#enjoying themselves and their love and Nothing Is Wrong
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msfbgraves · 1 day ago
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Fanfic authors have been getting increasingly horribly exploited in the past five years especially. Our work stolen to feed AI that is then being used to put other writers out of work. Wattpad antics. The reselling of plagiarised works published for free. And then this trend of not including an author in the gushing about the works. That is like holding a birthday party for a person to share how much you love them, only not inviting them. Because your love for that person is personal to you and your other friends and none of the celebrated person's business. You're shy! You don't know what to say!
I have been incredibly lucky on having had a lot of engagement on Tumblr in the Silverusso fandom, but I have been in other fandoms whose works are still on Ao3 and also still being clicked on, for what purpose I don't know. But with the current climate, I don't feel like adding much more to other fandoms there especially. There's a few Cherik fics I have toyed with updating, but haven't been inspired enough for, knowing that it's like a lottery nowadays. Sure, the effort could pay off, but what is more likely to happen, at least when posting on Ao3 alone, is mocking silence. Deep in my heart I know that some people will be made happier if I did do it, but knowing that others will use it only to enrich themselves is not a joyful thought at all.
Love will get your fanfic authors a long way in sharing their stories, but if they get nothing at all in return, while knowing that people may even be stealing it for their own ends; that is not an environment conducive to writing. It's an abusive relationship, and we all know that not doing anything beats being in an abusive relationship.
I mean, theoretically my works and other works are being enjoyed because there is an outcry when Ao3 is down. But there is a reason people applaud after live performances. If they didn't, people would stop doing it! Even when the reasons to start doing it are mostly altruistic on the artist's part. Everybody tells you in life to stop putting your efforts where they're not actively appreciated. I mean, did Cinderella's stepfamily enjoy the efforts of her labour? Did it enrich them? Likely yes! Would you have encouraged her to keep providing it, even if she may have started out of love for her family's home? Girl no! Even this kind hearted girl left, because that is what you do when your efforts are unappreciated and exploited, even when they're clearly of value.
If I simply posted and got zero response - no engagement even, I could say the fault was mine. Either for being in the wrong place or doing the wrong thing. But when there is engagement, but no appreciation and people are hawking it somewhere, which I now know they are through the mere existence of AI, adding more is an actively stupid thing to do.
I'm not blaming readers exactly, I'm just pointing out that when you're getting no appreciation and are being exploited, continuing to do something isn't wise and stopping an activity (in this case, writing fic) is a rational decision to make! There's more rewarding things anyone could be doing, even if the activity itself is of much value!
Maybe I will post more in some old fandoms or even new ones, but right now, the only thing that could really compel me to post anything when I am not 100% certain there already is an active audience is an obsession so strong it overrides logic. And that will get you some fic, but not multiple longfics, I assure you.
And no updates. Things that aren't nourished die.
A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.
My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.
My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.
This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.
Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.
I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.
So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.
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How do you feel about aromantic idia
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As a headcanon? I love (jokingly) bullying Idia for being a socially awkward and sexually repressed otaku, but personally I also like the idea of him being aromantic. He doesn't like attention focused on him and generally seems to prefer fictional characters (ie his waifus/j) to interacting with real people. However, I think it goes deeper than just that. There's many lines in his Suitor Suit card that hint at Idia being repulsed by romance (even if you remove the context of him being kidnapped and forced to wed a ghost):
"There's no reasoning with people who lose their minds over every little infatuation. Like, just keep your head down and focus on school!" (He prioritizes other things, such as school and dismisses things like crushes.)
"I could never swear my eternal love. There's no such thing, and I'm nothing if not honest." (Here, he denies the existence of "eternal love".)
"Love is just chemicals in your brain. And people call that fate? They're all nuts, if you ask me." (He describes the feeling of love in a cold, scientific manner when this isn't something most people would think that deeply about.)
"Don't leave me. Stay with me forever. ...Oof, these emo lines are killing me. I'm gonna steer clear of proposals for the rest of my life." (He makes fun of typical romantic lines and then outright states he doesn't ever want to propose to anyone.)
"Do whatever you want with me. Just get it over with!" (Idia conveys distress and wanting to quickly be done with the kiss/general romantic circumstances.)
"If you want to talk romance, I'm your guy. I'm familiar with all the popular fan ships in video games and manga. You might even call me an expert." (He diverts the topic of real-life romances to his hobbies; aromantics, contrary to popular belief, can still enjoy romantic media without being attracted to or having limited attraction to real people themselves.)
Beyond his Suitor Suit lines, Idia has expressed upset at romantic love being viewed differently than platonic love. In 6-76, during his post-OB flashback, Idia shows off Ortho to Styx researchers, who are appalled by what he has done. "Wait... You built your late brother?! But that's wrong, Mr. Shroud!" they tell him. To that, Idia says, "So it's romantic when a hero rescues his ladylove from the Underworld, but when I do the same for my brother it's wrong?" He's frustrated that the story about Hercules diving into the Underworld to save Megara is praised, but him going that same extreme distance to revive his loved one--an act of platonic love--is denounced.
Idia is also consistently a character that has been shown to enjoy optimization and efficiency. He doesn't like anything that overcomplicates what can easily be done or made easier by machines. For someone like him, who was raised in isolation and has to bear the guilt of potentially dooming a future partner to the Shroud family curse, I think he'd just say "fuck it" at some point and decide it's ultimately not worth that hassle. It could read like a justification for him if others ask why he never looked into finding a spouse, S/O, etc. Like he'd tell them it isn't worth his time or something to get them off his back.
Of course, this is just my personal headcanon and you're free to agree or disagree with me on it! (I support all you Idia yumes and shippers out there 😉) Let's remember that we're all here to have fun and to not take these things too seriously.
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see-arcane · 4 months ago
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In which Arthur and Lucy have a lovely time and absolutely nothing is amiss 💕
Just a little Little Guy commission. If you're interested in your own art, check out my Ko-Fi c:
Also, bonus version because I couldn't resist the temptation of sepia:
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squorttle-pox · 7 months ago
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please. i need alastor with his hair up so we can see the side of his head. second set of ears or smooth flesh prairie?
#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor ears#alastor's flesh fields#bc husk has the ears on top as well#but his head is shaped like a cat and he has all the fur so it works#but alastor is mostly human shaped when he wants to be and his face head is distinctly skinful#so.#like imagine he's uncomfortable or embarrassed by it because it's *yet another* physical difference that#invites the taunts and abuse and humiliation he faced in life (and is thus very sensitive about in afterlife)#he already faces being a PREY animal of all things#so. imagine. he always ALWAYS makes sure his hair covers the side of his head. in his twisted victim mind the lack of ears makes him#Wrong and Disgusting and Untouchable and A Monster (and not in the satisfying fearful way he enjoys)#so he pushes it away. doesnt let anyone learn about his ugly disgusting mutation because surely SURELY if they saw it...#he could lose everything he's worked so hard for. because who would fear him? who would respect him? who would bother looking in his#direction? he would just be another lowlife Freak undeserving of love and attention and— well#thats what he would tell himself. but then one day niffty's doing his hair like he sometimes lets her#and he's just enjoying letting her have her fun. kinda spaced out; mostly just enjoyjng the rare sensation of a touch he doesn't despise#it doesnt even register when she pulls his hair up (maybe into lil space buns or smthn idk) that it leaves his empty face on display for all#i can imagine angel being the most outwardly shocked. some loud exclamation that turns everyones attention to alastor and his earless face#just. everyone staring at him. and he realises. and he hates himself for slipping like that and oh no theyre going to hate him and tell—#— everyone and he will lose all that hes been working towards with the hotel and he is just. So. mortified. think shameful reactions:#averted gaze; flushed cheeks; figeting under their stares; or perhaps the classic deer-in-headlights look as he freezes in shock#just as he feels everything crashing down around him. the others get ahold of themselves and share their reactions too#shock; confusion; endearment (charlie would 100% do a big AWW/want to touch it); reassurances galore when they see him retreat into his mind#they tell him it's normal (he's in hell; no longer a human but a demon; everyone looks odd by some standard)#they tell him it makes sense (he's a deer after all). they tell him his appearance is nothing to be ashamed of and that everyone is still#super intimidated and frightened by him ♡; that it doesnt change anything; that theyre sorry for whatever led him to believe otherwise
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zeroducks-2 · 9 months ago
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I've just finished Gotham Knights and I get that people aren't happy with the fucked ass haircuts but like, I do believe this is the most progressive and well written Jason Todd we've ever gotten in recent times. Even in recent comics. Like damn, bro goes to therapy, picked up his interests and hobbies again (e.g. the cooking and the reading and the shit talking) from his "Robin makes me Magic" days. Like yeah, he's still edgy, but he was murdered by a fucking Clown, he's allowed to be edgy. We got a Jason Todd that isn't diluted to "the angry black sheep character" archetype. He's healing, working on himself, his relationship with his family, and he's fighting his way (brutal and all strength and tact) to do what he stands for and what he believes is right. And his heart is just so big and full of compassion, but it doesnt blind him and make him wishful or naive. He's so well balanced in Gotham Knights. I hope this version of his character is written in future comics. I'm sick of DC writers making him this angry anti-hero who's only reasoning and purpose in life is to get back at Batman for failing him and so many others. Jason is allowed to be more than his trauma. Thank you Gotham Knights for seeing that.
I'm glad you enjoyed the game anon. I personally am not a fan, not because of Jason but because of the game itself. The dialogues felt stale, more reminiscent of tumblr "incorrect Batfam quotes" than the source material, and the NPCs felt dull compared to how full of life they were in the Arkham series (so much so I would hide in random spots just to hear them talking about the current game events, especially in AK). The most unforgivable bit to me was Tim not having ever fought the rogues because he's "young" - I've never seen anything more insulting and infantilizing for a character which already heavily suffers for being treated as the useless one, never allowed to participate in the game changing dynamics or to have meaningful arcs, and is relegated to being the cute little bisexual twink.
That being said it's a matter of taste, and Gotham Knights is surely a good game for those who prefer a wholesome loving family approach to these characters. Jason working on himself and going to therapy and having a good relationship with his "family" is surely what lots of people (especially in here) want to see. Me, I don't think any amount of therapy would help since therapy is based on shared human experiences and repetition of patterns, and Jason died and dug himself out of his own grave. That's not a trauma any therapist would have the means to help with. They indeed "diluted" the event in the game, changed the fact that Jason dug himself out of his own grave and was functionally braindead and homeless for two years, and made it so UTRH never happened in order for therapy to make any sense, because there is no reconciliation possible with a parent that slit your neck to save the person who broke all your bones with a crowbar and then murdered you.
It's kinda like when Wally went to therapy (canonically) after Barry's death. The therapist was a good one and he tried! But ultimately he didn't manage to make a real difference because Wally is the Flash, a super-powered creature with time bending powers who does things on the scale of absurdity, and who also happens to have had an extremely traumatic childhood and to have just lost the only person who ever loved him unconditionally. His problems have roots in reality but are out of the scope of any therapy method currently known to man.
And Jason is more than his trauma, but pretending his trauma doesn't inform his actions and can be solved with him "working on himself" is not an approach I hope they take in comics. I'd rather they went back to Jason doing things his way and protecting the people of Gotham in the only manner he finds helpful, because he experienced on his own skin (twice!) that Batman's methods don't work. I'd rather they allowed him to stop clashing with Bruce as main theme of his stories, and have his own plotlines in which he's in between a vigilante and a mafia lord (which they were doing with Dick by the way, before chickening out and have Slade bomb Bludhaven) with Bruce only as a cameo sometimes.
We have a high number of morally irrepressible characters who always do the right thing more or less. I'd like Jason to be something different, something darker, because there is a dramatic lack of grey characters and anti-heroes which were sanded down to either 100% bad guys or 100% good guys. I hate that, why can't we have nuanced choices and people struggling with the darkness they carry, why does everyone need to be a perfect "unproblematic" paragon of goodness who would never do anything wrong. We have A LOT of characters like that and I love them, I really do! But if everyone and their families are like that then it's really frickin boring!
Plus, I'd like the characters to actually struggle with their past traumas in a meaningful way, otherwise why even giving them those traumas to begin with. Give me Tim still grappling with how he couldn't save his father, give me Dick haunted by all the times he slipped and let go of the no killing rule in a way or another, give me Jason haunted by the tragedy of being abandoned by every person who was supposed to protect him and working from there to being the protector of everyone else.
That's what I hope DC would pick up and write about. I was never much for fluff and wholesome things unless it's in small amounts, I always preferred strife and complexity. But hey, I'm glad you enjoyed the game, at least one of us did!
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mariathechosen1 · 9 months ago
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Was Anyone But You a good Much Ado About Nothing adaptation? No, not at all, but fuck it was fun!
#y’all know I have many thoughts about this play and these characters#but even though the movie didn’t completely live up to my expectations as an adaptation#I still really enjoyed it!#and I really despise all those people making posts about how sydney sweeney can’t act#idk it seems a little rude#my main problem is how they messed up the benedick and beatrice characterization and dynamic#I love that they played up the ex lovers thing (which is left up to interpretation in the play)#and i love love queer Hero and Claudio!!!#but their hatred of each other didn’t really pack the same punch as in the original#I suppose I wish they weren’t afraid to make the characters bigger assholes?#ya know- give them more flaws?#because right now the enemies part doesn’t really feel believable for big parts of the movie#They really could have leaned more into making Bea a bit of a cold and snappy mess (as she is in the original)#and Ben more of…ya know…actual human disaster who can’t commit#both of their characters in the play are driven by their desire never to marry and their distrust for the opposite sex#They included this a bit with Bea (her not believing in true love and all that)#but her break up with Jonathan (because he was too nice???) didn’t really convince me of it#They also keep insisting that Ben is a fuckboy but we never really see it demonstrated?#I personally don’t mind the fact that they changed up the whole ‘convincing them that the other secretly loves them’ bit#especially considering this is only loosely based on much ado#but I do think they made it a bit messy considering they included the gulling scenes but only as a joke#I wish they’d either leaned fully into the much ado plot or ditched it#I think what a lot of adaptations get wrong is that they’re either too afraid of leaning into their og media#or too afraid of seperating themselves from the og media#oh god I’ve reached the tag limit help#anyways- rant over#anyone but you#maria talks about things#much ado about nothing#beatrice x benedick
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grugruel · 7 months ago
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The Artist and the Flower
Pairings: Benedict bridgerton x f!reader
MDNI/NSFW
Sexpollen
Masterlist
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Summary: A mysterious flower brought back from Colin's travels put you and Benedict in a curious predicament. Resulting in sex and other things.
Word count: 4.9k
Warnings: sexpollen, friends to lovers, passionate sex, pinv sex, oral sex (female recieving), rough sex (blink and you'll miss it), choking, praise, pet names (princess, girl, woman, lady.), "I love you", mating-press, missionary, creampie. (Think that's all)
AN: not yet proofread! Hope you guys enjoy!
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Approaching footsteps roused my mind, they thudded dully against wooden floorboards–pausing only to whisper mutely, 'This is not funny. Where are you?'
I tried to focus on my breathing, fingers working sluggishly as they wiped themselves clean against the bottom hem of my dress.
'Woman!' The voice cane shrill and urgent this time, ringing terribly in my ear. The sounds of it's accompanying steps diminished as they hurried past my position on the floor, all dizzy on my hands and knees.
'Benedict!' I hissed. The bright interior blurring as I made to stand up, legs wobbly beneath the unsteady weight of my torso.
There was a muffled squeak through the wall, shoes whirling against polished wood. Indicating him turning on his heel. 'Most, esteemed woman?' He tried again, punctuating the words as he half joked, half didn't. Simply hopeful hollow flattery would spur me into giving further clues to my whereabouts.
'Get in here at once!' I threw my finger toward the floor as if he could see me do it, successfully conveying the sense of urgency. But there was a wall between us, and my world suddenly spun. I staggered a few steps until I caught myself on the nearest wall. The window I'd opened wasn't doing much except chill my damp skin with the occasional draft.
'Ah–' he sighed and pushed the door open. '–godess. . .' There was a mocking tone to the word and a satisfied grin on his lips, but it quickly fell as his eyes scoured over my appearance, and utter devastation replaced it.
With a few last steps, he darted toward the door that separated us, and four quaint knocks rapped aginst it. I gritted my teeth, annoyance taking over the hand. 'Yes, come on in.' Still, I willed my voice into the least irritable tone I could muster. This was not his fault, after all.
I wiped my forehead free of the beading sweat, and it too, began to tingle just like my fingertips had–to my horror, I realised–I'd probably just added more of whatever that dust was into my system. Now seeping through my skin and diluting my blood, impairing my usually keen senses with whatever toxins it provided.
He hurried to my side in big, worried strides to lay and arm around my back, steadying me when I couldn't steady myself. 'Wha-' He couldn't even form a word of surprise, his jaw slack as he gestured with his free hand to my dishevelled appearance. 'Why are you in Colins room? In this, state?' He quickly added. If I wasn't mistaken, which I might very well have been considering I didn't have full use of my mind. But, I could almost detect jealousy in his tone.
He would get the wrong idea, about Colin. 'Well,' I tried being nonchalant, tried to act like the places he made contact with my skin did not burn for him. I screwed my eyes shut and pulled all my focus into an answer. 'The wine got to my head, and I realised,' My words came out sluthered and slow. 'I hadn't been in here before, and. . .' My head began nodding of its own accord, already finding my unsaid words agreeable. '. . .it had to be remedied.'
'Of course, of course it did.' Benedict sighed, his shoulders shrugging in exasperation as he began looking around, presumably to find something for me to sit on, but his eyes fastened on something else instead. I cringed, for his eyes darted from the open rucksack, then back to me. The look he gave me was nothing but disapproving. But goodness, he was stading so close. His breaths warm against my cheek and mildly stained by alcoholic bevrages, much like mine must've been. But oh, the fire in his eyes gave me quite a start, not that I was fearful of it. In fact, I found the opposite to be true. It almost felt as if I had abaorbed it, and it traveled downward. . . 'You went through his belongings?'
My mind froze, the newfound aching in my body too distracting. 'I. . .' I felt my eyes narrow and forehead furrow, my dull reflexes attempting a poor pretence of thoughts. 'I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. But there was this box, with some strange flower inside. . .' I trailed off. An amused, tipsy smile making it's way onto my face as I noted his incredulous expression.
His hands slid down my arm, and the sensation traveled straight to my core. Causing the need to stifle a moan arise.
'And you thought it a good idea to touch a foreign plant of which you know nothing of?' He spoke fast, too fast for me to keep up. Especially when goosebumps ran rampid in the wake of his touch, when my core ached for him to continue, to push his body further into mine. My heart beat too fast, his hand too close to the pulse point on my wrist.
My hand found it's way beneath his jaw, a wide grin splaying across my face. 'Wine will do that to a gentlewoman.' I explained, sluthering slightly. But feeling no more explanation to be necessary.
He screwed his eyes shut and stood completley still for a moment, I could almost see the thoughts swirling in the crammed space of his mind. 'Well,' he looked at me once again, searching my eyes. 'What gentleman would I be to leave a woman in need to her own devices?' He opened the box and grabbed the flower without hesitation, feeling its vevelty petals, rubbing the dust between his fingertips and then- tasted it.
Currents of static electricity zapped beneath my chest, spreading throughout me body. Everything happened so fast. And all I could do was watch, very intently, as the pads of his middle- and index finger made contact with his tongue, swiping clean against it. Lips then closing around them to suck whatever remained off. The heat building in my body was nothing short of sinful, and the thoughts–my thoughts–were even worse.
'Let's go.'
'Pardon?' Precious air left my lungs, leaving me breathless.
'Dinner with the Bridgertons.'
'I figured it to be out of the question.' My expression confounded.
'Colin is already downstairs, and we must find out what exactly that plant is-' He stopped. Eyes all of a sudden distant as they grazed over my features, landing on my lips. He still held my wrist, stroking the inside with gentle circles.
'Ben?' It was summer in the country, this much I knew. But surely, the temperature could not rise as fast as it just did. Sweat was pooling at my back, beneath my bust. And I began to wish, that he would simply. . . Lick-
'We must go.' I declared, clearing my throat. Hoping the words would snap us out of our trance.
'Right, of course.' He nodded, a blush sweeping across his cheeks. His eyes suddenly keen to examine the floor. But he kept his han his hand on the small of my back, urging me down the halls of the big house. Ocassionally, he'd scrunch the fabric of my dress, feeling the flexing of my back beneath the tips of his fingers. It pulled my attention to the sensitivity of my skin, and the pleasure his small, simple action gave me.
The next thing I knew, I was being helped into a chair at the center of the dining table. Benedict laid a hand on my shoulder that was meant to be reassuring, but it had an impact much more wicked on me. He took the seat across from me, and oh so conveniently placed himself next to Colin. Conversation grew heavy as Violet became quite inquisitive with her children. Eloise's debut, Anthony's proposal plans, and who he was planning on the recieving end. I would usually have been elbow deep in the gossip and drama, but my mind was elsewhere, muddled or perhaps tainted, as I couldn't focus on much of anything. Their voices grew sharp in my ears, the candlelight too bright for my eyes.
Ben leaned in to whisper in Colin's ear, who's eyes grew wide. Looking at me with growing worry, in fact, he almost looked like he would be sick.
I could understand why. Slouched in my seat, looking generally ill and doing more drinking than eating. Which was most likely only adding to the growing problem rather than subduing it. But oh, was he handsome. Flushed, he combed a hand through his hair. Slicking it with the dampness from his forehead, his eyes darting over my figure every now and then. Whatever that flower was, it seemed to be getting to him too. Colin opened his mouth to answer Ben.
'How are you dear, you look a little I'll.' Violet asked with genuine worry, interrupting the boys hushed conversation and turned them onto me with anxious eyes.
'I'm well.' I smiled, feeling as though my own voice was not mine.
Ben's eyes creased, a grin spreading over his lips, and then began giggling.
The conversations cut, and everyone stared at him. 'Are you quite alright, dear?' Violets eyes were full of concern, now placed upon him instead. I didn't yet know if it was warranted or not. But I was glad he pulled any lingering eyes from my current state.
'I apologise.' The words were strained as he pushed them out between more fluttering giggles, leading him to cover his blushing face. 'Her lady just told me something stunningly funny, that is all.' Benedict gestured to me, his eyes glinting with mischief. That little-
'Truly?' Violet smiled expectantly, something like understanding in her eyes. That cunning look she always gave her children when she knew something they didn't. Perhaps she'd taken my demeanour as that of a girl with a hidden crush, only anxious under the gaze of her love. She wouldn't be entirely wrong. Long had I known the Bridgertons, and even longer had I liked Ben.
I cleared my throat, blinking away the haze in my eyes. 'I'm uncertain of its propriety. . .' I tried to redirect, a drop of sweat sliding down my temple as I nervously glanced around at the members of the family. And ufortunately, I felt a bubbling up inside my chest, a composition of my own laughter. 'It was, uhm. . .' I paused, working hard to keep a smile from creeping onto my lips. Trying desperate to think of something to say. Anything, really.
'Well, let's hear it.' Anthony said with a grin, and the rest of the table agreed. Eloise being little more than a heap of snickers, Colin seeming to be the only one who gained little to no amusement from the situation.
Watching my struggles and deeming them incredibly funny, Benedicts giggles evovled and he burst out laughing. I was second behind him, but the table quickly joined in with a chorus of incredulous chuckles and wild looks of incomprehension. 'What is the matter with you two?' Eloise asked, her eyes watery as she clutched stomache.
We locked eyes, Ben and I. Both now scorching, judging from the trickling sweat on his neck and the tickling down my back. Warmth spread throughout my chest, and something fluttered in my stumache. Something was terribly wrong with the flower for me to feel so deeply, so suddenly.
Colin took his chance when Benedict had calmed himself, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Ben's face offered an array of reactions ti every word spoken. Confusion, surprise, anger. It was enough for me to conclude that something was not right, and that was when his eyes went wide. 'Then why would you not keep a lock on it, brother?' He shouted, his voice much louder than anticipated. Worry grew in me as I carefully studied their expressions, replacing all my previous feelings of joy. Colin whispered again, his lips moving eratically as he shook his head, clearly distressed and displeased. Ben's eyes locked on mine a second time, again, they were full of fire. However, something told me it was not of the same sort I'd seen earlier today, this was not anger. No, it was something else entierly. 'Pardon us, drar family. But the lady and I must be excused.' He claimed suddenly, turning to his mother and Anthony. 'We have urgent business that need tending to.'
'–my parents estate. . .' I cut in, sensing the graveness behind his words. It cant be good if his mood had changed so quickly. The family gave me an odd look, and I scrambled further, not wishing for them to get the wrong impression. 'The art- the art in their estate. We had a Lively discussion before dinner. . . Hence the art. Because he's an artist.' I paused my rambling lips, they did me more bad than good. I stood hastily, the rich pulsing around me as I did so, almost knocking the chair to the floor. I smoothed my dress out and exited the diningroom with an "excuse me" and a unecessary curtsy.
Rushing down hallways, I brushed my hand along the wall for support. Benedict's footsteps only a pace behind my own. He placed a hand on my hip, to brace me or simply because he wanted to fell me, I did not know.
Stopping outside my rooms, I urged him to explain. 'Apparently,' he began, rubbing the nape of his neck. I knew that tell. 'It's not, good news. . .'
I leaned back against the doorframe, my body drenched in sweat. The wafting of my fan doing nothing to help. 'Benedict Bridgerton, tell me immediately.' I growled.
'Its an aphrodesiac. It means-'
I expelled a strained breath. 'I know what it means, Ben. Continue.' The air blew against the exposed skin of of my chest, cooking it effectively.
Benedict hesitated, none of this was proper. Yet, his eyes lingered on the growing goosebumps over my breasts. His gaze sliding to my throat, watching it bob as I swallowed a big breath of air. 'We are friends Ben, discussing such things educationally does not betray social rules.' I tried to convince us both.
He nodded absentmindedly, his eyes snapping back to mine with a newfound reverence. He himself staggering as his balance perception had been knocked down a peg. It was really starting to get to him, so I grabbed his jacket to steady him. 'Its pollen is poisonous in large amounts, If consumed and left untreated, lethal.'
I swallowed again, the world spinning as my mind fumbled his words, turning them over and over in my head. 'Considering the side-effects,' I gestured with the fan between the two of us. 'I gather we have large amounts in our blood.'
To this he nodded, the uncertainty in his eyes replaced with a wicked smile spreading across his lips. 'Clever girl.'
His praise felt like a punch to the gut. Although not knocing the air out of me, it did leave me in pain. 'And how do we cure it?' I tried to distract myself, my breathing was growing uneven, my thoughts a haze. And Benedict Bridgerton, looking more and more like something I'd like to devour.
His hand braced against the doorframe above my head ti stabilise him, his tall frame nkw looming over me, our faces stopping only a few inches appart. 'By working it out of our systems, by executing certain activities,' he murmured, studying me under hodded eyes and parted lips. 'The burning needs to be sated. If not, it will develop into fever, the throat will close and-'
'Alright, that's quite enough.' I gestured for him to stop. My lip trembling, my body burning as I looked at him through my lashes. 'What exactly are these activities?' I had a feeling, a hunch, where this was going.
'You must forgive my crudeness.' He took my hands in his free one, managing to wrap his considerably larger one around both of mine. 'By love making.' He was even closer now, his nose touching my cheekbone as he whispered in my ear. 'Sex.' His breaths were ragged, on edge. His tongue darting out to wet his lips. He stopped himself, closing his eyes. His forehead lulling against mine. Most likely taming himself jusy like I had to, trying not to think of the multiple worst case scenarios.
'We cannot stay out here, somebody will see us.' I warned, my nose rubbing against his. My body so taunt, tense, it needed desperate release. My spine was still recovering from that word. It had shaped a ball of anticipation in the pit of my stumache. It could ruin me, my prospects. I only just debuted. But- sex. . . That was all I wanted in this moment, and I wanted it with this man.
I looked him in the eyes and opened the door to my bedchamber. 'I love a tragedy, an epic story of true love ending in death.' I whispered, moving my hands around his. 'But we are not lovers.' Taking a few steps back, I led him inside. 'So, lets make this count.' He followed me willingly, his eyes loyal and round like a puppy's as he gazed at me with adoration. And the door fell shut behind him.
'What if we were?' His voice was low and burdened with lust. One hand coming to stroke a few strands of hair from my cheek.
I blinked, barely comprehending his touch. 'We shall not perish, Benedict. I refuse.'
'No, but we could love.'
'What?' My brows furrowed.
'Perhaps, you could find it in your heart to love me, as I have always loved you.' He paused. The next words were heavy as they hung from the tip of his tounge. 'Let me make love to you.' His voice vibrating from the strain of on his chest. He took a step closer, his chest pressing flush against mine. 'Let me teach you.' His voice was pleading, and I had to crane my neck to keep his eye contact. 'Marry me. . .' His hands cupped my face. '. . .marry me.' he leaned in, whispering the words against my lips.
I nodded slowly. 'Teach me.' And our lips clashed together.
Years worth of structural limitations evaporated, society and politics a thing of the past as Benedict raised my skirt, found purchase under my thighs and pulled me into his embrace. His skilled tongue finding its way into my mouth with ease.
He walked us backward, gently laying me down on my bed despite the urgency of our lust. 'What do you need?' He asked through muffled moans, his lips busy with mine. I could not think, nothing about my being would work with me. 'Talk to me, what do you need?' He breathed, voice almost a whimper as his hands squeezed my hips, urging me to answer.
'You,' I managed. 'I need you.' I could feel him smile against my lips.
'Do you trust me, love?'
'Always.'
He pushed off me, hooked his hands under my knees and pulled me to the edge of the bed.
Then kneeled.
Benedict, the man that he is, stood on his knees before me. Between my legs, he smiled a wicked smile. My body was limp in his touch, completely at his disposal. The aching cravings of my core did not care what he did, as long as it was he who did it.
His hands dove under the hem of my skirt, tracing my legs upward, hitching the fabric on his wrists. He stopped above my knees, kneeding them thoughtfully as his eyes searched mine. It took my mind a second to wrap around his request, it was already so painfully clear to me that I would agree at any given moment of our time together that I could not fathom him wanting further confirmation. 'Yes. . . Please.'
He wasted no time. He was hungry. He flipped the skirt over my abdomen and got to work. Immidietly lowering himself onto my mound, lipping a stripe from my core to my clit and he moaned.
A shuddering whimper left me, if it was from his reaction or the sensation of his tongue I would never know. Proudly, he wrapped his lips around me clit and vegan sucking, licking and nipping. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, my fingers could never compete with his expertise. My body wriggled involuntairly, compelling him to hold my hips down with one hand, and taking it as a sign to slide the other along the inside of my thigh and burry a finger inside me, pumling it in an out.
I cried out, covering my mouth as my free hand dove into his hair. Pulling and scratching, I urged him to continue. But somewhere inside me, worry built. What about him? My eyes glanced over the still beading sweat on his forehead, afraid it might be the fever Ben had spoken of. 'What about you?' I whimpered, stroking his hair in a gentler fashion as he continued his contrasting assault on my mound.
'What about me?' He moaned, voice muffled by my skin and shrugged, sliding another finger inside me. His eyes studying my reaction, the way my body moved. I cried out again, biting my lip this time to stifle it as my other hand entwined with the one he held at my hip.
'Is it enough for you?' The words were expelled on an exhale, my voice pitched from continously pleasure, but beneath there was worry. And he noticed.
He chuckled breathely against my clit. 'I do not care about me.' His eyes met mine, and a strike of lighting shot through me, a whimper escaping me with furrowed brows. And he continued with a groan. 'Giving you pleasure is all I need.' And added a third finger, curling them inside me. Their size was admirable, especially as they hit some special spot inside me.
My back arched and a tidal wave of pleasure rolled over me, the pressure that'd been builing in my stumache finally released.
He watched me intently. 'Let me hear you.' He requested, continuing to move his fingers as he helped me through my orgasm, palming himself through his pants with his free hand. I obliged him. A string of curses unbefitting of a lady left my lips in whimpers.
'It takes talent to make such vulgar words sound pretty.' He licked another stripe along my folds, gathering my orgasm on his tongue and swallowed greedily. A strained grunt left him, and he collapsed into my lap, a shiver running through his body. My hand left his to brace myself on my forearm, gathering a better view of him as I combed my hand through his hair soothingly, and that's when I noticed the wet spot on his pants. I gasped. 'It was truly enough for you?' I ovserved him in awe, the aching beginning to roar inside me yet again.
'I told you,' He panted, sucking his fingers clean between his attempts to catch his breath and tilted his head to look up at me. Such a sinful act embedded so innocently. 'You are enough for me, pretty girl.' Now it was not only mor core which ached, but my heart also. Still on his knees, he let himself regenerate in my lap whilst his adoring eyes romaed my face. A show of devotion, of resignation, of love.
I moved to sit, his head still in my lap as he circled his arms around my waist, gaze still locked on mine. 'I love you.' I whispered, brushing the damp hair from his forehead.
His eyes softened impossibly more. 'I've always, always been in love with you. Since the first week of our meeting.'
My chest ached. 'Why have you never told me so?'
'Throwing our friendship away based on chance was not odds I was willing to risk.' He hugged me tighter, then stood up. 'But im afraid, that were not out of the woods yet.' He said, un buttoning his shirt and pants. 'Im feeling quite feverish.' His eyes glistened with mischief, and let the coat fall from his shoulders.
'If you want me again, you need only say so.' I smiled, now it was my time to look up at him with loving eyes.
'I want you again.' He removed his shirt, and I hade to collect my breath for a second. 'Stand, my love. We will do this properly.' He took my hands and helped me to my feet, turned me around and undid my dress and corset. Again, It made me realise just how much experience he had.
When I stood in only my chemise, feeling naked and vunerable. He stood in only his breeches. Nothing my nervous state, he said. 'We can leave it on, love.' Searching my eyes.
But I shook my head, if I was to have all of him, he was to have all of me. 'Please.' I whispered, motioning for him to take it off me. And he did, it slid down my body easily. Gradually exposing every inch of skin only me and most likely my maids had seen.
He stood struck for a moment, unmoving, unspeaking. Until- 'I do not deserve you.' He awed, 'Beautiful, beautiful woman.' Reaching his hand out to stroke my biceps, my abdomen, eyes searching mine before they traveled further up.
'You do, if any man ever was to. It would be you.' I promised him, and at this he blushed. I grabbed his hand and laid it atop my breast. With a groan, he stepped closer. His free hand cupping my face as the other massaged my breast, and his lips met mine. Softly, his hand slid around my back, guiding me back knto the bed, laying me carefully down on the pillows. 'Princess.' He breathed, sat back and removed his breeches. I did not have time to fawn over his size until he was on me again. Hooking my leg on his knee, he spread it wide. Bracing on a forearm, his face was inches from mine as he lowers himself on top of me. His thick length grazing my clit. Sensitive and burning, still–I noticed. The polled had yet to leave our system, perhaps it deadliness had subdued, but it's symptoms were yet in full effect.
Benedict nuzzled my cheek. 'Tell me what you want.' He whispered in my ear.
'You, all of you.'
'Be more specific, dearest.'
I swallowed, my breathing growing heavier. 'Sex.' I murmured, and his lips formed a smiled against my jaw. 'I want sex.'
'I would want nothing more than to give it to you.' He breathed, and lined himself up with my entrance. Then pushed himself in, gently, but consistently. My whimpered only spurring him on, not stopping until he reached the hilt. He'd done his job well, since I easily adjusted around him. 'Good girl.' He whispered, tracing kisses from my lips to my neck. 'Taking me so well.'
I ached, arching my back, I needed more. My skin was growing more and more sensitive. 'Please, Ben. . .'
That was all he needed to hear. He pulled out and thrusted into me again, moving my entire body with each stroke and it was like nothing I've ever felt before. 'Holy-' I interrupted myself with a moan.
He chuckled, but truthfully it was more of a moan. 'Feel so good.' He murmured against my skin, kissing the tender spot between my shoulder and throat. 'Like I imagined.'
Pause. He's thought of me? In this way? With. . . women, by himself?
'When, tell me when.'
'Always. I thinn of you when I lay with other women, I think of you when I touch myself.' His hand ran down my body, squeezing my breast as he drove himself deeper. And I had to wonder–were those acts specific details of his dreams, desires? 'You occupy my mind, always.' He said quite breathlessly.
'Show me, show me how you want me.'
He pulled out if me, hooked my legs over his shoulders and thrusted back in. Every rut of his hips hitting that sweet spot inside me, wrecking me over and over again. Strained breaths against my throat became the outcome of his efforts, as the power behind each thrust pushed me deeper into the mattress. 'What else, show me what else. I'm yours.' I moaned.
His lips found mine, and his hand my throat. Gently, he enveloped it. Softly, he squeezed. 'Say it again.' His lips murmured against mine, kissing them between every breath he labored.
'I'm yours.' I whispered, and he groaned. A particularly forcefull thrust was made into me. He was never rough in anything he did, but he put his back into it. Always the gentleman, never the brute. I've never been happier for a man to be so contrasting.
The burning, the aching, the pressure. It was all towering, waiting to be pushed over at any second. 'Mine,' he moaned. 'My love.' His pace quickened and ruts hardened. He was as close as I was. 'I love you. . .' He whimpered and spilled himself inside of me. And I came a second later, irregular thrusts carrying me through my blinding orgasm. 'I love you.' He told me over and over again as he let my legs fall to his sides, and collapsed onto my smaller figure. With his head on my chest, I held him. 'I love you too.'
'Marry me, then.'
'Give me a ring, then.' I giggled. He made to stand up, to slither out of my embrace. 'Not now!'
'Tomorrow, then?' He laid back down, this time wrapping his arms around me and pulled me close.
'Tomorrow, then.' I confirmed. Id never been so happy as in that moment.
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gallavichsreddie1128 · 5 months ago
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Toy (Wolverine)
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Description: Logan is pissed and takes it out on Y/N, sexually.
Warning: Smut
Word Count: 988
Request: what if logan came home from a rough mission and jus took all that anger out on y/n 🤭🤭🤭
Logan was fuming, I mean he was pissed. Wade and him went on a mission and it almost didn’t go their way. Wade being Wade had to be joking and laughing during the mission but Logan wasn’t in the mood. Nothing about killing those guys was funny but Wade had to make it. His fingers gripped the wheel so hard he was turning red.
His face was red, hell his dick was even red at this point. He couldn’t wait to get home and fuck his little toy. Y/N was in for a treat when he got back. He didn’t care if Wade heard or even watched. He just needed to let off some steam. He was so in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Wade trying to talk to him, “What?” He snapped at the merc. “I was just saying that we should have Tacos tonight.” Wade said and Logan rolled his eyes, “Yeah sure whatever.” He didn’t care about dinner right now.
Only Y/N’s sweet tight pussy. The ride home felt like forever but when they got back he didn’t even turn the car off, he just stormed into the apartment. Y/N sat on the couch watching TV when Logan came in and oh did he look mad. She quickly got up, “What’s wrong?” She asked him but he ignored her and threw her over his shoulder ignoring her protest. He took her to his room not caring about the door being shut or not. He threw her on the bed and she stared up at him in shock and lust.
He pulled her legs to the end of the bed and pulled down her sweats, “I need to taste this pussy.” He growled and yanked her panties down. The fresh scent of her arousal hit his nose as her pussy was now bare to him and wetter than ever. He wasted no time and shoved his face in between her legs causing her to moan out. He placed both hands on each thigh to make sure she doesn’t close around his head. She threw her head back as she felt his tongue explore her with all his might. He was mad, so furious with the mission and this was the only way he could let it out without getting violent.
It was either this or kill Wade. Her hands laced themselves in his hair and he growled against her causing a vibration to shoot through her body. She whined his name and started to move her hips but he held her in place. He was grunting and growling against her pussy like an animal. “So wet.” He mumbled against her. “Mine.” She enjoyed him being possessive and didn’t dare to ask why he was like this. “Logan fuck baby. You’re so good.” She praised him.
His grip on her thighs tightened and she hissed at the pain. It was definitely gonna leave a bruise or two. His nose started bumping against her clit on the perfect angle. It was over from there. She was cumming and screaming his name. Her eyes were rolled back and he never slowed for a minute until she struggled against him to push him away. She looked at him and her jaw dropped. His mouth was covered in her slick and he wore a dangerous smirk. Hair all messy from her grabbing it. He looked sexy.
He stood up without a word and got undressed. She was in awe at the sight of his abs. His abs were perfect and it made her pussy pulse. He crawled on top of her and growled, “Are you gonna take it like a good girl?” Of course she was. She had never been more turned on in her life. She nodded and he grabbed her face, “Say it.” He demanded. “Yes.” She whispered. “Good.” He said and lined his thick cock up with her entrance. He sighed at how great her pussy was and how it held him. She whimpered at the feeling of being stretched out by such a big cock. “Fuck, you have the perfect pussy sweet girl. Love it so much.” He bottomed out and smirked.
She stared up at him with want and even though he was being rough with her. She wanted it and so much more. He started thrusting rough and hard, completely taking her breath away. She was gasping and moaning. She could hardly keep her eyes open. “Eyes on me, doll.” He said and she opened them. They made eye contact and he smirked at her again. Her mouth was open and all types of pornographic noises were leaving her mouth for him. “Fuck.” He grunted and closed his eyes.
She stared up at him and watched his face fall into a pleasurable expression. He was so hot. He was rearranging her guts and all she wanted to do was kiss him. So she did. The kiss wasn’t passionate or soft, it was rough and messy. He was twitching inside of her after a few minutes, “Fuck i’m close baby. I’m gonna fill you up.” He warned her and she nodded. “Please Lo, please cum in me. I need it so bad.” Her words egged him on even more. They had never talked like this to each other before. “Yeah sweet girl. I can feel that pussy wanting to cum too. Cum for me baby.” Her pussy clenched around him and he came hard.
She gasped loudly and she came with him. Her hips slowly moved to ride out their orgasms before he collapsed next to her out of breath. “Shit.” She said and looked over at him. “The mission sucked ass and Wade pissed me off.” He told her and she nodded, “Glad I could be of help.” She said, He turned towards her and pulled her on top of him, “You’re my sweet toy to use and to play with. Never forget that.”
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certaimromance · 4 months ago
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𝜗𝜚 Cherry Picking.
Spencer Reid x BAU!reader
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Summary: After your first night with Spencer, you wake up and see that he's left you two dollars and a thank-you note on your bedside table.
Words: 2,3k.
Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. lots of mentions and references to sex, but nothing completely explicit. the reader is quite dramatic and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).
Note: This idea just came to me out of the blue, and I have to say that Sex and the City has had a bit of an influence. I love the chaos, the conversations between friends, and Spencer being the best man in the world (I'm picturing him kind of like in his season four version).
♡ Enjoy! ♡
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Saturday afternoon
“Two dollars?!”
Penelope's and JJ's simultaneous exclamations and surprised faces when you finished speaking were pretty much to be expected. They noticed a change in your expression and took a moment to compose themselves, as did the rest of the people in the room, who glanced curiously at your table from time to time. It was certainly a fascinating sight, three women having an animated conversation about their lives over milkshakes as if they were drinks, especially considering that one of them was pregnant and her belly looked like it was about to explode.
You didn't blame anyone for reacting that way, especially not your friends. You were still pretty shocked by what happened, especially by how thoughtless the man you'd developed feelings for and worked closely with over the past few years was. It was a unsettling to find a tip on your nightstand after one of the most memorable nights you'd ever had. You still remembered the excitement you felt when you went to Spencer's apartment yesterday to watch a movie as part of your fourth or fifth date. He seemed nervous when you started kissing more intensely, and the couch wasn't the best setting. The sensation of your body on his bed and his lips on your skin was incredible.
It was a good memory, extremely good if you took away the embarrassment of waking up the next day in his empty bed with money waiting for you, as if you had performed a service.
“Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the money was left on the table by mistake.” Jennifer spoke again in a reassuring tone after turning the matter over. “Spencer can be a little clumsy sometimes.”
You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you listened to her attempt to provide an explanation for his actions. But given their friendship, this was to be expected.
“And he was in a hurry to catch his plane and go to his mother.” Garcia added with a forced smile, trying to lift your spirits. “It all makes sense.”
Yes, it was understandable that he was leaving in a hurry because he had to catch a flight to spend his weekend off with his mother. That didn't worry you, but there was something else that was curious.
“How do you explain the thank-you note?” You asked, taking out the paper and the two dollars you'd pulled out to show them as proof from your purse.
“It was a thank you for hanging out with him, a sweet gesture.” JJ said, taking a sip of her milkshake and patting her belly.
It seemed more like a sour gesture to you, that you had been left with your dignity on the floor. As you left his apartment, you didn't know whether to cry or laugh because it sounded like a bad joke that the only man you thought was decent and for whom you allowed yourself to have feelings would do such a thing.
“My love life is going downhill.” You said.
Just then, the restaurant door opens and Emily appears. After greeting her and apologizing for her late arrival, she asks about the cause of your apparent distress. As a profiler, she was astute enough to know something was wrong just by looking at you.
“What's wrong, honey?” She started talking as soon as she sat down next to you and took a quick look at the table. “Those milkshakes look good, I want one.”
“Spencer thinks I'm a prostitute.” You spoke up without thinking, which surprised Emily and caused her to briefly lose her grip on the menu.
There was a long, awkward silence.
Perhaps you were too direct in saying something that you had been trying to ignore for your own mental health.
“Just a heads-up, we've got a baby in the room. No need to say that word!” Penelope was the first to speak, gently covering JJ's belly with her hands. “He can hear you.”
At that moment, Reid and his comments about pregnancy data at every stage came to mind. You felt a little uncomfortable because you knew it was a little unrealistic to focus on the positives at a time like this.
“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby.” You looked regretfully at your friends and spoke to Jennifer's belly, giving it a gentle caress. “Don't listen.”
“I need context, please.” Emily said confusedly, trying to understand what was going on and why you had said what you had said.
You let out a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the story once more.
“Okay, Spencer and I made...milkshakes. Very good milkshakes, really good if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain slowly, watching your words and your friends' expressions. “I woke up when he was leaving, he gave me a kiss on my forehead and said to keep sleeping, that he had to catch his flight.”
“That's sweet, but weird to know.” Emily commented quizzically, looking at the menu intently again. “What's the part...you know?”
“Oh, when he thought I was-” You stop yourself as you see how JJ looks at you. “A pie maker.”
You could tell from their expressions that they were about to laugh at your attempts to keep the conversation friendly.
“I woke up hours later to find two dollars on the nightstand with a thank-you note.” You finished the story. “To him, I'm worth two fu...sugary dollars.”
Prentiss stared at you for several seconds, waiting for me to tell her it was a joke. Only when that didn't happen did she speak. “That sounds weird and awful, but I don't think he would do something like that on purpose. Especially you, he really likes you.”
“He likes me enough to give me two dollars.”
When you finished speaking, you experienced a moment of discomfort in your stomach as your own words took effect. You were surprised to find that on a deeper level, what had happened was causing you more pain than you had anticipated.
“That doesn't sound like Reid at all. I've known him for years, and he's not that kind of man.” Penelope said with a frown, trying to reassure you. “I'm sure it's a mix-up.”
You were looking for the same thing and hoping it was just a misunderstanding, but your previous bad experiences made you think otherwise. You'd met enough men to know that they could always be worse. What was different now was that you really liked this particular man. You really longed for him to be different from everyone else.
However, things weren't always as you'd hoped. You'd invested a lot of hope in making your fairy tale come true, and it was starting to take its toll.
“Have you had a chance to speak with him?” JJ inquired.
“He's with his mother, I won't bother him.” You replied with a strange simplicity that made your friends suspicious. “I'm fine, I've calmed down.” You added as you saw their worried faces.
“I love you, but sometimes you scare me.” Emily said, watching you drink from your smoothie as if it contained a painkiller. “It's not okay to pretend that everything's fine.”
“It's understandable to feel a bit discouraged about this. Things may seem challenging at the moment, but I believe things will improve when you discuss this with him.” Jennifer's hand gently touched yours, offering a comforting gesture.
“I'm sure everything will be fine. You have our support if you need it.” Penelope joined in with the motivational words and gave you a reassuring smile.
You took the last sip of your milkshake and leaned back in your seat for a moment before replying. “I'm fine, girls. I don't plan to lose my head over a man, I promised myself.”
They looked at you with some skepticism, but you didn't flinch. You were confident that if you were mentally prepared not to be defeated, or at least not to look defeated, you would be well prepared for the day of the meeting.
You weren't going to lose your mind over this.
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Monday morning
You were definitely losing your mind, and no cup of tea or internet video that promised to do so had been able to relax you one bit. You had been cooped up in the office you shared with Penelope for several minutes, pacing in your chair while everyone in the conference room waited for information about a new case and your presence. The mere thought of having to face Reid again was making you feel pretty uneasy.
All weekend, you had been trying to reassure yourself that you were doing well, that you were not hurt or affected by what happened, that it was just one more disappointment to add to the long list you had written since you were a teenager, and that it was normal for someone with your luck. You were not a princess, you were not going to meet a prince, and you were old enough to know that.
But being in the same building as your prince turned toad was not as easy as you had hoped. You prayed that your presence would not be necessary and that the jet would soon take off to take them all away, especially him.
A few sudden knocks on the door startled you. You automatically thought it was your boss coming to scold you for being late, and your blood froze.
“I apologize for the delay, Hotch. I assure...” You spoke promptly as soon as the door opened and a male figure appeared.
But obviously, it wasn't him.
“Oh, sorry, I'm not Hotch. But hey, how are you?” Spencer smiled at you and walked toward you, looking a little nervous.
“Fine.” You replied dryly, getting up from your seat to grab your tablet and some folders to carry into the conference room.
In your mind, you had planned to make a scene as soon as you saw him and make it clear that you didn't cost just two dollars. But after thinking about it a lot, the fear of losing your job over it was greater. And now it was a mixture of that reasoning with your feeling of paralysis at actually having him in front of you.
“I...I missed you over the weekend.” He stopped you before you could walk away, gently holding your hand. The feeling alone made you stop and look at him angrily. “I thought about you a lot, too much, and I bought you something.” He let go of your hand to pull a small box out of his pocket.
“How dare you?” You blurt out, taking a step back.
He looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain. “I'm sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to impose. Did I cross a line? I'm sorry, I just thought—”
“What? That you could embarrass me even more? Didn't I already go through enough?”
That's when you took out two dollars from your purse and gave it to him.
“Could I ask why this is?” Spencer was still frowning and looked just as hurt as you.
His apparent lack of understanding of the situation made you much angrier. You had thought he was probably the smartest man you had ever met in your entire life, but suddenly, in your eyes, he was an idiot.
“I'm refunding your payment, Reid.” You replied firmly, without hiding your frustration.
The confusion on his face seemed to multiply as he tried to understand. “What are you talking about? I gave you your money back.”
You tilted your head slightly to one side.
“Saturday morning, I left on the nightstand the two dollars you lent me a week ago when we bought coffee. You know I don't like being in debt.” Spencer began to explain calmly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and present the facts in a clear and concise manner.
Oh, you do remember lending him money at some point, or rather, inviting him for coffee that he said he'd pay you back. That day when his hair was perfect in the wind, when he smiled at you and told you some interesting facts about coffee beans.
“I mentioned it when I said goodbye, but you looked so tired that I left you a thank you note in case you forgot.” He went on to explain. “A lot of studies say that you wake up to full strength at least 20 to 30 minutes after you actually open your eyes. And you still had them closed when I said goodbye.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“I...I thought you—” You fell silent as you saw the stunned look on his face. You didn't want to look crazy, so you quickly added. “I just thought wrong.”
“I'm sorry, I don't understand.” He said, a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, no, I just...did you bring me a gift?” You changed the subject, taking the box he had previously offered you. Inside was a necklace with a cherry blossom charm.
“Your computer wallpaper is a picture of cherry blossoms. And I saw this necklace in a store when I was walking with my mom, and I thought you might like it. But it's okay if you don't want it—” He spoke fast until you interrupted him.
“I love it, thank you.” You smiled at him and took the necklace out of the box. “Could you help me with this?”
With some trepidation and uncertainty still present, Spencer positioned himself behind you with the jewel in his hands, carefully brushed your hair aside and fastened the necklace around your neck. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin made you feel a slight shiver.
“Thanks.” You said as you turned around to face him. You gave him a hug, though you were a little unsure.
He returned your embrace, feeling a sense of relief that things between you were okay. “You don't have to thank me.”
“It's not about the gift. It's just a way to say thanks for being you.”
Perhaps he was your prince after all.
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glow-in-the-dark-death · 6 months ago
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My Sweet Intruder (Sleepwalking Love)
I wanted crack but also fluff, this was the creation. Enjoy!
~
Tim had recently bought a new place to live near a college since he decided to continue his education, the apartment was on the nicer side of things and even though he had gotten it for his civilian life it still had some security on par with his night life safe homes.
All of this to say that it would be hard for someone to break in and even more so to not be noticed.
Which is pretty what he thinks is going on.
Someone is breaking into his house when he's not there which frankly is not that often to begin with since he's so busy with all kinds of things.
But the intruder doesn't seem to be causing harm?
There's nothing damaged or stolen just some food sometimes.
Honestly the complete opposite of what you would expect from an intruder, his apartment was cleaned things were moved around the kitchen was stocked with fresh food and ready meals.
Honestly it took him this long to know something was wrong because he had originally thought it was one of his brothers coming by and helping out or something.
But no after some investigating it wasn't anyone in the family it wasn't even his friends or someone else he knew someone who would make sense as to why this was happening.
Also there appeared to be living there considering all the things appearing around his apartment making a home for themselves that were very much not his.
But the Intruder since he had no name for them was ..considerate?
Almost sweet in a creepy way if you think about it.
His apartment was cleaned he had meals ready for him to eat and a bunch of other small things that combined were making his life easier.
He would like to know who this intruder was but his surveillance and all other tech always died out when it seemed they were there, so no video proof and they always were gone before he could catch a glimpse of even their shadow.
~
Danny was having such a good time, he was honestly a bit worried about moving to Gotham for college especially since apparently his application to live in the dorms had somehow not been processed or something and they only bothered to tell him while he was already there.
Thankfully luck was on his side because only a few hours after that incident while inside a coffee shop stressing about what to do and venting to his sister on the phone a man sitting next to him who looked like he needed a mini coma of sleep and looked kinda high overheard him and offered to be roommates with him since he was also going to the same college.
So yes things were going wonderfully, he had a place to live where he didn't even have to pay rent, and Tim was such a good roommate, he barely saw him but when he did he usually was more asleep then awake.
~
Tim after a while: "Why are there so many spaced themed objects in my apartment?"
~
Tim inviting Danny to live with him
Danny 'What's Stranger Danger?' Fenton: "Bet"
~
Tim: "How do they keep getting past all my security measures?!*pulling his hair out*
Danny using the key sleepwalking Tim gave him: "Home sweet home!"
~
Tim trying his best to catch Danny in person:
Tim sleeptalking:"One day I'll catch him"
Danny who is used to Tim sleep talking and sleep walking helping him get back to bed for the umpteenth time: "You sure will boo!"
~
Danny being grateful that Tim is letting him live there without having to pay rent and gave him a credit card to pay for things: "He's so sweet guys!"
Sam & Tucker: " Dude..is he your sugar daddy?! "
Danny: *shocked Pikachu face* "But there's no sugar involved?"
~
Danny thinking that maybe they are in a relationship just taking it very slowly because Tim's shy
~
Also Danny's love language being acts of service
Tim's love language is coincidentally also acts of service
~
Tim slowly falls in love with Danny still not knowing who he is: "I think I have issues"
Danny still thinking they're in a relationship and that Tim is just super shy: "Maybe we could hold hands soon!" *sappy smile*
~
Tim:
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Danny:
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~
What a story it will be when someone asks them how they got together! (◠‿・)—☆
Just an Idea
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entitled-fangirl · 5 months ago
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I promise everything.
Cregan Stark x Targaryen!wife!reader
Summary: the two have been married for months. When attending Aegon and Helaena’s wedding, the reader becomes self conscious on why they don’t have children yet.
Warnings: talks of sex
Masterlist
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………………………………
Cregan cracked open the door slowly as he walked in, "My love, are you…"
His question died off from his lips as his eyes took in what laid in the room.
His wife, the younger twin of Aegon II, stood tall as her handmaiden finished tying the dress she wore. A noble blue hue to it, a perfect symbol of house Stark at a Targaryen wedding. The color did something to him inside.
She managed eye contact with him through the mirror and frowned, "Am I what?"
He bit his lip for a moment with a furrowed brow before doing a small shrug, "Uh. It's alright. Take your time."
She smiled and let out a soft laugh.
The handmaiden was soon finished and excused herself.
Y/n turned around to finally look fully at Cregan. Her eyes moved up and down his body, "You look rather dashing."
Now far from the north, Cregan had to abandon his fur cloak, leaving him in his dark tunic, blue surcoat and the Wolf sigil embroidered across the chest. Now his broad shoulders were quite displayed, as well as his fit physique that was usually up to imagination. He smiled at her, "And you…"
Her brows pulled together for just a moment, "What?" She turned to the mirror, "Is something amiss?"
He quickly held his hands up to reassure her, "No, my dear. I only meant that… I… I am utterly speechless is all."
She looked back to him with a grin, "Ah. And here I thought you wouldn't like it."
"You believed I wouldn't?" He asked as he rested his hands on her hips. "How could I not enjoy the sight of my wife dressed as a wolf in the midst of dragons?"
She chuckled as her hands moved to his chest, "I am entirely a wolf now, Cregan."
He grinned widely, "That's the best part." He leaned in a trailed kisses down her jaw, "Perhaps I'll get to enjoy you dressed in nothing by the end of the night."
Due to the convenience of having the two Targaryen siblings marrying themselves, the entire family fit at the high table, Y/n and Cregan towards the end.
Next to her younger brother Aemond, the two quiet siblings whispered to one another in discussion, including Cregan when he wasn't distracted by the over-the-top atmosphere.
Aemond was a fair brother to her, closer now during this age than her own twin or sister had ever been. "I suppose you're now stuck horse-riding without me around?"
The two had once shared in their lack of dragon. When Aemond claimed Vhagar, he made a vow to not abandon his sister so quickly in her endeavors, letting her ride Vhagar with him when she had needed outside of the keep.
The North had nothing of the sort, and leaving had been hard.
She nodded, "Yes, but Cregan gifted me the most wonderful horse. We ride quite often, weather permitting."
Aemond hummed, "You'll have to take a break from riding soon, I'd wager."
She frowned, "Why ever would I do that?"
"It's not healthy to do while with child."
"Well," she bit back sarcasm, "I am not with child. I have time."
"You've been married for nearly eleven moons. Most are with child by the third."
"I am not most, am I, brother?"
Noticing her bitter tone, he hummed and changed topics. He leaned over to look to Cregan, "My lord, do tell me what horse you've gifted my sister."
Cregan's expression immediately brightened at the topic of something he knew quite well, "A fjord horse. Not a runner by any means but a reliable one when…"
She zoned out from there, staring absent-mindedly at the dance floor.
Perhaps Aemond was right. Should she be with child by now?
Had she done something wrong? What if she was unable to have children? Would Cregan abandon her?
She looked to Aegon and Helaena dancing. Smiling at one another.
What if her own siblings had children before she did? How weak of a Targaryen does that make her?
"Admiring the dancing?" Cregan's voice suddenly murmured near her.
She turned her head to him, seeing his worried expression studying her.
How long had their conversation been over and she'd just been staring off in the distance?
"Is everything alright, my girl?"
She smoothed a hair back behind her ear, "I'm only lost in thought is all."
He grunted in acknowledgement. "A dangerous place to be." He tilted his head, "Wanna talk about it?'
"Not really."
He nodded but made no motion to move. He knew her quite well by now and knew she would soon-
"Why am I not with child?"
He knew she'd state her thoughts, but he didn't consider it to be that one. He frowned, "I don't suppose I have an answer."
She leaned back as the next song started, "Do you think less of me for it?"
His head tilted again like a dog hearing an uncomfortable tone, "Do I… No. No, I do not."
"I just don't understand why then."
"Darling, the gods will grant a child to us when they deem the time fit. Please do not let a thought like this ruin the celebration."
She nodded and sniffled lightly, pushing back the tears in her waterline. "You're right. What a foolish thing to stress over."
He let out a content sigh, happy with her answer. When silence loomed over the two, he watched Aegon and Helaena dance. A thought popped into the Northerner's head, and he leaned towards her again, "Perhaps we can imagine no time has passed at all."
Her face turned contemplative, "How so?"
"Perhaps," he whispered, "Tonight can be just like our wedding night."
"I'm listening."
But Cregan Stark is a man of action. He stood abruptly and held out his hand. "May I have the honor of a dance with my perfect wife?"
She grinned, trying to ignore the stares of her family and the people. She whispered, "You hate to dance."
"Aye, but I love to please you more."
Her cheeks flushed, but she took his hand and let him lead her to the floor as the next song started.
As a high lord, Cregan had been taught all of the dances. But he was no real dancer. He preferred the dance of battle than one in a ballroom. How he managed to get by for one and twenty years with only a single dance with his wife, he's unsure of. He only hoped not to embarrass her this second time.
His steps were heavy compared to her light ones. His moves, though carefully calculated, were clumsy compared to her precise ones done without a second thought. His eyes had to double check every step and move. He was sure she did it with her eyes closed.
Though nervous, a smile was plain and broad across his features.
She could feel his nerves radiate off of him in comforting waves, a reassurance to her that he would face his greatest fears for her. Not dragon fire. A dance floor. And he did so happily.
When the dance finished, he couldn't stop himself and planted a heavy kiss to her lips. He didn't care who saw. This was his wife. She was his, and he was hers.
"Let us retire," she panted against his lips.
His grin continued. "Yes, my lady."
Once away from the crowd, their lips moved in tandem, pausing against various pillars and walls to breathe each other in.
"Please put a child in me, Cregan."
He let out a loud groan against her lips at her words. "I will," he whispered.
He tried to move his mouth back to hers and she pulled hers away, making him chase hers. He let out a breathy plea, "I will."
Her fingers came up, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip, "Promise me?"
"I promise. I'll do whatever it takes, my girl. I'll give you a baby, I promise." He leaned in, only to be denied her again. His voice softened, "I promise everything."
She leaned in just a bit, "Take me like you did on our wedding night."
He picked her up, slamming their chamber door behind him.
Needless to say, about nine months later, a babe laid in Cregan's arms as he sat next to his exhausted wife.
There never was a Stark who forgot an oath.
………………………………….
Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor
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mrs-weasley-reid · 5 months ago
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JULY REC FICS
Hello, my sweets!! I wanted to try something out to provide my full and utter support to all the amazing writers I've come across in the form of monthly rec fics (starting this month). Join me in giving them love through comments and reblogs. It really is a joy to hear how you're doing as a writer. It makes up for all the angst we write lol
I will be going based on what I've read recently and not by the date the fic was posted. And the number of fics will depend on how much I've read the entire month. Also, please respect these writers. Some contents are 18+, so MINORS should not be interacting in any way, especially when the authors themselves specify it.
— ✿ — ✿ ✿ — ✿ ✿ ✿
Spencer Reid
✿ a question unasked by @easy-there-leftovers ↳ SOOOO ADORABLE. I'm a workaholic craze gal, so it speaks to me on a silly level.
✿ missing the happy hormone by @lavenderspence ↳ I'm a sucker for Spencer fluff this month, what can I say? This fic Tina made had my waterworks going on for about a minute because it's so sweet
✿ desk duty by @reiderwriter ↳ All you have to know is the amount of evil laugh I made while reading this
✿ the theory of love by @ophelia-is-complex ↳ Genuine intimacy is quite a challenge to write, but THIS ONE, this one had me in a sappy mood
✿ like nothing matters by @cerisereids ↳ gagged and had to pause the reading so many times because HELLO— had me spiraling at work
✿ the devils disguise by @qlossytbh ↳ I said I sobbed a little bit, but I actually cried so much I ended up taking a nap and felt better afterward. It's all fluff, though, don't get me wrong. I'm just very dramatic when the red devil's on the clock
✿ not so funny by @reidmania ↳ Angsty, that made me wanna start a fight with some random twiggy tall guy. Sooooo good!
✿ cloaked in passions touch by @raekensluver ↳ If you don't like Spencer's hands, you're fucking lying to yourself!!!!!
✿ language of devotion by @gghostwriter ↳ I'm in love with reid, and this fic just had me stumbling back onto his lap like a good gal
✿ this req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ Sorry, I'm not sure what the title is, but it's so adorable and got me to go to work, so kind of a lifesaver tbh
✿ hallucinate by @gghostwriter ↳ Oooo, this one was so cute, hehe. Honestly, I lean towards Spencer fluff lately just because I've been too overstimulated with work this past month, so READ THIS ONE ITS CUTE
✿ it's golden, like daylight by @dudeitiskarev ↳ I actually felt like I was reader the entire time I read this. It's well-written and so adorable and something that should be framed in a museum
✿ much ado about nothing series by @incognit0slut ↳ binged it all morning, and I was whipped !!! It's ongoing, so if I have to wait, so does everybody else
— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦
Aaron Hotchner
✦ choiceless hope series by @hotchfiles ↳ This series had me rolling over my bed on a Saturday. A lot of feelings getting played (mostly mine)
✦ beanstalk by @solardrop ↳ I kid you not; I was giggling like a weirdo when I read it. And that itself deserves the recommendation.
✦ too busy being yours by @hotchfiles ↳ Lari knows how to get a sick gal to giggle. I love bau!rossi!reader. I love Rossi as reader's dad, so I enjoyed it more than I thought I would
✦ ignorance by infatuation by @boneblushed ↳ Oh, this one was a nice snack while on my break at work. LOVED IT SO MUCH
✦ hungover by @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi ↳ Mmmm, such a good read! Plus Jemily is there sooooo
✦ from across the bar by @hotchscoffeecup ↳ Evil laugh ensues. A nice cuppa of some good ole kinky stuff
✦ doomed by @hotchfiles ↳ guys, I stopped my car in the middle of driving home just to read it, so it's THAT good. Honestly, I strongly encourage everyone to read all of Lari's works! She's my writer crush, if none of you realized it by now
✦ a bunch of cuties in love by @lavenderspence ↳ hehehehehehe this definitely did not remind me of that one older guy I used to flirt with who had an adorable younger brother that I babysat🤭
✦ schrodinger's cat by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ angst on a Saturday morning is like taking a shot of soju before 11 am, and this one felt like it <3
how about you also comment your top 3 fave fics for this month to spread more love to our great writers?
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ghosts-and-glory · 6 months ago
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Is Shamura training martial arts after being taken into Lamb's cult? If they enjoyed complexity and bloodshed of war than it'd be probably dissapointing for them if they had to... drop it all
Full under the cut because this turned out really long
Upon joining the cult Shamura was a shell of their former self. They join the cult dissenting, the long term effects of the crown still clawing at the edges of their mind, but after a few days they’re mortal, just themself. Without the crown to hold them together they suffer like their injury was yesterday.
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The Lamb has the doctor, Puar, perform their usual tests on them. Shamura is hardly there. They don’t know their own name, can hardly speak, can’t stand or track movement.
There was no wisdom in their slurred words. No power in the way their hands shook.
The outlook is bad.
The Lamb doesn’t really want to help them, after everything, why should they. Shamura who had The Lamb’s entire race and family killed, who killed them aswell and countless of their followers. It would cost them so much, to try and help someone who spent so long just trying to destroy them and everything they had. The time, energy, resources it would cost and they didn’t even know if they could get better.
Deciding it wasn’t worth it was one thing, but getting the other ex bishops to understand was a whole other, even the doctor disagreed with them.
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Dr Puar took on being their primary caregiver. They’d been a doctor for the past hundred years and seen concussions and dementia but nothing nearly as severe as this. They wanted to help Shamura but didn’t know how.
It wasn’t until Narinder joined the cult that The Lamb saw any reason to help Shamura. But there was something wrong with him and Shamura knew something, they just had to get to it.
Kallamar was the ex bishop Puar wanted the help from the most. He was scared of the lamb and red crown but he loved Shamura more.
The Lamb took Puar and Kallamar to the ruins of the temples in Anchordeep and Silk Cradle. They spent days digging through the decimated remains of the libraries for something, anything on this type of injury.
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It seemed that they where looking down possible years of intense recovery. Needed herbs and medicines that may no longer exist, techniques Puar had never heard of. But they would try.
Puar took careful and detailed notes. Timed Shamura’s responses, wrote down everything they said, tracked eating, drinking, sleeping and every symptom they displayed. Improvements where slow and sometimes nonexistent at first. They took full minutes to respond and only in single words, barley moved, couldn’t feed themselves and suffered constant migraines.
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The one thing that seemed to help them the most was their siblings. They didn’t remember them most days but every time one of they came to check in it raised their spirits. One of their faces was the only thing they could focus on sometimes.
Kallamar insisted he wasn’t a doctor but still worked around the infirmary, helping Shamura was the only thing he’d do without complaining. Heket spent hours sitting in silence with them, brought them food and flowers and changed their bandages. Leshy was the only thing that could get them to smile and they where the only person he would ever lower his voice for, he told them stories even though they hardly listened.
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Improvements brought new challenges. They got better at speaking full sentences and following conversations but it revealed how fractured their memory was. Forgetting names, places and important events, how often they forgot where they where, they asked the same questions over and over again.
They complained of seeing and hearing things, phantom pains with seemingly no rhyme or reason. The sun hurt their eyes, rain gave them headaches, always sleeping but always tired. They would suddenly backslide constantly. One day could walk with minimal help and the next, couldn’t even hold a pen in their hand. Have a full conversation one day and hardly spit out their name tomorrow.
Until the day Puar looked Shamura in the eye and for once they saw him. Didn’t look past them with their blank stare but looked at them. They would ask to sit outside at night in the fresh air. They seemed to know now who they are, what they where, what they lost. A tinge of grief in their words.
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Improvements brought frustration. On days they remembered who they where they were overcome with a mix of anger, guilt and despair. They where a god. They had bore down on armies, killed men with a twitch of a finger, brought other gods to their knees, and now they could hardly bring a cup to their mouth.
Emotionally, their siblings said they’d never seen them like this before. Before Shamura could be frustrated but their temper was cold and quiet. Now they wore a short fuse and suffered constant mood swings. It angered them that they couldn’t read, that their hands were numb, that they couldn’t walk without a cane, couldn’t go out in the sun, couldn’t string a full sentence together, couldn’t recognize their siblings faces, couldn’t feed themselves, couldn’t sleep without drugs, everything they lacked and lost wore them down.
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Regardless, they where unusually steadfast. They would always pick back up. If they got frustrated they would try again in a few days. They tried anything Puar asked of them, anything for the smallest iota of improvement.
The outlook was better.
—————
This got out of control and took me like three days between the art and write up. I got really excited when I saw this ask cause the answer is so devastating. If I was taking Narinder’s trauma seriously I’m not gonna just ignore Shamura’s traumatic brain injury.
As a side note, I’m very unsure how to write the medical stuff, my guess is that cotl is based around 1300’s-1700’s but that’s a wide net to cast. My excuse for the stronger understanding of medicine and trauma is magic.
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droaxa · 6 months ago
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✧ tags: yandere cheater x reader, angst, yandere, nsfw content
✧ warnings: obsessive yandere behavior, stalking, nsfw content, cheating, angst, creep behavior, jealousy, grabbing, sexual acts
✧ a/n: you guys wanted both the yan royalty and yan cheater so imma do both ‼️ i’ll post the royalty one later cause you guys are in for a treat
not proofread but enjoy! (ty for the love on the last post as well <3)
part 1 - part 2 - part 3
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cheater bf who sleeps with your friends behind your back. it’s not like you were anything special anyway, he just tolerated you so he could get closer to some real women
cheater bf who makes you beg for the bare minimum: giving you his jacket, holding your hand during a scary movie, etc etc but does all those things for your friends with a charming smile
cheater bf who says you’re overreacting after he holds your friends hand during a scary movie instead of yours
“hey don’t be selfish, poor girl looked like she was gonna cry. what kinda friend are you?”
you miss the way his fingers trailed up her thighs halfway through the movie when you squeeze your eyes shut. terrified of the unfolding movie scene as your bf comforts another girl
cheater bf who has fucked your roommate in your dorm room bed. oh you’re asking why they look sweaty and tired? they were trying to move your bed cause she dropped something behind it ofc.
cheater bf who finally gets caught a year into your relationship after you walk in on him mid-thrust into your ‘friend’ after they both excused themselves to the bathroom during your hangout.
cheater bf who zips up his pants and runs after a sobbing you to explain but stops half way, what was there to explain anyway? you would be heartbroken yes, but he had got what he wanted didn’t he? ignoring the dull tug on his heart he returns to his dorm
ex bf who throws himself on his bed while thinking about you. finally he picks up the lingering sent of you on his bed and various items that belong to your littered across the room. little gifts to him and cards wishing him happiness. maybe you’d become more intertwined in his life than he thought
ex bf that drops your stuff at your new dorm in a cardboard box, unluckily for you, you open it at the same time and are left staring at each other. like a cat you quickly dart out, grab the box, and retreat after locking the door can’t you just look at him once?
ex bf who feels empty after your breakup, he misses your cooking, your nagging for him to take care of himself, your smiles. fuck. what was the point of being free to fuck whoever he wanted if all he could imagine was you?
ex bf who stalks your socials, irritated that you removed him from your posts and blocked him on everything. and one day when he’s on his burner stalking you, a new story pops up. it’s innocent enough, a picture of you at dinner with a small caption “dinner out”, but then he notices the masculine hand on the table across from you wearing a watch not quite made for a woman.
his blood is boiling. you’re his. his girl.
yandere cheater who scours his room for anything that reminds him of you, finally finding a shirt in the back of his closet that he didn’t find earlier. suffocating his face with the soft fabric, moaning as he sniffed the garment
yandere cheater who hurriedly ruts into his hand as he hold the fabric up to his nose, cock leaking as he fucks his hand to your scent. he cums hard, harder than he had with any of your bimbo ‘friends’
yandere cheater who finally realized what he was missing: you. he caves in and incessantly messages and calls you, showing up at your door to win back your love.
yandere cheater who grows tired, he’s always been impatient. he knows what he did was wrong, especially to an angel like you but everyone deserves a second chance right? after all you were his soulmate
yandere cheater who shows up at a cafe you’re at and sits across from you like nothing is wrong. when you get up to leave, he forces you back into the seat. whispering in your ear to not make a scene. pulling out his phone he reveals intimate pictures of you from your relationship.
“it would be a darn shame if anyone saw these hm? your poor mom would be so disappointed that her dear daughter was just passing these around”
your eyes widen and you beg him to delete them, you’ll do anything!
“just come back to me and all these will be gone”
he grins, to wide to be kind. he wouldn’t send them out anyway. your body was his alone to see. but fuck did it have a effect on you, your big eyes fill with caution.
“please there must be-“ he cuts you off.
“there’s no other way than back to me sweets”
once you shakily get up, he throws his arm over your shoulder, keeping you pinned to his side as you both leave the coffee shop. your hot coffee long forgotten on the table as the chilly air hits your faces. your body further fills with despair as you pass the ally next to the shop, spotting the date you were going to meet. face bloodied and body limp against the red brick.
your ex was always far stronger than you, far stronger than anyone else you had met too. his dedication to martial arts was one of the things that had drawn you to him. but now, his vice grip on you as he guides you to his car isn’t to prove his strength to protect you. it’s to intimidate you into giving in to him
and if you didn’t, there would be consequences.
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catpriciousmarjara · 10 months ago
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DP X DC: Dani Does Things and Leaves, Explains Nothing
Heavily inspired by this dp x dc prompt and the comments and reblogs under it:
Please go check it out and @stealingyourbones entire page. They have some great dp x dc content and meta.
Local Ghost Princess Decides to Help Out Fellow Clone, Leaves Chaos Behind, Heroes Left Concerned and Very Confused, More at 10.
Now Dani knew that this world had superheroes. She knew they had an organization of sorts that had a hate-hate relationship with various government entities and a love-hate relationship with the public, depending on who you asked. However she had no intention of being involved with them. She was on vacation after all. Besides this world was just a stopover anyway. Why bother when she wasn't here on official business? But it seemed that while she didn't want anything to do with the heroes, they, however inadvertently, wanted something to do with her. How else will you explain one of the worst cloning results she had ever seen crash into a tree right in front of her while she was enjoying a nice cup of litchi boba tea in the park?
The botched clone job slid down the branches and hit the ground with a thud. She raised an eyebrow at the the rampant malevolent magical lines running through the body exacerbating the overall instability of the clone's anatomy. Clearly this individual had run into an irate mage who cast some sort of destabilizing curse and shot them right out of the sky. Dani was thankful this was an isolated section of the park and that she had put a rudimentary avoidance ward over the area. Otherwise, a superhero crashing into a tree would've caused quite the ruckus and interrupted her boba time.
She took a sip of her boba and crouched down to examine the conked out hero. This one was the one they called Superboy wasn't he? She grimaced at the state of his engineering. Whoever did his cloning did not know what they were dealing with. Her own cloning went better and she was ectoplasmic goop half the time. And Vlad was dealing with halfa DNA! Probably the most complicated genetic material in existence. Superboy over here was constructed from actual tangible genetic sources and yet...ugh.
Honestly speaking beings of this plane probably wouldn't have noticed anything wrong. A level down in power scale compared to the individual who acted as genetic donor, most likely that Superman guy, and random instances of destabilization would most likely be the extend of their knowledge regarding their faulty cloning. And when those instances of instability gradually ironed themselves out they probably patted themselves on the back and thought all was well. She should cut them some slack.
Dani hummed as she chewed on her boba pearls. Unfortunately she wasn't known to be the most merciful when it came to ensuring the well-being of clones.
Suckers probably didn't pick up the fact they unleashed a possible catastrophe upon their world. Superboy was obviously fashioned from Kryptonian DNA. A species known for becoming near godlike upon absorbing solar energy from a yellow sun. That means that their bodies have mechanisms at play beyond simple biology. Specifically energy pathways and an energy processing core. Superboy wasn't a level down in power from Superman because of some biological imperfection, he was weaker because of flawed energy absorption and storage. And that meant that his energy core was unbalanced, and once it reached a particular threshold...well its gonna be a spectacular light show this side of the galaxy that's for sure. Of course it was just a possibility. There was no guarantee he would reach that threshold in his lifetime. Unless he ran into a white mage who was vicious enough to cast a juiced up imbalance curse that is. And what do you know! Turns out you can organically be that unlucky!
She put down her cup and ran a simple diagnostics. Sure enough the magic had intensified the issue. This man needed help, the kind of help that wasn't usually available in this part of the omniverse. But she just so happened to pass by and just so happened to have expertise in this field so today was somehow simultaneously Superboy's lucky and unlucky day. He really was going through it.
As to why she would interfere that's easy. She was the Guardian of Cloned Beings after all. She can't have a fellow clone suffer could she? And plus, what were the chances that he would end up like this right in front of one of the only beings that would know how to fix the issue? Dani grinned in glee. Truly the laws of causality worked in intriguing ways.
She stood up and let her talons manifest, plucking the strings of SuperboyConnerKon-el's make and striking them one by one in the tune of an old Krytonian melody. Shame what happened to them really, but all things had their fate. It truly was great to see some of them survive and make a home elsewhere. Dani wished them the best.
As she worked, untangling knots, and straightening out blockages, the hero finally began to stir. His eyes opened and they were understandably unfocused. Disoriented and confused, he looked kinda like a bamboozled Cujo and Dani felt her lips twitch up in a toothy smile. For some reason that seemed to startle him. She mentally frowned. Did he expect her not to smile at him? That would've been rude of her. Dani might be a gremlin but she was never impolite.
"I'm just about done with the curse", she told him. "Leaching out the corrosive magic was easy but I need to repair your energy coils and that's tricky. Don't worry though. Everything's on the house. Always did have a soft spot for the House of El ever since my aunt married into it for a short while."
Dani pulled a particularly stubborn power node open. "I would like your permission before doing that through. Body autonomy, informed decisions and and all! So yes or no? You'd detonate like a bomb if I didn't though."
The young hero's eyes widened. He still didn't seem to know what was going on so she hit him with a short term clarity spell. And a small information spell to cover her bases. That got him to gather his wits enough and she watched as he processed the influx of information. His complexion was ashen when he got through the bundle and he finally managed a shaky nod. Good enough.
Dani smiled at the Kryptonian. "Great! Now this would take like twenty minutes give or take five. You can sleep now." She promptly knocked him out cold and cancelled the spells so as to not overload his brain.
And just as she predicted, twenty minutes later, she plucked the last string with a flick of her wrist and surveyed her handiwork. Exemplary if she said so herself. One of her best work! Cheerfully she shot an awakening spell at Kon-el and crouched down again, patting his head.
"You might need to be careful for a few days while your body adjusts to its new energy capacity and conductivity. Your overall system has been optimized as well so be careful", she told the groggy young man.
She paused. "And don't worry. I didn't access your mind. This was all strictly physical repair aimed at preventing you from exploding like a supernova and taking the planet with you."
And once again that part made his eyes widen. Good. He truly understood the urgency. Or that could just be him being loopy after solar energy overload. It was a bright, sunny day after all.
She stood up, creating a portal to the next world on her itinerary. She looked back at the most likely high as a kite Kryptonian. "You kinda owe me for all that extra work hero! I might just come to collect one of these days!", she joked as the portal swallowed her body and she was lost to the spaces between spaces.
She'd already told him it was all on the house so Dani didn't think that anyone would take that last part seriously. However she forgot the fact that one Conner Kent was in her own words 'high as a kite' and hence might miss some crucial details.
She also forgot to leave behind an explanation packet.
And thus she was utterly unaware of the chaos she left in her wake, happily traveling through the multiverse.
..............................................................................................................................
"So you're telling me that not only did someone find me when I was out cold and get rid of the spell, but they also rearranged my guts and gave me an upgrade?"
"...Yeah."
"What the fuck?"
..............................................................................................................................
"Conner, do you remember anything? Anything at all? Whatever they did required some serious magical power. We don't know why they did it or how. For all we know they could've done something dangerous that we can't detect yet."
"Litchi boba tea".
"Kon what the hell?"
..............................................................................................................................
"...Its in bits and pieces...but I'm pretty sure there was a woman?...white hair, green eyes...something something on the house...something about an aunt and the House of El?...and there was this strange white symbol on her chest and this really soft music was playing that went something like this...(confused humming noises)...and something about me owing her?"
"Kara? Why are you looking at me like that? What's wrong?"
..............................................................................................................................
"Let me get this straight, Superboy was healed by the Kryptonian primordial goddess of portals, messengers, travelers and other such domains, and not only did she save him but also gave him a tune up? And explicitly said that he owes her now? And this powerful divine being, who is also supposed to be the daughter of Krypton's Death God according to legends mind you, is most likely still on earth with motives unknown? Plus your entire House is descended from her family?"
"...Yeah that about sums it up."
"..."
..............................................................................................................................
"Oh man why did this happen just when I was going to go on vacation? Why couldn't the Death God or whatever reschedule?"
"Death gods notoriously don't reschedule, they're death gods. Also she's the daughter of a death god, not one herself. Most death gods are also famously fair. If not fair by our standards, fair by theirs".
"...That's good to know?"
"I confess I don't know about the fairness of children of death gods however".
"...great. Thanks anyway J'onn".
"You're welcome".
..............................................................................................................................
"You okay there man? Someone just rifled through your body and did who knows what...that's gotta be terrifying. You want to talk? We're all here for you, you know that right?"
" Thanks guys. And yeah it was freaky. But apparently I would've exploded and blown up the planet with me if she didn't do that so I guess I'm more grateful than scared."
"...Explode and blown up the what now?"
..............................................................................................................................
"Is there anything more we should know about Clark?"
"Legends say she has a brother and he's associated with great calamities?"
"...."
"Bruce? You alright?"
..............................................................................................................................
DPXDC refuses to be done with me. Leave me be accursed crossover! Leave me be!
(Btw Kon didn't make the connection because he was really out of it, and not because Clark and Kara didn't introduce him to Kryptonian culture.)
Thoughts and suggestions are welcome!
2K notes · View notes
twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 10 months ago
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IF YOU ASK ME TO LEAVE, 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
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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. ”… 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. the 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, some way, you manage 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.
a chuckle of your own drips into the air, 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 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.
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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. ”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. you won’t give him the satisfaction.
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.
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