#flu resistance
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I FINALLY COULD DO SOMETHING DECENT than publish sjldjaks ToT It's not the comic (god i forgot how difficult it was to clean them up haha)
BUT buuuuut it's something else, you know IIII LOOVVE truffula flu sooo i have a small project (smaaaaalll) in mind I DON'T PROMISE ANYTHING because it's difficult JASJJAJ but well whatever, HELLOUU GUYS again, how is everything here??!?!
#one of the more things i want to learn and improve is how to make backgrounds ugghhh#BTW sorry for the texts in spanish....JSKSJKA#i was on pinterest looking for a ref to be able to draw woods AND i saw them....and i couldn't resist drawing them#i also want to share the speedpaint of this because UUAGAHAG took me HOURS#i do not translate the texts because they are arg expressions and it is not easy to translate them JAKAJJAA#i mean yes i can but the joke is lost#so here it goes#in the first image Rocky says âhow confluent this house is mamitaaâ i dont know how to translate âmamitaâ TvT#and in the bottom one basically swag says to entre âdumb why are you so dumb? dumb haha you couldn't be that dumbâ JAKSJAKJS#but well again SORRY for disappearing....this always happens to me TT i promise to improve aaaaa#onceler#the onceler#art#truffula flu#truffula flu au#entre onceler#swagtre#swag onceler#theyouthfultycoon#survivialswag
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Ambrose and Elliot #18
Masterpost
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Warnings: sickness
Elliot had an itch in his throat. At first he thought it was leftover from screaming during Jamesâs visit, but that was a while ago and it hadnât gone away.Â
He kept on with his chores regardless. It was his place to serve, and a little cold shouldnât stop him. Master had been rewarding him at the end of every day with a shiny gold coin and Elliot didnât want to disappoint him. It would be just as bad as the beating that would follow.
He was tired now, too. It wasnât the satisfying kind that heâd gotten used to after a day of being a good boy. Instead of sleeping pleasant and deep, he tossed and turned at night. Cold and hot all at once, and his beloved blanket wasnât doing its job. It wasnât fair. Elliot had been eating more than heâd ever gotten before. He slept well. He had no open wounds (the scratches had faded just like Ambrose said), so there was nothing to infect. It wasnât fair!
And it wouldnât be fair to Master Ambrose to stop working. So he didnât.
___________________
He couldnât get out of bed. Oh gods, he couldnât get out of bed.
The fire had gone out during the night, and the fall air chilled him. He shivered, burrowing into the quilt, blanket, and pillows. His jaw barely creaked open enough to breathe, as his nose was clogged. Why did everything hurt? His limbs weighed him down and his muscles protested at the slightest movement.
Light began to filter through the windows. Dawn was approaching. His room faced the sunrise, and it was too bright. Just yesterday, heâd cleaned the windows and now he couldnât get up to draw the curtains closed. How pathetic.Â
He watched the beams of light grow longer on his floor. Master Ambrose would be awake soon. Please help me.Â
___________________
Elliot wasnât up and about yet. Odd. He wasnât in the kitchen, or the dining room, or even outside watching the sunrise.Â
Ambrose knocked on the bedroom door. He heard a faint whine from behind the wood.
âEllie,â he called, turning the knob, âIâm coming in, sweetheart.â
Elliot was bundled in both his quilt and blanket. Shivering and squinting, he panted and looked absolutely awful. The fire was out, and cold.Â
Ambrose crossed the room, closing the curtains. Dimming the light would help Elliotâs obvious headache.Â
He arranged a few logs in the fireplace, striking a flint to light them. He would need to bring more wood from a neighboring room later.
___________________
âOh Ellie,â said Master, sitting on the edge of his bed. âIâm so sorry.âÂ
Masterâs cool hand brushed away his sweaty hair to take his temperature. Master tutted, and guilt swirled in his gut. If Ambrose wasnât panicked, it must not be that bad. If it wasnât that bad, Elliot should be working.Â
He tried getting up, but Master Ambrose gently pushed him back onto the bed.
âNone of that, love. Just stay in bed, and Iâll take care of everything.â Elliot was relieved. Now he could rest and obey at the same time. Heâd make it up to Master later.
He let Ambrose rearrange the blankets, untangling them from between his legs. The fire was already warming the room and the pleasantness made his eyelids heavy.Â
___________________
Ambrose let Elliot doze as he tiptoed down the stairs. Luckily, heâd made and canned a huge batch of chicken stock for soup season. Made with roasted chicken bones and bits with peppercorns, bundles of herbs, garlic, and vegetables, the hearty stock would be perfect for Elliot. And it would provide some fluid and nutrients.Â
He grabbed a pint from the storeroom and set to work. He drizzled some oil in a copper pot and set the heat. Ambrose minced some garlic and ginger and tossed it in the pot. Ginger would help reduce the croaking pain in Elliotâs throat. He diced an onion while the aromatics became fragrant. He added the onion and gave it a stir. Ambrose uncapped the pint of stock, and carefully plopped it into the pot. It was so rich, it had partially congealed. Perfect.
Ambrose held off on adding potatoes. They would be fine for Elliot if cut small enough, but Ambrose knew swallowing would be tough for him. Better to start off with a thinner soup and gradually thicken it as Elliot recovered. Instead, he added some cream for protein. A generous amount of salt, and it was nearly ready.
Soon it was the perfect temperature and the scent was delightful. He ladled a portion into a wooden bowl and carried it up to Elliotâs room.
___________________
Elliot tried to sleep, but the rumble of his stomach kept the fuzziness in his brain from working. The ache in his joints was uncomfortable, and he just wanted everything to go away. He felt so heavy.
âLove, Iâm coming in,â said Master.
Elliot saw the bowl and spoon as Master entered. His stuffy nose kept him from smelling anything, but even the promise of food made his mouth water. Master Ambrose sat the bowl on his nightstand, and helped him sit up. Ambrose even propped up the pillows to keep his head from lolling, and Elliot was too tired to even feel ashamed for being useless.Â
___________________
He couldnât lift the spoon. Damn. He should have thought of that.
Elliot stared at the soup, despair on his face. Elliot was so fond of food, and for good reason. Sympathy panged in Ambroseâs heart. It must be killer for Elliot to be so close and yet unable to eat without assistance.Â
Ambrose put the bowl to Elliotâs lips, tilting it ever so slightly. Heâd intentionally made it just warm enough to eat right away, thank goodness. Elliot drank, his eyes fluttering. After a moment, Ambrose pulled away to let him breathe.Â
The look Elliot gave him was halfway murderous and it was almost comical if it werenât for everything else.Â
âI donât want you to choke,â explained Ambrose, and Elliot settled down. Hiccups wouldnât help either. They were unpleasant if your throat was raw.Â
Ambrose fed him until the bowl was empty. Elliot had finished it quickly, drinking it down as greedily as a bottle-fed lamb.Â
âLetâs wait to see how your stomach does,â said Ambrose. âIâll get you more if you can keep it down, okay?â
Elliot gave him a small smile; he understood.Â
âDo you want to sleep?âÂ
âMhm.â
Ambrose helped him lay down again. Heâd have to stay by Elliotâs side today. Thankfully it was the third day of the week, so he didnât have to put out notice that he had closed.
But as he grabbed a book from his shelves and went back to Elliotâs side, he wondered. How did he get sick so fast? He understood why Elliot was hit so hard; he was still not physically recovered from before, and the stress of the recent fight must have contributed. But these things didnât happen overnight.Â
He watched Elliotâs chest rise and fall. The soup had loosened his stuffy nose a little, but he still couldnât breathe through it. Ambrose would have to whip up some medicine to make that easier.
If Elliot had hidden his developing sickness from him, Ambrose needed to know. Heâd ask as soon as Elliot could tell him.
___________________
Elliotâs fever broke as he slept, but a cough had taken its place. Ambrose dashed downstairs and hastily made a salve for Elliotâs chest. It was a sticky thing, full of strong scented herbs that would help Elliot breathe.Â
Carefully, he pulled back the bedclothes and reached under Elliotâs nightshirt. The salve was still warm as he didnât wait for it to set. He smeared a generous amount on Elliot.Â
He barely stirred at the touch. It worried Ambrose, but at least he was sleeping.Â
___________________
Elliot woke up groggy. His head was stuffed with cotton but he could breathe a bit better. Ambrose sat next to him, a book in his hands. He had stayed, and that meant the world to him.
âHow are you feeling?â asked Ambrose, setting aside the book.Â
âBetter,â he croaked. And then he coughed and Ambrose sighed a little. His shirt stuck to his chest when he coughed and it felt⌠sticky under there. Alarmed, he clutched at his shirt and looked down. No blood. And hey, his arm was responding now. But what was it?
âWhat- whatâs on-â he coughed again.Â
âJust some breathing cream. Iâm sorry I didnât wake you to put it on. You needed to rest.â
Oh. That was nice. It seemed to be working, at least.
âDo you want some more soup?â
âMhm.â
___________________
The next few days were a blur of tissues and various teas and soups. Elliotâs fever had returned a couple times, and scared the hell out of Ambrose. Heâd even gone delirious at one point and begged Ambrose to let him go. It broke his heart.
Elliot had nightmares, too. Eventually Ambrose started reading to him, and that seemed to help.
His cough had gone from a dry nuisance to a wet hack but a steady treatment of the cream and hearty, steaming food kept the worst of it at bay. At one point heâd hacked up something green and nasty and the cough significantly diminished.Â
Elliot kept everything he ate down, and Ambrose was proud to say Elliot hadnât lost any weight while bedridden.Â
By the third day, Elliot was up and moving. His cough was gone, and the weakness subsided into a simple tiredness that could be treated with an afternoon nap. The worst of it was over, and Elliot would be fine.
Thank the gods.Â
taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi
#SICKFIC SICKFIC#i was ~inspired~ by both a spanish flu and a bubonic plague documentary#Ambrose doesnt get sick here bc he has an immune system with 100+ years experience and also is perpetually 25 years old#got that +75 advantage at 'resist disease' rolls#ambrose and elliot#my writing#whump#slavery whump
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in a shocking turn of events, i managed to avoid getting covid from my brother only to be promptly infected with a cold/flu from my father. this is the first time i've been sick in nearly 5 years. i forgot how much it SUCKS honestly
#i cannot believe#my diligence. my care. my beautiful act of avoiding illness. it's all crumples now because my father failed to inform me he was sick#tbf my brother ALSO failed to inform but my body is just. covid resistant i guess#flu vulnerable and covid resistant. oy#now i'm just making soup and hoping this goes away fast
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alright it's time to find smth out
please note that with labels like flexitarian especially it's not about 'oh i never eat these things'; it's a sliding label with things like vegan and vegetarian and pescatarian where you can identify however you feel comfortable. some people just eat meat etc on special occasions or when they go out or when they don't have time/spoons to cook something nutritious, and that's perfectly valid!! whatever you're able to do has an impact that's felt and there's no pressure to do it to whatever standard we have of 'perfect' in our heads <3
#bringing gender labels to vegetarianism#kind of. we need a lot more validation in these spaces#again want to stress so much. literally no judgement based on what you choose. the important part is if we can we do smth#and if you can't then i believe you and you don't need to worry bc those of us who can are doing what we can#vegan#vegetarian#pescatarian#flexitarian#climate action#climate justice#food security#antibiotic resistance#bird flu#biosecurity#public health#human rights#feminism#biodiversity collapse
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the various (mis)adventures of a certain paladin
#got hit hard by that flu bug so I've mostly been sleeping but had a little more energy today#I could NOT resist the hag's deal in this playthrough#so now she has a weird eye :))#not very paladin-like of her but she also craves a little chaos so. it works out :3#bg3#bg3 spoilers#lysander
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17 for saphyre?
This is an interesting question for sure! Ty!!!
â Do they tend to run fevers? How do they take their temperature?
Short answer is yes! hehe you'll see. In the world most of my ocs live called AnimalĂan even if they've human-like body types they're mostly regular animals/mythological beings and such stuff ('Cause there's only 7 half-humans who exists there, one of them is Snehan).
So, Saphyre is a spider: they're ectotherm or "cold blood" animals whose temperature regulation is determined by external elements of the environment. She hates summer a lot 'cause of the heat and she tends to be very feverish at times. On winters too, she tends to caught terrible and miserable colds as the temperature goes lower.
As she's part of the royalty (literally a princess), she has some knowledge about magic and she can identify her health state by using a tactic "generic wellbeing factor" that displays a whole "clinic analysis" of the user. Most times she knows by her instincts, meteorologically speaking, when the environment is changing. That would explain how she can take care of herself properly on either situation or to acknowledge a disruption of her own temperature (she's pretty unmindful at times tho,, that's why she can't escape being sick at least two times a year).
#ty for the ask once again!#i love grambling abt my ocs sm <3#saphy is kind of clueless but she has 2 partners that adore her no matter what and that are there to take care of her#specially Snehan tho#'cause they're a sorcerer âmasteredâ in healing arts#Squalo would probably sob or have a heart attack every time she falls ill tho#as she tends to have long-term fevers than the usual symptoms of a cold or the flu#but also 'cause Squalo had been sick like... twice in his fcking life#he's a shark so yeah! bless their immune systems đ#spiders don't get sick as much tho irl but i just COULDN'T RESIST THE URGE to make her vulnerable to sicknesses#with the NOSE SHAPE she has. like.#it would be a waste of potential#and it fits her character too so this stays >>>#snzblr#sneezeblr#snezcanonasks#saphyre o/c
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I got an awful fever in Spetember 2020 that lasted several days, but it was just the fever and a lack of energy to do stuff around the house. I didn't have any of other sympthoms associated with Covid-19.
People who caught it put in the tags what year it was and how bad it was and if you had any side effects
#reblog#I've just caught it!!!#* hysterical laugh *#3 years the fort resisted and it was a damn trip to Rome to ruin me#(the trip was actually fun but a few inconveniences happened and covid is cherry on top)#anyway so far it's just a mild flu I had it worse#(I am fully jabbed also)#queue
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Building Your Immune System to Resist Cold & Flu
Boost your immune system's strength during the cold and flu season with a curated selection of foods and supplements. Get expert advice on how to stay healthy by building your immune system to resist colds and flu.
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Who Started The Fire?
From the prompts list:
âThatâs my emotional support entity of questionable moral standing.â
Batman stared down the two teens standing before him. The boy was pointedly looking anywhere but the Batâs face, finding more interest in the dirt and gravel crunching under his shoes. Meanwhile, the girl stood with her arms crossed, head held high, meeting Batmanâs gaze with a defiant glare that wouldnât be out of place on any of his own childrenâs faces.
Behind them lay the smoking remains of what was once a warehouse that had been used as a front for a weapons smuggling operation that the bats had collectively spent the past few weeks investigating. Although their investigation had taken longer than anticipated thanks to this groupâs rather impressive security, they had been so close to a breakthroughâŚwhen the place had gone up in an inferno.
When the Gotham vigilantes had first arrived on the scene the fire had been so intense that theyâd had to put in their gas masks to avoid any inhaling any of the thick black smoke from not only the fire, but also whatever chemicals may have potentially been within the building that would have been released into the air.
Batmanâs initial hypothesis had been that the group had become aware of their investigation and burned the place to avoid any evidence being discovered while they moved locations. However, that theory had been shelved when Red Hood had announced the presence of charred bodies amongst the rubble, and evidence of explosives having been used in multiple area where the buildingâs structure had been the weakest. Whoever had been inside had not had any warning of the blaze that had swallowed the building too fast for them to get to safety, and with the structure being compromised from the explosions all exists had been blocked, preventing the inhabitantâs escape. Red Hood and Nightwing had been discussing potential suspects as Batman and Red Robin searched for any evidence that could have survived the destruction, when a clattering sound followed by the sound of voices hushing each other had altered all of the on scene bats to the presence of possibly several unknowns.
The two teens had been apprehended quickly and ushered to the side, far enough away from the scene of the fire to avoid them overhearing details of the investigation and to prevent any potential tampering. Accidental or otherwise. The teens had been stubborn in their refusal to answer any of the batâs questions to their presence. Nobody knew why they were there, where they had come from, and they had even refused to disclose their names. Oracle, unfortunately, was sick with the flu and had been gently ordered to rest by Agent A. Batman was nevertheless confident that they would be able to discover their identities quickly either once they had returned to the cave or if they could get the kids to talk.
He would have asked Red Hood to speak with the teens, he was the best with kids. And if caught up in anything illegal they often seemed to respond better to him due to his more ambiguous morals and reputation for ensuring kidâs safety. Both from rouges and in some cases, the rest of the bats and birds. But he had been needed in Crime Ally after he had been alerted to a gunfight breaking out between two gangs who had been more hostile and antagonistic in recent months. Nightwing had accompanied him, and Spoiler had diverted from her patrol route to assist. That left Batman and Red Robin behind to deal with both the police and the frustratingly stubborn teens.
Batman resisted the urge to punch the bridge of his nose as yet another question was blatantly ignored by both kids. The boy had begun fiddling with the sleeved of his letterman jacket and the girl had taken to checking her manicured nails for any dirt or imperfections.
Just as he was about to turn the questioning over to one of the on scene police officers, a writhing mass of shadow had emerged from the girlâs shadow. Two tendrils of black smoke reached out to wrap themselves around the wrists and hands of both teens, who had in turn glanced down at their hands and smiled.
âWeâre fine,â the boy had muttered quietly, âno need to worry.â
âWhat is that?â Batman asked, eyeing the mass with a cautious suspicion. He wanted to believe it wasnât hostile given the kids reactions to it. But this was Gotham.
The girl shot him another glare, one hand on her hip while the other remained in the hold of whatever the shadowy mass was.
âThat sir,â she spat out the first word with such venom to her tone that Batman almost flinched, âis our emotional support entity of questionable moral standing.â
#dp x dc#dc x dp#dpxdc#dcxdp#Danny phantom x dc#Danny phantom#dc#Batman#nightwing#red hood#red robin#oracle#agent a#spoiler#paulina sanchez#Kwan#bruce wayne#dick grayson#Jason Todd#tim drake#alfred pennyworth#stephanie brown#barbara gordon#originally I was going to make it Kwan and Val#but then I thought Paulina would be funnier to have glaring Batman down#I wasnât sure what to do for dialogue though#sorry about that#and once again Iâm not really sure how to continue this or what I was going for#is the shadow entity Danny? Ellie? Dan? someone else?#who knows
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making every single transition in my essay "but first"
#well#diss chapter#i want to repeat all my overused words so bad#everything details everything#radio radio radio radio#sickposting#woo#i get such a desire to Post when I'm sick#i resisted it when i had COVID but this flu is really taking it out of my#me
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^^^^ please do, there's already antibiotic resistance issue where basically the bacteria that still survived develops resistance and now you if you're lucky have to take another antibiotic and if not quite literally impossible to treat it and die.
And yes not every infection is bacterial so like if you still feel the same for like 10 days at least OR your symptoms got worse OR just really bad fever that still there for 2-3 days you can see a dr and get the medicine given to you.
Hey hi I've run into some truly galling information on tiktok so like
Y'all. If your doctor prescribes you antibiotics FUCKING TAKE ALL OF THEM OH MY GOD
If you stop when you 'feel better' you are not only allowing the infection to grab ahold stronger and set deeper but congratulations! You just signed up to be the incubator for the world's next variation on antibiotic resistant strains of what the fuck ever! Good job.
I cannot begin to describe the sheer number of commenter I just saw on a tiktok where the person was explaining how they didn't feel well, were they were telling them to 'just take the extra antibiotics you have lying around your house' fucking NO
Different antibiotics are for different things, even IF you actually were infected with something antibiotics can treat you won't have the right one you won't have enough and you're already fucked regardless because there were never Extra's to begin with! If there are pills left in the bottle you did it wrong.
Jesus h christ. If you're prescribed pills take them as instructed. Please.
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IF YOU ASK ME TO LEAVE, IâLL STAY FOREVER ; SATORU GOJO
synopsis; satoru is stubborn; even when plagued by such a high fever, he insists thereâs no need to take care of him. thankfully, youâre 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, heâs cute when heâs sick but still manages to be a lil shit <33, heâs also a huge sap you have been warned!!
a/n; what can i say, im a proud member of the âsatoru gojo needs to be babied relentlesslyâ club <33 heâs 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
youâve never seen satoru like this before.
head buried into a big pillow, white locks tousled and sticking to his forehead â 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.
itâs nothing like the joyous, loud, cocky satoru youâre so used to. heâs weak. heâs fatigued.
heâs completely, undoubtedly sick.
âreally, baby,â he slurs, raspy and dry. still attempting to raise himself up, arms straining under the weight of his shivering body. âthereâs no need fâ ââ
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.
âah. thatâsâŚâ he tries to speak, a disgruntled hum muffled by the sheets. â⌠annoying.â
satoru sounds frustrated. you can tell heâs resisting the urge to close his eyes, a little helpless, unable to even move properly, like a fish out of water. heâs still breathing unevenly, still sweating, still burning up â you can practically feel it, from where youâre standing, crouched down by his bed.
youâve never, ever seen satoru like this. youâve seen him sniffling during flu season, wrecked with headaches during rainy season. youâve seen him vulnerable; not many times, but enough that it matters.Â
but youâve never seen him like this.
(and it makes you terribly anxious.)
âsatoru, please just ââ you croak, gnawing at your bottom lip. trying desperately to swallow the worry in your chest. âdonât overdo it. please?â
you can hear the anxious little timbre of your own voice, and you can feel the frown tugging at your lips. but you canât do anything to quell the insistent pitter patter of your heartbeat, the ache that accompanies it. satoruâs lying down, still trying to gather the strength to reassure you, even through the feverish haze clouding his mind.Â
he looks so small.
this wasnât 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 crĂŞpe stand heâs 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 â 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 canât 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 wouldnât let up until you brought out the 𼺠emojis.Â
and then he told you he was fine. itâs all he ever is, apparently.
my throatâs just a little scratchy, is all. wouldnât want you to miss out on the voice you love so much, yeah?
give me an hour and iâll be perfect for you. <3
moron.
heâs curled up in a fetal position, trying to stop himself from shivering, muttering little reassurances under his breath that you canât make out. wearing ripped jeans and a nice jacket, like he was fully prepared to head out like this â 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 shouldâve 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 theyâre coming from you.
and here you are. in satoruâs house, in front of his bed, trying to convince him that he is, in fact, sick.Â
but he just wonât listen.
âjust â gimme a couple minutes, honey?â your boyfriend mumbles, barely coherent, stringing words together haphazardly. awfully dizzy. âi just need the painkillers to kick in, i promise i ââ
âsatoru.â
thereâs a sad tint to your voice, now. unmistakable. one that satoru notices, even through the feverish, muddy filter over his reality.Â
and it makes him quiet down.
(he doesnât 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 â 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. youâre frustrated, and exasperated.
but most of all, youâre worried.
âgo back to sleep,â you hum, a gentle command. your hand finds his, cold skin meeting warm, tracing circles over his palm. âiâll take care of you.â
âthereâs no need,â he mutters, instantaneous. so used to denying kindness.Â
but he curls an arm around your waist, anyway, tugging you closer; a little needy. like youâre much too far away for his liking. finally beginning to settle down, coaxed into resting by the soft touches your grace him with. itâs 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 canât 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.Â
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.Â
so youâre delicate, as you trace little hearts into his skin, delicate as you maneuver his body enough to peel the layers of clothing off him â 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, youâre sure, still agonizing over the date heâs missing out on. as if anything matters more than his health.
but it doesnât 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 â and your hand stays between his locks until youâre sure heâs asleep. his breathing mellows out, his grip around your waist loosens, seeking comfort from you even in his dreams.
youâd 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 mightâve sighed in faux exasperation, and teased him a little, but it still wouldâve made you feel happy. useful. and you wouldâve done it in a heartbeat. maybe, if you just prove that you can take care of him properly, heâll 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.
satoruâs 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 youâre almost certain he only keeps around for white noise. such are the ways of the rich, you suppose. he doesnât invite you over very often, so youâve never had the chance to get very affiliated with the space. itâs always the other way around â him, waiting for you on the couch when you get home, chirping out an unconvincing donât 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 â he sleeps a lot better that way. thatâs 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 arenât really sure how to even approach that subject. some part of you fears itâd be too much, too intimate, that heâd pack his bags and run away. bringing all his secrets with him, that soft laughter youâve grown so fond of. so you figure itâs 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. thatâs safe for him.
and now that youâve seen his home up close â if you can even call it that â you think youâre starting to understand his preference. because itâs spacious, yes, but also empty. save for expensive furniture and fake houseplants, there isnât anything to indicate that the apartment belongs to him, that he feels comfortable there. like he hasnât even bothered to make it his. like itâs about to be sold, and youâre just one of the potential buyers, checking the place out. admiring the patterns of the floorboards and the walls.
it doesnât feel like satoru at all.Â
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 donât think heâs touched since he finished spiderman 2. a king sized bed, that makes him look like a spoiled little princess when heâs 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.
thereâs 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. youâd live in it if you could.Â
something constricts, inside your chest â 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, shouldnât it? itâs 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.
satoruâs loneliness is a subtle thing. flexible, alert, slipping away at the slightest sign of knowing eyes. for someone whoâs so often surrounded by people, cracking jokes and laughing louder than anyone else, he doesnât seem to make any noise when heâs alone. he curls into himself, just a bit, and a kind of reminiscence smooths over the contours of his face.Â
thatâs 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 theyâll give him the answers he seeks once they bear fruit.
but the moment you come into view, he smiles. knowing you wonât push it â that youâll let him take his time. that youâll let him flee, just a little.Â
still, you canât help but wish heâd lean on you a little more. you wish you could chase his loneliness away with a pitchfork, but itâs a fickle creature. you somehow doubt he wants to part with it.Â
all you can do is love him. love him, love him, and love him some more; until heâs had his fill.
(youâre not sure he ever will. itâs a good thing, a very good thing, because youâre almost certain youâll never run out.)Â
and thatâs why youâre 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 itâll 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.Â
you know who it is, though. never mind the fact that heâs the only other person in the apartment; you know itâs him by his touch alone, the weight of his arms, that particular scent that surrounds him. like memories of summer.
itâs 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 doesnât even get the chance to speak.
âsatoru ââ 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. heâs still so warm, too warm. âwhat are you doing here? you should be resting.âÂ
your boyfriend mumbles something, under his breath, something that your ears canât quite digest. he shifts, a little, as if getting ready to put on some sort of act â to smile and joke, or laugh and tease you. you can imagine what heâd say if he wasnât in such a feverish state; heâd hug you from behind, a low purr of whatâcha up to? whispered right into your ear. then youâd jolt, and heâd 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.
âcâmon, you need to lie down.â 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. âthe soupâll be finished soon, okay?â
â⌠you made,â he tries, syllables falling from his lips haphazardly. âsoup ââ a series of coughs. they cut him off, and the worry in your chest only deepens.Â
âdonât push yourself, okay? youâre really sick, dummy.â satoru pouts, but doesnât say anything, only clinging to you tighter when you usher him away. âletâs go back to your room, alright?â
but he wonât budge. heâs so sleepy, so sick and delirious, putting all his body weight on you. you try your best not to stumble beneath it.
âhoney,â you plead, holding him securely in your embrace. his arms around your waist, your hands on his shoulders. âwork with me, please? just gotta get you back to bed ââ
ââsâŚâ he whispers, suddenly, a raspy little thing. scratchy, meek, awfully earnest; you wonder if heâs too sick not to be. â⌠too lonely without you.âÂ
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 doesnât keep you close. heâs holding you as if pleading for comfort, for a touch of safety. as if he needs you. if his meek little admission hadnât already melted your heart the marrow, that thought certainly wouldâve 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. itâs a wonder your knees donât buckle.
gently, you let your hand trail upwards, palm smoothing down his hair. softly, like heâs a clingy, overgrown cat. âsorry,â you start, just a little breathless. âiâll be with you, okay? wonât leave you alone. i promise.â
thereâs 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.
âtoru, gotta go finish that soup. ân make you some tea.â 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. âplease, sweetie? it wonât take long. i promise. you can go back to sleep.â
another groggy huff. youâre both still standing by the edge of the bed, and satoru still wonât let you leave. all you can do is sigh, smearing a little kiss against his neck.Â
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 â as long as your lips stay pressed against his jaw. before he can realize whatâs 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.
âiâll hurry, toru. be a good boy and stay here, alright?âÂ
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 heâs resting on. blinking sluggishly, grunting a little in response.Â
when you scurry off the bed and make your way towards the door, you glance back at him. heâs still looking in your direction, with half-lidded eyes, and your chest aches. âiâll be back soon, baby,â you try to soothe him. âtry to sleep.â
this time, you hurry. body working almost on autopilot, images of your boyfriend still tugging at your heartstrings like heâs arranging an orchestra, moving your legs forward. before you know it, youâre 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 â 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.Â
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.Â
âcareful,â 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 canât even seem to form words correctly â all satoru can focus on is you. your movements, the lilt of your voice, a cold hand dulling the heat of his forehead. Â
his fever still hasnât gone down. you try and muster a smile, but youâre sure it must look painfully coated in unease. crouching down, you place your elbows on the bed, your jaw meeting the mattress. youâre at eye level with him, now.
âhey,â you start, low and comforting. you donât want to be too loud. âsorry it took so long.â
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 â lips quick to find his forehead. a barely audible sigh leaves him, and you smile.
âdâyou think you can eat?â you whisper, gazing at him fondly. treating him a little like a baby, maybe, but you canât help it when heâs like this. quiet as a mouse. âi made soup and tea⌠sound okay?â
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.Â
â⌠okay. think you can sit up, toru?â
once again, your boyfriend only hums â 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.
âthank you.â 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. âhere. it should help with your throat, so try to drink a bit, okay? sâ got honey in it.â
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, itâs hot, you think he must have managed to burn his tongue.Â
satoru keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to worry you. but he canât 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 canât 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 heâs in a fever dream. youâre sitting by the bedside, so patient, so caring. he canât take his eyes off you, even now. clearing his throat, attempting to get used to speaking again. âthanks.â
the mutter sounds strained, but slightly easier on the ears, easier to make out than before. courtesy of the honey, you assume. gosh, you hadnât realized youâd begun to miss his voice so much.Â
âno problem,â you hum, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. âthink you can eat something? or is that too much?â
ââcourse,â he croaks. thereâs a slight sense of liveliness in his eyes that wasnât there before, but before he can continue, heâs caught off by a small coughing fit. harmless, but sufficient in making you worry.Â
âno need to force yourself,â you soothe, patting down his head, watching as he quiets down. the tea mightâve given him a temporary energy boost, but you still donât want him to overdo it. âjust relax, satoru.â
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.Â
âi dunno if itâll taste very good,â you admit, scratching absently at the back of your neck. âbut it should help with the fever, at least. iâd be happy if you could eat a bit.â
as his lips make contact with the metal of the spoon, satoru canât help but let himself be swept away. he still feels a little too hazy, too feverish to really comprehend whatâs happening; he feels oddly bare like this, vulnerable, a little afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he doesnât keep it shut. so he opts to accept the treatment heâs 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 mustâve worked on it. but more than anything, the way youâre acting is like balm to his soul â 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 heâs almost embarrassed. it should be the other way around.Â
yet here you are, spoonfeeding him soup that you made yourself, because heâs 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.Â
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 satoruâs appetite dwindles.
âalright, that should be fine ââ you glance down at the bowl, now roughly half-empty. more than enough, you think. âuhh⌠how do you feel?â
â⌠better,â satoru answers, truthfully, the ghost of a smile on his glossy lips. âthank you.â
for a second, you only stare, saying nothing. thereâs something in satoruâs expression that catches you off guard, something thatâs 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 heâs looking at you like heâs trying to convey something he canât put into words?Â
as you look at him, take him in, the boy you love so dearly, you canât help but feel like he just carved open his chest â let you peek inside his ribcage. itâs hard not to feel flustered, in the presence of something so vulnerable.
and heâs thanking you. as if taking care of him is a great burden, a chore, something youâd demand gratitude for. you want to tell him that itâs 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 heâs safe, here. that thereâs 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.
â⌠okay,â is all you breathe out, every other word getting stuck in the back of your throat. âthatâs good.â
satoruâs 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. theyâre 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.
â⌠love you,â he mutters. a soft little thing. your eyes donât leave his face, and your lips part before your brain can instruct them to.
âi love you too,â you blurt out, instantaneous. like you couldnât bear to keep him waiting. â⌠satoru.â
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 canât bring himself to think of it as a bad thing anymore.Â
heâs still cradling your hand when he brings it down to the blanket. âthanks for coming,â he continues, pushing himself. trying to get the words out while he still has the energy to say them. âyou didnât have to.â
theyâre a little clumsy, a little stale on his tongue, but theyâre honest. he is thankful â the prospect of being seen like this is discomforting, gruelingly so, but he doesnât mind nearly as much if itâs you. heâd 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 heâs 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.Â
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 â 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.Â
(satoru thinks youâre nostalgia personified. he likes to imagine that you met as children, underneath a cherry tree somewhere, but he knows itâs not true. thereâs no way he wouldnât remember you.)
you smile. pleased, at his show of vulnerability, small as it may be. âi wanted to,â you assure him. equally honest, equally full of double meanings and hidden messages that neither of you need to uncover to understand. â⌠i care about you. of course iâd come.â
a light, raspy chuckle; thatâs all satoru manages to vocalize. his mind is stuffed, and thereâs an ache in his chest, longing to be filled. itâs been there for a while now. but somehow, some way, you manage to fill it up, slowly but surely, almost effortlessly â 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.Â
âwhat did i do to deserve youâŚ?â
you blink. a moment passes.
then your eyes soften, considerably so, crumbling at the corners like the cookies satoru loves so much. heâs 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, youâre the one who drags his hand up to meet your lips; kissing his knuckle softly. his breath hitches.
âiâm the one who should be saying that to you,â you grin, a little weakly. and you mean it. you donât think youâve ever meant anything more.Â
itâs 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 donât 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.Â
â⌠do you want anything else?â 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. âiâll get it for you, no matter what it is.â
and, truthfully, satoru thinks youâve done more than enough. more than he could ever make up for. but heâs always been greedy, and thereâs one thing, only one thing, one thing he canât help but ask for. something he craves more than anything. he canât help but indulge himself, indulge in his selfishness, in the need to feel your skin against his.Â
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 mightâve been embarrassed if he wasnât 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 heâs 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 â deep and satisfied. in his tired, clingy state, he subconsciously throws a leg over yours, trapping you further.Â
you wouldnât have it any other way.Â
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, heâs 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 youâre cradling the whole world in your arms.Â
youâre relieved. making yourself comfortable on your back, with satoru sleeping soundly on top of you, hoping heâll feel better when he wakes up. careful, even with your breathing, intent on letting him sleep. knowing he doesnât get nearly as much rest as he should, most days.Â
before long, even you succumb to the cozy atmosphere, gradually dozing off. satoru is always warm, even more so now, and his weight is comforting.
stifling a yawn, you tug him a little bit closer, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. you could use a day of catching up on lost sleep, too.
when you wake up, youâre acutely aware of something poking your cheek.
itâs a ticklish sensation, sort of irritating, and it rouses you from your cozy slumber. disgruntled, so cruelly ripped away from your sweet dreams â satoru was in it, you think. you feel robbed.
still, you canât 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. heâs 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.
âwell hello there,â he purrs, shooting a giddy little grin your way. still poking your cheek. âwakey-wakey, sunshine!â
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 youâre here, what happened before you fell asleep.Â
â⌠hey,â you greet, at last, stifling a yawn and squeezing your eyes shut. stretching lazily, like a sleepy cat. âhow do you feelâŚ?â
âiâm perfect. better than perfect, actually,â satoru chirps, a little cheeky, hoisting himself up so that heâs hovering above you. a hint of mischief in those pretty eyes. âyouâre a good nurse, yâknow?â
you huff out a chuckle. as always, his actions reveal more than his words â you could tell he felt a lot better the moment you saw his smile, heard how he formed his words. âalright, thatâs good,â you hum, exhaling softly. âhow long was i asleep? what time is it?â
âi woke up just now, too,â satoru lies, albeit a small one. he did wake up recently, only to spend what he thinks mustâve been at least fifteen minutes staring at you until he physically couldnât take it anymore. he had to hear your voice, see your smile. itâs a personal record for him; usually he spends less time admiring your peaceful expression, far too eager to speak to you.
âitâs pretty late,â he continues, another small lie. pleased with himself. âway too late for you to go back, actually. how about you spend the night?â
another blink, your eyelids heavy and droopy as they open and close. then youâre 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.
âitâs only four, satoru.â
âway, way too late,â he only reaffirms, flopping down on top of you again, keeping you from leaving. âgod knows what kinda creeps are out there at this hour â much too unsafe. iâm just looking out for you, baby.â
âof course,â you indulge him, a sly little roll of your eyes that makes him pout. âyou know i was planning on staying over anyway, right?â
âwell, of course! i wouldnât expect anything less from my favorite nurse.â
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 â reaching for his forehead with the back of your hand.Â
itâs significantly less scalding, now.Â
you let out a sigh, laced with relief, one you didnât know youâd been holding in. âit really has gone down,â you hum, stretching the sleep from your limbs again. âthatâs good.â
satoru huffs. âi said i was perfect, right? donât you trust me, my sweet lover?â
âi never know with you,â you give him a huff of your own, exasperated. fond. âyou said you were just fine this morning, too.â
âi was!â he whines. piling up lie after lie. âi totally couldâve made it to that date, you know. i got worse because you had no faith in my abilities.â
âright. of course.â you shoot him a lopsided grin. âyou just donât wanna admit the fever beat your ass, huh?â
âsee? no faith.â a chuckle slips from your lips, and satoru has to bite back a smile. âunbelievable. i fought that fever off just for you, and here you are, laughing at me.â
âoh? i thought it was thanks to my top notch nursing skills?â
âwell, that too! but it was mostly me.â
a sigh. âwhatever you say.â then youâre smiling, once more, unable to help yourself. eyes crinkled at the edges, soft around the corners. âiâm just glad youâre better. i was worried.â
satoru pouts, again, but you can tell he acknowledges it â 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 canât fit. decoding the meaning of it all in silent gestures, glints in your eyes. little truth games.
âyou really thought a lilâ fever was gonna be enough to keep me down?â he shakes his head once, then twice. and you know that what he means to say is i never want you to worry. âcâmon, now, baby.â
another lighthearted roll of your eyes. âyeah, yeah, yeah. my sincerest apologies, my strong, stubborn, totally-not-sick boyfriend.â
âdonât you mean your strong, perfect, beautiful, clever, flawless, totally-not-sick boyfriend?â
âdonât think i didnât notice you sneaking the stubborn out of there.â
âhehe.â
a silent moment passes, something tender filling up the space between your words. satoruâs weight is still so comforting, like a big blanket, his arms enveloping you as he breathes in your scent. youâre so happy that heâs acting insufferable again.
âalright, my honeybee,â he suddenly chirps, breaking the silence, hoisting himself up. âtime to go. we can still get those crĂŞpes if we hurry.â
you blink. once, then twice.
â⌠satoru.â
âyeah? whatâs up?â
you give him an unimpressed look, gazing up at him, towering over you like he fully thought youâd be alright with letting him leave. âyouâre⌠not going out today,â you deadpan. âyou know that, right?â
this time, heâs the one who blinks. once, then twice.
âhuh? why not?â
âuh, because youâre sick, maybe?â
âwhat?â satoru pretends to be shocked, offended, as if he canât believe youâd even suggest something so outrageous. âiâm all better, though!â
you raise an eyebrow, thoroughly displeased. all better? âyour fever isnât gone, satoru. itâs just not horrible anymore. youâll get yourself even more sick if you go out now.â
âi wonât! seriously!â he insists, looking down at you with a sorry attempt at puppy dog eyes. âi feel good enough to run a marathon!â
âyouâre not doing that either,â you mutter. then a sigh, exasperated. you canât let this charade go on for too long. âcome on, satoru â donât be so stubborn. we can go there another time.â
âbut ââ
âbesides, didnât you say i have to spend the night because itâs too late to go outside? remember the creeps?â thereâs amusement in your voice, a light smile on your lips. âwhat if they get us?â
âwell, they obviously wonât get you while iâm there,â he huffs. âwhat, you donât think i can protect you properly? youâre hurting me, angel.â
you bite back an incredulous laugh. god, heâs stubborn. youâre so in love with him you just barely restrain the urge to pull him in for a kiss.
âsa-to-ru,â you coo, dragging each syllable out, sending a shiver down his spine. âweâre not going outside. end of discussion.â
âwhy not, though?â he continues to pout, still refusing to give in. resorting to cheap guilt-tripping. âdonât you wanna go on a date with me? you donât want to see me happy, is that it?â
you only sigh, thoroughly exasperated, reaching up to cup his cheek nonetheless. he nuzzles into it. âyouâre such a baby.â
âyour baby.â
another sigh, to mask your adoration. at this rate, the back and forth will never end, so you scramble for solutions.
âcanât we just have our date here?â you suggest, after some contemplation. âi bought some ice cream on my way here. we could watch a movie, or something. isnât that enough?â
satoruâs 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 crĂŞpe; wants to steal a bite when youâre 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.
(heâs maybe, just maybe, a little bit tired, too.)
so, finally, he sighs â softly. in resignation.Â
â⌠well, i guess thatâs fine,â he pouts, allowing himself to fall back into your embrace. his voice is muffled, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. âi wanted crĂŞpes, thoughâŚâ
âiâll get you your crepes,â you assure him, relieved to have reached a compromise. âi can go buy âem myself and come back. then we ââ
âno, no, no!â satoru suddenly interjects. whining, tugging you closer. âyouâre not going anywhere. not without me!â
a sigh, just as adoring as it is fatigued. âthen iâll⌠order crĂŞpes, or something. or weâll eat ice cream today and then crĂŞpes when youâre better. does that sound okay?â
satoru is silent, for a while.
â⌠okay,â he hums. âthatâs fine.â
âhaah. okay, good ââ
âhowever!âÂ
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. âinstead of the crĂŞpes, i want a kiss.â
you blink. exasperated, as an amused chuckle follows. âso convoluted. you can just ask, you know?â you donât give him time to answer, eager to appease the pouty man. âwhatever.âÂ
leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. sweet and soft. to your surprise, heâs still pouting when you pull away. âi meant on the lips,â he explains, as if it was obvious.Â
a tilt of your head.Â
â⌠but youâre sick.â
âso?â satoru just pouts, expression practically etched into his face at this point. âyou wonât kiss me anymore? just cause iâve got a tiny, miniscule fever?â he huffs, turning his head to the right and shutting his eyes. âif you donât love me anymore, you can just say that.â
another sigh leaves your lips. heâs so ridiculous. you canât really deny him, though.
â⌠fine. itâs your fault if i get sick, though.â
in the blink of an eye, heâs 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 youâve pulled away. ââ there. happy now?âÂ
âfor now,â he quips, equally teasing. heâs 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.Â
âthatâll do,â you grin, hoisting yourself up with your elbows, carrying satoru with you, his jaw still on your chest. âwanna go eat some ice cream, mr unreasonable?â
you donât really need an answer. of course satoru wants ice cream. youâve never seen him turn down anything sweet â and, lo and behold, he perks up again, getting into a sitting position. like an excited puppy.Â
âgot it,â you chuckle, stopping to think for a moment. âthereâs soup left, too. but maybe youâd rather order something? it turned out kinda so-so.â
satoru gapes. âyou kidding? that was the best soup iâve ever had!âÂ
his exclamation makes you roll your eyes, words so coated in confidence that you almost want to believe him. âsatoru. you donât have to lie.â
âiâm not!â
âyou couldnât even taste it.â
âi could, i could!â he stubbornly whines. âi tasted all your love. every single drop!â
you give him a look. he only grins at you, a little teasing, a little giddy. you canât help but feel a bit embarrassed; averting your gaze with a sharp scoff. âyeah? and how did my love taste?â
satoru leans forward. itâs sudden, and you blink, instinctively leaning back in turn. heâs wearing a signature smirk when he stops moving, close enough that you feel his breath on your skin. hot.
âdelicious,â he purrs, glancing down at your lips. blue eyes gleaming with mirth. âbest thing iâve ever had.â
you know heâs just trying to fluster you, so you try to fight against it, but it doesnât work nearly as well as youâd like â 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.Â
as swiftly as you can, you regain your composure. clearing your throat. âwell, you can have more of it later, then,â you make a move to get off the bed. âletâs go eat ice cream.â
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.
âyou should probably get a change of clothes,â you suggest, exhaling as your muscles loosen up. âyouâve been wearing that shirt all day.â
âoh? is that an excuse to see me out of it, sweetheart?â satoru grins, fresh mischief gleaming in his eyes. âyou know you can always just ask.âÂ
you huff out a sardonic breath. âyeah, yeah, whatever. throw on a hoodie or something, weirdo.â you stifle a giggle when he makes an offended noise behind you. âand some pants.â
âyou donât like the underwear?â he looks towards the corner of the room, studying himself in the mirror. âthis is an expensive brand, you know?â
âyouâre the only person on planet earth whoâd give a fuck about underwear brands,â you scoff, a little snarky. âjust â put some comfortable clothes on, okay? iâll go get the ice cream ready.â
âwait!â he exclaims, attaching himself to you, curling his arms around your bicep. âyouâre not allowed to go anywhere without me, remember?âÂ
â⌠okay, okay. hurry up and get changed, then.â
sitting back down on the bed, while satoru walks towards the closet, you scroll through your phone â refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, youâre well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek. you wonât give him the satisfaction.
when heâs done, heâs wearing a comfy hoodie and some sweatpants. itâs 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 donât 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; youâre much too soft for him. and heâs still sick, even if heâs doing better. you couldnât resist him even if you tried.
so you opt to indulge him.
âbaby, i think my feverâs going up againâŚâ satoru pouts, gazing up at you through fluttering lashes. âcan you check?â
you smile, with a raise of your eyebrow. âthis is the fifth time youâve asked me to check your temperature, toru.â
âjust wanna make sure,â he whines. âplease?â
with an exaggerated sigh, you lean down, lips once again meeting his forehead â humming against his skin. nope, his temperature hasnât gone up. just like it hadnât gone up the last time you checked, or the time before that.
âyouâre good.â
âoh, thank god,â he exhales. âare you sure? like, a hundred percent sure? maybe you should check again. just in case.â
âsatoru,â you coo, a teasing lilt on the tip of your tongue. âyou can just ask me if you want a kiss.â
âa kiss? scandalous. i just wanna make sure my condition doesnât worsen.â
heâs grinning, and youâre rolling your eyes, and both of you know damn well youâre going to indulge him anyway. he sighs in satisfaction when he feels your soft lips on his heated skin.
âhmmâŚâ you narrow your eyes, thoughtfully, before looking down at him with a teasing smile. ânope. definitely still the same temperature.âÂ
âyou sure?â
âa hundred percent.â
âhmm. okay, got it.â he rolls over, burying his face in your stomach. wrapping his limbs around your midriff. âthatâs good. just wanted to check, you know?â
âof course.â
âmight need you to check again soon. just to be safe,â he chirps, biting back a soft grin. you donât bother hiding yours.
âgot it, got it,â you coo, fingers carding through his messy hair. âanything for my sick baby.âÂ
satoru releases a soft breath, bordering on a giggle. you canât help but let your smile grow wider, heart brimming with affection. you let it clog up your chest until the movieâs almost over, and you simply canât help yourself anymore.
âyour room is very like you.â
itâs sudden, breaking the peaceful silence, making satoru stir. youâre both starting to get sleepy again. but he blinks up at you, studying your expression before parting his lips.
â⌠oh? how so?â
âwellâŚâ you stop to think. humming, absently fidgeting with a lock of your boyfriendâs hair. âwhen i first walked in, i thought the whole house felt kind of empty, you know?â
satoru hums. unsure of where the conversation is going, maybe just a little intrigued. he mostly just likes listening to you talk.Â
âbut then i went into your room, and â it just felt very you. kinda messy, and stuff, but cozy. and a little sentimental.â satoru looks up at you, admiring that certain soft glimmer in your eyes. you meet his stare with a smile. âmaybe it doesnât make sense? i guess iâve just been thinking about it.â
he closes his eyes.
thereâs something soft in your tone, something silky and simple, and he can tell youâre being sincere. itâs something he likes about you â that willingness to be soft, almost pridefully so, to bare yourself even if you arenât sure that heâll return the favour. he likes to think itâs rubbing off on him, slowly but surely; he doesnât think heâs quite as bad as before. telling you about things that are dear to him isnât something that scares him, anymore. and even when you see him vulnerable, sick and delirious in bed, he isnât afraid that youâll use it against him.
youâre 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.
âi like your place more,â 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. âit feels very⌠you.â
a smile crawls up to rest against your lips. playing along, your hands finding solace in between his fluffy locks. âhow so?â
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. âitâs⌠homely. warm,â his smile only grows. âand awfully sentimental.â
he lifts a hand up, to touch your cheek. tender, as his thumb smooths against your skin. itâs warm, beneath his touch, heating up with every word he speaks. satoruâs love feels a little like the sun, when it spills out this fervently, like it could burn you into cinders â you think youâd be happy to lie in the ashes. heâs smiling at you, like sunshine, like little dusty specks of light. and he exhales.
âi wouldnât mind staying there forever.â
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 donât think you could forget it even if you tried. how fondly the light of the room embraces him, that soft grin heâs shooting your way, only vaguely teasing. and his eyes, the gateways to his soul, so sincere you canât look away.
you love this man with your whole chest. you knew before, youâve known for a long time, but each day you fall in love all over again. itâs all you can think as you look at him, all snug and safe and happy in your lap.
you donât realize youâve been staring at him silently until he chuckles, pulling you out of your sentimental stupor. it only flusters you further.
âyouâre cute,â 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.
â⌠you can.â
he blinks. still smiling.
âstay forever, i mean.â
you canât look at him, when you say it. the words are barely above a whisper, and you arenât sure if theyâre conscious or not. itâd be nice to say they just slipped out, but they feel somewhat deliberate, all the same. you know you mean them, either way. itâs the one thing youâre 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 itâs something closer to yearning, longing. something like that.
â⌠well,â he finally hums, voice so low you barely pick up on it. âmaybe i will, then.â
you reach something.Â
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. itâs there and then it isnât, just out of reach, and you think that if you could only find the courage to curl your fingers around his, then â
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.)
âŚ
satoru chuckles, reaching for another ball of mochi and popping it into his mouth. âthis movieâs awful, huh?â
âyeah,â youâre quick to agree, maybe a little too quick. grinning weakly. âitâs good in a so bad itâs good kinda way, though.â
he hums in absentminded agreement, still chewing on the soft treat. keeping his gaze steady on the screen, the flicker of emotional scenes he hasnât 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 â heâs not sure he could take it.
satoru doesnât get sick often.
his immune system is strong, thereâs no denying that. but more than anything, he simply canât 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 â stuck in bed while the world continues to spin, unattended â makes him feel so anxious he could throw up. even sleeping makes him feel a little skittish, sometimes, though heâs gotten a lot better since he started falling asleep with you in his arms.
itâs funny, he thinks. before you, being sick wasnât 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. heâs 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 â itâs funny, for sure. satoru never thought heâd ever enjoy being sick.Â
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 wasnât 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.
youâre so good to him. thereâs nothing he would trade for these moments with you, absolutely nothing. heâs glad you came over, after all. glad youâre so stubborn, and oh so caring. satoru canât help but smile, heart almost stuffed to the brim with gratitude â what could he possibly do with this immense love in his chest?
âi love you so much,â he blurts out, practically beaming. now youâre 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.
âwhere did that come from?â you blink, squirming a little in his embrace. a movie is still playing on the tv screen, one better than the last â your attention was fixed on it before satoru broke the silence.
âjust felt like saying it!â he only chirps, grinning ear to ear. âi love you. youâre the best thing that ever happened to me,â he murmurs, earnestly, lips against your skin. âmy whole world.â
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 youâre pushing him away. itâs overwhelming, but youâve never minded. this is how you measure his love â little gaps between too much and never enough.
â⌠youâre not gonna say it back?â comes a whine, right by your ear. now heâs nibbling at your neck, little beast that he is, pouting because you let the silence linger for too long. heâs being such a baby about it. but you still rush to reassure him, echoing his words in earnest.Â
âi love you too, satoru,â you smile, slightly exasperated. craning your neck so that your lips can meet his jaw, and satoru grins, giddy at the attention. âmy whole universe.â
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 heâs got you in his lap like this. if he could, heâd keep you there all the time. attached at the hip, close as can be.Â
even with a ruined date, even after worrying you, he feels well and truly satisfied. because you're here, and youâre watching a good movie, and youâre gonna stay over tonight. when it gets dark out, heâll get to fall asleep cuddled up beside you, hold you in his arms and feel you nuzzle into his chest. then heâll pepper your face with kisses to wake you up, and youâll grumble all sweetly, and heâll carry you to the kitchen despite your grumpy protests. youâll 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.Â
if the feverâs gone by then, youâll probably let him outside. then you can go get those crĂŞpes, 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 heâll stay over. the day after, too. and the day after that.
living together with you wouldnât be so bad, he thinks. it wouldnât be bad at all, actually.Â
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 canât think of anything heâd like more. maybe heâll start hinting at it, slowly but surely. if he can lure you into broaching the subject, that would be ideal â but if he has to, he doesnât mind doing it himself. youâre 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 heâs thinking, no idea about his plans, and he thinks thatâs for the best. he knows youâll indulge him, at the end of the day.
maybe heâll just ask you, tomorrow. if you say no, he can just blame it on the fever making him delirious.
#save me sick soft sweet sappy satoruâŚ.. save meâŚâŚ..#he means the wholeeee universe to me :â3 i love this specific toru sm !! i really do think heâs a lonely sweetie at heart :((#i wrote this fic a LONG time ago but i polished it a bunch so hopefully it doesnt feel rusty !!#i scrambled to come up w a title in time but i think this one kinda slaps idk ⌠im severely sleepy rn so it might. Not be. though đđ#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#jjk x you#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x y/n
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i know who you are | 5. the dinner
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: Everything seems perfect until it all unravels. Emotions come to a head and the big lie is revealed.
Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, alcohol use, eating, flirting, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, minor infidelity, one use of 'daddy', big ol' emotional argument (lots of mean and hurtful things get said)
WC: 9.5K
Series Masterlist
By some miracle, you didn't end up getting sick, although it took most people in town a full week to recover from the flu. The infirmary was packed every day and Nick regularly expressed his endless gratitude that you chose to work for him. Maria and Tommy isolated as best they could in their home out of fear their daughter would get sick. When the townspeople slowly began to recover, they were itching to do something, so they decided to host a dinner.
One thing you hadn't done in ages was bake. You used to do it often, something you found rather soothing and rewarding long before the world went to shit, so you decided to make something to bring to dinner. After exploring your pantry, you discovered you had the right ingredients to make a simple pie crust, so you got to work mixing and rolling out the dough, getting so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even hear Joel walk through the front door.
When he heard you working away in the kitchen, he walked softly towards the entryway and leaned against the frame to admire you. He crossed his arms and smiled to himself when he saw the bits of flour smeared across your cheeks and your hair a little disheveled, your appearance not a concern to you as you worked.
It was the sweetest thing he had seen in a long time. He almost felt bad when you suddenly sensed his presence and looked up, disrupting your flow.
"Don't mind me," he said with a smirk before strolling over to the table to sit. "Whatcha up to?"
"Making a pie," you told him as you pinched some flour between your fingers and scattered it over the counter. You picked up the sticky ball of dough and sprinkled that with a bit of flour, as well, before grabbing the rolling pin. "Thought it would be nice to bring something with us tonight."
Joel nodded and picked up an apple from the bowl on the table. "That's nice of you," he said before taking a bite, "I'm sure they don't expect us to bring anythin'. They're just bored outta their minds and lookin' for someone to play with their kid for a while."
"Hey! I need those!" you scolded when you heard the crunch. He paused his chewing and looked down at the apple in his hand before stretching his arm out to you with a grin.
"Here you go," he said, mouth full. You laughed and shook your head before focusing on the dough once again.
"Keep it," you said, "I'll still have enough."
He leaned back in his chair and watched you diligently roll the dough out until you achieved the level of thickness you desired and then laid it gently in a buttered pie pan.
"Can you help me peel?" you asked when you came over to grab the bowl from the table, and he couldn't resist reaching out to dust away the flour from your cheek. You looked at him in surprise and he gave you a small smile.
"'Course I'll help," he said, standing up to grab two knives from the drawer. After giving yourself a moment to recover from his unexpected touch, you joined him at the counter, placing the bowl between you both as you began to peel in a comfortable silence. It had been almost two weeks since you saw Ben outside the tailor, and although you always looked for him whenever you walked to and from work, you never crossed paths with him again. You had been hoping to corner him to try to get more information before confronting Joel, but you had no such luck. So, with a deep breath, you cleared your throat and focused on your apple before speaking.
"Joel?"
"Hm?" he replied, his brows pinching together as he carefully worked his knife around the apple in the palm of his hand.
"Can I ask you a question?" you asked as your pulse began to thrum faster in your throat.
"Sure," he said, still laser focused on his task.
"Who are the Fireflies?"
His hand slipped and he dropped the apple and knife, pulling the pad of his thumb into his mouth with a hiss. You gasped when you saw a few drops of dark red blood on the cutting board and put your knife down before grabbing a somewhat clean towel and handing it to him.
"Is it bad?" you asked, taking a step forward to try and see his injury before he wrapped it in the towel. He shook his head.
"Nah, I'll live," he said, studying the cut for a second before applying pressure again.
Still, you rushed to the linen closet to grab the first aid kit and brought it downstairs. "Rinse it under the water," you instructed him before opening the bag and rifling around. He did as he was told and watched you pluck out a bandage and a small bottle of antiseptic. "Show me," you said, and he held his hand out to you so you could examine the cut. He studied you up close while your attention was focused on his thumb, taking in every feature on your perfect face and inhaling your familiar, comforting scent while you bandaged him up. If this was what it took to get you close to him, then he was ready to injure himself every damn day.
"You're good at that," he murmured, flexing his thumb when you were all done. "Learnin' a lot from Nick?"
You packed up the first aid kit, avoiding his heated gaze. "Yeah, I guess so," you said, turning back to your apples. Ever since Joel caught the flu and you helped nurse him back to health, it felt like there was a shift in the air between you. He was more brazen with his touch, like when he wiped the flour from your cheek, and while you never asked him not to touch you, your feelings for him were complicated. Until you could figure it out, you had been trying your best to not allow yourself to get caught in his orbit.
It was proving to be more difficult than you expected.
"Why don't you go sit down, I can finish these up," you said, your eyes cast down on the apples. You felt him regard you silently for a moment before he pushed off the counter and went back to his spot at the kitchen table. It was obvious what he was doing. It was the exact opposite of what you were doing. He was trying to create a charged moment, and you were trying to avoid them.
"You didn't answer my question," you said, and his energy immediately shifted.
"Where'd you hear 'bout the Fireflies? From Ellie?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. You looked up at him, confused.
"Ellie? No," you replied, shaking your head. "I ran into Ben a few days after our visit. He thought you had already told me about them and seemed a little skittish when I didn't know who they were."
You watched him closely, refusing to look away as he tried to mask his anger, but you could still see it. His jaw tensed and his uninjured hand clenched into a fist in his lap while you waited for an answer.
"So?" you prodded, cocking your head to the side. His nostrils flared for a second before he took a deep breath and turned his head away.
"The Fireflies were the group the three of you had joined before comin' to Jackson," he began. You tried to focus on peeling your apples but you were working incredibly slow, not wanting to miss a single word. "You were with 'em for a couple years. They had a decent setup, kept you all safe. Better than the QZ."
"Okay," you said slowly, picking up another apple. "So it was a community like this one?"
He huffed and shook his head, "Not exactly. More like an army. They're a revolutionary group. They rose up against the military and took over QZs with the promise of givin' control back to the people, but..." he trailed off and scratched his beard. "Wasn't all that simple. They killed alotta people in the process, and in the end, civilians still suffered. Didn't end up matterin' who was in control when both sides were just as violent."
"Oh," you said softly, setting your knife down, "so I joined because of what happened to my family? Because the military killed them? And then I ended up killing innocent people, anyway?"
Joel shrugged and stood up. "Like I said, we all made decisions the best we could with what we knew at the time. You didn't know any better. Nobody did."
"Did you join them, too?" you asked.
"No," he said, pressing both palms flat against the counter as he looked at you.
"So why did Ben seem to think telling me about the Fireflies would cause a problem with us?"
His mouth pressed into a thin line and you saw the suppressed rage flicker across his eyes again. "Fireflies ain't exactly well received by most people," he said, "lotta people here had family that was hurt or killed. Innocent bystanders caught in the middle of a war they didn't start."
You swallowed nervously, apples long forgotten as you braced yourself for your next question. "Did the Fireflies hurt someone you loved?"
Joel's gaze dropped to his hands and he clenched his jaw. He wanted to tell you. He should have just fucking spit it out and told you everything, but at the last second, he chickened out.
"No."
And you may not have known him as well as you did before the accident, but you knew him well enough now to be able to tell when he was lying. You tried to hide your disappointment by picking your knife back up and getting to work.
"Are there others?" you asked him, and he lifted his head up, "other former Fireflies who live here?"
"Aside from you three? Just Tommy."
Your jaw dropped in surprise and your eyes snapped up to him once again. "Tommy?"
"Mhmm, just for a little while. You didn't know each other before Jackson," he said, anticipating your next question. "Fireflies are a big group. Spread out all over the country."
"Oh," you said softly, looking back down at your half peeled apples which were slowly becoming brown on the edges. You began peeling again, faster now, as you thought about everything he just said while he watched you carefully from the other side of the counter. You weren't sure what else to say. It felt like he was telling you the truth, but you still had a hunch he was leaving something out.
"Y'know, it's a miracle I didn't eat half that damn pie before we got here," Joel said teasingly as you walked up the porch steps to Tommy and Maria's house. "Whole house smells like Christmas now. Drove me crazy all afternoon."
You smiled and smoothed down the blue blouse you found tucked away in your closet. It wasn't a top you could envision yourself working in, it looked a bit too nice for that, so you thought dinner would be a perfect time to wear it, combined with a dark pair of jeans that were relatively clean and only slightly frayed on the bottom. At the time, you thought it was cute when Joel came downstairs with his hair slicked back and his flannel tucked into his jeans for once, but when you walked into Tommy and Maria's and found the house to be filled with four married couples from around town, you suddenly felt uncomfortable.
"I didn't realize anyone else would be here," you murmured quietly next to Joel as you slid off your coats.
"He mentioned they may invite a few others but I didn't think this many," he told you, taking your coat and hanging it up before looking around. They had two tables covered in linen pushed together in their dining room which was alight with candles and sprigs of pine and holly spread around the middle, giving the room with a warm and romantic atmosphere. You swallowed nervously and all of the sudden, the evening felt too much like a date.
"Hey, you two!" Tommy's voice rang out from the kitchen, startling you out of your reverie. "Glad you could make it," he said, tugging Joel into a hug before giving you a chaste peck on the cheek.
"Um, here," you said, holding out the pie, "didn't want to come empty handed," you explained with a little smile. Tommy's eyes lit up when he took the pan from you and gave the pie a quick sniff.
"Damn, smells good, Sugar," he told you, his cheeks already rosy from the liquor he had been working on before you arrived. He shot Joel a playful look as he headed into the kitchen, handing Maria the dessert. "Your girl can bake, Joel. Lucky man."
The tips of your ears went hot and you looked away uncomfortably before Joel could catch your eye.
"I'll get us a couple drinks," Joel said, ignoring Tommy's comment, much to your relief. "What'dya want?"
You glanced around the room and what the other women were drinking before shrugging and suggesting wine. He followed Tommy over to the living room where they kept their liquor locked up and away from their toddler, who was gleefully playing with another woman you didn't recognize. Popping your head into the kitchen, you spotted Maria all by herself working on dinner.
"Maria," you said with a smile, and she turned around with a sigh of relief.
"Hey, I'm dying here, can you help me?"
"Of course," you said, rolling up your sleeves. "What do you need?"
She put you to work right away, chopping up vegetables and dumping them into boiling water before helping her thicken a sauce she was making for some pasta. You were just about to taste test the product when Joel and Tommy joined you in the kitchen with the drink that he promised.
"Smells so fuckin' good in here," Tommy said loudly before taking a generous sip of whiskey and giving Maria a quick peck on the lips. Joel put your wine glass near you on the counter and you shot him a thankful smile before bringing a spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. You winced and scrunched up your nose and Joel chuckled.
"It's missing something," you explained, putting the spoon back down as you examined the spices available to you while Maria was instructing Tommy on doling out the appetizers.
"Lemme try," he said, rounding the corner to stand next to you. You handed him the spoon and he held up his whiskey. "Hands are full," he told you teasingly, and you rolled your eyes with a grin before dipping the spoon back into the sauce and lifting it to his mouth. He leaned in and wrapped his lips around the spoon, closing his eyes and making a soft noise at the taste. Your knees suddenly felt weak and your face felt hot as you struggled to compose yourself before he caught you.
He opened his eyes slowly and ran his tongue over his upper lip to capture the remnants of the sauce and you had to resist the urge to swipe your thumb over his mustache to gather the rest. It made your breath hitch in your throat and you forced yourself to look away, mentally cursing your body's reaction to him.
"Lemon," he said huskily, then took a sip from his glass while still staring down at you. Your eyes drifted up to his and you saw that look again. The one that made you feel too many things at once: nervousness, excitement, pressure, confusion. So you took a deep breath and squeezed past him, having no choice but to brush up against his chest.
"You're right. It needs lemon," you said, finding one in the mess on Maria's counter and slicing it in half before squeezing it generously over the sauce. Joel leaned against the counter, one arm caging you in from behind as you worked. You tried to ignore how close he was but you could feel his breath on your skin and it was causing your pulse to race. Fortunately, Maria came to your rescue.
"How's it going?" she asked, and Joel pushed off the counter, stepping back to give you both some room.
"Good, I think the sauce is done," you told her, and after she gave it a little taste, her eyes lit up.
"So good!" she said, clearly pleased. You felt your cheeks heat up before gesturing towards Joel.
"Thank Joel. He thought of the lemon."
Maria shot Joel a smile and thanked him as he tipped his glass in her direction before taking another sip. "Happy to help, ladies," he said.
"Go enjoy the party, I got it from here," Maria told you, shooing you away.
"Are you sure? I really don't mind-"
"Yes, I'm sure! I'm just going to plate everything and we're good to go. Help yourself to some appetizers before they're all gone," she said, turning her back on you as she started pulling down serving platters.
You picked up your wine and took a sip, hoping to quell some of your nerves as you let Joel lead you into the living room where the party was in full swing. Tommy had his daughter balancing on his shoulders as he talked to a couple men, their wives at the other end of the room in the middle of a lively conversation. You chewed your lip, glancing back and forth before you took another sip and looked up at Joel.
"Guess I'll go see what's got them all worked up," you told him, nodding your head in the direction of the other women.
"You sure?" he asked with a frown. "Don't want you feelin' uncomfortable. We can stick together if y'want."
You shook your head and stepped away. "I'm fine," you told him before forcing yourself to join the other women. As you approached, you gave the women a friendly wave to catch their attention and they beckoned you towards them with open arms. They all seemed to be around your age range, give or take, and very friendly as they took the time to re-introduce themselves to you. You politely listened to them talk about their kids or jobs while you sipped your wine and nodded along. When three of the women became engrossed in a story about their children and school, you felt yourself begin to zone out. The girl standing next to you, Hannah, caught your eye and smiled.
"Do you have any kids?" you asked her, and she shook her head.
"Not yet. I don't think we're ready, you know?" she said, glancing over your shoulder at her husband. "But one day I think we will. How about you and Joel? What are your plans?" she asked, then her eyes went wide with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. That was a dumb question, you probably don't... ah, I'm such an idiot," she said, and you laughed.
"No, you're not, it's fine," you assured her as her cheeks began to flush.
"I guess I just keep forgetting about your accident. That was so rude of me," she said, "I see you guys together all the time and it seems so normal."
You glanced over your shoulder at Joel, watching for a moment as he laughed heartily at something one of the other men said. "Yeah," you told her, turning back around, "I can see why you'd think that."
Her gaze drifted between you and Joel for a moment before she lowered her voice and took a step further away from the other women. "So you still don't remember anything, huh?"
You shook your head sadly. "Nothing. At this point, I'm not expecting anything to come back. I'm just trying to start over."
She nodded solemnly and took a sip from her wine. "How's it going with you two?" she asked, tilting her chin in Joel's direction. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. Same old questions, different person.
"Okay, I guess. He's been incredibly patient," you said, "but I think he is still holding out hope that my memory might come back and we'll just pick up right where we left off."
Hannah gave you a sympathetic look right as Maria approached with a big smile stretched across her face. "Dinner is served!" she announced to the room before bending down and stretching her arms out for her daughter.
Everyone began to scatter as couples rejoined and headed towards the dimly lit dining room. Joel appeared by your side, his hand hovering over your lower back as you waited for the other couples to take their seats.
"Havin' a good time?" he murmured, and you gave him a tight smile before nodding. Joel pulled out one of the two remaining chairs for you and you whispered your thanks when you sat down, then he pushed it back in before taking his own seat. He relaxed and stretched his arm across the back of your chair while he listened with amusement to Tommy drunkenly telling a story that had carried over from the living room.
"The table is beautiful, Maria," you told her, leaning away from Joel a bit. "It's so cozy and warm, you really outdid yourself."
She smiled as she bounced her little girl on her knee. "Thanks. We were just itching to do something, you know? We got a little cabin fever, I think."
You felt Joel's thumb brush lightly against your spine, making you shiver. But when you glanced over at him, he was still caught up in listening to Tommy and you wondered if those little gestures were intentional or if it was muscle memory.
Once everyone began to eat, Joel dropped his arm from your chair and you found yourself missing the warmth that radiated from him, confusing yourself even more. Sometimes you just wanted to hit your head against the wall and rattle your memories loose so you could stop feeling so conflicted. If you were this confused, you couldn't imagine what Joel was feeling. Although, at that moment, he seemed to be perfectly content as he stood up with Tommy to get another drink.
"Y'want any more?" Joel asked, nodding to your glass but you shook your head.
"Maybe later," you said, and when he caught your eye he gave you a quick wink before following Tommy back into the living room.
"So, how's it going at the infirmary? Still like it?" Maria asked, drawing your attention back to her.
"Yeah, I do, actually. That was a good idea, I've been meaning to thank you," you said, wiping the corners of your mouth with a napkin. "It feels good to stay busy and I'm learning a lot."
"Well, Nick always speaks so highly of you. Especially after that nasty flu worked its way through town. He said you were a godsend," Maria told you while simultaneously handing her daughter a steamed carrot.
"She was. Worked her tail off all week then had to deal with me when she got home," Joel said as he sat back down with a soft grunt. You smiled at him, grateful for the compliment.
"If he's anything like his brother when he's sick then I'm sure you've earned sainthood status," Maria said to you, making everyone laugh.
"Hey, what're you sayin' 'bout me down there?" Tommy slurred with a grin from the other end of the table. You were fairly certain Maria answered him with some sharp remark which made the table laugh again, but you couldn't exactly remember because Joel dropped his hand to rest on your knee and you suddenly couldn't think straight. Your skin felt hot under his touch, even through your jeans, and you could have sworn the whole room could hear how loudly your heart was pounding in your chest, so you anxiously grabbed your wine glass and finished the rest in one gulp, hoping it would steady your nerves.
You could have asked him to move his hand. You could have made an excuse, gotten up and used the bathroom, but you didn't. You remained perfectly still, allowing his hand to rest on your leg as you tried to focus on the conversation at the table. Because although your mind was saying one thing, your body was always reacting differently.
If you had known what would have ended up happening that night, you would have done something in that moment. Maybe if you had, it would have changed everything.
Instead, you sat there and didn't say a word. You just politely listened to everyone talk with Joel's hand still on your leg while your body and mind waged a war nobody could see.
When Maria stood to hand off her daughter to Tommy and clear the table, you joined her, finally ending Joel's grip on you. The other women stood while the men attempted to help but got shooed into the living room. When all the ladies were alone in the kitchen, Maria pulled out a jar of apple flavored moonshine that she told you all quietly she was hiding from Tommy because it was her favorite before passing it around for everyone to have a taste.
It was strong. Each of you had to stifle your coughs into your hands, which erupted into giggles and eventually caught the attention of the men, so you all did your best to distract them after they curiously poked their heads into the kitchen so Maria could hide the jar once again.
In retrospect, the alcohol didn't do you any favors. Your head was swimming a little by the time dessert was served and you found yourself inadvertently leaning into Joel's shoulder as everyone complimented your pie and he watched you adoringly while you waved off the praise.
The food was amazing, but combined with the drinks, you found your eyelids growing heavy as the party moved back into the living room and Maria took her daughter to bed.
"I think I'm going to get some air," you told Joel while everyone else got comfortable.
"You alright?" he asked, examining your face closely. You nodded.
"Just getting tired," you explained as you took a step towards the door, but he immediately put his glass down.
"Why didn't you say so? We can go home."
"No, it's okay-"
"You've been workin' so hard lately. You need your rest. Go get your things and I'll tell Tommy we're headin' out," he said, refusing to hear another word. And as much as you didn't want to tear him away from the party, you had to agree with him. The past couple weeks were physically draining and it definitely seemed like the exhaustion was catching up with you.
Once Joel announced your departure and everybody bid you good night, you each grabbed your coats and slid on your boots before heading outside. The brisk night air was a shock to the system and it helped wake you up a bit on the walk home. Joel wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked, holding you close to him, enveloping you with his warmth and when you inevitably reflected on that night, you would remember that moment as one on a long list of ways you were sending him mixed signals because you didn't pull away. Because as confused as you were about your feelings for him, you couldn't deny the attraction you harbored. And maybe it was partially your fault for not being stronger because you knew, you fucking knew Joel's feelings for you were far deeper than yours that night, and yet you still didn't step away.
When you arrived home and Joel fumbled clumsily with the door, you giggled, making him grin and his eyes light up at the sound before finally shoving the door open and flicking on a light. You shrugged off your coat and kicked off your boots with a sigh, the faint smell of apple pie still lingering in the air. You were happy to be in the comfort of your own home and eager to throw on your pajamas, but Joel led you into the kitchen first and poured you some water. You couldn't help but smile at how reminiscent it was from when he was sick and you did the same thing for him, so you took it and made sure to drink the whole thing while he watched with a pleased expression on his face.
"Did I tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?"
The glass was still pressed against your mouth, the last drops of water just swallowed, and you froze. Slowly, you lowered the glass to the counter and shook your head, unable to look away from his heated stare.
"Well, you did. Lit up the whole place. Prettier than all the other women," he said, fighting to remain still and not pull you into his arms. But he was losing that battle.
"Thank you," you said softly, forcing yourself to look away. It didn't deter him.
"I mean it. Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you. Talkin' 'bout you," he said, watching your face heat up as he blinked slowly. "Lookin' at you," he added after a quiet moment, and you laughed softly while you crossed your arms protectively over your chest.
"Joel..." you began, not even sure what you planned to say so you opted for staring blankly out the window just so you wouldn't have to look him in the eye.
"What, baby?" he murmured, taking a bold step forward and pinching your chin with his fingers. You dragged your gaze back up to him just to find his dark brown eyes all wide and filled with hope and tenderness as he stared down at you, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, clearly displaying his intention but you still didn't step away. Your body wouldn't let you move.
"We're both drunk," you told him, trying to remain rational. Trying to stay clear-headed.
"Not that drunk," he quickly countered, his eyes still roaming your face, his fingers still pressing into your chin and you could feel your heart flutter wildly. Why on earth couldn't your mind catch up with your body?
You sighed, partially from the exhaustion, partially from the inability to properly express yourself but he took it to mean something else. He heard your sigh and thought you were finally giving in. That you were finally going to let him kiss you. Because why else wouldn't you have pulled away?
He leaned forward, his eyes slid shut, and although you should have known it was coming, it still surprised you. Your eyes stayed open wide as he inched towards you and finally at the very last second, you tilted your face to the side, causing him to press his lips against your cheek instead.
You felt his reaction before you could see it. His lips immediately tensed against your skin and his breathing stalled. Then his hand dropped from your chin and he leaned back, eyes no longer warm and inviting.
You tightly pressed your lips together in shame. "Joel, I'm sorry-"
"Don't be," he said quickly, cutting you off and backing away.
The hurt was evident across his face, although he tried to hide it by averting his gaze.
"I just don't think I'm there yet," you said after a long, tense moment. "I'm trying-"
"Yeah, I know," he replied harshly, turning on his heel and marching out of the kitchen. "I know you're tryin' to force yourself to love me. It's gotta be real hard, I get it," he spat, his voice so cold it made you shudder as he shoved his boots back on.
You choked back a sob as you watched him grab his coat.
"Where are you going?"
"Don't know," was all he said before flinging the door open and storming out, leaving you all alone in the entryway with tears slowly streaking down your cheeks.
What an absolute fucking idiot he was.
What was he thinking? That you would magically find him attractive again? Love him again? That he was worthy of your time and care and attention? After everything he did?
You didn't know, of course, but what else could it be, other than fate? Or karma? Or whatever it was, coming back and erasing all your memories of him to set things right? Because did he ever really deserve you in the first place?
No, definitely not. Not after everything he did.
His legs carried him blindly to the Tipsy Bison. It was a quiet night, and maybe had he been in the right frame of mind, he would have been surprised. Most of the town was cooped up the past couple weeks, under normal circumstances he would have thought it would be busier, but at that moment in time, he didn't care. He only cared about one thing: he needed to forget.
He motioned for Seth and he nodded in acknowledgment before pouring him his usual whiskey and setting it down. Joel snatched it up and immediately downed it with a wince before pushing the empty glass towards Seth.
"Another, please," he muttered before burying his face in his hands with a groan. Seth eyed him suspiciously before pouring his second drink and setting it back down on the bar.
Joel let the glass sit there a few minutes while he stewed in his anger. He wanted to blame you, but he couldn't. Not really. He knew it wasn't your fault but, fuck, he just wanted you back. He was so goddamn lonely that it made his chest hurt. He rubbed it absentmindedly before picking up his glass and forcing himself to take a slow sip. He had already drank too much at Tommy's and if he didn't want to wake up with a massive hangover, he had to slow down.
"Hey, cowboy," a familiar, flirty voice suddenly said from beside him. He tilted his head to the side and had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.
"Angie."
She smirked and pulled up a tall barstool, scooting her way up with a little grunt that made his stomach clench as he watched her maneuver in her tight jeans.
"What's got you so blue?" she purred as she took a sip from her drink and crossed her legs, her foot coming dangerously close to touching his calf.
"Who said I was blue?" he asked gruffly before taking another swig of whiskey.
She laughed softly and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Kind of hard to miss," she said, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at him expectantly.
His eyebrows furrowed at her but she noticed the way the corner of his mouth twitched and she bit her lip playfully.
"C'mon, what's the matter? You can tell me, baby," she cooed, and he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
"Don't call me that."
Angie pouted and leaned closer, her breath tickling his ear when she whispered, "Oh, that's right. How could I forget? You prefer daddy."
"Knock it off," he growled, turning away from her and ignoring the stirring below his waist, but it wouldn't be that easy. It never was.
She rested her delicate hand on his forearm and his muscles twitched, but he didn't move. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed being touched. And in that moment, any touch would do. She smiled and slid her hand up his arm slowly, and he let her, his eyes fixed somewhere in the opposite direction as he tried with all his might to ignore it, to fight it, to stand up and fucking leave, but he couldn't do it.
"So tense," she murmured in his ear, and his eyes fluttered shut. "I can help with that, y'know." Her hand dropped from his shoulder to his lap and had Joel's eyes been open, he would have seen Seth's eyes widen in surprise before looking away. "We're real good at it, remember?" she continued, her fingers inching towards the seam of his jeans. But before she could reach between his legs, his hand grabbed her wrist.
"Stop it," he said weakly, forcing his eyes open to glare at her, but she just smiled sweetly at him and pulled her hand back.
"I need to use the restroom," she said, her voice sultry. "You remember where the ladies' room is, right?" she asked with a wink before sliding off the stool and swinging her hips as she strolled down the hall towards the bathroom. He groaned and rubbed his face roughly.
He wasn't sure how it happened. He wanted to blame the whiskey, he wanted to blame you, but at the end of the day it was all on him when he found himself shoving open the door to the women's room and crowding Angie against the sink, his mouth crashing down on hers hungrily.
It was only one tiny minute of weakness. When he realized his mistake, when he remembered her lips weren't anything compared to yours, when her noises were not the noises he wanted to hear, her touch not the touch he craved, he immediately stopped kissing her, pulling back and cursing under his breath.
Angie looked at him, her eyes dark and her cheeks flushed, then took a step forward but he held up his hand.
"No," he said a bit too loudly, the whiskey making his head swim as he stumbled backwards towards the door. She rolled her eyes and grinned.
"C'mon, Joel. When are you going to realize she's not coming back? You need to move on," Angie said sweetly. Too sweetly. "You deserve to be happy," she added, and he frowned when the enormity of what he had done dawned on him through his drunken haze.
"Stay away from me," he warned her, reaching for the door and yanking it open.
"Fine. But just remember: you followed me in here!" she shouted after him as he disappeared down the hall. He snatched his coat from his barstool and jogged towards the exit.
He had to get home.
The carpet should have been worn to the floorboards by the time Joel finally came back. You had been pacing around the living room, chewing on your fingernails nervously as you replayed the entire evening in your head. The guilt was fucking suffocating you. You couldn't help but feel like you were partially to blame, but you would have broken his heart if you let him kiss you without fully understanding how you felt first, and he didn't deserve that. Maybe once he cooled down, he would understand.
When you heard his slow, heavy footsteps walking up the porch stairs, your heart leapt into your throat. The door creaked open slowly, as if he expected you to be asleep and he was trying to be quiet, but when he closed the door and saw you standing in the middle of the living room, your arms wrapped around yourself, his face contorted into a grimace.
"You're still up," he said, voice a little raspy as he hung up his coat.
"Joel, I'm so sorry," you began, "I'm just so confused. I'm still trying to work out my feelings but I don't want to rush into something and risk hurting you."
He swallowed and hung his head in shame, unable to look at you.
"Please don't apologize," he whispered, but you kept going.
"Of course I'm going to apologize. I sent you mixed signals and I ended up hurting you anyway."
"I did somethin'," he blurted out, and you froze mid-sentence, waiting for him to elaborate. Silence filled the room, your eyes drifted around aimlessly before you sunk down onto the edge of the couch and tucked your hands under your thighs.
"What did you do?" you asked, your voice wavering when you realized he still hadn't looked you in the eye.
He took a steadying breath and propped his hands on his hips, his face still angled shamefully towards the floor. "I kissed someone else."
His words hung heavy in the air, your deep, ragged breaths the only sound filling the room as your tired mind tried to make sense of what he just said.
"What?" you finally asked, voice deathly quiet. He forced himself to look at you now, his dark eyes brimming with tears.
"It was a mistake-" he began, voice thick with emotion, tongue heavy and clumsy between his teeth, but you stopped him.
"Just now?" you asked incredulously, your stomach turning sour. Fighting the nausea back down with a harsh swallow, you spoke again. "You tried to kiss me, I shot you down and you just... went out and found someone else?"
"That's not what I left to do, it just happened-"
"Who?" you asked, your gaze stony as you continued to stare at him, anguish and regret flickering across his face.
"Does it matter?" he tried weakly, softly, but it just pissed you off even more.
"Yes," you hissed, slowly standing back up on now shaky legs. "Who, Joel?"
His throat bobbed and he shifted his weight and when he mumbled Angie's name, you saw red.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" you whispered, quickly closing the gap between you and shoving him hard against the chest, causing him to stumble back in shock. When he looked you in the eyes, all glassy and cold and distraught, his blood felt like ice in his veins.
He was losing you.
"Please, lemme just explain-"
"What could you possibly have to say?!" you exclaimed, your body growing hot with rage. Hands shaking so badly you had to cross your arms to hide the tremor. "I was taking too long to fuck you so you went out and found a sure thing?"
"I didn't fuck her, but I could've!" he yelled back, an angry vein popping out of his neck at his sudden outburst. Your eyes went wide and you took a step back in surprise. He didn't know why he was yelling. He knew it wouldn't help, but he just snapped. "I never once pressured you to sleep with me! I gave you your space an-and respected your boundaries," he was flailing now, his thoughts scattered as he desperately tried to make sense. "But I'm a human fuckin' being and I got drunk and I was lonely and I made a fuckin' mistake! And I'm sorry, alright?!"
You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "You're lonely," you repeated, the words like poison on your tongue, and he frowned. "What about me? I'm lonely, too! You know what the first question is out of everyone's mouth ever since my accident?" you asked, glaring up at him, anger rolling off both your bodies. "They ask me how you're doing. You! Like this was some tragedy that only happened to you! But I lost fucking everything in the blink of an eye!" Tears began to burn the backs of your eyes now but you pushed on. "My world literally turned upside down in an instant and everyone just kept waiting for me to get with the program, including you!"
"That's not true," he said, shaking his head angrily, "I never pressured you to do anythin'!"
"It's the way you look at me!" you cried, wiping the tears from your cheeks. "You don't even realize you're doing it but you keep looking at me, expecting to find the woman you fell in love with but she's gone, Joel!"
You both fell silent, staring at one another, shoulders heaving as you each sat with the weight of your words.
"I don't care," he finally said, lowering his voice. "I still love you. I told you that first day. What we got is rare and special and I'm not givin' up on us."
"Then how could you go kiss someone else the first time there's a bump in the road?" you asked, tone hurt and dejected, then you turned and headed up the stairs.
"I told you, it was a mistake," he pleaded, following you. "I'm so sorry... wait, what're you doin'?" he asked when he realized he had followed you into your room. You were snatching clothes from the drawers and tossing them onto your bed, and that's when he really began to panic.
"I can't stay here," you said, disappearing into the bathroom. His vision narrowed and his legs became weak as fear flooded his veins.
"No," he whispered, but you didn't hear him. You were busy gathering a few toiletries from the bathroom and tossing them on the bed along with your clothes, but when you walked past him to get a bag, he grabbed your arm.
"Don't do this," he begged. You yanked your arm out of his grip and stepped back, glaring at him and he realized in that moment he would rather have you there screaming at him for the rest of the night than not have you there at all, so he kept talking. He kept pushing.
"Y'know, for someone who says she doesn't have feelin's for me, you sure seem to be pretty pissed off," he glowered, and your eyes widened. That's it, he thought, let me have it. "If you don't want me, if you don't give a shit 'bout me, then what the hell does it matter if someone else does?"
You gasped, his words like a punch to the gut. Like a blade to your heart. Without thinking, your arm swung back and your palm cracked loudly against his cheek, stunning you both into silence.
He wanted to rub the spot, to help soothe the pain with the tips of his fingers, but he resisted. Instead, he let his cheek redden so you were forced to see what you did.
"You think I don't give a shit about you?" you seethed once you found your voice, palm stinging at your side, eyes flickering between his eyes and his cheek.
"Sure seems that way," he countered, and your jaw clenched angrily as the next round of tears began to well up.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you yelled, your hands balling into fists at your sides. "How dare you. You made me give a shit about you, you asshole!"
You shoved past him and headed down the hall to the spare room in search of a duffel bag, but Joel was hot on your trail. If he let you leave, he would never get you back.
"The hell does that even mean?"
You whipped around, making him stumble backwards, your eyes wild and bloodshot. "You told me you would make me fall in love with you again! This whole time we've been getting to know each other, building up our relationship and you think after all that, after everything we've shared, that I don't give a shit about you?"
"Well-" he began, but you cut him off.
"I took care of you when you were sick. I sat next to your bed for a full week, waiting for you to fall asleep, making sure you had everything you needed," you said, your voice growing quiet as hot tears spilled down your cheeks. "You told me about your daughter. I told you about my brother," you whimpered, your voice cracking on the last word. Joel's face fell when he finally realized how broken you were, the full weight of his actions realized. "How could you say that to me?" you sobbed, burying your face in your hands, your cheeks hot and wet in your palms. Your head ached. Your heart ached. You needed this to end.
"Oh, god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it," he told you, stepping forward and pulling you into his arms. You only let yourself melt against his broad chest for a moment before you sniffled and pushed him away. Turning around, you snatched the bag from the ground and stormed past him.
"Tell me how to fix it," he pleaded as he followed you back into your room.
"You can't."
His head was pounding, throat scratchy and dry as he watched you pack from the doorway, his chest tightening with each article of clothing that passed through your hands.
"Please. Stay. I-I-I won't even talk to you if that's what you want, just please stay."
You paused, your eyes squeezing shut as you silently cried over your bag. "You want me to stay, Joel?" you asked, voice trembling, and even though weren't looking, he nodded.
"I'll do anythin'," he said earnestly, and you opened your eyes. Reaching for your journal, you flipped it open to a well worn page and tossed it on the bed. He frowned at it, confused, but stepped forward and picked it up.
"Then tell me what you lied about."
His eyes scanned the page, reading the four words over and over. Joel lied to me. No context, but he didn't need any. He knew.
You could see the conflict in his face as he tried to figure out a way around it.
"The truth. Or I'm gone," you said firmly, and when his eyes flicked up to yours, you saw fear.
He slowly turned around, the journal held delicately in his massive hands, as he sat down onto the edge of your mattress.
"Okay."
The shock made your tears slow to a stop.
"Okay?"
"Yeah, okay," he repeated, his tone somber as he stared down at your journal in his lap. "What's the difference now, anyway? You already hate me."
I don't hate you, you thought, but you remained silent.
"If I tell you, you promise not to leave?" he clarified, and you thought about it for a moment. What if it was something really bad? But you knew you wouldn't get the truth out of him any other way, so you nodded. You figured if you still left and ended up becoming a liar, then at least you would be even.
"I told you 'bout the Fireflies," he began, and you got the feeling the story was going to be long so you sat down on the bed.
"Yes."
"You, Ben 'n Lisa were all part of a group out in Salt Lake City," he said, his gaze pinned on the journal. "In a hospital. Doin' research."
"Research? I don't know anything about-"
"You weren't doin' the research. The three of you were just guards. Patrolmen. There were doctors there, and they were lookin' for a cure," he continued, then took a deep breath before lifting his chin and staring at a fixed point on your wall.
"Did they find one?" you asked, remembering that first day when Joel told you about the outbreak. You had asked him at the time if there was cure and he said no. That couldn't be the lie, could it?
"Well, they were close," he said, his brow pinching together. "This next part is somethin' that's gotta stay in this house, y'hear me?" he asked, finally turning to look at you. "Y'gotta promise me that no matter what you end up thinkin' of me, you can't tell anyone 'bout this part."
You didn't want to make that promise. Why would you, after everything he had put you through? But, still, you found yourself nodding slowly, then his next sentence knocked all the air from your lungs.
"Ellie's immune."
Your lips slowly parted as the shock coursed through you, your eyes slowly drifting down to the comforter. Your mind was blank except for Ellie's immune, Ellie's immune playing on a constant loop.
"It's why you didn't write anythin' else, I reckon," he explained, holding up your journal. "Didn't want anyone to find it."
You slowly began to put the pieces together. A research hospital. Ellie's immunity. They were close to a cure.
"The Fireflies thought they could use Ellie to create a vaccine," he said after a long pause. "And I took her to 'em. Took her right into the lion's den," he said with a dry chuckle. "Didn't realize til after they took her that they would've had to... kill her to get what they needed."
Your eyes darted up to meet his again as you listened, entranced.
"Nobody knows, okay?" he said, his voice wavering a bit. "Only Tommy. No one else can know. Her life depends on it, d'you understand?"
You nodded, still unable to find your voice, so he continued.
"When I realized what they were doin', that they would have to kill her, I just..." he trailed off and scratched his chin, looking away, eyes distant. "I lost it. It's the only way to describe it."
"W-what do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.
"I killed alotta people," he said, voice cold and detatched, "alotta fuckin' people. Whoever got in my way, I just... didn't think twice. 'Til you."
You inhaled sharply, almost forgetting you were somewhere in that hospital.
"Me?" you squeaked.
"You didn't see my face," he said, his voice beginning to shake. "None of you did. The three of you were together. You surrendered. Had you face down on the ground with your hands behind your head. Told me you were plannin' on ditchin' the Fireflies anyway. That you wouldn't come after me." His hand trembled in his lap and he made a fist.
"You weren't the first ones to say that to me, but you were the first ones I let live."
You pressed your palms into your face, trying to quell the ache behind your eyes as you rocked gently back and forth on the bed, heart thundering in your chest, blooding pumping too fast. The exhaustion was too much. You could hardly make sense of what he was saying.
"You almost killed me," you said, more of a statement than a question, your voice muffled through your hands.
"Yeah." He watched you carefully, trying to read you, desperately searching for some small glimmer of hope underneath all your rage and confusion.
"Then what?" you forced yourself to ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.
He ticked his jaw to the side and looked away.
"Then... Ellie 'n me came here. Started over. Tried to forget," he sniffed, pulling at a loose string on his shirt. "Then the three of you showed up couple months later. Scared the fuckin' shit outta me, but none of you seemed to recognize me."
"Because we never saw you," you said, and he nodded.
"I didn't speak to you for over a month. I was so scared you'd recognize my voice or somethin', but I just couldn't stay away from you," he said, his eyes softening now. "Then that night at the bar happened. When you came up to me and-"
"Yeah, I remember what you told me," you replied, not eager to relive that story at the moment.
"Then the rest is history. We started messin' around. You didn't know who I was for a few months, then I finally told you."
"After you were already fucking me," you said coldly, and he winced.
"After I fell in love with you."
You sat back and rubbed your eyes. You had so many questions. What was your reaction when you first learned who he was? If you stuck around, you must have seen something in Joel that made you feel safe. Why did he spare you? Was it only because you couldn't identify him? And how much did Ellie know?
"Please say somethin'," he begged after a few tense, quiet minutes.
"What do you want me to say?" you asked him, your shoulders sagging forward, limbs too heavy. "You want me to forgive you? You want me to say I understand?" He shook his head but you kept talking.
"You spared my life just to break my heart."
He turned away from you as his face crumpled. "I'm gonna fix it," he said, his throat tight and voice thick as he fought off the tears that were threatening to spill down his face. "I'm gonna make it right, if you just-"
"Can you go, please?" you asked quietly, "I have nothing else to say and I'm fucking tired."
He looked over at you but you refused to look up, your puffy eyes fixed blankly on the floor. His gaze drifted to the bag and clothes littering your bed and he asked, "Are you stayin'?"
You didn't answer. You just slowly stood up and flung your comforter back, some of your clothes falling into a heap on the floor but you didn't care as you crawled into bed and turned your back to him.
Begrudgingly, he stood. His eyes flicked around your room nervously, his fingers fidgeting at his sides while he chewed on the inside of his cheek, struggling to come up with the right words to say.
"Go!" you sobbed from underneath your blankets, hiding from him the tears that were soaking your sheets.
So, he left. Not because he wanted to, but because he caused you enough agony for one night, and as much as he wanted to stay and beg on his knees for forgiveness, it would be the selfish thing to do. Instead, he went to his bed and stared at the ceiling, barely sleeping the entire night because his body jerked awake at every little creak the old house made, wondering when he woke up, if you would be gone for good.
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A/N: Yes, there will be a happy ending đ
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel the last of us#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#joel miller fluff#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#the last of us game#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us#ikwya fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller tlou
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Thinking about John Price and his cute little assistant (reader) who ends up pregnant.Â
A/N: Guys i was inspired while scrolling on the john price x reader tag, this legit came to me as a vision and now i have to write it (I plan on expanding on this idea so just stay with me!!!!)
Imagine being John Price's cute little assistant, just the sweetest little thing that John is kinda obsessed with. Like don't get me wrong she is amazing at her job, smart, put together and well organized and John does feel that her addition has been a positive one, taking some pressure off his shoulders and making sure his team is always prepared for whatever they are doing. She is very good at what she does, but that doesnât stop John from admiring her. He knows he shouldn't be bit, he can't help it, she's young and sweet and a little bit innocent and he just wants to protect and love her all the time.Â
In the beginning she was shy, only addressing him as sir and knocking on his door hesitantly whenever she needed to speak to him but gradually their boundaries became less and less. More often than not she works out of his office, whether heâs there or not, he insists on buying her an early lunch when she lets slip that she didn't have breakfast that morning. He has even picked her up from a night out once or twice, a little bit tipsy and calling the most trusted person she can think of that just happened to be her boss. He takes care of her as well, helping her get her makeup and clothes off before tucking her into her bed with a bottle of water and pain killers for the morning. He doesn't mention it when he sees her next, knowing how embarrassed she will be when he tells her the loneliness her tipsy self admitted.Â
When she starts to get sick John is having absolutely none of it, driving her home and ordering her to take some time off (he even visits later that night to bring her some soup for her stomach). He doesn't expect her to look so sad when she comes back supposedly better from her âfluâ, he doesn't expect to see her eyes shine with tears when he asks âwhat's wrong babygirl?â. He sits them down on the couch in his office together, putting an arm over her and pulling her close for comfort. He certainly does not expect her to look up at him with those shiny wet eyes and admit she did something bad before crying that she's pregnant. Itâs news to John who never even considered that his girl would be dating (let alone sleeping with) people. When he vocalizes this and she admits that her baby daddy isn't a very good guy, it's over for John.Â
Suddenly he's all over her, promising to be there for her, that she can come to him whenever she needs. And he actually means it. Suddenly sheâs staying in the spare bedroom in his house, not only does it have more room but John can keep an eye on her. She entirely moves into his office working on his desk with him, he gets her a comfy chair so she can be supported in the later months. He gets up to hold her hair back when she has morning sickness and ensures she gets enough nutritious food each day. When she starts showing, oh my god John doesn't know what to do with himself. That little bump peaking out of her tight skirts makes him foam at the mouth. Of course he prioritizes her comfort, insisting she change shoes and stop wearing those uncomfortable looking heels, but he keeps her in her formal work attire for just a little longer, just so he can see her cute tummy poking out of it.Â
Speaking of her bump. He simply can't resist putting his hand on it. He feels so protective over it, best believe he goes feral if anyone tries to touch it. Hell all but breaks loose when his precious baby looks up at him with teary eyes telling him how uncomfortable she was when some rando put their hand on her stomach, (someone definitely lost their job that day). He eventually has her sitting in his lap, cooing over her and reassuring her that they won't get in trouble, that really he is the big boss anyways. He just loves having her there, perched on top of him he rests his head on her shoulder both arms coming around to cradle her now bigger bump.Â
John mandates maternity leave when she starts getting big, maybe around seven months when she spends a lot of her time complaining about back aches and swollen ankles, of course he does what he can to help her but it gets to the point where he knows that she should be resting. He has to basically forcibly put her on leave, reassuring her panics about money by promising to take care of her. And oh boy does he. He gives her foot massages and holds her belly, when she starts outgrowing her clothes best believe he would hand over any of his so she can fit in them more comfortably. He's just all over her, unable to stomach the fact that soon she will have a real live baby. That baby is about to become the most protected baby in the entire world.
That's all I have for now because I fear if I begin rambling about the rest of the 141 neither of us might make it out alive. (just know this baby is going to be so damn spoiled itâs crazy).Â
#john price#task force 141#john price x reader#mae writes đ#price cod#price x reader#task force x reader#john price call of duty#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#141 x reader#baby daddy#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#x reader#john price fluff#head canons#captain price
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THE BENEFITS OF IVERMECTIN. IF YOU HAVE CANCER, FREQUENT COLD OR INFECTIONS, MUSCLE SHRINKAGE, CARDIAC ISSUES, CROHNS, HERPES, ETC.
The study was published in the Cureus Journal of Medical Science. LET'S TALK ABOUT IVERMECTIN 1 â Ivermectin prevents the damage caused to RNA Vaccines. 2 â Ivermectin blocks the entry of Spike Protein into cells. So, if the person was vaccinated with COVID, they have hope, they have a way to treat themselves through Ivermectin. 3 â Ivermectin is a treatment after Covid and after vaccination, it is an effective medicine in all phases of Covid 19, even before entering the cell, Ivermectin already destroys the virus in the blood. It only has beneficial effects and no harmful effects in the treatment of the coronavirus. 4 â Ivermectin has a very powerful anti-inflammatory action against Coronavirus. 5 â Ivermectin has a powerful action for traumatic and orthopedic injuries, it strengthens muscles and has no side effects like corticosteroids. 6 â Ivermectin treats autoimmune ailments such as: rheumatoid arthritis, ankylosing spondylitis, fibromyalgia, psoriasis, Crohn's disease, allergic rhinitis. 7 â Ivermectin reduces the frequency of flu and colds. 8 â Ivermectin improves the immunity of cancer patients. 9 â Ivermectin treats Herpes Simplex and Herpes Zoster. 10 â Ivermectin reduces the frequency of sinusitis and diverticulitis. 11 â Ivermectin protects the heart in cardiac overload, in an embolism for example, it prevents cardiac hypoxia because it stimulates the production of basic energy so that the tissue is not destroyed and thus improves cardiac function. 12 â Ivermectin is antiparasitic. 13 â Ivermectin is anti-neoplastic (anti-cancer), it suppresses the proliferation and metastasis of cancer cells, only killing cancer cells and preserving healthy cells, improving the effectiveness of chemotherapy treatment, as it kills cancer cells resistant to chemotherapy, defeating the resistance to multiple chemotherapeutics that tumors develop, and combined with chemotherapy and/or anti-cancer agents, it provides an increase in the effectiveness of these treatments. 14 â Ivermectin is antimicrobial (bacteria and viruses), and increases immunity. 15 â Ivermectin reaches the Central Nervous System and regenerates the nerves. 16 â Ivermectin regulates glucose and insulin metabolism. 17 â Ivermectin regulates cholesterol metabolism. 18 â Ivermectin reduces liver fat in steatose. 19 â Ivermectin protects the liver exposed to insecticides. 20 â Ivermectin attacks the virus wherever it is, regardless of mutations. 21 â Ivermectin serves for the prevention and treatment of coronavirus, surprisingly. Unproven efficacy is not of Ivermectin, but of vaccines. 22 â Ivermectin, used as a prophylactic agent, was associated with a significant reduction in infection, hospitalization and mortality rates due to COVID-19. 23 - Ivermectin does not attack the liver, since it is not metabolized in it, and if in the intestine, on the contrary, it protects the liver.Â
BIG PHARMA DOES NOT WANT YOU TO KNOW THIS.THEY WANT TO SELL YOU THE EXPENSIVE MEDS THEY MAKE BILLIONS ON.
Please read, save and re-blog before Tumblr takes this down.
#ivermectin#big pharma lobby#big pharma#the great awakening#government corruption#covid vaccine#covid 19#covid 19 vaccine#covid#cardiac arrest#cardiac issues#crohns#diabetes#orthopedics#herpes
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the COVID 2024-2025 vaccine is now available in some areas, please look into getting yours ASAP
i am a COVID survivor who is dealing with long COVID and permanent lung damage due to having caught the virus in October of 2023. this isn't a flu or a cold. this disease causes serious, permanent long term damage. i'm still struggling with even worse brain fog than i already had previously and sometimes it becomes extremely hard for me to breathe, even in good conditions.
COVID has been surging like crazy in the US this summer due to folks socializing more closely and masking no longer being required in most places. social distancing does not happen here anymore. we need to protect ourselves even while there are not mandates and rules in place stating that you MUST be masked (you still should be masking).
the CDC is stating that everyone ages 6 months and older should get the 2024â2025 COVID-19 vaccine:
even if you have been vaccinated in the past you still need to keep up with current vaccines as their protection decreases over time, and COVID continues to mutate and become different strains that are resistant to previous vaccines. staying up to date and masking are the only ways to stay safe. viruses mutate to adapt to their hosts, and COVID is no different.
there are currently 5 variants of the Omicron strain of COVID that are responsible for the uptick in recent cases:
from a COVID survivor who doesn't want to go through this shit a second time: vaccinate. wear your masks. wash your hands. social distance. quarantine when sick. take this seriously. it's been 4 years and COVID has done nothing but prove it is here to stay unless we make a huge change in our society.
#covid#covid 19#disability#pandemic#disabled#actually disabled#covid survivor#cripple punk#physical disability#crip punk#cpunk#punk#our writing
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