to adjust his sniper hood and check that it was clean. His voice was a little higher and quieter around new people, but lowered over the month as he got to know you, and you got to know him. You had asked him upfront about it, and he shrugged and said it was just how he was. There wasn't really any reason to question it beyond that. You had started becoming friends with him, heard him laugh, seen his eyes light up as he smiled under his hood, so you accepted it. It truly wasn't so simple as narrowing a person down to just one aspect of them. 

Around base, he would joke with you, laugh with you. He even gave you a nickname. Maus. German for, well, mouse. Because you're shorter than him. “I don't mean it in a mean way.” he had reassured you. “I actually like mice.” 

He used it more often over time. You just finished working out after really pushing yourself to beat your personal best, finally calling it quits for the day when you do? He uses it. “You're getting better, Maus. Just don't push yourself too hard, ja?” You're sitting in the cafeteria with your lunch, the stress of preparing for the next mission getting to you? He's sitting down with you, using it. “Just remember to take a breath, okay Maus?” You're heading to bed? He's using it as you say goodnight to him. “Gute Nacht, Maus. Hope you rest well.” 

One mission, you get cornered, knocked down with three AQ taking their sweet time to bask in beating you. Konig heard your cries over comms earlier, and he's in time to help. 

In a word, efficient. 

In two words, brutally efficient.

You can't help but stare up at him from the floor, your breath a little ragged and your head throbbing from where one of the men thrust the butt of his gun against your skull. You start to recover, propping yourself up on your elbows, as he steps over the bodies to you. He kneels, his hood decorated with blood, and offers a gloved hand to you, slick from a messy knife kill. A small flicker of relief flashed in his hard stare.

He uses your nickname again.

“I've got you, Maus.”

That's just how he was.

[chishiyae]

— HIS LOVE FOR YOU ! [𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] e42! miles morales.

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ a ten headcannon summary on what it’s like being the prowlers girlfriend. a man whose demeanor is cold but heart is warm.

a/n. — pretty sure it’s been…what? five months since i’ve last been on here? damn that was a long time ago, but i’m back and after restarting my layout and things, i’m writing 🤍

E42!MILES, will never tell you how he feels about emotional matters in your relationship. and by this, i mean that if you were to lay on his chest one day knowing he's had a rough day, instead of saying thank you or how much he loves you (or anything like that), he'll massage your back and close his eyes in contentment. he's been more reclusive to himself than ever since he lost his dad. and, as much as he loves and appreciates you, it's difficult for him to be so honest. so, he does that slowly…but even then, he holds a few things back. because he can never just show you all of his love.

when it comes to “i love you”, he takes that phrase very seriously. he believes it’s more than just a catchphrase and hence only says it when the situation really calls for it. that way you feel the meaning. like when he's leaving to do his duties as prowler, not knowing if he'll return. there have been a few occasions where he’s said it when the situation "didn't call for it" — by few, I mean less than five. although, as the relationship progresses, he says it more frequently than he normally would.

don't let him not saying it all the time mislead you for rejection. he fills that hole with a plethora of reassurances ranging from presents to nicknames. looking at "ma," "mamas," "baby," and "princesa," and you'll know he's serious when he uses your real name.

in arguments, he has a small tendency to forget that you have feelings. not to the point that you wanna end the relationship, but enough that you need to ignore him for a day because if you tried more than a day, he wouldn't be able to handle it anymore. you each have a day to chill out and that's all. he values communication. always has been — even before his father died — but now that he's allowing another person into his life, his priorities are shifting and you’re definitely in his list of people to cherish and protect. so he does everything he can to talk things out and apologize. arguments don’t happen often.

he’s not possessive, but rather protective. I mean, can you blame him with this fucked up city? every time you two go out, it’s either holding hands or him putting an arm over your shoulder so no one messes with you. if you’d ask him if a revealing outfit you're wearing is okay, he'd answer "doesn't matter, I can fight." for sure.

for your safety, he never includes you in prowler-related activities, talks, or general topics, but of course he told you about him being the prowler. he told you the instant he realized he loved you. and only tells you he loves you after you’ve accepted that reality. disregarding his uncle's advice not to tell you anything. communication is key right? and that’s a big part of his life.

just like physical touch. he loves kissing you. your forehead and neck especially. passionate kisses are his favorite, slow and sweet. his kisses always aimed at determining what you ate or placed to your lips prior so he could get a taste and guess. regardless of how horrible or delicious it tastes because it's a tiny game he made. did that have anything to do with wanting to kiss you longer? yeah. but what did the first headcannon have to say about his emotions? plus, he liked it after the first time he tried it, and now it’s his favorite portion of any day.

meeting his mom would almost certainly be by coincidence. he wouldn't have planned for you to meet her for at least three months, so he knows it's serious, but she’d meet you sooner. you'd walk by her house and she'd say something like, "i've seen you around miles before," knowing he doesn't let many people in. and is curious about you. she'll naturally ask you as many questions as she can before miles interferes, but even if she likes you, don't address her by her first name.

it doesn't matter when, but whenever your finger is in his way? he’s gonna bite it. there’s no hesitation. as well as engaging in play fights with you whenever possible.

and last but certainly not least, encourages you to do things he’s never done. no elaboration. just gonna let you think on that one.

© 2023, CHISHIYAE

[rainybubbles]

Silent- Gaz x plus size reader

Summary : Finding a way to relieve the stress of work in a DnD discord, Gaz meets Silent. A player whose microphone is always turned off, using chat only. Maybe he'll find a way to break the silence with them and finds why their mic is off…

(Sorry in advance, English is not my first language, so sorry if it's bad or OOC.)

-TW social anxiety.

-"What a quiet kid you've got there. I wish mine was as calm at home."

-"Oh, you know, they're pretty mature for their age."

-The laughter faded into distant murmurs as I glanced over at the other kids.

-Yelling, chasing, breaking a vase or two—my eyes couldn't look away from them.

-They seemed to inhabit a world entirely different from mine.

-A world where scraping by at month's end, nightly dinners, locking up the house, solo bus rides, laundry routines, and helping siblings with homework simply didn't exist.

-Because, after all, they were just eight years old.

- But so was I…

-So why didn't I have the right to have fun, yell, chat, ask for sweets, act immature, or doodle on walls?

- My hand reached out briefly, hoping for a connection, but my mom's glance quickly reminded me to stay put…

-Being silent seemed to be the key to earning praise and keeping peace.

-So, I stifled that urge, withdrawing into myself, standing alone behind her legs, engulfed in a heavy silence.

____________

"Silent, huh?"

-My gaze drifted slowly to the chat.

-"Yeah, dude, they're usually a regular on Thursdays. Never says a word, their mic's busted, can't afford to fix it," one of the guys responded.

-The tone carried a hint of disdain.

-I felt out of place.

-Yet, I stayed put, unable to leave the server.

-It was the only place where I felt I could express myself.

-Through words, carefully chosen, controlled, retyped, erased, and sculpted to bring a story to life—a space where my imagination, so often overlooked, could finally roam free.

-By chance, I'd become enamored with Dungeons and Dragons.

- The only snag, of course, was the void in my social life.

-So, like figuring out how long it takes to cook broccoli, I scoured the internet.

- Discord groups organized sessions. I panicked at the sound of mics, voices.

- What would they think of me? What should I say? What could I do? And then someone asked if my mic was broken.

- Ever since, I'd stayed that way, and the nickname Silent stuck.

"Hi Silent, then :) I'm Kyle aka Gaz."

-Usually, I ignored introductions.

- People interested me little, their characters were the interesting ones.

-However, Gaz hadn't spoken those words aloud.

- He had written them. It was stupid honestly, but few people wrote back to me, few people responded to me in writing.

-Everything was done orally.

-Suddenly, someone was on my turf, reaching out.

-The campaign proceeded as usual.

-My thoughts were focused on my actions, the dice rolls, and the resulting outcomes.

- Yet occasionally, I let my eyes wander over Gaz's profile.

________________

-"Hello guys, I don't know if I've played with some of you before or not. "

-"Don't worry, we accept everyone. The days are rarely fixed."

-Gaz was back. It was Friday. It was my favorite group, the game master Ylias really managed to transport you.

-"Well, I'll start then-"

-Ylias started rambling, I followed the story when I noticed a notification in the discord. My finger brushed it, and then ignored it.

-What would he think if I clicked now? that I'm a friendless attention-seeker? But if I wait, they'll think I don't care about the campaign?

-So I waited 5 minutes, trying to find the right balance between the two.

-"Hey, Silent. I missed a campaign without you, the others keep on rambling about their athletics, last time I even had a guy mimicking a goblin with his mic, I'm glad to see you back in text :) !!!"

-Pressure flooded over me. What should I reply? A heart? Thanks? Ignore it? Tell him he's nice too?

-"Thanks."

-Too cold, too short. I thought it wrong, I should delete it, rephrase it, add a smiley, make it warmer, he must think I'm a monster.

-"I think we should try opening the door, are you coming with me? I don’t feel like going into the forest with the rest of the team."

-Oh. Usually in campaigns, I go with the flow, I heal and stay in the background. I never-

-"You need a score of 13 for that, folks". Ylias said.

-"Come on, Silent, roll the dice." Gaz replied

-Nervously, my mouse hovered over the virtual dice. With a score of 15 showing, I heard Gaz's laughter.

-"I knew we had to do it! Let’s go, plus with your stealth, impossible to get spotted. "

-"We'll see about that." Ylias replied, laughing.

-And just like that, Gaz made me smile. It was probably one of the worst campaigns, but it was the first where I could finally choose my actions.

__________________________

-"Back again :) ?"

-" Yes."

-Dry, too dry.

-"I was waiting for you. "Gaz replied.

-" Why? "

-"I don’t want to play a campaign without you, you bring me luck."

-" I'm not sure about that. "

-"Yes. I tried a campaign with colleagues, we died blowing up. "

-"Probably because of your colleagues. "

-"Okay, maybe my colleague set fire to a mystery barrel. But it was their first campaign. "

-"You're recruiting? "

-"Introducing them. He's trying to quit smoking, and I thought DnD could occupy his free time."

-I stopped myself.

-Curiosity, imagination, everything overwhelmed me.

-What was it like to be close to colleagues like this, to freely discuss your passions, to laugh…

-"And then?"

-" It's not his thing, he's more into action. "

-"I see. "

-"It's not for everyone. "

-"Is it your thing? "

-"What? "

-"To let off steam? If your colleague needs it, so do you, right?"

-Stupid. Too personal a question. Invasive.

-"Yes. It allows me not to think, to be someone else."

-" Me too."

-" Plus, being an elf is great."

-" You say that because I am one."

-" Maybe. "

-"Thank you. "

-"For? "

-"Talking in chat. People usually ignore me outside of campaigns, they don't respond by text."

-" They ignore the sexiest elf?"

-" There's no image, you don't know what I look like"

-". Hm, exactly! I imagine your elf tall, muscular like the Rock, hair like Gordon Ramsay's, and maybe makeup like Ru Paul's."

-" I'm not sure about the result. "

-"Sexy."

-I snorted at my screen.

-"Ok."

-" How do you imagine me? "

-"Your wizard? "

-"Yes. "

-"With long hair, maybe dreadlocks, white eyes, and a smile. "

-"A smile?"

-" Your voice sounds soothing. "

-"Really? "

-"Yes, sorry, it's weird to say that, I shouldn't have."

-" No. No. I've never been told that, I was just surprised, that's all."

-" I see. "

-"So, a sexy elf and a smiling mage.

-"Sounds like the beginning of a weird porno."

-He responded with a meme.

_________________________

-"So, what do we decide, Silent? Honestly, I don't want to raid the goblin but the vampire to face, I'm sure the score will be high." Gaz asked through his mic

-"It's your choice, not mine."

-"they're right, Gaz, this one's all on you," Ylias said.

-"Can't I even ask for help?"

-"Score of 15 in insight to spot an ally." Ylias announced.

-Gaz scored a 10. No one addressed me throughout the campaign.

________________________

-"Back, Gaz?" someone said.

-Three weeks of radio silence.

-My mind had been looping, wondering if my refusal to break the rules had driven him to find a more interesting group, a more exciting duo.

-But there he stood, his username glowing green.

-"Yeah, I finally got some days off."

-"Good for you, man."

-"So spill, I see some new names and all!"

-Strangely, his voice had become grating to me. I didn't understand why, so before he could reach me, I disconnected.

- Alone in my apartment, I held my knees to my chest.

-Why am I reacting like this? He's entitled to a life, damn it.

-I fet like he...gave me up.

-Shit it's stupid.

-I didn't understand. I tried to calm myself, but the deafening silence of my apartment seemed to slowly engulf me, and before I knew it, I found myself in a new spiral of anxiety.

____________________________

-There were no campaigns. I just liked reading. Reading what had happened. Living vicariously, imagining their voices, their reactions.

-"hey :)"

-The off-campaign tab was blinking.

-He was addressing me, I knew it, I was the only one online with him.

-My thumb grazed the notification, but I ended up entering the chat.

-"hey."

The period was too harsh, too dry.

-"It's been a while! Something happened?"

-"Work." I answered.

-That's a lie.

- But lying is like oxygen, it's easy to come up with excuses to avoid others.

-But harder to let go of it to face the potential risks of social suffocation.

-"I know quite a bit, just got back from mine."

-"At 1 am?"

-"Yep."

-"Cook?"

"Soldier."

-A shiver ran through me. Uniforms had never been positive in my life.

- As the long seconds passed, I hesitated.

-"Not a fan?" Gaz asked.

-"You could say that."

-"Military family?"he asked.

-"yes."

-"I see."

-"Sorry, that's stupid."

-"No, I understand, I mean, we all have red flags." He said.

-"It's not a red flag."

-"You'd been quiet for 5 minutes."

-"With everyone." I answered.

-"Everyone?"

-"I'm not the best at socializing."

-"Really? Yet when you blew up a castle instead of talking to the princess in a campaign, it seemed normal to me." He joked.

-A laugh escaped.

-"And you?" he asked.

-"Me?"

-"Your job?"

-"Proofreader."

-"For books?"

-"Yes, I read, annotate, and correct."

-"No humans."

-"Exactly."

-"Would you like to add me? I'm not super comfortable with everyone seeing this."

-"Why?"

-Stupid. I should have accepted without questioning.

-"To prevent everyone from knowing the secrets of the sexiest elf on the discord."

-Always there to catch my blunders.

-I accepted it even though suddenly there was added pressure, what to say when there's a pause?

_____________

-"A dragon arrives and—"

-My eyes glanced at my notifications. Kyle was in the campaign but—

-"The narration is terrible, isn't it? The guy has been stuck on the dragon for thirty minutes while Théis killed it."

-He was writing to me. Like someone whispering in your ear during class.

-"Yes, Roxanne is a beginner, but she'll get there."

-"So kind."

-"Not really, one day I insulted a game master."

-"Oooh, a gangster among us?"

-"Never, besides, you'd arrest me, wouldn't you?"

-The ellipses seemed to linger.

-"I wouldn't mind."

-Oh.

-"I don't want to end up in a secret government cave."

-"Caves are old school, we have containers now."

-"I don't know if you're joking."

-"Classified."

-"Gaz…"

-"I'll keep the secret, I think you won't have a choice but to be arrested by me someday."

-"… it won't happen."

-"Why?"

-"I haven't committed any crimes."

-"Not even indecent exposure? I thought you were 45 years old and hiding in bushes naked."

-"For that, I'd have to leave my house."

-"Quite the homebody?"

-"You could say."

-"I'm the same, I don't like going out much."

-It's different. I didn't know what to add, so I let him continue the conversation.

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

-"Still into your nerd stuff?"

-Gaz looked up at Soap.

-"It's not nerd stuff." Gaz said.

-"Dragon, princess, elf, discord all mixed together. It's nerd stuff. "Ghost replied

-"Dressing up as a skeleton at Hot Topic too, L.t."

-"Ooh, I wouldn't have liked that. "Soap laughed. "But seriously, don't you think about doing it for real? I mean, gathering around a table."

-"They think about it, but we all live in different parts of the world."

-But it would be amazing. Maybe he could even hear Silent's voice, see them…

-"Hm." Johnny said with a smirk

-"What?"

-"It sounds like you have someone in mind."

-"I don't have anyone in mind."

-"Not even an elf you get along with, Garrick?" Ghost retorted

-"I- we're a duo, it

-"It's different."

-"I mean it, we just get along."

-"So if you check discord in a military bar at 11 p.m., it's not to reply to him second by second?"

-"Shut up," Gaz said as the two laughed.

__________________________

-"You're not participating anymore?"

-I ignored his message.

-Three months.

-Three long months of descent, of confinement, of discomfort, of crises.

-Everything was too much.

-Crowds, outside, errands, people.

-My lungs constricted at the thought of meeting someone's gaze. My eyes avoided every contact. My lips were dry from lack of words.

-"I admit that campaigns suck without you," he had written.

-That was two weeks ago.

-"I refused to play with Théo, he wanted to take your place," he had sent.

-That was three months ago.

-"The office GIF."

-Three weeks.

-He… Gaz had never stopped.

-No matter the views, the winds, his boldness didn't stop.

-I was confused.

-Usually, people quit after a month.

-They had better things to do, and I understood. The burden of my social anxiety was mine and shouldn't inconvenience them.

-So why was Gaz standing there carrying this burden unknowingly? Coming back every day, bearing a heavier load…

-"hey."

-Three letters.

-Too short.

-Too dry.

-"Sorry." I continued.

-For what?

-I didn't deserve his forgiveness, I knew it.

-"Glad to see you're back :)" he replied.

-A tear rolled down my cheek.

-"thank you." I replied by text.

-For staying.

-For not asking questions.

-For welcoming me.

______________

-"Sorry, I was at the hospital, do you think I can join the campaign or not?" he had sent.

-My eyebrows raised.

-"No. Wait, you're just out of the hospital and your concern is DnD?"

-"I should really stay by my favorite elf's side."

-"Gaz, seriously, are you okay?"

-"Fractured ribs."

-"Ouch."

-"Broken arm."

-"Wait, what—"

-"And a bullet in the thigh."

-"Wtf."

-"But I'm fine."

-"No."

-"I assure you, I've had worse."

-"And???? You need to rest, not focus on rolling dice to defeat Mindflyers."

-"…but I have no distractions."

-"I'm here."

-"You're in the campaign."

-"No."

-"Wait, what—"

-"I- I saw you were absent so I didn't…join that one."

-"But you only play on that day."

-"I know. But it's not the same without you."

-I didn't know he was currently smiling like an idiot.

-"Thanks, Silent."

-"No worries. Besides, I was also coming out of the hospital."

-"WHAT?! Why didn't you start with that?!"

-"It's ridiculous."

-"No, are you okay?"

-"It's awkward."

-"Oh, serious awkward or-?"

-"No, I'm used to it. I- I took the tram and I couldn't handle it, the crowd was too big, I passed out inconveniencing a hundred people, embarrassing."

-"That's not embarrassing."

-"Yes, I made people late, Gaz."

-"And??? It was for your health."

-"No, I should've known I couldn't handle taking the tram. It's been two years since I couldn't do it, I shouldn't have tried again."

-"Two years?"

-Shit. I said too much.

-"Forget that."

-"Wait, no. You help distract me when I'm on base, I can listen to you in return :)! "

-"There's nothing to say, I don't handle social stuff, that's all."

-"So, your mic, that's it?"

-"Yes."

-"My sister has it too."

-"Has what?"

-"Social anxiety."

-"I see."

-"I know it's different for everyone, but don't give up. Honestly, it's a huge step, right? Taking the tram after two years. Surely you wouldn't succeed all at once, I mean it's like rolling a 20-sided die hoping for a 35."

-I snorted.

-"Nerd."

-"You're a nerd too, Silent."

-"yes, I- I just thought I could succeed, tell myself I could do it."

-"You did it."

-"I passed out."

-"So what? next time can't be worse."

-"Yes, if I have another one."

-"Then you'll have another one, I'm sure you'll manage. Look, I can even show you a tutorial."

-I furrowed my brows and saw a video. A man in an apartment, a cast on one arm, his face cut off from the frame.

-"Quick tutorial for falling on a tram. So lesson 1, stand next to a tall person. We want a good pillow when we fall, so tall people are perfect. Then manage the fall. Fall on the person, not forward. We want to avoid a bloody nose. Especially if there are vampires on the horizon." Gaz said in the video.

-He lay on the ground pretending to fall.

-"Step three, play dead to see sexy firefighters and avoid stares, and step 4 get taken home while flexing in the truck."

-I snorted.

-"Wow, thanks for the tutorial."

-"I know, I know. Passing out pro here."

-"Do you often fall on fridges?"

-"Hm, considering the build of my colleagues, you could say that."

-"Are they as tall and wide as a fridge?"

-"My L.T. yes. With Soap, we even thought he was an android, I mean it's not human to be that built."

-"You look fit too."

-"Oh, a compliment?"

-"Gaz, I-"

-"But yes, honestly, I try to do his routine but I think his genetics play a big part."

-"Shame, no Fridge Gaz then."

-"No, you'll have to settle for Normal Gaz."

-A smile slowly spread across my face.

-"Thanks for the video, it was funny."

-"You're welcome. Plus, if I can flex with my favorite elf."

-"I'm not an elf."

-"Nothing proves me wrong."

-"Gaaaaaazzzz"

____________________________

-"Who are you posing for? "

-"No one."

-" So shirtless, sunlight, flexed arms for no one? Damn, don't tell me it's for your mom. "

-"SOAP!"

-" I'm just asking, man."

-" It's for Silent. "

-"Oh, your magical voiceless elf."

-" It's not— "

-"Yes, yes, not a magical elf, I know, no need to give me another DnD lecture."

-Gaz sighed.

-His selfie was good.

-Shirtless, in the sand, sun rising.

-He looked good.

-But he was nervous.

-What if it was too much?

-After all, this little game of sending each other sunrises or sunsets had started by chance.

-Silent had told him the view was beautiful and sent him a sunset from their window.

-Gaz replied with one from Las Almas, and eventually whenever he went to a new country, he would send a photo.

-But now… maybe it was too much?

-Sending his face.

-Price would kill him.

-But he wanted to progress the relationship.

-Maybe his face could appeal to Silent, they would send him a voice note or even a selfie back?

-"Is this too much? "

-"Hm? "Soap asked confused.

-"This photo, is it too much? "

-"For a thirst trap?"

-" To say hello."

-" It depends on the hello. "

-"Hello as in "I'm showing you my face for the first time." "

-"Oh, maybe. I thought it was a "hello, did you sleep well because look what I could bring to your bed" kind of thing. …But if I received this photo, I'd be happy. "

-"Soap. "

-"I mean, man, you're handsome."

-" Soap. "

-"Plus, who would say no to your abs? "

-"No need to- you know what, I'll send it. "

-"Also, you—"

-Gaz ignored him and sent it.

-Damn, he hoped everything would be fine.

________________________

-Beautiful.

-Too beautiful.

-My eyes scanned that smile not knowing what to do.

- How could someone like that end up playing DnD?

-I closed the conversation.

-I am…. Out of his league.

-So much.

-I could barely bring myself to look at my mirror.

-I knew what I would see there.

- My rolls, my thighs, my stretch marks, my horrible hair, this disproportionate face.

-I'm not ugly.

- But I'm not…I'm not like him

-. I'm the second choice, I'm aware of that.

-I don't get free compliments.

- Nobody turns back to look at me. I'm just…there.

-And him.

- He seemed so radiant, so kind. Damn, I wasted his time.

__________________________

-"So? " Soap asked

-"It's been two weeks with no response."

-" Ouch. "

-"It's not— Sometimes it happens, I think they are doubting."

-" Doubting what? "

-"Themselves. They…before every message, they take 5 minutes to rewrite it, every syllable is thought out and then I send this out of nowhere, I didn't handle it well."

-" You couldn't have known, Kyle. "

-"Yes. YES, I could and I messed up. They told me about their anxiety and then I send them a half-naked photo when I've never even heard their voice. "

-"Try to talk to them then. hmph."

_____________________

-"hey."

-My eyes hesitated.

-"hey." I finally replied

-" For the selfie, I can explain. "

-"No, I- it's not your fault."

-" Yes, honestly, I screwed up" he texted back

-". No, I've been looping again. "

-"You- "

-"seeing you, it was…good, really, but too good." I answered.

-" Too good?"

-"I feel- Illegitimate to talk to you. "

-"what- "

-"You're so- beautiful, and smiling and nice, and the only thing I do is disappear for days and turn up out of the blue. I-"

-" And it's okay, we talked about it." he said.

-" But you deserve better as friends."

-" I decide what I deserve, Silent. And no one beats you. "

-"…I- I don't know what to say. "

-"Send me your sunset :) I haven't had mine."

-Damn. A tear rolled down and I took my phone and sent my sunset. How can someone be so adorable?

-"Perfect." he replied

_________________

-He had continued to send his face on the sunsets. It was stupid, but I waited every time he could and I rewatched them.

-However, it had been three months of silence. I wasn't worried, he was probably on a mission somewhere.

-By a stroke of courage, I had put my phone down to take a photo with the sunset.

-He wouldn't see it. I would delete it.

-But for a moment, I felt beautiful. The sunlight on me warmed me, my outfit was cute, my curves were beautiful.

-I sent it. I would delete it tomorrow. After all, Kyle had said it could last four months.

___________

-"Hey, everything alright, mate?"

-"They're amazing."

-"Lasswell or tony ? For Lasswell of course, why do you think her wife is—"

-"Look."

-Soap raised an eyebrow and glanced at Kyle's phone.

-"Oh, oh."

-Kyle couldn't tear his eyes away from his screen

-. During the mission return, he had picked up his phone and seen a notification. Clicking out of habit, he saw it.

-their smile, their hair, their body. My god.

-"Lucky bastard." Soap said.

-They were perfect. And their belly, their hips, everything was beautiful. Kyle had always preferred curvy people, it was a fact.

-Sure, he had imagined that silently they could be one, but the fact that it was true… It filled his heart with joy.

-"They… damn. "he murmured, zooming in on every detail.

-Mole or freckle, he observed every pixel.

_____________________

-"So the elf wasn't the only one sexy." he texted.

-I raised an eyebrow at the notification as I woke up.

-"Hm?"

-"The photo. "he replied.

-Oh fuck.

-"You saw it?"

-"Yes, I shouldn't have?"

-"I thought of deleting it before, I—"

-"Oh."

-"But did you like it?"

-"Yes. you— I— honestly, I can't stop looking at it. you look radiant."

-He was lying. -No?

-"And that outfit is amazing on you, really."

-It hugs everything, why… why is he complimenting that?

-Usually, people say "those jeans make you look thinner than you are" "you look better in loose clothes" "hide your rolls".

-"Thank you."

-" I have to admit I'm so relieved. I mean if you ended up being a 40-year-old, I wouldn't have been so confident I think."

-"Oh really, wrinkles and gray hair aren't your thing?"

-"No, I'm more into curves and people my age."

-"Damn, I was about to confess that I was 70 years old". I joked.

-"I can make exceptions, but only for elves."

-"I'm lucky then."

-"Very. I— I hope to have more, or occasionally."

-"Of?"

-"Photos of you, it's more beautiful than a sunset."

"-oh."

-A warmth spread to my cheeks, a smile settling in.

-"ok."

-"ok?"

-"Okay."

___________________

-"Do you think I'll hear your voice someday?"

-It was late, or early for him and late for me.

-"I don't know."

-showing my face in a photo…

-I could control that, take back the photo, delete it, edit it. But talking…

-Talking is taking up space.

-"I imagine it smooth."

-"My voice?"

-"Hm, like a stream, it rocks slowly."

-"I might have a smoker's voice."

-"That would suit you too."

-"Maybe one day then."

-"I'm looking forward to that."

_____________________

-Those were the last words sent from him.

-No more contact.

-His absence wasn't due to missions, he had confessed to me that he was off the day before.

-So he had decided to stop.

-I tried to find excuses, before accepting the reality of it.

-Days passed and I hoped he would come back.

-Maybe he was like me, needing time to recover.

-Maybe he was hurt.

-Everything was silent.

-When four months had finally passed, I understood.

-He had grown tired of the silence. I held back a sob and closed the discussion.

-A stab wound would have been better I think.

-To ease the constant pain and intense questions in my mind.

-What had I done wrong? Was I too much? Did I ask the wrong question? Should I have kept quiet?

-Everything was spinning and I finally closed the app. damn.

_____________________________

-My feet led me to the publishing house.

-Today I had to make the final corrections for Madame Lasswell before her vacation with her wife Kate.

-Hesitant, I knocked on her door.

-An "enter" was heard and I entered the already crowded room.

- A mustached man in a beanie, a masked man, a mullet, Kate, and Gaz were watching me.

-My eyes betrayed my surprise at his presence. What was he doing here? Why now? How should I react?

-"Y/n, sorry for the crowd. I guess you have it."

-"Yes ma'am."

-My voice barely above a whisper was usual for Jocelyn. I handed her the manuscripts.

-"We're going to drink at the bar downstairs, do you want to come?"

-Come? To a crowded place, surrounded by drunk people, constant noise, blinding lights with the icing on the cake being a guy who blew me off for the year?

-"No, I'm busy tonight, sorry."

-"No problem."

-Slowly my heels turned, I took the elevator but I heard footsteps. Kyle was with me.

-"I was on a mission."

-"hm."

-"I know I told you no, but he… there were quite a few problems and I had to leave, I didn't have time to warn you, it dragged on, Ghost broke my phone by sitting on it with his stupid hard ass, and we just got back from the airport actually. Lasswell, Kate finally— she works with us so that's why I'm here"

-A silence stretched, he took a breath.

-"you didn't have to explain… I mean after the word mission, I understood I was wrong."

-"I wanted to be clear."

-"I should have asked and sent you messages."

-"No, it's okay, it must have seemed suspicious. I ask for your voice, you say no, and I disappear. The conclusion was logical."

-"but it wasn't the right one."

-"It's okay, we're here, aren't we?"

-"yes."

-The elevator rang, the door opened. Hesitant, I watched him.

-"I love it." -"hm?"

-"your voice."

-"Oh."

-"I… you're really busy tonight or…"

-"No, I just don't like…"

-"The crowd."he guessed

-"Hm."

-"I— I can invite you for dinner? At my place, we'll grab takeout, no crowds, no one to see us."

-"That sounds like the pitch of a serial killer."

-He widened his eyes. I snorted.

-"Okay, you got me." he chuckled.

-" At your place sounds good. Better than a restaurant." I admitted.

-"Cool, so…"

-"Shall we go then, yes". I murmured as he finally released the elevator button and we stepped out of the elevator.

_________________

-At his place, everything was calm.

-Not me.

-How should I stand? Too close? Too far? What to talk about? And what if I'm boring in the end? What to order? Does he like seafood or is he allergic? My eyes focused on every detail and…

-Everything's fine.

-His hand on mine, he took the initiative for the restaurant to order, asking me my preferences, and we waited for the delivery guy.

-Slowly, he asked questions about my work. I mastered it.

-And slowly everything unfolded naturally.

-Sitting on his couch, his hand not letting go of mine, he drew circles with his thumb while talking.

-I liked that. In groups, I liked… listening.

-People like to talk about themselves and I like listening to that, not participating, and Gaz understood that in such an impressive way.

-Occasionally, he asked questions in return, gauging my desire to speak, I answered and this back and forth held until the food arrived.

-Maybe everything would turn out for the best.

-Standing in front of his door, I didn't know what to add to this evening.

-A not-so-stranger, three years of virtual chat and now I was unable to figure out the right goodbye on his doorstep.

-Hesitant, we observed each other.

-"I hope we'll do this again."

-"Yes. "I replied.

-He stepped forward.

-I remained still, his face close to mine. -Kiss? Cheek? Goodbye? Whisper? -Which action would he choose? -I wished for a dice to decide, a title, or a "Gaz approves".

-"May I?"

-Oh. -I nodded. -His hands on my hips, he placed a brief kiss on my lips. -"I'm glad we managed to break the silence." -"me too."

-Perhaps, after all, I wouldn't return to my solitary silence tonight. His hands guiding me back to his apartment and the door closing behind us.

-I could easily guess that a die had just been thrown for a long evening and we both seemed to have the right score.

If you want more my COD Masterlist

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Nanami x Reader who is like Tiana (from Disney's Princess and the Frog)? I love JJK/Disney and the ship is NanamixTiana has been living in my brain rent-free.

A/n: NGL I LOVEEEEE EVERYTHING ABOUT THAT SHIP BRO!! TIANA IS SUCH A QUEEN!! AND WITH NANAMI!??? power couple... POWER COUPLE!! I ALSO LOVE THE MOVIE SO MUCH AND I USED THE ENDING AS A REFERENCE TO TIANA! but I got you boookie <3

NANAMI x READER

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

It was Satoru's idea to invite him out to dinner since one of his best friends finally got the restaurant of their dreams.

"Come on Nanami. It'll be fun."

Kento, of course, is hesitant to go with him since Satoru's idea of 'fun' was different than his. Reluctantly, he entered the restaurant with his coworker's arm around his shoulder, leading him inside. There was live performance on stage while they were getting settled in their reserved seats. A beautiful person walks onto the stage, singing and dancing to the rhythm.

"That's them, right there."

Gojo tilts his glass towards the person on stage. They were absolutely stunning and had an amazing voice. Their stage performance was phenomenal.

"They're single."

Gojo whispers in his ear before leaning away and getting a stern look from Kento.

"Just saying." Gojo continues to sip on his drink, enjoying the show.

Soon the performance ended, and the lights come on. The band goes back to their normal hype jazz routine, and everyone resumes their conversations.

"Hey Satoru." He stands from his seat immediately, accepting the hug from the person.

"Hello Y/n, thank you for the invite."

Their e/c eyes shift to Kento, and he opens his mouth to speak.

"Good afternoon, Y/n. I would also like to tell you how much I appreciated the invite. I-I'm Nanami Kento."

Y/n walks over and gives him a hug as well.

"It's so nice to meet you, I hope you both enjoyed the performance, and your meal is on me. I did invite you to come here after all."

"I have money to spend Y/n, please, let us pay for our meals."

They laugh, lightly patting Satoru's shoulder and shaking their head.

"You have such a way with words, Satoru." A waiter approaches, apologizes for interrupting and whispers in Y/n's ear.

"Anyways, sit down and enjoy yourselves. I have something to deal with in the kitchen."

A sly wink is sent toward the two men over their shoulder as they walk into the kitchen area.

"I've never heard you stutter before Kento. You must really like them."

He simply just looks over at his friend and sips his water.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The dinner was perfect, everything was delicious, and it was becoming late. People were starting to pay their bills and leave the venue.

"Hello again, I brought you the best beignets in all of New Orleans."

Y/n sets down a plate piled with pillow-like pastries covered in the right amount of powdered sugar.

"It still surprises me that no one has wifed you up yet. I still remember what you told me when we first met at your job."

They smile at that and goes to clear the plates in front of them.

"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

As they walk away with the dishware, Gojo turns to look at Nanami.

"Shoot your shot Nanami... My six-eyes can sense that you're making goo-goo eyes at her."

Nanami looked around the room. Everyone has left and they were the only ones in the room. For once in his life, Gojo was right! He shouldn't be nervous; he should go for it. They walk over to the table again with smaller plates and a smile still on their face.

"I brought you some smaller plates for the beignets. Is there anything else I could bring out to you or help you with?"

They looked between the two men; they really were the most stunning person he's ever seen.

"Could I talk to you?"

They smiled and nodded, leading him up the stairs and through the glass double doors on the right.

"So, what did you want to talk about, sugar?" They leans against the railing comfortably.

His heart did a small flip at the nickname as he approached them.

"I wanted to talk about you. I wanted to get to know you more."

He leans on the other side of the railing, right next to them.

"Gojo was telling me all about you during the flight, the drive, hell, even over dinner, he was telling me about you."

They laugh, throwing their head back and then looking at him.

"That's Satoru. He was telling me about you too, maybe he was trying to set us up with each other. He asked me if he could bring another person."

They turn their attention to the night sky and Nanami does the same.

"I want to get to know you more as well. I'd think it'd be fun to see where this goes. Especially since Gojo decided to talk each other up to the other person."

Nanami turns back to Y/n.

"Would you want to get a coffee, tomorrow?"

"I'd love to."

The two doors open, and they turn their attention to Gojo who had the plate of beignets in one hand and a half-eaten beignet in the other.

"These beignets are delicious Y/n." He licks his fingers after finishing the beignet.

"Thank you, Satoru. Leave some for Nanami now."

"No need to call me Nanami, Kento's fine."

A smug smirk appears on Gojo's face at that. Then, it widens when he looks down at the railing.

"I see you two have been getting 'close'."

He gestures to the part of the railing where Nanami's hand was on top of yours, brushing your knuckles softly. Neither of you move though.

"Well, we have a coffee date in the morning. Go back and get some sleep. Gojo will give you, my number."

Y/n leads them to the main area and Gojo pays for the meal.

"See you tomorrow Kento."

"See you tomorrow, Y/n."

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Master list —> link

[strawurberries]

Hello Berry! I just wanted to slide a request your way cause I'm not gonna lie the fanfic you wrote with vash where the reader has stretchmarks almost had me in tears cause I'm so self-conscious about mine and it just made me so happy to read it.

So, I was wondering if I could have a fanfic with that same premise with nai? 🥺

I want all the plant boys!

🍰Anon (if it's okay to be called that)

Stretch Marks (Knives Version)

Summary: Knives find himself enamored with a little human quirk he was previously in the dark about.

Authors Note: Hello!! I'm so glad my writing was able to help you! That's really all I've wanted from my writing, to have people read it and feel better about themselves and/or just enjoy it in any way! I hope you enjoy this one just as much as my Vash one! (Also, you're totally welcome to be the 🍰 Anon) And, once again, here's your tag @blackkiwi :) hope you all love it !

Warnings: Mild nudity, sexual themes, self-hate

His fascination with the human boggled everyone, even his great mind was submerged deep in confusion; so much, in fact, that at first he was completely convinced they were an independent like him. There was no possible way a human could garner his attention (and later on, his affection) so, therefore, the only logical solution to this little puzzle was that she was, in fact, not human. Every moment—well, every moment he wasn’t brooding over the melancholic mood he had decided to live within—was spent thinking about her. She’s strange, kind, and unbearably interesting. It took a month or so for him to finally come to the conclusion—and accept said conclusion—that she was human, nothing more nothing less. Of course that realization was detrimental in so many different ways it would take a hundred years to write about the emotional turmoil and confliction he felt; but, on days like this, he supposed his feelings weren’t all that bad.

“Are you going to drink it?” She sipped on her tea and pointed at the steaming cup (it was ceramic and a painfully awkward blue that clashed with the entirety of her kitchen, but she said she bought it because “it reminded me of you”. Despite his protests, and the want for a different, less ugly cup, she had assigned him to the blue cup; and only the blue cup).

He looked at the murky liquid, “no.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want it.”

“So you just came all this way to stare at me?”

He huffed and took the cup, looking around at the quaint little house he had somehow found himself in. “I was in town. That’s all.” He really shouldn’t be here, more pressing matters nipping at the base of his heels, clawing at his back like starved, abused dogs. The world was begging him to leave, to complete his mission and his faith, but for the first time in a long time, he ignored it.

He took a small sip. 

She smiled, “Oh yeah, right. Just in town, decided to stop by. That’s the story you’re going with?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Nai.”

He didn’t know if he was annoyed she had the audacity to use a nickname, or excited at the prospect that she loved him enough to do so. “You’re the only one who’s ever said such a thing to me.”

“That’s because everyone else is too scared. You know, you’re a little bit intimidating.”

He couldn’t stop the indignant noise that left his throat, “a little?”

She set her cup down and pinched two fingers together, “just a tad.”

“A tad,” he deadpanned. 

“Sorry,” she grinned, “a smidge.”

He took another sip of his drink and ignored her. Bastardly human, he cursed in his head. If it had been anyone else, especially a human, that dared to tease him like that, they’d be dead before they knew it; sliced and diced into neat little squares, perfect enough for a tea party snack. Not that he ever had tea parties, or ate people, but the mental image alone was enough to ward off the majority of pests.

She grabbed her cup and walked over to the sink, rinsing it off before putting it away. She yawned and raised her arms, “it’s only seven o’clock but I feel exhausted.”

Nai looked up at her, swirling the cup in his hands idly. The tea wasn’t the best, nor was it something particularly homey or nostalgic enough to make him drink more, but she had poured her time and heart into creating this so, he supposed, drinking it was the least he could do. He took another sip before his eyes settled on her again, most of her body covered by the cup from his perspective.

She groaned, “I have to go to the market today. I’m running low on. . . well, everything. Or, oh no. It’s too late for that I guess. Tomorrow would be a good enough day to go.”

He finished the drink and set the cup to the set (still mildly upset at how ugly it was—the colors really clashed with the rest of the house. If it was his choice, he would’ve gotten rid of the mug ages ago and replaced it with something that matched his taste, or, at the very least, matched the aesthetic of the house). “You do tend to procrastinate.”

“Oh shut up,” she rolled her shoulders back, her shirt riding up ever so slightly. “Give me your cup.” She beckoned him with a wave of her hand.

He wordlessly handed it to her. 

She washed it, dried it with an old rag, and slid it in the cupboard next to her favorite mug. “Next time you get to do the dishes.”

He opened his mouth to respond, an insult whipping on the tip of his tongue, but he caught the sight of her bare skin. It looked softer than he had imagined, smooth and—he tilted his head, mind momentarily reeling at what he saw. Little markings, he blinked, like me. He didn’t know how or why, but his chest constricted and the only thing he could feel was the intense blazing emotion of curiosity and. . . something he couldn’t identify.

She has markings.

Like me?

Like me.

He stepped forward and grabbed the hem of her shirt, yanking it up to her chest. The fabric gave way easily enough, revealing what had interested him so. Swirls and lines decorated her belly, wrapping into each other like the galaxies he had seen oh so long ago. The only thing he could think of was how absolutely divine it looked. His view though, his beautifully artistic view, was interrupted with a shove and a loud gasp. 

“Wha–what was that?!” she grabbed her shirt and pulled it down, the fabric taunt in her grip, “usually you ask before you go taking people’s shirts off!”

He was focused on her now covered stomach, mind short-circuiting. “Show me again.” The sight was burned into the forefront of his mind, heart giddy with the possibilities. Maybe she was a plant, an independent. Or even, partially so—he’d take that, he’d take anything as long as she wasn’t human. . . would he? Suddenly his excitement turned into a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The thought of rejecting her for being something different from him, it made him sick for a moment. He may be a God, something divinity has blessed, but he was undoubtedly seduced by mortal wiles. Though, and he shoved this thought to the back of his mind, I don’t really mind. 

She shook her head, “no–wait, what am I even showing?”

“Those patterns,” he raised his head up, watching her intently, “I want to see them again.”

“Patterns?” she thought for a moment, before a strike of realization hit her face, “my stretch marks?” Her grip loosened every so slightly, before quickly regaining her previous strength.

“Whatever they are,” he raised his hand before pausing and bringing it back. I ask before I take her shirt off. “They’re like mine.” To drive his point home—and, really, looking back he doesn’t know why he gave her the courtesy of understanding his intentions, or his needs, but in the moment it felt right—he let his markings quickly show on the surface of his skin, a low bleeding blue edging out into the country house. 

She blinked and whispered, a child-like awe on her face. “can–can I touch them?”

She had known he was a plant since the day they met. He, stealing a dependent from a town, and her watching him with mild confusion and amazement. But she hadn’t seen this side of him—the destruction, hate, and blood, yes. But the somber blue and quiet hums of his soul? No. He hadn’t shown anyone that in a long, long time.

“I suppose,” he looked down at her, “as long as I can touch yours.” The deal was fair enough, he tried to argue in his mind, shoving away the anxieties and sickness at the thought of being touched. It’s all in the pursuit of his curiosity.

She puffed out her cheeks, hesitation clear in her eyes, “fine, but you can’t say anything mean about them okay?”

“Why would I be mean?”

“You’re always mean.” 

She reached out and touched his face gently, as if she was afraid he would disappear into the sand dunes that surrounded her home. She traced one line from the right side of his jaw to his nose, before trailing her fingers to his exposed neck. “You’re so pretty,” she mumbled. The skin under her became heated, flushed.

Whether it was a conscious decision or not, he leaned into her touch, the soft feeling of her fingers making his heart stutter. Several markings glowed brighter before he was able to shut them down, pushing his excitement—or, no, he wasn’t excited; he was disgusted that a human was touching him, that’s what it was (oh, what a terrible liar he is). Despite his momentary panic, he let her explore his face and neck, hoping the blue of his markings drowned out the red of his embarrassment. He didn’t have a real reason for why he was letting her do this to him, he should’ve stopped her a while ago, but it felt. . . nice. This was something he had’t experiences in years, a feeling so foreign he had nearly forgotten it. 

She pulled back, not missing the way he subtly leaned forward to feel her for a moment longer. “Why do you even want to see my stretch marks?” she whispered, fingers itching to touch him again. 

“Because they’re like mine,” he matched her tone, towering over her with no malice or hate, but silent admiration. The thought of her—her touch, her looks, her voice, by God, all of her, it entrapped him in a spell of nothing sort of Love. That's what it was, this feeling. Love. He could feel the anxiety in the back of his throat, the crumbling of his beliefs and ideologies, but those were problems for another day, right now? He was busy falling deeper into this sweet little hole he had dug. 

“No they’re not,” she laughed slightly, sadly, “yours are way cooler.”

He tugged at the hem of her shirt, this time asking, “can I?”

She sighed and let her head fall into his chest, “a promise is a promise.”

He resisted the urge to tell her that she needn’t keep her word if it caused her pain, that he would rather she feel happy than obligated. He didn’t though, the well of his curiosity ever growing. “You’re human,” he mumbled, less than gently tugging the shirt off her, “and yet your markings are so similar. . . so beautiful?”

“They’re not markings, well, not in the way you’re thinking of.”

The low light of the setting sun barely reached the windows, slowly plunging them into darkness. Without thinking he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up, momentarily enjoying the sounds of surprise she made as he put her down on the counter. His hands resumed his search, trailing the pads of his fingers across her belly in a loving motion that he had never known he was capable of. “What are they then?”

“Stretch marks.”

He huffed, “explain.”

“They’re like little scars that appear when our skin stretches too fast. I think it can happen when our skin shrinks too? I don’t really know the specifics. I just know they’re annoying and ugly.”

He paused, bringings his hands up to grip her chin, “what?’

She blinked at him owlishly, “what. . .?”

“Are you calling me ugly?”

“Wha–” she let out a laugh, “when did I say that?!”

He ignored the happiness that stabbed his heart when she laughed. “I said our markings are the same, if you say yours are ugly, you are calling mine that as well.”

She thought for a moment, “I guess that makes sense, but you’re forgetting one thing.” She raised a finger and tilted her head, a little grin on her face—the expression did nothing to hide her fear and anxiety.

“What may that be?” he said with a hint of amusement, fingers still holding her jaw.

“You are handsome, I am not. So the markings look different between us. I’m not calling you ugly, don’t worry. You’re actually quite attractive.”

He frowned and leaned forward, forcing her to place her hands behind her on the counter in order not to fall. “You’re right. You’re not handsome.”

She rolled her eyes, “so romantic.”

“You’re stunning,” he savored the squeak of embarrassment that left her mouth, a knowing smirk on his face. I want to hear more, he thought as he trailed down to her stomach, kissing each mark on her belly, “beautiful,” he muttered. “Your loveliness cannot be described.” He reached the band of her pants, hooking a finger around it before he remembered his manners. “Can I?” He looked up at her, grin still present and eyes twinkling with something she couldn’t describe. 

“Y–yeah,” she whispered. 

He didn’t go any further, tilting his head with a waiting expression. 

“What?” she tried to hold his eye contact but it became too intense, and she looked away, chest starting to rise and fall rapidly. What have I gotten myself into?

“Look at me,” he commanded, pleased when she obeyed without a second to spare. He should talk to her like that more often, maybe indulge in her flesh if she listened so deliciously like that. “I heeded your words, didn’t I? You said I have to ask before I do things like this, yes?”

She nodded.

“Say you’re proud then.”

“I’m proud,” she stumbled out, all hints of her teasing nature drowned out by her bewilderment (and pure, unrestrained excitement).

He pulled back, trapping her in between his arms, “that’s boring,” he muttered, “come up with some creative praise. I’ve been so nice to you, haven’t I? Isn’t it only fair?” He whispered in her ear, laughing at the shiver that racked her body. With a hum he trailed back down her body, saving his softer affections for her stomach, her marks.

He reached her pants again in no time, looking at her expectedly.

“You’re beautiful,” she blurted out. 

“Not good enough.”

“Divine,” she uttered. 

“Think, Darling, or else I’m going to stop right here.” He played with the edge of her pants, thumbing the material as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. God, how he loved to play with her.

“Y-you’re,” she tossed her head back and groaned, mind flying as she tried to think of a compliment. After a moment she wrapped her legs around him, making him give her a questioning hum, and grabbed his face. “You’re my God,” she whispered, “mine alone. You’re wonderful and strong, a holy being that I am blessed to have around me.” 

He could’ve sworn he died at that moment—and if he had, he would’ve gone happily.

She buried her face in his neck, practically whining with embarrassment. “I can’t believe you made me say that.”

He wrapped an arm around her, pressing her into the counter, collecting himself before he spoke, “that was good. I knew you’d learn eventually.” With a deep, burning red, he hid his face in her stomach, going back to tracing her stretch marks. Faint blue markings glided up his neck, curling around the flesh of his face—he didn’t bother to stop it this time. With a single motion he helped her rid herself of her pants, letting out a deep sigh when he saw the rest of her markings. 

“You didn’t say you had more.”

“Well,” she finally gained her confidence back, letting out a huff, “you never asked.”

He, with the same awe and amazement as earlier, observed her thighs as if he was a starved man, denied of any mortal pleasures (though, he supposed he had never done anything like this before). “I want to see all of them,” he tugged at her underwear, “they’re too beautiful to hide.” If it was up to him, he'd have her naked in his presence all the time, solely for observing how heavenly she looked.

She grabbed his hand and snapped it away, “you didn’t ask that time.” 

He tilted his head and smiled wickedly, “I guess I didn’t hmm? Where are my manners? Here, can I see all of you? Bare and unobstructed?”

She gripped his hands and turned her head away, “you’re a bastard.”

“That’s not a compliment,” he whispered.

“You’re my bastard.”

He laughed, a sound she cherished deeply, “that doesn’t count.”

[sunflowerdigs]

I think it's telling that Oliver pulled out arguably one of his best and most authentic portrayals of Buck in the scene where Buck discovers his attraction to men. It lends so much credence to the idea that this character has always been bi, and that his sexuality is an intrinsic part of him that, when stripped out, makes the character feel incomplete.

For some reason, I've really wanted to call the character "Evan" instead of "Buck" ever since watching that final scene. I've had to stop and correct myself. Buck has taken on so many different mantles throughout the show, (as Oliver said) to sort of make up for this part of him that he didn't understand or felt was lacking. And I think that the name "Buck" has been a part of that. There's an almost...vulnerability and a softness to the name "Evan" that isn't there with "Buck" (I'm sure a linguist could explain why - maybe part of it is that "Evan" is gender neutral while "Buck" is pretty steeped in stereotypical masculinity? Idk. Something about one syllable vs two, maybe?). The most memorable times that characters have called the character "Evan" have been times where they've been trying to imbue him with a sense of his worth as a full human being. In fact, Tommy only calls him Evan (I think) and Buck doesn't correct him and I think that's a conscious choice both by the character and the writers.

I know that some people choose names or nicknames to liberate themselves from their given name, but I'm not sure that's why Buck did it. He doesn't make faces or flinch away from "Evan" like he hates it when he hears it in emotional moments. If anything, his reaction to "Evan" is generally this almost fearful hopefulness. So, I wonder whether "Buck" was a reaction to that hollow space inside of him - if Evan gave himself a nickname with teeth that would provide him some armor or an exoskeleton, to make up for that missing piece. And now that he's feeling more whole, with Tommy, he can accept "Evan" with a little less fear.

All that said...I hope that Eddie keeps calling him Buck, always, no matter what the character goes by in the future. In vulnerable moments, when it's just them. Because what that would say to me is this: I saw you when you were not yet whole and I loved you then. With me, you never need to be anyone but who you are in the moment. I'll always meet you where you are, even if I disagree with where you are, because you're worth it.

(Also, I hope the 118 fondly teases him about letting Tommy call him Evan).

[benjis-journey]

10.11.24 (Day 1)

I remember the day I realized I was a trans man. It was barely a week after my 17th birthday. After playing mini golf in Eisenhower Park with my friends from group therapy, we all decided to relax and have a picnic somewhere out on the grass. I was eating one of the really expensive, over-sugared donuts I purchased from Uber Eats a few hours prior when it suddenly hit me. "I think I'm a boy," I muttered aloud, not even noticing I was speaking rather than thinking. "We know," my friends sighed in unison. They seemed to know long before I did. One of them told me my name—which is now just a family nickname—was a very common trans guy name. I hadn't realized the name Kai was so popular among trans men until I realized I was one myself. It all makes sense, though. I'd spent so many bus rides home from school hoping, wishing, praying, and quietly sobbing to be a boy. I'm not sure why I didn't figure it out sooner. I was convinced I was just a masculine nonbinary person, but apparently not. Three excruciating and exhausting years later, I have successfully returned home with my first ever testosterone prescription. I was supposed to have it a day or two earlier, but pharmaceutical and familial issues delayed the process. I wish my mother was happier for me. I wish she wasn't indifferent or even against my transition. I wish she told me she was happy for me and that she loved me. I could've waited for her to bring me my prescription herself since it was transferred to the hospital she works at. But I have reason to believe she still opposes my gender identity. I suppose it tracks.

She's only ever called me Kai about five times in my life. I can't even remember the last the she referred to me as "he", at least in my presence. I know she tells people I'm her daughter when she's on the phone or when she's making small talk at work. I've learned to accept her refusal. It's been years, but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? I'm glad that even though I may not have many trusted adults in my life or any, really, I still have the endless support of my beloved friends. They were just as excited for me to start as I was, and I'm thrilled for them to go on this journey with me. I have one of them to thank for easy beginnings of this process. I found him when my best friend sent me a link to his blog and we reblogged at each other until I fell asleep. We became quick friends and met for the first time at a Big Time Rush concert. I could go on and on about how perfect that day was and how many cherished memories I made then.

When I spoke to him about my initial attempt to start transitioning and how the clinic my doctor referred me to never called me back, he suggested I try Planned Parenthood just as he did. It sounded so simple when he said it. I was flabbergasted. Could it really be that easy? I called to schedule an appointment at that very moment and was ecstatic to be penciled in. I was scared when the day finally came around because I'd never been to Planned Parenthood before, and visiting medical clinics on my own exhausts me. But it was quick and easy, and they filed a prescription to be sent out for pickup that very day. I thanked my friend endlessly for suggesting Planned Parenthood to me. It may have seemed like an idle suggestion at the time, but that one comment changed the entire course of my transition. I may not have even started yet had it not been for him. I wish I could visit him and tell him how grateful I am for him being so supportive and caring. Maybe I'll do that in the near future. My usual pharmacy hadn't told me they couldn't provide or even transfer my prescription until I called to ask if it was ready. I had no choice but to resend the prescription to the pharmacy at the hospital in which my mother works. I called her to pick it up for me the next day because I knew she'd already clocked out and left at the time. She agreed and when I texted her a reminder the following morning, she said she wouldn't be able to get it.

I was furious because it couldn't possibly take as long as she making it out to be. She was dramatic and passive aggressive. So I sought out to pick it up myself. I awoke early this morning and headed into the city in a hurry. I didn't pay a dime when receiving my prescription and I only had to wait an extra 5-10 mins for them to finish preparing it before I left. When I returned home, I was overjoyed to the brink of tears. I propped up my phone to record the moment of my first testosterone application. My younger sibling sat at my desk and hung around for the recording. We spoke idly as I discussed wanting to create a blog where I'd log my thoughts and progress as I continue taking my prescription. We also spoke about our mother not wanting me to take the prescription and not being happy for me. I didn't let it ruin my day, though. I am thoroughly content and I cannot wait to continue this journey. I know many great things are in my future. To everyone who has supported me thus far (regardless of how long ago we've met) and to anyone out there reading right now, thank you. I adore you.

—Benjiꕤ

[2braincellslz]

The Corinthian HCs

Ship: The Corinthian x GN (masc leaning) reader.

Warning: eating eyes, violence, general Corinthian behaviour.

Notes: I forgot how down bad I was for The Corinthian till after I found Hob x Morpheus fanart so here we are. This is kinda like the unofficial version on me adding the characters from The Sandman to the writing list. Also, it's been a hot minute since I've seen The Sandman so if it seems off, I'm sorry

You know the drill, all things I say are to be taken as fact at all times <3

We all know what type of man The Corinthian is.

To spell it out: possessive sweet talker with pretty eyes/j

I WHOLE HEARTEDLY believe this man has a soft side. You can not change my mind.

Once he gets to know you and you've spent some time with him, he is just as down bad as you.

We stan simp Corinthian

Though, it might not be as great as it my seem.

Like I said before, hes possessive. Take that how you will.

I saw someone else say he was possessive but not jealous. 100%. He knows how much you love him and how he could absolutely wreck someone if they were to get too close for comfort.

The only time he really gets protective (outside of daily life) is if you seem to be getting uncomfortable with someones advances.

He will not stand for that.

He probably visits your job a lot.

You work as a bartender? Hes there practically every afternoon.

You work in a library? Hes picking out a new book every day.

You work at a grocery store? Well, he just happens to need the thing for your department every week.

And hes sweet talking you the whole time.

Once, your coworker asked if you needed to go home because you were so red.

Hes not flirting. It's not flirting. Its ✨sweet talking✨

He has probably told you to call him Cori or something. Makes him feel like you are closer to him then everyone else.

He never calls you by your real name. It's always pet names or nicknames based off of your real name. His favorites are sweet heart, darlin, sugar, kitty, and love.

If he dose use your real name it's very very important and serious.

If he uses your FULL NAME? You better pray to all the gods for your life.

He has plants. Lots of them. They all have names.

Once, you two were watching Good Omens and you made a comment that he looked like Crowley. Hes been living off that high for the past month.

When Morpheus found out about you he didnt really know what to do.

On one hand, nightmares arnt really suppose to date and fall in love and such. But on the other hand, The Corinthian has calmed down A LOT.

He just kinda accepts it. Like "well, as long as he isnt killing Innocent people."

Big win in Cori's book.

On that note, yes he still kills. Yes, he still eats peoples eyes. Yes, he kills more than people that are bothering you. But it's less then what it used to be.

He has tried to get you to eat a eye.

He probably wouldn't bring you to the Cereal convention, for obvious reasons, but if he did you would have to stay locked away in the hotel room or stick right by his side the whole time.

After about five seconds of being out of the room, you came to understand why these rules were set in place.

Wether you stick with Cori or stay in the room is up to you.

If you do stay in the room though, The Corinthian would happily bring you things to do and movies to watch.

If you ever did leave the room without him, being forced out, then he would go absolutely farel on the asshole that thought they could touch you.

If you left by your own volition, he would probably be really upset and send you home in a taxi. The Corinthian might try to understand why but honestly he would just get more upset.

He is a average Twitter and Instagram user.

Probably has a steep following on both too.

He likes cat. Small animals.

He is one romantic bastard. The whole nine yards. Shitty chocolates, flowers, music, slow dancing, fancy dinners, everything.

Just like Crowley, he likes Queen.

He likes most classic rock, really.

In fact, he enjoys a wide variety of oldies music. Classical, swing, jazz, blues, blue grass. Whatever you call 1920s music.

If you play a instrument, he demands you play for him atlest once a week.

Stan a gay icon.

[soupedepates]

I gaze into the grey eyes of my tired lover.

"So you want to know?"

"Yes. Because I want to know you."

I smile and take her on my heart.

"I was born at the margin of a little town. Five kids reached maturity out of seven. I am the second one.

Although it was a city technically speaking, it felt like the countryside. We had hens in the backyard and two pigs.

Well, I met Tekla while playing outside with the neighbourhood's children. She was the daughter of the "weird lady in the woods". She was... odd. She always was.

I said first: "Go away, girls aren't allowed to play with us", you know, like a fool. Look at me now.

She took my younger brother's knife and started chopping her hair. She said then: "Now I am a boy like you, so I can play with you". For all of us, a girl should have long braids, and a boy should have an almost shaved head. To make it easier for mothers to fight against lice. So, of course, I shrugged and accepted her in our games.

If you're more of a hound, strong, fierce, and smarter than you seem, she was a rabbit. Easily frightened, but putting herself in danger all the time, with such eyes holding, in the honey of their irises, the mysteries of the universe. Her eyes were glittering gold in the sun and looked like raw honey otherwise. Big round eyes asking questions at everything. Her hair, once cut, couldn't be disciplined anymore. When it had regrew, it stayed a bushy mess.

I often called her an idiot hare. Because, you know, she knew she would get afraid, but did it anyway. And got paralysed by fear every single time.

When we started becoming more adults, I nicknamed her "bunny" fairly often. She gifted me my first dress. She was the only one who knew. I started to grow my hair because of her.

We got married at eighteen. We moved out quite far away; she wished to get away from her mother, who, for having met her a bunch of time, was a colossal bitch of a woman, and there were no place for me, no job I could pick up, and my older brother wanted me out of the house as soon as possible.

I never got along with him. We often fought. He used to find me too effeminate. Fuck, he was right. He did give me that scar. Don't worry, I broke some of his teeth and burst one of his eyes.

No, don't look at me like that. My father was a drunk and my mother was simple-minded, but we couldn't be called a bad-renowned family. They never laid hands on us. Never ever. And we were five hot-headed youths, always picking up fights. But we were honest people. My father worked at a workshop in the suburb, my mom worked for the same workshop, and we weren't rich by any mean, but neither were we poor. Lech was in an apprenticeship with the wheelwright. He just happened to be a dick. And as the only girl among four boys, even if they didn't know it, I had to be tougher than him. Mostly to piss him off.

So yeah. We got married and out of the town. We went near the ocean, in a small community. I worked on the fields and Tekla was a seamstress.

Oh, Tekla was a witch.

So yeah. I've never seen her sew, really. She cheated the system with her magic. She spent her time building us a home inside the cabin we bought with our savings.

I hunted to get meat on the table. I sold some of my venison, and we were starting to have quite a bit of money when I got her pregnant. We were, like, twenty. She wanted a child. I liked the idea of having a family before fixing my body. We had money for the baby, and we were stashing pieces for me to see a Love priest.

It was nowhere enough money, so I became a Hunter. Now we started to be a bit more comfortable. She carved herself the cradle.

Then... Well. It happened. I don't know how they knew, but they knew. First time I met the Inquisition. Someone had snitched on us - I knew who a bit later. They held me down on our bed and Tekla was crying and trying to escape their grip. There were eight of them.

I am strong. But three men were immobilising me. I struggled but was no match. I could scream at them. Did they even hear me? I don't think so. They forced her to let down her Glamour while threatening to kill our baby in her womb. But... They let me go without a mark. Tekla swore I never knew. She said she tricked me into believing she was a human. She lied to protect me.

They kept her in a cage next to their carriage for three days. With no food nor drink whatsoever. They got other witches in there. Poor girls. Some were barely teens.

Tekla said to me, the night before her death, while the stake was finally ready: "Don't cry, my little dove, I gave you all my love. I need you to be strong because I am so pitiful."

I was holding her feeble hand. She was shaking. My poor little bunny. Trapped in a cage. Famished. Dirty. Terrified. Still, she smiled. She needed me.

And she said: "Don't let go of my hand."

I didn't.

And she said: "You're beautiful. I am so happy to be loved by a beautiful woman."

I felt a weeping in my throat.

And she said: "Say you will save me. I beg you."

I couldn't lie.

And she said: "It's dark here, and I am scared."

Then the sun rose.

They tied her on the stake with the others. And they lit it on fire.

I saw her crying while her flesh was turning into ashes. While her bushy hair was caught in the flame.

And she ultimately stopped crying. She didn't have enough tears. I stayed strong. I stayed strong as she melted. She needed me to be strong.

When sun set, I found the snitch. I drew an arrow between his stupid eyes. He died on the spot. He should have suffered as much as Tekla suffered.

And I destroyed our home. With my bare hands. I shattered the cradle. Broke the toys. Tore all the clothes up. And the quilt too. Everything. It smelt like her and I was hoping to die here with her by the morning.

Early lights hit the threshold after a night of wailing. Pitiful, isn't it? I left forever furious. I wanted to reduce to shambles everything... Nothing mattered anymore, I was on my own now. And I only had to think about myself. I had to survive to spite them all off. I had to be better than them. I had to become egoistic, even if it meant losing the goodness in my heart. I was a dead girl walking, so why would I need a heart? It died while her skin melted...

Why are you crying?"

"It's tragic."

"It's me. I died this day. On the stake, next to her."

She holds me close.

"But with you, I feel like I'm alive again," I smile while stroking her hair.

[honeybewrites]

okay so i'm definitely going to do a deeper dive of your wip posts when i have time, but i saw you mention some of your secondary/minor characters like asurr and airvix- i don't think i've seen much about them, but just from that other ask where they were briefly mentioned they sound really interesting!! i would like to request any rambles you have about them if you're up for it lol

I am always up for rambles!!! And thank you for even just briefly stopping by my corner of the internet :) It makes me so happy!!!

This also turned out way longer than I expected it too. Oops.

Let's start with Ronan (Rage) Airvix!

The Airvix name is well known through Mirralia. All members of the name are well established figures of society. Think politicians, high ranking military, predominant healers, that kind of thing. So Ronan comes from a long line of high expectations, and he did not disappoint.

He went to healing school to become a certified Healer, and then joined the Mirralian military as a pilot and field Healer. His name quickly became well known through the Mirralian government as one of the best pilots they'd ever had.

Soldiers would always say to new recruits and people who had never worked with him before, "You better confess your sins (aka injuries from being stupid) now, unless you want to deal with Rage." The nickname stuck. And it suited him too. Rage's hot temper when it comes to healing is well known, but otherwise, he's a complete puppy!

Very friendly, talkative, kind, and maybe just a tad fatherly. It always surprises people as they expect with a big name like his, he'd have gotten a pretty big head.

What surprises people more, if the fact that he's blind. Rage has no trouble getting around or even fighting. When he was very young, he was involved in an accident that blinded him. Stubborn and determined as he is, especially at that age, he learned how to use elemental (the WIPs version of magic) to "see." Similar to Toph from AtLA, Rage can see his surroundings, outlines and details. You could also think of it like a bat. It has greatly increased his energy stamina (something required to use elemental) and in turn allows him to use more "taxing" elemental without getting quite as exhausted.

While in the Mirralian military, with his name being spread like fire, the Mors took an interest in him. And eventually, they offered him a job. Field handler and healer to some of their Assets and squads. The pay was ten times better, and so was the rank as the Mors were a special division. Plus, Rage was teased to possibly being let onto a high class project with his old school mate, Healer Asurr.

So Rage accepted the position. And that's how he came to meet 703 and adopt her become her field handler!

Now for Healer Asurr!

Dyvx Asurr was just your average kid. They came from a decent off family, an only child, and they had a pretty good childhood. They were exceptional in school, earning the top grades in every class, even skipping a few years. But Asurr always had a fascination for... questionable things.

They had several healing books and would often spend hours reading about some of the most horrendous acts committed during the Dragon War. Asurr could retain information like an encyclopedia and was constantly coming up with new ideas.

They would often capture animals and conduct experiments on them. They kept a very detailed log in a journal about their findings and future experiments they wished to conduct. Slowly though, they started moving to bigger, less four legged creatures for their experiments. Their log expressed a deep desire to conduct several experiments on other intelligent beings.

After graduating basic school early, Asurr went on to healing school where they met Airvix. The two were close, though Airvix never knew of his friend's experiments or other questionable hobbies. The two went their separate ways after school.

Finally free and out on their own, Asurr went about trying to make their desired experiments a reality. It took a few years, but they were finally able to kidnap a Mirralian. One just shy of crossing the legal age. His experiment went gruesomely wrong and resulted in the Mirralian's death.

It quickly caught the government and media's attention. Along with the Mors. Healer Asurr faced trial and was convicted. The public was told they would be sentenced to twenty years of confinement. However, that was not the sentence carried out. Instead, Healer Asurr was interviewed by the Mors. The Mors were curious about their theories and experiments, and Healer Asurr was more than happy to tell them. After the long interview, Asurr was offered a job with the Mors. A very high position, with all the resources they could ask for, to carry out their experiments. The Mors had a very special project they wanted Asurr to perfect for them.

Project Viall.

The project that would eventually create Asset 703.

[teddybeartoji]

I'M SNIFFLING ALREADY WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ARII MY BABY

didn't think you'd escape my big ass rb now did you? hehehehe love u

NOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU MY BABYY:((((((((((((((((((( IS SICK:(((((((( i'm already hurting so bad:(((((((((((((((baby:((((((((((((

a little helpless, unable to even move properly, like a fish out of water.

MY BABBYYYYYYYYYYY:((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( oh it feels sooo weird for him to be like this huh:((((((((((((((((((( look i am not immune to his charms anyway i think i would already have him wrapped up in a blanket i know he thinks he's strong or whatever but where there's a will there's a way okay he will be bundled up and in my lap like a baby bc that's what he is

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

MYYYYY LITTLE ANGEL ARIII:(((((((((((((((((((((( ican't do it. WDYMM AL THE LOVE YOU COULD EVER NEED MOLDED INTO A HUMAN SHAPEE WHAT THE FUCKK WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA stop ari this isn't funny i'm like two sentences into the fic................ i won't tell u what i'm doing rn.......................... i won't

give me an hour and i’ll be perfect for you. &lt;3

😭😭😭😭😭😭he's so annoying and so dramatic and so perfect and he's so stupid trying to act like nothing is wrong as if he isn't dying with fever already:((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( dummy

like he genuinely thought an hour, some painkillers and a dream would be enough to chase away a fever this severe. like he was so desperate to see you he was fully willing to take that risk.

PLEAAAAAAASEEEEEEEEEEEEEE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 HE WAS SO READY TO GO OUT HE'S SO IN LOVE IN LOVE DO YOU HEAR ME HE LIVES THERE!!!!!! shut the fuck up he's the sweetest boy in the world too bad he's a little stupid (and too bad i love him so much smh)

"HONEY" WAHHHHHHHHHHHH i love that nickname it's so sweet (pun intended ig)

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭HE COULD NEVERR ari how many crying emojis will be in this one btw place ur bets rn

so used to denying kindness. 

ARI DON'T DO THIS TO ME😭😭😭😭BUT HE'S MY BABY AND HE DESERVES ALL OF THE KINDNESS IN THE WORLD HE DESERVES EVERYTHING. HE WILL ACCEPT IT I WILL TEACH HIM. my sweet sweet boy:((

even like this, he looks a bit like an angel, a painting come to life. like one wrong brushstroke could smudge him. 

he really is my angel. your words are always so perfect for him it's like you walk through a big library full of words and you just pick the most gentle ones for him.

wahhhh tracing hearts into his skin as you're trying to takes off his clothes.... and him just groaning all delirious and out of it:(((((((( WAIIIIT AND THEN U JUST SOFTLY PLAY WITH HIS HAIR UNTIL HE FALLS ASLEEP:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( ari what if i die i wanna play with his so badly i love touching hair so much and i just know his hair would be so fucking soft. idk if his hair is sweaty either ok you won't be able to pull me away from him no matter how hard you try

AND THE FOREHEAD KISSES GODDDDDDDDD I LOVE THE INTIMACY THEY'RE IN LOVE I AM IN LOVE THIS IS WHERE WE ALL LIVE

1000000% THAT HE DOESN'T LIKE TO BRING PEOPLE OVER OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT IT SO MUCH HE'S ALWAYS AT YOUR PLACE OR AT SUGU'S OR AT SHOKO'S HE'S NEVER AT HOME BC IT DOESN'T FEEL LIKE HOME DOES IT? IT'S JUST A HOUSE FILLED WITH FURNITURE THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS ARE THE PEOPLE HE LOVES AND THEY'RE NOT THERE SO HE JUST DESPISES THE PLACE i think only his own room is fully decorated with figurines and pictures and i feel like he even keeps his game console in his room too and then the rest of the house is super bland. like genuinely feels like it's about to be sold or whatever. he even likes to shower at your place or sugu's or shoko's and i think that nobody would really even say anything about it. yeah. brainrot. i love him so much ari. i'm so glad we have him. he's baby and he deserves all of the love in the world.

wait i rambled right after i read that "he doesn’t invite you over very often" so i'm only now getting to the next part and you're saying the same stuff.... WAIT ACTUALLY THOUGH YOU'RE SAYING THE SAME THINGS THAT IT LOOKS LIKE IT'S ABOUT TO BE SOLD WAIIITTT THIS SOUNDS WEIRD I PROMISE I DIDN'T READ THAT PART AH AND HIS BEDROOM TOO THE TRINKETS AND THE PICTURES AND THE CONSOLE ARI DO WE ACTUALLY SHARE A BRAIN WHAT THE FUCK

oh and he sleeps with the cat plushie you won for him:((((((((((((((((((((( + oh my god i know he smells so good he smells Comfortable idk what that means but he just smells sweet and you just wanna hug him

him and his takeout AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I CAN'T DO ITTTT he's a sad little meow who only knows how to give love and he's a little stupid and he doesn't know how to take care of himself and i'm gonna fucking cry you're terrible ari (i love you)

for someone who’s so often surrounded by people, cracking jokes and laughing louder than anyone else, he doesn’t seem to make any noise when he’s alone.

STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP I'M SO SAD

he's so lonely but he has so much love to give he has overall just so much to give AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HE'S A LOVERBOY TO HIS CORE HE'S YEARNING HE DESIRES HE NEEDS LOVE i can't i'm gonna spiral i'm gonna have a meltdown this is a fiction character and i would die for him i would kill for him

you somehow doubt he wants to part with it. 

😐 you will be punished for this. YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT. YOU CAN'T. TAKE IT BACK. RIGHT NOW! of course he doesn't want to part with it it's his sick best friend. they hold each other in the dark.

you know it’s him by his touch alone, the weight of his arms, that particular scent that surrounds him. like memories of summer.

this is what love is and i'm crying

he's melting into your skin he's melting into a puddle of angel goo sigh and the way he's a bit surprised by the fact that you made soup. especially surprised by the fact that you made soup in his house. maybe this place could be a home afterall?

"TOO LONELY WITHOUT YOU" MICKEY FOUND DEAD IN A DITCH CAUSE OF DEATH? HEART EXPLOSION

but he's just a baby:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( he wants to be around you he wants to be with you:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

as if he needs you.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭HE NEEDS YOUUUU it's so hard to put it into words how your art makes me feel you know it's crazy you're so amazing i can't stop saying it

my sweet angel is getting his kisses!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! just like he deserves!!!!

SNUGGLEBUGTORU😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 his big eyes staring up at you waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa the goodest of boys

staring at you, as if in awe. to satoru, you appear almost as an angel, a somewhat blurry figure that he recognizes without looking. your very presence is soothing, like a lullaby in human form. with the hazy filter clouding his mind, he can’t even seem to form words correctly — all satoru can focus on is you.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAstoppppppp my sweetheart the reader n him are having an angel-off.......... dummies i love them

DOUBLE AAAAAAAAA FOR THE WAY HE INCHES CLOSER ASKING FOR A KISS BEGGING FOR IT SILENTLY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

me n gojo always burning our tongues when drinking tea (EVERY SINGLE TIME I DO IT EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.)(ohh hot tea is hot who could've guessed)(😐)

he wants to be good for you, though. + he can’t take his eyes off you, even now.

BIG DREAMY SIGHHHHHH should i call him my baby again or am i being too annoying already actually i couldn't care any lessMYY BABBYYYY:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( I NEED TO PAT HIS HEAD:(

OMFG OMFG TUCKING A HAIR BEHIND HIS EAR!! TUCKING A HAIR BEHIND HIS EAR!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY FAVOURITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YAYYYY PATTING HIS HEAD are you in my head or am i in yours.....

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

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭BABYYY

or is it the honesty in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you like he’s trying to convey something he can’t put into words? 

ari stop making mickey cry challenge failed miserably he's so bad with words he only knows jokes and laughter (😐) but he's my baby

RIBCAGE MENTION RIBCAGE MENTION RIBCAGE MENTION

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

actually this whole paragraph was insane you are one of a kind ari you know that? i'm so grateful we get to take a bite out of your art you're changing us all and i mean that

satoru’s fingers curl around yours, suddenly, where they lay on your lap. his movements are still a little groggy, disoriented, as he brings your hand up to his lips. they’re warm and soft, especially so in light of his fever. he closes his eyes, white lashes catching the light of the sun, flitting in through the haphazardly closed blinds. your heartbeat stutters. ”… love you,” he mutters. a soft little thing. your eyes don’t leave his face. and your lips part before your brain can instruct them to. ”i love you too,” you blurt out, instantaneous. like you couldn’t bear to keep him waiting, even for a second. ”… satoru.”

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I CAN'TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT PLEAAAAAAAASEEEE I'M RUNNING OUT OF TISSUES I AM NOT FINEEE HAND KISSING AND HIS PRETTY WHITE EYELASHES IN THE SUN AND THE HEARTBEAT AND THE SOFT I LOVE YOUS AND FUUUUUUUUUUCK

”thanks for coming, you didn’t have to.”

i am going to punch him in the face. BE SO SERIOUS RN

his guardian angel, carrying the scent of spring with you. a memory of a certain boy, of better times. 

ARI WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU I'M GONNA LEARN CODE JUST SO I CAN MAKE THE FUCKING FONT BIGGER WHAT IN THE FUCK NATION WAS THAT FOR HUHHH LIKE I NEED TO CRY EVEN MORE? HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT?? DAMN I'M FUCKING DROWNING HERE

diabolical mention...................... i don't even know what this feeling is you're on another level how does it feel being a god, hm? i'm so sad

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

AND THEN I'M BEING HIT BY THIS??????????????? HUHHH???????? i'm so surprised i'm still alive and kicking bc my heart can't fucking take it but then again maybe you're the reason i am alive??? yk how can i die when you're still alive and kicking? like what? i'd die and never get to experience your art anymore??????????? FUCK NO YOU CAN TRY KILLING ME I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE I AM NAILED THE FUCK DOWN OKAY

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

apparently i'm nailed down for some sort of love torture. i regret what i said (i do not i am a big liar) SATORU WDYMMMM😭😭😭😭😭

you think the love inside your chest might crawl out of your throat and eat him alive.

i'm taking this quote very personally whether you intended it like that or not

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

WAILING LIKE A BABY RIGHT NOWWWW😭😭😭😭😭 HE JUST WANTS A HUG HE WANTS YOU TO PROTECT HIM HE WANTS YOU TO KEEP HIM SAFE HE WANTS TO FEEL YOU AGAINST HIM HE WANTS TO BE GREEDY HE WANTS YOUR LOVE OH MY GODDDDD

and you feel like you’re cradling the whole world in your arms. 

OUR WORLD HE'S OUR WORLD our baby our big baby:((((

”wakey-wakey, sunshine!”

SUNSHINE MENTIONSUNSHINEMENTION SUN SHINE MEN TION oh god is he better now is he back to being a little brat oh noooo how terrible (i am back on my lying bs)(i want him to be MORE annoying actually like i want him to NEVER shut up)

him waking u up just bc he can't live without seeing your smile:((((((((

NO STOPP HE'S BEING SO FUNNY ALREADY i missed his stupid jokes him worrying about the creeps outside yeah okay mr. love

wait wtf we're both total liars we really are the same hehehhe mickeygojo brains go brrrrr together

”unbelievable. i fought that fever off just for you, and here you are, laughing at me.”

I LOVE HIM SOOOOO MUCHH ARI WHAT THE FUCKK your gojo is always so funny and so perfect thank you for sharing him with me i mean with us ig....

this is how you love, the both of you, through words that never say it all and actions that say the words your mouths can’t fit.

what is this? some sort of a soul read? insanity.............

THE BANTER IS SOO GOOD AAAAAAAAA HAHAHHAHAH him trying to take out the stubborn from the list SMHHHHH WE SEE YOU DUMMY

satoru’s weight is still so comforting, like a big blanket, his arms enveloping you as he breathes in your scent. you’re so happy that he’s acting insufferable again.

I AM SO HAPPY THAT HE'S ACTING INSUFFERABLE AGAIN YOU'RE SO RIGHT and i love you calling him a big blanket you know how i love my weighted blankets hehehehhehe

"HONEYBEE" 😭😭😭😭😭 HE WOULD HE SO WOULD CALL YOU THAT😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i wholeheartedly believe that he'd call you the most obscure fucking nicknames and well... i'd eat that shit up okay i would fucking love that...............

HIM WANTING TO GO OUT HE'S A FUCKING IDIOT how has this man survived for this long.................. (as if i don't do the exact same thing whenever i'm Supposedly sick)

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

MY CHEEKS HURT FROM SMILING WHAT ARIIIIII PLSS LET'S HOLD HANDS he's so funny i hate it so much he'd get such an ego boost with me it's crazy but there's no way i'd be able to hold in my laughter with him no fucking way

”your baby.”

MYYYYYYYYYYYYYY BABYYYYYYY<3333

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

I- I CAN'T FUCKING BREATHE ANYMOOOOOREEE JUST WHEN I THINK I'M GAINING BACK SOME SENSE LIKE YEAH LET'S BE NORMAL NOT IT'S ALL KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT GODDDDDDD HE IS SUCH A LOVER I ALREADY SAID IT BUT I'M SAYING IT AGAIN HE WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND AND HE WANTS TO SEE YOU SMILE AND SEE YOUR EYES CRINKLE AND HEAR YOU HUM AND SEE YOUR NOSE GET RED FROM THE SPRING COLD AND HE WANTS TO STEAL A BITEEE FUUUUUUUCKK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NTO CRYING BY THE WAY I'M NOT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

”if you don’t love me anymore, you can just say that.”

he's ridiculous (😭😭😭😭😭i'm fine) WAIT U SAID THAT TOO HEHEHEHEHE

omfg him wagging his tail he really is the goodest of boys huh "like an excited puppy" YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

me 🤝 gojo HAVING A SWEET TOOTH I WANT ICE CREAM TOO WHAT DA HELL

”you couldn’t even taste it.” ”i could, i could!” he stubbornly whines. ”i tasted all your love. every single drop!” you give him a look. he only grins at you, a little teasing, a little giddy. you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed; averting your gaze with a sharp scoff, trying to appear unbothered. ”yeah? and how did my love taste?” satoru leans forward. it’s sudden, and you blink, instinctively leaning back in turn. he’s wearing a signature smirk when he stops moving, close enough that you feel his breath on your skin. hot. ”delicious,” he purrs, glancing down at your lips. blue eyes gleaming with mirth. ”best thing i’ve ever had.”

ARIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII PLEAAASEEE HE'S SO SO SO SWEET AND HE JUST WANTS TO FLUSTER HIS BELOVED A LITTLE IT'S HIS TREAT

”you’re the only person on planet earth who’d give a fuck about underwear brands."

AHSHGAGHSHASHAHSHGAHGSA THIS IS VERY FUNNY TO ME OKAY I CAN'T STAND RICH PEOPLE AND THEIR INSANE OBSESSIONS OKAY I WOULD TEASE THE LIVING FUCK OUT HIM FOR HAVING THESE HASHAHSHGAHGSHGAHGS wahh i love him

refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, you’re well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭you know him so well it feels so good to read ari!gojo like he's REALLLL THIS IS HIM!!!!!!!!! THIS IS THE GUY!!! you're so good you're wonderful you're amazing and i love u

HIM ASKING U TO CHECK HIS TEMPERATURE HE REALLY IS A BABY and i would do it every time too.... can't even make fun of him... fuck..................

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

this is so fucking soft and it means the world to me satoru and his collections him and his pictures him and his figurines him and his cozy sentimental room:(((((((((((((((

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

if i tell you that i might believe in soulmates would you make fun of me................

satoru’s love feels a little like the sun, when it spills out this fervently, like it could burn you into cinders — you think you’d be happy to lie in the ashes. he’s smiling at you, like sunshine, like little dusty specks of light.

HE'S MY SUN HE'S MY SUNSHINE I WOULD GLADLY LIE IN THE ASHES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ARI YOU'RE INSANEE I LOVE YOU SO BADDDDDD

”… you can. stay forever, i mean.”

THEM JUST STARING AT EACH OTHER WITH LOVING SMILES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA simply staring into each others eyes is a love language btw and satoru is very skilled at it yk his staring problem really comes in handy here he's just like me

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

SPRING IN YOUR POCKETS😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 you're so incredibly good with words that it's kind of making me sick actually love sickness i think it's called sighhh oh no i suppose it's my time to lay on my deathbed and wait for an angel will make me soup......

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

HIM JUST DROWNING YOU IN KISSES STOOOOOOOPPPPPPP he's my favourite puppy and then whining about u not saying it back in a second hashahgshaghshgahgsa my heart is so full

satoru giggling....................... I REPEAT SATORU GIGGLING yk the feeling when you first hear birds sing in the spring yeahhhh this is the same

you’re worth the emotional toll.

great news! mickey is actually alive and well! oh wait.... oh no they're fucking dead again euuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this is me being dead noise YOU'RE WORTH THE EMOTIONAL TOLL THIS IS WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT AAAAAAAAAAAA LOVE IS THE POINT crying again or whatever

and him thinking about all of the things you could do tomorrow:((((((( the crepes the arcade the theater i am just a puddle of goo it's very hard to type like this he wants to live with youuuuuuu:(((((

getting to fall asleep with you every night, eat breakfast with you every morning, see more of your footprints in his life… satoru can’t think of anything he’d like more.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

pls he's sooooo so sweet:((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((i have so much love for him it really will eat him alive i think

and it's gonna eat you alive too don't think you can escape me ari..... LIKE HOW DO YOU KEEP DOING THISS?????? in awe i think is the right thing to say here that's where i live in awe in love in ribcage idk i'm feeling kind of delirious by now i think i actually have a fever ari i adore you so so so much you and your writing you and your art never fail to make me feel so warm and so full of love you're the real angel of this story btw no arguing

anyway i'll be teaching a philosophy class and we'll be pondering over the question of "what ever did we do to deserve ari?" yes it will be an in person class i have techonology get your asses over here we'll be using colorfol pencils to write down our love letters and in the end of the class we'll send them to them ARI MY SWEET SWEET ANGEL MY IRIS MY BELOVED SPOUSE I THANK YOU FOR THIS MEAL I LOVED IT SO FUCKING MUCH MY CHEEKS HURT MY EYES ARE RED BUT I LOVED IT THANK YOU<3333333333333333333333

+ crying emoji count: ..........................................................................197

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

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

word count; 10.8k

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

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

you’ve never seen satoru like this before.

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

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

he’s completely, undoubtedly sick.

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

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

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

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

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

but you’ve never seen him like this.

(and it makes you terribly anxious.)

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

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

he looks so small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

moron.

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

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

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

but he just won’t listen.

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

”satoru.”

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

and it makes him quiet down.

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

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

but most of all, you’re worried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it doesn’t feel like satoru at all. 

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

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

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

it only makes you worry more.

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

you just want to give some of it back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”… okay. think you can sit up, toru?”

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

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

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

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

he wants to be good for you, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

you blink. a moment passes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”it’s only four, satoru.”

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

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

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

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

it’s significantly less scalding, now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”hehe.”

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

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

you blink. once, then twice.

”… satoru.”

”yeah? what’s up?”

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

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

”huh? why not?”

”uh, because you’re sick, maybe?”

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

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

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

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

”but —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

”your baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru is silent, for a while.

”… okay,” he hums. ”that’s fine.”

”haah. okay, good —”

”however!” 

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

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

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

a tilt of your head. 

”… but you’re sick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”i’m not!”

”you couldn’t even taste it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so you opt to indulge him.

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

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

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

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

”you’re good.”

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

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

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

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

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

”you sure?”

”a hundred percent.”

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

”of course.”

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

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

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

”your room is very like you.”

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

”… oh? how so?”

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

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

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

he closes his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

”i wouldn’t mind staying there forever.”

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

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

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

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

”… you can.”

he blinks. still smiling.

”stay forever, i mean.”

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

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

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

you reach something. 

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

satoru doesn’t get sick often.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[yeeclaw]

An imposter died in Uncanny X-Men vol 1 #281, not Catseye

A theory I would still believe if not for Necrosha and Krakoa

(A repost from 2015, with minor edits)

Uncanny X-Men vol 1 #281 (October 1991) credits three writers: John Byrne, Jim Lee, and Whilce Portacio. I don’t know which one is responsible for Sharon’s dialogue, but whoever it is wrote possibly the most out of character panel I have read of any character, ever.

This may be a niche topic, but I will elaborate nonetheless, because I feel that Uncanny 281 was written four years prior to my birth specifically to torment me, personally.

Here is Sharon's only dialogue in the issue:

Problem #1

Sharon actually likes the X-Men. Emma once noted “Moreover, she as yet neither comprehends nor accepts the distinctions between Hellion and Xavier’s New Mutants; she does not understand why those who are her personal friends must be her team’s foes.” Personal friends. That was Emma’s biggest concern with Sharon. It was kinda a big deal.

Problem #2:

Sharon doesn’t hold grudges. In New Mutants #39, Sharon ran to Rahne’s side after she woke from a night terror. In her panic, Rahne attacked Sharon, knocking her across the room. The conversation went like this:

Sharon: Whouu--Sneaky Redfur fast as me, maybe. Strong, too. Rahne: You’re na’ mad, then? Sharon: Feh! Never get mad, always get even.

But even after that, the worst thing she did to Rahne was startle her at a party. Even then, she didn’t seem to realize it would frighten her friend, because when asked why she did it, Sharon replied: “Say hello, funny way, big-laugh, yes?” then hugged her. "Both sides have been spoiling for a fight for too long!" is not like Sharon. Yes, she likes fighting, and she gets caught up in the moment, but premeditating a fight is not her thing, and -- problem #1 again -- she doesn't consider there to be two sides.

Problem #3:

Sharon doesn’t call people by their names. I don’t mean “in general, Sharon uses nicknames,” I mean that out of every single issue I’ve read (through March 21, 2015), Sharon has not once called someone by their given name, or called anyone outside of the Hellions by a code name (and even then, she only called Empath and Jetstream by their codenames one time each).

If you don’t believe me, here is every name Sharon has called someone by, at least in the issues I've found:

Girl Furperson

Redfur

Little Redfur Furperson

Small Redfur Friend

Sneaky Redfur

Intruder

Noisyboys

Sneaky Badboy

Empath

Mutant Magikchild

Maidy-lady

Jetstream

Pretty Hottop

Pretty Person

Wingboy

Missy

Heart-twister

Problem #4

Sharon doesn’t look like that. Now, Sharon’s appearance varies a lot in the few issues she’s in, but never does she resemble her depiction in UXM. The muscle structure, the posture, the ears, the I-really-hope-that’s-her-other-arm-and-not-a-muscle-boob...it just doesn’t look like her!

Problem #5

Sharon doesn’t talk like that.

Sharon doesn’t talk like that.

Sharon doesn’t talk like that.

Sharon doesn’t talk like that.

If you haven’t noticed yet, Sharon doesn’t talk like that

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk

Bonus -- some of the original tags:

#not to mention that this led into an unneccesary jean grey death plot #a 15 year old was murdered and the words 'poor jean' were actually spoken #and then they lamented jean's death while other hellions were still being murdered #probs why emma hates jean #nothing to do with scott - everything to do with her dead students

[goddevouringserpent]

c'mon girlies (gender neutral) time for the SLOW YET STEADY CORRUPTION ARC, the DISCOVERY OF THE MOST FUCKED UP PARTS OF OUR SELF WHICH WE EMBRACE LIKE THEY'RE WORTH NURTURING BECAUSE WE ARE TOO AFRAID OF THE ALTERNATIVE, the ULTIMATE SACRIFICE OF OUR MORALITY FOR THE SAKE OF LOVE OR SOMETHING THAT BURNS LIKE ONLY LOVE COULD, TH

anyway, this is Angel, or yuor devil 😈, my MC for @homecomingvn ! definitely gonna be romancing Henry; still not sure if he's also going to be my MC for Lyra or if I'll make a different one for her, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it

more info about Angel below the cut because I cannot shut up ever. it's my curse and I bear it with dignity.

if you ever try to call Angel out on anything, her go-to reply will be "aw, do you really think I would do that, can't you see I'm an angel?" & a face that's a weird mixture of 😏 and 🥺. don't ask how he pulls that one off, it's a secret between him and god and neither of them's telling (when the Nonbinary hit, she briefly considered changing her name for something that sparked more gender joy, but ultimately decided against it because commitment to the bit is her #1 priority.)



I put 'chemistry' as one of the things he likes, but really she's super into anything science-related, chemistry is just her passion. one of the STEM bitches, basically. maybe a bit light on the TE part, but he would still read a 700-page book about, I don't know, How To Build Some Big Shit Like A Bridge Or Aqueduct and enjoy every bit of it. which doesn't necessarily mean he'd understand every bit of it, mind you, but it's all about the energy I guess



related to the above: WILL infodump about her interests if given the chance. WILL NOT stop unless directly and firmly told to. if you want him to shut up but are too polite to do anything about it? good fucking luck. Angel can keep going for hours and that is a promise.



hates the nickname 'Angie' and will never respond to it. will accept 'Annie' from friends, but really they tend to prefer more personalized nicknames—like Henry's 'Buttercup'—or just plain ol' Angel



extremely ride-or-die. if she considers you one of 'her people' there's next to nothing you could do to make her change her mind or give up on you. (though, to be honest, he probably IS going to be very confused as to how he managed to befriend not one Fucked Up Weirdo but two. didn’t even know there were two Fucked Up Weirdos in town! gotta be something in the water.)



I don't know what his job is going to be yet, but I do know he's already had like 15 jobs minimum; all because she's very thorough about "following your dreams" and it just so happens that her dreams generally last around 10-20 business days before he moves on to another dream. Angel, stop hoarding jobs, you fucking maniac. you're gonna destroy the economy. and yes that's sexy conceptually but you gotta be more careful about it bro (gender neutral)



tends to play wizards in D&D/any TTRPG. she likes the complexity and versatility.



speaking of, it's time for the most nightmarish scary fact about Angel, VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED READER BEWARE: she thinks THAC0 makes perfect sense and is intuitive & easy to understand. if you just felt a cold chill run down your spine, it's okay, I did too 😔 (in this house we tolerate AD&D in a "respect your elders" kinda way, but fuck THAC0 what was up with that shit)

Notes:

I don't actually know if school newspapers are a thing or I got tricked by media from the USA and also my ex-girlfriend; it's just that the concept of being some sort of unhinged investigative journalist at the tender age of 14something+ was too fitting for Angel and I had to take the risk of looking like a clown.

the Picrew used is Black Centered Picrew <3 by naylissah. I'd link it but I've been led to believe that This Website makes it so that you can't put external links or the post won't show up in tags/mentions, so uh. it's on the first page of Picrew, if you can't find it send me a DM or something??

[lis-likes-fics]

Surveillance | Prologue

"PRODIGY GIRL JOINS HARVARD AT THE AGE OF 13

"A brilliant and prodigious young girl, Y/N Y/L/N is accepted into Harvard after graduating as valedictorian at Midtown High School in Queens, New York. The astounding 13-year-old surpasses the famous Tony Stark, who joined MIT also at the early age of 14. She is looking to begin her studies in psychology, English, and engineering. When asked what she intended to do when she graduated from the ivy league school, the young teen admitted to her desires to become a psychologist, leaving her backup plan as an author. What can we expect from this aspiring young girl in the future? Will she become the next Tony Stark, or will she be a flunk on the road to success as she takes on the world?"

-

"Y/N Y/L/N, THE PRODIGY, GRADUATES HARVARD WITH TWO DOCTORATES DEGREES AT 19

"The young lady we have grown to love has now reached her milestone as she graduates from Harvard University at the age of 19, walking away with two doctorates degrees under her belt. Surpassing the genius billionaire, Tony Stark, the prodigy fulfills her goal of becoming both a psychologist and an author, having already released two books to the world, one of which has already received a movie adaptation with the second movie and third book in the works.

"'How did all of this start? When did your daughter become so smart?' an interviewer for USA Today asked Lamont Y/L/N, the father of the intelligent woman nicknamed 'the Prodigy'.

"The proud father answered, 'In elementary, she was always insistent on trying to learn more than what the teachers were doing. She complained to me and her mother about how slow the classes were and how she wanted more. So we took her out of public school and switched to homeschooling. We were surprised by how quickly she advanced when she was already learning at a high school level only three years after. We were more than proud of her. When her mother died, I put her back into the school system - she'd begun distancing herself from others and I wanted to put her in an environment where she would make friends. She threw herself deeper into her education, graduating as early as she did. There were tons of Ivy League schools begging for her to choose them, and we ultimately chose Harvard - it was close to home. She worked hard, doing her absolute best in everything. I knew she would do amazing things, and she has with flying colors.'

"It seemed Y/L/N had impressed us all with her amazing achievements. Who knows what's in store for the woman of the decade?"

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"Y/N Y/L/N OPENS UP ABOUT HER SEXUALITY AT PRIDE PARADE

"On June 13 at the Pride Parade, Y/N Y/L/N was spotted in the crowd, face paint, flags, and all. After a fan asked if she was an ally, Y/L/N admitted to being homosexual on video. 'I found out I was lesbian when I was 17. I never really dated at all, so no one ever really found out. I've been looking forward to joining the parades for quite a while, but had only truly found time after graduating college. Thanks to all the people who are showing me a good time at this awesome parade. I'm gay, and I'm proud.'

"The news spread like a wildfire as people all over the Internet responded to her confession. Most of which had been supporters of the LGBT+ Community sharing their fascinated surprise and members of the LGBT+ Community sharing their jubilations at the discovery as they came out to the world."

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"THE PRODIGY, Y/N Y/L/N

"Y/N Y/L/N, now widely known as 'The Prodigy', was born in Queens, New York to Lamont and Cherie Y/L/N on (birth month/day). She attended elementary with her childhood friend Denise Stevens. Through her few elementary years, she found school too slow for her to catch on, never feeling quite fulfilled with what she learned with the average education.

"Taken out of public school, she took a placement test to see what level of education she should have been learning on, only to find that the seven-year-old was already at junior high level. Switching to online classes and homeschooling, Y/L/N advanced through her studies at a speedy pace that impressed many.

"At the age of ten, Y/L/N's mother passed away in a car accident. To prevent his daughter from from loneliness, Lamont Y/L/N returned his daughter to public school at the nearby high school, Midtown High, where she excelled through tenth to twelfth grade (she already excelled through ninth).

"Ivy League schools reached out to her as soon as she joined public schools, doing their best to win her over in their favors. This included the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the elite school attended by Tony Stark himself, and Harvard University, the school she ended up choosing. Graduating as valedictorian in her school and accepted into Harvard University with a full ride, Y/L/N was already making history at her young age of 13.

"Through her college years, she wrote two best-selling fantasy novels, worked as a psychology intern, and continued to excel through school at the same time. She graduated from Harvard with not one, but two doctorates, one in psychology and the other in engineering. She met with many notable figures such as the President of the United States and Tony Stark, who proudly announced her as a friend.

"While attending a Pride Parade in New York, Y/L/N proudly came out as a homosexual woman to the world. She received responses of all kinds, including some disapproving and angry tweets and even more happy spirits thanking her for giving them the courage to face their truths. She responded to her feedback by posting a picture with Elton John and Wanda Sykes raising their pride flags as members of the community and Denise Stevens, Stark, and Captain Steven Rogers (who she met through Stark) as supporters as they wished everyone a happy pride.

"Nearly two years after her graduation from university, Y/L/N officially started her career as a therapist, occasionally aiding Stark in his technological developments. As the future continues to approach, this young prodigy has proven - and, hopefully, will continue to prove - she deserves every bit of fame she has and will acquire through the years."

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"THE PRODIGY AND HER FIRST PUBLIC RELATIONSHIP"

"THE PRODIGY'S HARSH BREAKUP"

"Y/N Y/L/N TAKES BREAK FROM SOCIAL MEDIA"

"Y/N 'PRODIGY' Y/L/N & DENISE STEVENS, TOXIC FRIENDSHIP?"

"WILL Y/N Y/L/N CONTINUE TO RISE OR WILL SHE FALL BEHIND?"

"THE FUTURE OF Y/N 'THE PRODIGY' Y/L/N"

~~~

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