#he deserves a nickname too ☹️

[specific-dreamer]

and when i write a bob x cherry fic that follows their relatinship begining to end then what

[star-girl69]

Don’t Delete The Kisses

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader

—-

synopsis: after breaking someone’s heart as apart of your initiation into the aphrodite cabin, you don’t think love is meant for you after your cruelty. clarisse thinks you’re ridiculous.

a/n: my friend was talking about how like insane this song makes her and i was like oh so this is genius

Don’t Delete The Kisses - Wolf Alice

warnings: insecure and very sad y/n ☹️, so like yeah all of that stuff, very ooc clarisse but IDC, i hate everyone but you trope fr, more talking about our feelings which we know is very hard for clarisse, the usual mentions of death and weapons, all that demigod stuff, more clarisse wanting, clarisse is insane as always i love her my ladybug fr, swearing, mentions of food, crap ton of violence, broken noses, whole bunch of blood, teeth get knocked out, yeah, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“Well, did you do it?”

You wanted to sneak into the Aphrodite cabin silently, hoping your pink jacket would blend into the walls and hide you. But that was just wishful thinking. That was just something you whispered to yourself on the walk back to comfort your shaking body, wiping away the tears.

This is your initiation. They’re all sitting on their beds, waiting with eager eyes, greedy for a taste of someone else’s suffering, the comfort of knowing it’s not their own.

“Yes,” you say, pretending tears don’t rim your eyes.

You stand stall, shutting the cabin door behind you.

“I did it.”

Your sister Drew stands up and grabs your hand. You think she might comfort you. You think she might tell you Carter was in it all along, you didn’t really hurt him, it was all some elaborate prank.

Instead, she raises your hand up in the air and turns towards the rest of your siblings.

“Y/N!” she says, “Daughter of Aphrodite!”

Your siblings clap and cheer, smiling widely- one of the younger girls runs right up to you and hugs you, face in your stomach.

“You played him so good,” she giggles, pigtails swinging in the air. She is so naïve, so young, so unknowing. You wonder if you can give yourself amnesia if you slam your head into the column holding up the cabin.

You would do anything to forget this night. To forget the look on Carter’s face. He fell in love with you and you let your siblings guide you on what to do, what to say, you let them dress you up and and put pretty bows in your hair that he reached out to touch.

He thought he would end the night with a kiss, but instead he ended the night with your hand in his face, scoffing animatedly and asking “How could he ever think a daughter of Aphrodite could like him?”

You could feel his heart break, and you could feel your mother ghosting around the wind, you could feel the muscles in your face strain as your eyes filled with tears.

You wrap your arms around your younger sister and force yourself to chuckle.

“His face was so funny,” you say, but there was an unintended action to your initiation. Your heart broke too. You saw the look on his face- if that is how losing love feels then you never want to give yourself the chance to lose it.

Besides, it’s not like you could ever deserve love after this. The love your siblings crave but never quite get. True, encompassing, all-consuming love. After this night, after the hatred coiling up in your stomach like a snake, it’s just not meant for you.

—-

Everyone at Camp calls you princess.

It made you feel like a baby, weak, like you were nothing but a pretty face. But no matter how much you flinched at the nickname, grimaced when you found yourself answering to its call, no one stopped.

Your siblings all cooed and said it was so fitting, saying with curled lips that you were most definitely Aphrodite’s favorite. Your hair always fell in the most beautiful way, your makeup always stayed and looked beautiful, you know you can’t walk through camp without someone looking at you.

Especially after your charmspeak developed, you became a shell of yourself, scared constantly like you are just a walking knife, doomed to cut anyone you come near.

You’re not that different from your siblings- the only difference is you won’t ever lead someone on. You won’t ever make anyone thing they have a chance. Because you’ll never break someone’s heart again.

You’re still Aphrodite’s daughter, you still like to look pretty. So, you do your makeup and your hair, you revel in the feelings of eyes on you but you choose your words carefully.

But other than that, you despise love, your mother, everything about the Aphrodite Cabin.

But you suck it up, you let boys fix your posture, let them teach you to fight while they dream of kissing you, and you work silently and you wait to get out of this hellhole Camp.

You stay silent and you let them realize that you’re just simply not interested in a relationship. They’re sad, but their hearts aren’t broken.

Everybody calls you princess. But Clarisse says it differently.

Clarisse La Rue is probably the bane of your existence. She’s drop dead gorgeous, you would kill to run your hands through her curls, and she is the most talented person you know in battle. You’re pretty good, after all this silent training and the tips and tricks shared in vain, but she is a force.

She’s the one guilty pleasure you let yourself have. If only because you know she’s too strong to get hurt. So you let yourself look, keep a secret crush tight in your chest- only bursting out when you can’t stand it, and you just have to stare at her and revel in that for a second.

The thing about Clarisse is that she likes you. Which would be fine, you just tried to stay away, but she kept coming back for more and more until it became impossible to ignore her. It’s like you two were just doomed to forever be in love with each other, and you have to live with that and eat it like crow.

It’s not like she outwardly flirts with you. She just says your nickname differently. She caresses the words and says it softer. She doesn’t stare at you like everyone else- she looks at you. It feels amazing, your one guilty pleasure is to revel in her love from far away, but you make it clear that you don’t want a relationship and you never will.

Clarisse seems intent either to ignore that or wait you out. You don’t let her get close enough. You won’t break someone else’s heart.

Everyone calls you princess. You only like it when Clarisse says it.

—-

“Hi, princess.”

You don’t look at him, focusing on tying your shoes instead. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, I thought I could help you.”

You finish tying your laces, taking your foot up off of the bench and onto the ground. You grab your sword, hair tied back, tank top and stretchy pants. He looks you up and down. You do the same.

“Uh… Van, right?”

“Funny name so you won’t forget it, huh?” he winks, and you very obviously grimace.

“Ha, yeah.” You set your sights on a dummy currently not being attacked by a sword or spear and take a step forward.

“I noticed,” he starts, arm in front of you, stopping you from moving. “That the only weapon you don’t know how to use is the spear.”

You finally look at him. He’s wearing cargo pants and the orange camp t-shirt. His hand is plain and blonde, cut short, and his cheeks seem to be permanently flushed. He’s a son of Ares, pretty good fighter, but nothing else to speak for. Clarisse, at least, is the absolute best at almost everything she does- and she puts in the work to show it.

Van looks like he trains the minimum amount and gets by on his natural abilities as a demigod.

“Okay?” you say, wanting nothing more than to get away from him and go back to training. “I don’t get what you’re saying. And don’t flirt with me, either- one of my siblings would be happy to make out with you in a shed somewhere.”

“I’ll teach you,” he says, slightly exasperated. You finally notice he is, in fact, holding a spear. “Huh?”

You squint at him.

You do have a reputation in this camp. Part of the reason you’re called princess is because you’re standoffish and cold- people mistake it as you thinking you’re better than them. Really, you’re one of the worst people at this camp. You’re saving them from being tainted by association.

But every once in a while, someone will get it in their heads that soulmates do exist, and they’re the right person for you- and you’re mean and you shut them down, but that’s way before they fall in love. It hurts them, but not as much as it hurts you, not as much as it would hurt them if you gave them any ounce of attention.

The only person who keeps coming back for more sticks her spear into the ground next to you, fingers drumming against the wood.

“Van, you look fucking stupid.”

“Clarisse,” Van hisses, glaring at her. She glares right back, unimpressed. “Can you just go? Fuck.”

She raises her eyebrows. His spear hits the dirt before you can even comprehend that Clarisse kicked it out of his hands, and you have to admit- Clarisse is quick. Clarisse is good at what she does.

She pours everything she’s got into training- and pursuing you. You think it might just be a joke at this point, or something she finds fun, been doing it too long that stopping feels wrong. You would be lying if you said it wouldn’t be weird for her to stop. For both of you to stop whatever this is. This silent wanting.

“First of all, you are mediocre with a spear. Second, if Y/N wanted spear lessons she would come to me, right?”

“I don’t know,” you huff, walking away.

“Clarisse,” you can hear Van groan. “She was going to say yes until you ruined it.”

“Bro, she was not going to say yes. You’re welcome for saving your ass from even more embarrassment, Gods.”

“You’re just mad she doesn’t like you after you’ve been pining for years.”

She laughs, loud and boisterously, but there’s an edge to her voice, one of doubt, something like she’s scared.

“Oh, you’re fucking funny,” she says, and you can hear her slapping his shoulder. You stretch, risking a glance over your shoulder- Van is walking off and she’s looking at you.

But when your eyes meet hers, she quickly looks away. And you notice. You notice, but you do nothing about it. The way it’s always meant to be.

—-

The strawberry fields is the most beautiful place at camp. It’s where you feel something for your mother, because while gardening and plants are Demeter’s thing- finding beauty in the way the strawberry sits in your hand, the way the sun turns the sky into purple and oranges, the way the bright green trees stand out against that- it’s all your mother.

You can appreciate beauty here.

You see beauty everywhere, and you see love everywhere, but not the kinds your mother is famous for.

You’ve been picking strawberries for what seems like hours now, but it’s bearable under the setting sun and when you think about how good it will feel to finally sink into your bed.

“Y/N!” someone calls. “Princess!” you roll your eyes but stand up, turning around and putting your hand over your face to protect from the setting sun.

“Yeah?!” you shout back, squinting. You realize you’re alone in the fields.

“We’re heading back!” a Demeter girl, Sasha, says.

Your eyes flick to your basket that will only take a few more minutes to fill up.

“I’ll go back later!”

“Okay!” she shouts back, running off after everyone else.

You crouch back down, taking a deep breath before you begin ruffling through the leaves of the strawberry plant to find the juicy berries. You sneak a few as you work, shuffling down the line of plants. It’s so calm here. There’s no one to hurt. There’s nothing to be scared of.

When you stand up, there’s four figures standing by the shed. You gasp, bringing your hand to your chest, but Clarisse takes off her helmet.

“Princess?” she asks. “What’cha doin’ out here all alone?”

“Collecting strawberries,” you snort, full basket hitting your knees as you walk towards her.

“I see that,” she huffs. You notice Van behind her, and another sister, Carrie, a brother named Matty. “But what are you doin’ out here alone?”

You shrug, coming to a stop in front of the little group of Ares kids.

“Everyone else left.”

“It’s almost dark.”

“Not yet, though,” you smile sarcastically.

Carrie and Matty continue walking after they realize nothing fun is going to happen. You’re not gonna entertain them, so why would they care? But Clarisse and Van stay. You stare at Clarisse for a moment longer before finally looking away.

“You don’t have a weapon,” Van notes. “Smart to be out here alone?”

“Oh, relax,” you sigh. “We’re still in the barrier.”

You tighten your grip on the bucket and turn left, walking towards the shed. Clarisse is hot on your heels.

“And how do you know that? What if it had spontaneously, like, failed and shut down, or something.”

“Then I think everyone would be running around and screaming, because monsters would be crawling through camp. I would know.”

You place the bucket next to all the other buckets collected today- you’ll keep the good ones here over night, away from the animals and bugs and someone will collect them in the morning.

You stand up, rolling your wrists, wiping the sweat from your brow. You take the small cutters for the thicker branches from your pocket and throw it into the bin with the others.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you can walk me back.”

“I jus’ think it’s stupid to be out here all alone,” she shrugs. You stare right past her, watching as the door slams shut. Was it windy?

Clarisse whips around, but sees it’s just the closed door. You frown, Clarisse steps forward.

“Sorry, Clarisse!” Van shouts from outside, and that’s when you hear the lock sliding into place. Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s done.

“Van, what the hell?!” Clarisse shouts, trying the knob. The door stays firmly shut. She slams her shoulder into it, but this place was built strong to protect from the elements, from all the little animals hungry for strawberries. “Let us out right fucking now, I swear, Van!”

“I can’t!” he says back, sounding sort of pained. “I just couldn’t get her alone!”

“Me?!” you yell, feeling increasingly trapped and claustrophobic. You shove Clarisse out of the way and rattle the doorknob, but it really is locked. “I didn’t do shit to you! Let me the fuck out!”

“For Carter!”

You take a step back. Your face falls from anger and anxiety into pure and utter turmoil. Your chest squeezes like it does every time you think about him. You carry the pain and the regret so heavily you doubt you’ll ever get rid of it. You’ll always be like this, rotting in your head, watching your beauty fade away and everyone give up on you.

Will you finally be free then? If you scream and take a knife to your face, make yourself unrecognizable, will everyone finally leave you alone then? Can you be something other than this stupid camp’s stupid princess?

But it’s wishful thinking. You’re a daughter of Aphrodite, and you were born to be beautiful, and you were born to be alone.

“Van, I’ll fucking kill you. Let. Us. Out.”

“Sorry!” he shouts, and you hear his footsteps in the dirt, running away while Clarisse screams for him to come back here.

You take a deep breath but it all comes crashing down like a dam breaking. All of the anger, the regret, the fear, it all comes pouring out until you’re sobbing into your hands in the middle of the shed.

Clarisse stops trying to break through the door. It’s painfully tense for a moment, nothing besides the crickets and the sounds of your sobs. You end up sitting on half-empty bags of fertilizer and mulch in the corner- although it’s not really used much, sometimes the Demeter kids like to experiment- it’s the most comfortable thing in this shed.

You’re 17 now, and you broke Carter’s heart when he was 13 and you were 12. You wake up and you feel your guilt like you feel the sun on your face- it’s your morning routine to stare at yourself in the mirror and know that you are the blessed one who doesn’t deserve it. You beg to be free, but this is your punishment.

“I’m sorry,” you cry out, “How does he not know I’m sorry?”

You never said it to him, of course- your siblings had told you Aphrodite would curse you if you said you were sorry, and you were 12 and scared so you shut up and you stared at him from afar, your first love and your first heartbreak. Could he not see the way you hated yourself? The way you hated everyone?

Why couldn’t anyone see that you weren’t a princess? You were a demon, so wicked you were worthy of being Hades’ right hand minion.

Clarisse sits down heavily next to you. She doesn’t say anything. She waits until the sobs start to ebb like a wave, until the worst is over.

“I’m sorry,” you say, one final time. Maybe the wind will take pity on you and carry your words to him. You wish it would, but why? Why do you deserve it? Your nails dig into your palms, leaving blood red moons.

“Why are you sorry?” Clarisse breathes, seeming more genuinely curious then demeaning. “Who’s Carter?”

You miss the way her lip curls around the name.

“I can’t tell you,” you moan, because Clarisse is the only person who actually gives half a fuck about you, and it feels so nice to have her eyes on you- not in the way everyone else does. They admire you, despise you, she appreciates you. She stares at you from afar and you both know that you want more, but she’s content to stare and you’re content to let her.

She laughs. “Yes, you can. I wouldn’t even care if you killed someone named Carter. But seeing as you escaped punishment from Chiron, and you only got locked in a shed, it’s probably not that bad.”

When you look up at her you can feel the mascara streaming down your face. You’re sure you look like a raccoon, and you can see how unnerving it is for her to see you- always so calm and put together- reduced to tears by a single name.

“I’m a daughter of Aphrodite, Clarisse.”

“I know,” she says, although it sounds like a question.

You stare at her, not able to say it, trying to convey to her with your eyes. You can practically see the cogs turning in her head as she thinks about the Aphrodite cabin.

“Oh,” she says. A few tears fall down your face. “The initiation thing- you have to break someone’s heart, right?”

“Yes,” you say, bitterly, resisting the urge to throw something and have a tantrum. You press your hands into your eyes, breathing heavily. “That stupid, stupid initiation. I hate being her daughter. I hate being like this.”

The hug starts out awkward. Clarisse places her arm lightly around your shoulders, starts mumbling apathetically that it’ll be okay. It’s not that she doesn’t care or anything, you’re both just foreign to what it’s like to feel this way for someone.

And it feels good to have someone touching you, so before you can stop yourself you’re shoving your way in her arms. She stiffens, sits up straight as your tears stain her orange camp shirt. But after a moment she hugs you back just as fiercely, with just as much desperation. She doesn’t say anything, probably because she doesn’t know what to say, and you can’t even comprehend your embarrassing, secret, unrealistic guilty pleasure of a crush is hugging you right now.

You’re too focused on the way she shushes you softly, her arm against your waist, the other around your shoulder- thumb drawing circles on your skin.

You’re too focused on the way she feels against you to even care about how awkward this will be later.

Finally, when night has really fallen and the wind starts to howl, you let go of Clarisse.

“Sorry,” you mumble, body locking up, staring firmly at the ground. Your face is caked in runny makeup- you feel as disgusting as you’re sure you look.

“It’s okay,” she says, hesitating for a moment before she stops touching you. “I, uh, I don’t think you should hate yourself.”

You scoff. Both at the ridiculousness of her stuttering and what she’s saying. “Whatever,” you mumble.

“No, I’m being serious.” She seems a little firmer now, like she really believes what she’s saying. But she doesn’t know you. “You shouldn’t hate yourself. Like, what do you even mean, you “hate being like this?’ What’s this?”

“I’m a monster, Clarisse. Literally, a fucking monster. I’m a horrible person, and yet everyone walks around and calls be princess because, what? I’m pretty? You can still be Aphrodite’s favorite and a monster. Maybe I am her favorite for a reason. Because of what I did.”

“A monster? Really?”

She looks at you like you’re the stupidest girl in the world. And Gods, coming from someone like Clarisse does that hurt.

You stare her down like you’re not about to cry. You squint so the tears won’t come, digging your nails into your palms to distract from the feeling in your stomach.

“I asked him to meet me at night. He told me he thought he loved me, and I laughed in his fucking face and said how could he ever think that I would love him? Who does that? Who is so fucked in the head?”

You look at her face, slightly twinged with disgust, and it feels good. It feels good to drive someone else away. To save them from yourself.

“This is my punishment. My life. And I hate it, but I know it’s what’s meant for me. I’ll never be loved. No matter how beautiful I am. I won’t let myself, I won’t hurt someone else. I don’t deserve it.”

She grabs your hand. You look at her, and she’s still so disgusted, so why is she touching you? Why is her face morphing into concern? Why does she still look at you like you’re this precious thing? Why do you like it? Why do you crave her like air?

“You don’t deserve this,” she says.

Why isn’t she listening to you?

“I don’t, Clarisse. Just- jus’ stop, please.”

But it finally hits you why she’s so disgusted. It’s not what you did, it’s the way you think about yourself.

“You came to camp when you were 12, right, so that’s when you completed your initiation? So, you were 12. You were 12 and listening to your older siblings. You were 12 and you made a mistake, and you’ve spent years and years punishing yourself over it. Most of the people at camp are blind, Y/N, but I’m not. I see the way you treat yourself, and that- you just don’t deserve that.”

“Fine,” you mumble, feeling a little breathless. “Maybe I was 12. But it’s too late. Everyone at camp thinks I’m a bitchy fucking princess.”

She smiles. “Well, you are.”

You throw her hand off of you and pretend to glare at her, but you’re smiling.

“You are a princess, Y/N, let me help you see it.”

Clarisse is your secret crush. She was a comfort for lonely nights, someone to think about when you were eating alone at dinner. And it didn’t help that she would stare at you while you imagined her sitting across from you. Clarisse is your secret crush, locked up in your chest and waiting to burst out like a cuckoo clock.

Clarisse is your secret crush, unrealistic and wishful thinking- but the way she looks at you right now makes it real.

The door clicks open.

“Oh,” Sasha, the girl yelling at you earlier says. “Sorry- I forgot my… uh…”

You quickly stand up, pushing Clarisse away from you. Sasha moves to the side and let’s you through the door. Against your better judgement, you stop and look over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, princess.”

—-

The next day, after waking up and realizing what happened yesterday wasn’t a bad dream, Clarisse is really doing something this sweet for you, you’re ready to forget it all ever happened and sit alone as you usually do.

You stand at the edge of the pavilion, searching across the tables for an empty one-

“Y/N!” Clarisse yells. She looks at you expectantly, and you notice the empty seat next to her.

Oh. She wants you to sit with her.

As beautiful and sweet Clarisse is, you still can’t let her be anything more than your secret crush. But you can sit with her for one meal. You can pretend, and maybe that will hold you over when you eventually succeed in pushing her away.

Your head was clouded by her touch, her smell, her voice- you weren’t in the right state of mind to be making decisions about “seeing Clarisse tomorrow.”

You stop at the fire pit in the middle of the pavilion.

“Please, Mom,” you mutter, dumping almost all of your plate into the flames.

This is probably the first time you’ve really prayed to her since the day you broke Carter’s heart.

You set your tray down next to her, swinging your legs over the bench and under the table, settling yourself in. Her siblings don’t even look up, all busy eating identical bagel sandwiches- you squint, resisting the urge to laugh at the cheese, bacon, sausage, and eggs. Ares kids are always eating the most gluttonous foods, seeing as they train 24/7.

Clarisse glares at your plate.

“What?” you say, shifting awkwardly in your seat.

“That is not enough food.” And while your plate mostly is empty space, you’re really not that hungry this morning.

You shrug. “I was in a praying mood today.”

“Don’t care, go get more.”

You roll your eyes, but you’d be lying if you said her concern didn’t make your stomach twist in a good way.

“Okay, I’ll grab something on my way out.”

She hums, turning back to your sandwich. All of her siblings are intent on eating their big sandwiches, a few people at the end of the table talk in between bites- but the Ares kids take breakfast very seriously. They’re a bit more rowdy at lunch and dinner, but breakfast is always such a sordid affair, like someone died.

Someone else sits at the table. You look up from your plate, watching as Van digs into his sandwich, sporting a black eye, a bruised cheek, and a busted lip.

“Oh,” you mumble, cringing at his bloody, messy face.

You look over at Clarisse, notice her knuckles are split open. She feels you looking at her and turns to you, a bite of half-chewed sandwich in her mouth.

“Wha-” she starts, but catches Van out of the corner of her eye. She giggles, just a bit, and it makes your stomach twist. “Oh, Van, you are one of the funniest people I have ever met.”

Everyone at the table turns to him.

A few giggle at his busted up face, Clarisse smiles at him in that demeaning way she’s famous for.

“Move.”

“I’m not fuckin’ movin’, Clarisse. Go fuck yourself.”

One of her siblings laughs loudly. Matty, you recognize him. “Dude, you’re seriously going to get beat up- again.”

“You are,” Clarisse shrugs. “I’m serious, move.”

Van rolls his eyes and sets his sandwich down.

“Listen, Carter’s my friend, he never wanted to get revenge, but I wanted to get it for him. I know it’d make him feel better. I was tryin’ to convince him to go fuck up her bed or something when… well, yeah. I didn’t mean to trap you in there with her, Clarisse, okay? I know you’re fuckin’ obsessed with her, whatever, but she’s a serious bitch. And not even that hot.”

Matty puts his head in his hands.

The table is deathly silent. He looks around.

“Come on. All those Aphrodite kids are stuck-up bitches, but she’s just got a particular rudeness about her, huh? And, really, I don’t think I could fuck her even if the world was ending.”

“What the fuck,” someone across from you, Max, mumbles. A girl adjacent to you coos softly, and you realize that there’s tears falling down your face.

Clarisse puts her hand on your thigh.

“Van,” she says, her voice calm and even. She breathes in and out. “I am going to fucking kill you.”

Van looks over to Clarisse, and that’s when he finally notices you sitting next to her.

“I-” he starts, but doesn’t get to finish, not when you pick up your tray and throw it across the table- hitting him directly in the nose. “Holy fuck!” he shouts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Gods, fuck-”

You stand up and make your way around the table, tears clouding your vision, and he quickly stands up as well. No one makes any move to hold you back or protect him.

“Bitch,” he hisses. “Huh? Come at me, princess.”

And you meet him, attacking like a feral cat, all scratching and kicking and hitting, a fury fueled fully by your anger and the beauty in letting it all go. He grunts and tries to hit you back, but they barely touch you.

You can see Clarisse out of the corner of your eye, watching closely, arms crossed over her chest. It takes you a second, but for some reason, you can see her face so clearly. She’s slightly worried. She watches the fight with an intensity, like she’s happy to let you fight him- but if he actually hurts you, then she’ll jump in. But more importantly, she’s proud.

Gods, does it make you feel good.

“Fucking- bitch!” he shouts. “Get off of me!”

He pushes you back, you steel yourself. When he sees you coming at him again, he punches you hard. You swear you see stars. You swear you almost met Hades, just for a second.

Blood runs down your face, gushing like a geyser- you groan, one of Clarisse’s siblings making you pinch your nose and tilt your head back. Matty puts his hand on your shoulder, and mutters something encouraging about keeping your head back.

It’s all a daze.

“Clarisse!” her sister Carrie shouts, trying to hold her back while Van scrambles away on the ground, yelling incoherently about his teeth. “Clarisse! Clarisse! You got him, you got him, c’mon.”

It all comes rushing over you. Adrenaline kept you sane just for moment, but all the pain comes rushing back, and you almost scream with how much it hurts. You double down, chest pressing to your stomach while Matty and someone else try desperately to pull you back upward.

“Oh, Gods, why does it hurt so bad?” you say, more blood gushing forward, even through your fingers. It’s running down your neck and chest, permanently ruining your shirt.

“Van has a good right hook,” Matty winces. “Ass at everything else, but.”

“Y/N,” Clarisse says. She’s in front of you in a moment, hands under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back. You can feel your face is absolutely covered in blood. “Hey, it’s alright,” she says, so softly that you’re the only one who can hear. “Okay, I’ll take you to the infirmary, okay?”

Matty let’s go of you, Clarisse replaces him, arm wrapping around your waist, fingertips still keeping your chin up. You walk in silence until you reach the infirmary.

She chuckles a bit. “You’re good,” she says.

“At what?” you groan, eyes screwed shut. “Getting punched?”

“No,” she says. “Just… you’re good.”

One of the healers rushes over before you can even think of an answer.

—-

After your nose was reset, your shirt was changed, and all the blood was cleaned- you sat in the empty infirmary. Van was in a private room with most of the healers who were having a fun time trying to fix his face and do something with the teeth Clarisse knocked out.

She finds you slipping your shoes on, face puffy, a bag of ambrosia in your hand.

“Princess,” she says. “I told them it was all me. So, you’re fine. I made up some shit about you getting caught in the crossfire.”

Your chest deflates a bit. You were sort of looking forward to the punishment. “You didn’t have to do that, Clarisse.”

She shrugs. “I wanted to. And I do whatever I want.”

You smile, and she sits down next to you on the creaky bed.

“What’d you get?”

“Oh,” she sighs, hands on her knees. “5 months no dessert. 3 months of teaching sword practice to the little kids, that’s gonna be like Tartarus come again.”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “It’s all my fault.”

“I could have easily let the two of you beat each other to death. But I didn’t. You were too busy winning that fight to care about what I was doing.”

“I didn’t win,” you scoff. “If you didn’t jump in, the way he punched me, he got me.”

“You didn’t know about Van and his right hook,” she shrugs. “It’s okay. I fucked up his face a bit, but you did so much better.”

You’ve been permanently on the edge of tears because of the pressure in your nose, so when they spill over, it’s no surprise.

“W-why are you crying?” Clarisse asks, turning slightly towards you, placing her hand on your arm.

“Still a monster,” you remark, sarcastic smile on your face. “I shouldn’t have done that to him. I… I was just mad. And look, here I am escaping with no punishment yet again.”

You go to stand up, feeling like your heart is a hole in your chest.

She puts her hand on your thigh to stop you.

“I think… just the fact that you feel so bad means you’re not a monster. I don’t feel shit for Van. I’m glad he got hurt. I would do it again. I hope I get to do it again.”

“You’re horrible, Clarisse,” you smile. She smiles back.

“The only person I feel bad for is… you. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt bad for. Everyone else in this camp is blind, Y/N. But I’m not. Not when it comes to you.”

And it’s like you’re seeing her for the first time. The way her curls always stick up in that one place, the way her eyes reflect the sunlight streaming through the window, the way the rough skin of her hands is nothing compared to the bones inside that hold you so softly. The way her lips look. The way she calls you princess. The way she sees you.

You’re both leaning forward, you’re both just teenage girls learning to love themselves, because you’ve always loved each other.

When her lips finally meet yours it all comes rushing back to you. You gasp and pull away after just a moment.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that-”

Clarisse grabs your face and kisses you.

“You’re not deleting that. I don’t care what you think of yourself right now,” she whispers, lips against yours. “Because you’re wrong, and I’m going to show you.”

And against your better judgement, you let her show you. She shows you with her hands in your hair, her hands on your neck, on your face, her lips against yours. You let her teach you love with just one kiss, and you decide you have a newfound appreciation for your mother.

If love feels this good, this beautiful, then you’ve been missing out.

This goes against everything you’ve been preaching for years. But you’ve found a new religion in her, you promise to listen to her and to feel what she makes you feel- no matter how wrong you think it is. Clarisse shows you it’s not wrong.

She finally pulls away for air, searching your eyes, but you can’t breathe when she’s not kissing you. She seems to like what she finds, because she smiles.

“You’re beautiful, princess,” she mutters, and kisses you again. “You’re beautiful, and you’re so kind, and I’ll show you what I’ve seen for years.”

Everyone calls you princess. But Clarisse says it differently. Clarisse says it like she’s caressing the word, pretending to caress you. Clarisse says it in the way you want her to say it, in the way that selfishly makes you feel so, so special. Clarisse says it like she knows you.

You were right. You’re not meant for love, it’s not meant for you. You’re meant for Clarisse.

—-

carter watching literally everyone fight over smth ridiculously stupid that happened when he was 12 and he got over 2 weeks after it happened: uh 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

—-

clarisse when she realizes y/n hates herself: WHAT????? HOW IS THIS???? HUH????? like she just doesn’t even understand she can’t comprehend it

y/n after hating herself for like 5 years and pretending she’s chill: 🤗

—-

van after he loses his teeth: 😞

clarisse when van loses his teeth: LETS GO FUCK THAT BITCH

—-

clarisse being y/n’s new religion btw 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Oh boy jokes on you, saying "give me Shoji asks" summons me from the void! How about werewolf or puppy boy head canons? Like he's had a hard life, and reader is just good and gentle to him? Calls him a handsome boy?

I AM FIFHTING THE URGE TO CONVULSE TWITCH AND DIE AHHHHHHHH ANON I LOBE UIUE BIG BRAIN SO MUCH

🜸 First and foremost, Shoji is definitely a big dog breed. I’m thinking like Tibetan Mastiff. Big, beefy boy with the fluffiest ears and MASSIVE tail.

🜸 I think reader would most likely have adopted Shoji in a hybrid adoption shelter. He had a very neglectful past; his mother passing not long after birthing him, being thrown from house to house. Some people were really mean and beat him, giving the poor puppyboynasty scars on his mouth 🥺🥺

🜸 He handed himself in to the shelter. He couldn’t afford to live on the streets since he needed a bed and food. Poor puppy just wanted a proper chance at a family 🥺

🜸 Many families pulled faces at the thought of keeping Shoji. He was so so big, and given his background they all thought he’d be too rough with the kids.

🜸 SOBBING THATS WHEN HE WEARS A MUZZLE TO MAKE PEOPLE FEEL COMFORTABLE BUT DOESNT REALISE IT CAUSES THE OPPOSITE ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

🜸 You end up wandering into the adoption agency, looking for a more mature hybrid to take home. You were brought in front of the MASSIVE hybrid who looked far too cramped for his pen :(

🜸 His eyes shone a little at the idea of being seen. You knelt in front of him, offering him a smile before seeing the muzzle.

The attendant at the agency led you through the heavy metal door amidst all of the noisy yapping of other hybrids. He knocked on Shoji’s door to get his attention.

Shoji’s fluffy ears pricked up. A meeting? Someone wanted to see him?! Quiet hope flooded his system. He hoped that this person would be lovely, and love him like he deserved.

You step back a little to give Shoji his space as he opens the door. The hybrid’s head bumped noisily against the door as you winced in sympathy. A small whine left his lips as he rubbed his sore ears, before shutting up and looking at you.

Your eyes widened a little bit at the sight of the bulky muzzle. You couldn’t recall a history of biting or aggression. Putting that aside, you smiled softly at the tall puppyboy. Shoji’s tail wagged slowly, bending down so he was sat on his knees in front of you. Again, your eyes widened at his practised submission.

You got to your knees too, leaving a respectful amount of space between the two of you.

“Hello, sweet boy. My, aren’t you so pretty,” you cooed softly, offering a hand for Shoji to sniff if he should so want. Onyx eyes widened.

He was…pretty?!

His head found itself slowly dropping, until it made contact with your hand. Your fingers worked a gentle rhythm near the base of his ears, hearing the womp of his tail behind him. You giggle softly, much to Shoji’s delight. Your head turns to the attendant.

“Can we get the paperwork started, please? I’d love to take Shoji home today if possible.”

🜸 You’d asked about the muzzle, your heart melting when the attendant said that he only took it off to eat. He said that Mezo was frightened of people seeing his face and being scared of him.

🜸 He also gave you his history. Mezo did NOT do well with abandonment. He was a very anxious hybrid, often bending over backwards for other hybrids so they would like him, much to no avail.

🜸 You took Mezo home that day.

The thick door of your home opened slowly, allowing Mezo to sniff around. His tail hadn’t stopped wagging since you clipped the generic brand collar around his neck. The leash hung loosely in your hand, making Mezo a little anxious but didn’t dampen his new mood.

You undid your shoes, placing them neatly on the rack. A hearty sigh left your lips as you faced your new puppyboy.

“Well my sweet boy, I’m super hungry. Would you like some lunch?” You offered him gently.

Mezo’s mind blanked out at the nickname.

He was…sweet?

“Mezo?” You asked him softly. Black eyes snapped back to you as he stood awkwardly in the hall. Is it too soon to ask for cuddles? You smiled at him softly.

“Here, come in the living room. You’re free to explore anywhere you like,” you explained happily, leaving to go to the kitchen. A quiet whine makes you turn your head around to the shaky puppyboy. Your heart melted at the sight of his teary eyes.

“Oh no, sweet pup don’t cry! I know new places can be scary,” you walk to him, slowly placing your hands in his snow white locks.

His tail wagged as his hands struggled to stay by his sides. You caught on immediately.

“Would you like to cuddle, my good boy?” You ask him softly. Mezo nodded wildly, following you to the couch. He kneels in front of you, wrapping his arms around you as he rests his face against your tummy. The muzzle rides uncomfortably into your tummy as you wince.

“Mezo? You know you can take the muzzle off. I know you don’t have a problem with biting or aggression.”

Mezo physically tenses beneath you.

“I know of your background. I know your poor face has been scarred. But please know,” you lift his teary face with your hands.

“I’m never going to give you up. You don’t need to keep the muzzle on whenever we’re in the same room. I understand if you want to keep your face covered until you feel comfortable, but I have some bandanas and masks. They’d be so much better for your poor skin,” you offered, kissing Mezo’s forehead gently.

Poor Mezo’s brain was melting. So much praise and choice was too much.

“M-mask please,” he mumbled shyly. You smiled at the sound of his gruff voice.

“Of course, sweet boy.”

[bizarrescribblez]

i know we just followed each other but, murderfacey hmm i see u 👀👀 (just teasing you, but also valid 💖 he deserves some love too tbfh)

YOU GUYS CANT CATCH ME…. (HE DESERVES LOVE IT DIDNT HIT ME HOW SAD HE IS TILL EARLIER TODAY ☹️💔) (but also there is another man I have eyes on .. I have two hands for a reason I suppose let keep ‘em guessing) (I love m.urderfacey THATSSUCH A CUTE NICKNAME IM USING IT FORVER) <- I am not escaping the finding MF charming allegations

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

MICKEYYYYYY MY LITTLE ANGEL we’re having a crying competition i fear i shed real tears reading this ………………..

I LOVE UUUUUUUU ALWAYS FOREVER ETERNALLY i’m gonna get right into it as always but first of all i need to cup ur face and look into ur eyes and tell u that EVERYYY single comment and reaction u bless me with makes me smile so wide all the time :((((( tysm as always for reading my silly little fics n for being so kind and thoughtful 👉👈 i am in fact Proposing satoru has competition we’re sitting on ur bed fighting over who gets to feed u soup smh ….. 😒😒😒 sadly he’s winning he keeps pushing me off the bed </3

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

IMMEDIATELY SO REALLLL he IS a whole baby :(( i just think he needsss to be babied so bad he needs to be bundled up in a fluffy blanket he needs to be spooned he needs to be kissed silly it’s true. u could fix him mickey i truly believe it. this is how im imagining toru after ur done w him btw

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

HADDDD TO MENTION THIS BC I AGREE AND I THINK IT’S THE GOJO PETNAME EVER? it’s my favorite for him bc i sincerely believe he would use every petname on planet earth for u BUT i think he would only call u honey when he’s feeling particularly vulnerable…. :(( sniffle. it’s just such a sweet silky lil petname and i think it would sound so pretty when he’s a little too tired to be cocky and he only has the energy to be your satoru yk….. he’s your beloved and you’re his beloved and it feels so right to call you honey bc u make everything feel so sweet ☹️☹️ i am mayyyyybe a little ill abt him but it’s fine we both are we’re chilling we’re down bad .. etc etc..

1000000% THAT HE DOESN'T LIKE TO BRING PEOPLE OVER OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT IT SO MUCH HE'S ALWAYS AT YOUR PLACE OR AT SUGU'S OR AT SHOKO'S HE'S NEVER AT HOME BC IT DOESN'T FEEL LIKE HOME DOES IT? IT'S JUST A HOUSE FILLED WITH FURNITURE THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS ARE THE PEOPLE HE LOVES AND THEY'RE NOT THERE SO HE JUST DESPISES THE PLACE i think only his own room is fully decorated with figurines and pictures and i feel like he even keeps his game console in his room too and then the rest of the house is super bland. like genuinely feels like it's about to be sold or whatever. he even likes to shower at your place or sugu's or shoko's and i think that nobody would really even say anything about it. yeah. brainrot. i love him so much ari. i'm so glad we have him. he's baby and he deserves all of the love in the world. wait i rambled right after i read that "he doesn’t invite you over very often" so i'm only now getting to the next part and you're saying the same stuff.... WAIT ACTUALLY THOUGH YOU'RE SAYING THE SAME THINGS THAT IT LOOKS LIKE IT'S ABOUT TO BE SOLD WAIIITTT THIS SOUNDS WEIRD I PROMISE I DIDN'T READ THAT PART AH AND HIS BEDROOM TOO THE TRINKETS AND THE PICTURES AND THE CONSOLE ARI DO WE ACTUALLY SHARE A BRAIN WHAT THE FUCK

PHDJFJFJFJKFKFJ MICKEYYYYYYYY WE’RE SO GOOD???? WE’RE SO GREAT?????? OUR BRAINS ARE KISSING IT’S TRUEEEE THEY CAN’T KEEP THEIR HANDS OFF EACH OTHER no but i’m sooo glad we agree i think abt this constantly!!! ☹️☹️☹️ i really do think he’s the kind of person who’s super touchy and friendly and loud but his loneliness is so blatant when u finally spot it. he loves company and he loves his friends but when there’s no one else around his own sense of isolation is all he has. he’s incredibly closed off but it’s subtle, he SEEMS open and honest and that’s also why it’s so devastating when you notice it. satoru is the kind of friend you could know for years and consider yourself close to but then one day you belatedly realize that you don’t really know a single thing about him. the kind of person who loves being at your house and taking in every single detail because your home reveals so much of who you are as a person….. and then he has to leave and goes back to his own home and it’s just. empty. there’s nothing to look at.

yeahhhhhhhh he makes me feel kind of sick actually. HIS STRUGGLES ARE VERY PERSONAL TO ME so i always love getting the chance to depict them like this….. and to realize that ppl see him the same way!!! :’3 we are holding hands mickey. u and me and gojo. no but i think he’s very much like a stray cat who eats from the bowl you put out every night but doesn’t want to get too close, doesn’t want to enter your home and get too attached, doesn’t want to compromise himself… so he just sleeps under the hood of a car and looks into your home and the golden light seeping from it and dreams about what it would feel like to bask in it. (lighting strikes me down and kills me immediately)

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

MICKEY WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOUUUUUUUU DO U HAVE ANY IDEA HOW VIOLENTLY MY BRAIN COMBUSTED AFTER READING THIS 😭😭😭😭😭😭 IM NOT KIDDING I THINK I HEARD SOMETHING UNSCREW ITSELF IN MY HEAD you are a sick and twisted individual. (affectionate) no but genuinely how dare u write better than me in the rb of my own fic do u have no shame 😭😭😭 PHDKFJJD THEY HOLD EACH OTHER IN THE DARKKKK THEY DO at some point the monster under the bed almost starts to feel comforting doesn’t it…. like an old friend….. and it loves you back….. sigh. i honestly think satoru would rather stay in his loneliness where it’s safe than risk getting too attached and it’s so heartbreaking mickey :(( sighhhh. he makes me so sad …..

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

mickey don’t ever feel ashamed for telling the truth HE’S OUR BABYYYYY and he deserves all the pats in the world ……. using this as an excuse to say. i think headpats are his weakness. he’s constantly patting ur head and his students’ heads and sugushoko’s heads but the moment u turn the tables on him he just kinda melts…. i’m weak for headpats too i know my own kind ok. i KNOW he purrs when u give him head rubs it’s simply in his blood he’s putty in ur hands immediately

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

WAHHHHHHH I CRIEDDDDD MCIKEY U NEED TO STOP WHAT IF I GET A HEART ATTACK …. u r the sweetest always u say so many kind things all the time my heart can’t keep up sigh …. sniffling and hiccuping a bit. thamk u. T—T

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

YOU GET ITTTTTTTTT ALWAYS HE’S A LOVING MACHINE …… i think he’s Wired to be a caretaker like it’s in his dna it’s in his blood but. a part of him.. a tiny lil part….. wants to be taken care of soooo badly. he’s scared of u bc u make him want to be greedy. u make him want a lot more than he feels he deserves. SIGHHHHH I’M SO TIRED this whole rb is just gonna be us making each other sad over satoru gojo huh …….

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

<3 <3 <3 my gojo is written specifically for u actually DON’T TELL ANYONE THO it’s a secret … no but i am in fact genuinely giggling + kicking my feet + twirling my hair at this i feel so giddy at the idea that u like my gojo he’s the loml i’m so happy that some gojo lovers like him T—T ….. he’s my cute little intimacy-fearing kittycat i need to pick him up by the scruff of his neck and squish his cheeks until he’s whining at me to stop

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

PUT THAT IN JUST FOR U BTW ‼️‼️ sprinkling in lil details for my beloved mutuals is my love language actually i am kissing u gently on the cheek :33

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

RIGHT RIGHT RIGHTTTT…… mickey i knew !! i could trust u !!!!! he’s such a sucker for silly nicknames,….. sweet lil silly petnames that make u scoff and laugh and blush…… u are. his everything. his little honeybee. <3 <3 <3 i think that if u liked it he would go out of his way to come up w even MORE obscure silly petnames and he would get soo smug when it makes u laugh <333

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

MICKEY I LOVE U SO MUCHHHHHH my gojo is in Love w u btw he told me ………. he is staring at u adoringly he’s so smitten it makes him look silly. I’M SO HAPPY U LIKE HIM I LOVEEEEE UR GOJO SO MUCH TOO in my brain they r always holding hands they r friends :) little itty bitty kitty cats

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

HE WANTS TO LIVE WITH UUU 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 sniffle …. personally i think gojo + the Concept Of Home is the best combo ever i just think he should be allowed to find a home for himself to find a place to rest his eyes !! a place where he feels safe …. sobbbbbb he just feels so safe with u. u are his home truly. i’m so emotional abt him it’s a little silly actually i am wiping ur tears while crying all over the place too …….. the grip he has on our sanity needs to be psychologically evaluated i think

ohhhh i could pick out so many more comments of urs bc there is never enough to say abt our little guy :’33 i do truly love him so much always and forever i’m alwayssss happy to fawn over him w u mickey.. at the end of the day he’s our baby. our little itty baby boy. sniffle …. tysm as always for being so sweet and thoughtful and funny i appreciate u so dearly T_T !! here is a palm sized kitty gojo for u as a treat he’s very nice and sweet <33 doesn’t even bite!! I LOVE YOUUUUUU <3 <3 <3

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

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

word count; 10.8k

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

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

you’ve never seen satoru like this before.

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

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

he’s completely, undoubtedly sick.

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

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

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

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

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

but you’ve never seen him like this.

(and it makes you terribly anxious.)

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

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

he looks so small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

moron.

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

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

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

but he just won’t listen.

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

”satoru.”

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

and it makes him quiet down.

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

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

but most of all, you’re worried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it doesn’t feel like satoru at all. 

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

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

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

it only makes you worry more.

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

you just want to give some of it back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”… okay. think you can sit up, toru?”

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

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

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

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

he wants to be good for you, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

you blink. a moment passes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”it’s only four, satoru.”

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

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

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

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

it’s significantly less scalding, now. 

you let out a sigh, laced with relief, one you didn’t know you’d been holding in. ”it really has gone down,” you hum, stretching the sleep from your limbs again. “that’s good.”

satoru huffs. ”i said i was perfect, right? don’t you trust me, my sweet lover?”

”i never know with you,” you give him a huff of your own, exasperated. fond. “you said you were just fine this morning, too.”

”i was!” he whines. piling up lie after lie. “i totally could’ve made it to that date, you know. i got worse because you had no faith in my abilities.”

”right. of course.” you shoot him a lopsided grin. ”you just don’t wanna admit the fever beat your ass, huh?”

”see? no faith.” a chuckle slips from your lips, and satoru has to bite back a smile. ”unbelievable. i fought that fever off just for you, and here you are, laughing at me.”

”oh? i thought it was thanks to my top notch nursing skills?”

”well, that too! but it was mostly me.”

a sigh. “whatever you say.” then you’re smiling, once more, unable to help yourself. eyes crinkled at the edges, soft around the corners. ”i’m just glad you’re better. i was worried.”

satoru pouts, again, but you can tell he acknowledges it — your earnest concern. this is how you love, the both of you, through words that never say it all and actions that say the words your mouths can’t fit. decoding the meaning of it all in silent gestures, glints in your eyes. little truth games.

”you really thought a lil’ fever was gonna be enough to keep me down?” he shakes his head once, then twice. and you know that what he means to say is i never want you to worry. “c’mon, now, baby.”

another lighthearted roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah. my sincerest apologies, my strong, stubborn, totally-not-sick boyfriend.”

”don’t you mean your strong, perfect, beautiful, clever, flawless, totally-not-sick boyfriend?”

”don’t think i didn’t notice you sneaking the stubborn out of there.”

”hehe.”

a silent moment passes, something tender filling up the space between your words. satoru’s weight is still so comforting, like a big blanket, his arms enveloping you as he breathes in your scent. you’re so happy that he’s acting insufferable again.

”alright, my honeybee,” he suddenly chirps, breaking the silence, hoisting himself up. ”time to go. we can still get those crêpes if we hurry.”

you blink. once, then twice.

”… satoru.”

”yeah? what’s up?”

you give him an unimpressed look, gazing up at him, towering over you like he fully thought you’d be alright with letting him leave. ”you’re… not going out today,” you deadpan. “you know that, right?”

this time, he’s the one who blinks. once, then twice.

”huh? why not?”

”uh, because you’re sick, maybe?”

”what?” satoru pretends to be shocked, offended, as if he can’t believe you’d even suggest something so outrageous. ”i’m all better, though!”

you raise an eyebrow, thoroughly displeased. all better? ”your fever isn’t gone, satoru. it’s just not horrible anymore. you’ll get yourself even more sick if you go out now.”

”i won’t! seriously!” he insists, looking down at you with a sorry attempt at puppy dog eyes. ”i feel good enough to run a marathon!”

”you’re not doing that either,” you mutter. then a sigh, exasperated. you can’t let this charade go on for too long. ”come on, satoru — don’t be so stubborn. we can go there another time.”

”but —”

”besides, didn’t you say i have to spend the night because it’s too late to go outside? remember the creeps?” there’s amusement in your voice, a light smile on your lips. ”what if they get us?”

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

you bite back an incredulous laugh. god, he’s stubborn. you’re so in love with him you just barely restrain the urge to pull him in for a kiss.

”sa-to-ru,” you coo, dragging each syllable out, sending a shiver down his spine. ”we’re not going outside. end of discussion.”

”why not, though?” he continues to pout, still refusing to give in. resorting to cheap guilt-tripping. ”don’t you wanna go on a date with me? you don’t want to see me happy, is that it?”

you only sigh, thoroughly exasperated, reaching up to cup his cheek nonetheless. he nuzzles into it. ”you’re such a baby.”

”your baby.”

another sigh, to mask your adoration. at this rate, the back and forth will never end, so you scramble for solutions.

“can’t we just have our date here?” you suggest, after some contemplation. ”i bought some ice cream on my way here. we could watch a movie, or something. isn’t that enough?”

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

but it is a tempting offer. you could eat ice cream, and binge a bunch of movies, and he could rest his head in your lap. coax you into playing with his hair.

(he’s maybe, just maybe, a little bit tired, too.)

so, finally, he sighs — softly. in resignation. 

”… well, i guess that’s fine,” he pouts, allowing himself to fall back into your embrace. his voice is muffled, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. ”i wanted crêpes, though…”

”i’ll get you your crepes,” you assure him, relieved to have reached a compromise. ”i can go buy ’em myself and come back. then we —”

”no, no, no!” satoru suddenly interjects. whining, tugging you closer. ”you’re not going anywhere. not without me!”

a sigh, just as adoring as it is fatigued. ”then i’ll… order crêpes, or something. or we’ll eat ice cream today and then crêpes when you’re better. does that sound okay?”

satoru is silent, for a while.

”… okay,” he hums. ”that’s fine.”

”haah. okay, good —”

”however!” 

you give him a look, a silent what now? that has him smiling. shuffling a little, in your embrace, planting his jaw on top of your chest and gazing up at you with a grin. ”instead of the crêpes, i want a kiss.”

you blink. exasperated, as an amused chuckle follows. ”so convoluted. you can just ask, you know?” you don’t give him time to answer, eager to appease the pouty man. ”whatever.” 

leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. sweet and soft. to your surprise, he’s still pouting when you pull away. ”i meant on the lips,” he explains, as if it was obvious. 

a tilt of your head. 

”… but you’re sick.”

”so?” satoru just pouts, expression practically etched into his face at this point. ”you won’t kiss me anymore? just cause i’ve got a tiny, miniscule fever?” he huffs, turning his head to the right and shutting his eyes. ”if you don’t love me anymore, you can just say that.”

another sigh leaves your lips. he’s so ridiculous. you can’t really deny him, though.

”… fine. it’s your fault if i get sick, though.”

in the blink of an eye, he’s perked right back up. wagging his non-existent tail, closing his eyes and waiting for you to try again. silly.

but you relent. his lips are only slightly warmer than usual, and you choose to see it as the good sign it is, proof that his fever truly is starting to dissipate. you feel satoru relax, melting into the kiss, but before it can drag out too long you’ve pulled away. ”— there. happy now?” 

”for now,” he quips, equally teasing. he’s cute, though. a little kiss or two is a small price to pay for the spark of joy in his iris, even if it ends with you sick on your deathbed in a couple of days. 

”that’ll do,” you grin, hoisting yourself up with your elbows, carrying satoru with you, his jaw still on your chest. ”wanna go eat some ice cream, mr unreasonable?”

you don’t really need an answer. of course satoru wants ice cream. you’ve never seen him turn down anything sweet — and, lo and behold, he perks up again, getting into a sitting position. like an excited puppy. 

”got it,” you chuckle, stopping to think for a moment. “there’s soup left, too. but maybe you’d rather order something? it turned out kinda so-so.”

satoru gapes. ”you kidding? that was the best soup i’ve ever had!” 

his exclamation makes you roll your eyes, words so coated in confidence that you almost want to believe him. ”satoru. you don’t have to lie.”

”i’m not!”

”you couldn’t even taste it.”

”i could, i could!” he stubbornly whines. ”i tasted all your love. every single drop!”

you give him a look. he only grins at you, a little teasing, a little giddy. you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed; averting your gaze with a sharp scoff, trying to appear unbothered. ”yeah? and how did my love taste?”

satoru leans forward. it’s sudden, and you blink, instinctively leaning back in turn. he’s wearing a signature smirk when he stops moving, close enough that you feel his breath on your skin. hot.

”delicious,” he purrs, glancing down at your lips. blue eyes gleaming with mirth. ”best thing i’ve ever had.”

you know he’s just trying to fluster you, so you try to fight against it, but it doesn’t work nearly as well as you’d like — crumbling under his gaze, averting your own with a quiet huff. and he lets you off the hook, satisfied with your embarrassed expression. pulling back slightly, letting you breathe. 

as swiftly as you can, you regain your composure. clearing your throat. ”well, you can have more of it later, then,” you make a move to get off the bed. ”let’s go eat ice cream.”

after being caged in by satoru for so long, your limbs are a little stiff, caught under the weight of his boundless love. when your feet hit the soft flooring, you stretch them out, watching satoru follow your lead. still clad in that sweaty shirt.

”you should probably get a change of clothes,” you suggest, exhaling as your muscles loosen up. ”you’ve been wearing that shirt all day.”

”oh? is that an excuse to see me out of it, sweetheart?” satoru grins, fresh mischief gleaming in his eyes. ”you know you can always just ask.” 

you huff out a sardonic breath. ”yeah, yeah, whatever. throw on a hoodie or something, weirdo.” you stifle a giggle when he makes an offended noise behind you. “and some pants.”

”you don’t like the underwear?” he looks towards the corner of the room, studying himself in the mirror. “this is an expensive brand, you know?”

”you’re the only person on planet earth who’d give a fuck about underwear brands,” you scoff, a little snarky. ”just — put some comfortable clothes on, okay? i’ll go get the ice cream ready.”

”wait!” he exclaims, attaching himself to you, curling his arms around your bicep. “you’re not allowed to go anywhere without me, remember?” 

“… okay, okay. hurry up and get changed, then.”

sitting back down on the bed, while satoru walks towards the closet, you scroll through your phone — refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, you’re well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek. but you’re not falling for it this time. 

when he’s done, he’s wearing a comfy hoodie and some sweatpants. it’s a good look on him, casual and cozy. awfully cute. he wastes no time in attaching himself to you, again, an arm linked with yours as you travel to the kitchen; grabbing the pints of ice cream from the freezer, a couple snack bags from the drawers, before plopping down on the couch.

satoru maneuvers you into his lap, and you don’t put up a fight, leaning into him as your back meets his chest. he keeps you locked in place, arms around your waist, planting his jaw on the top of your head. and he relaxes, comforted by your smaller body pressed up against his. holding you so close satisfies a certain protective itch in his brain, never failing to calm him down. a safe haven, of sorts.

you watch the movie and eat the snacks, chattering away, letting the silence linger every now and then. after a while, satoru gets a slight headache, resting his head in your lap and whining for you to soothe him. you do so without any teasing; you’re much too soft for him. and he’s still sick, even if he’s doing better. you couldn’t resist him even if you tried.

so you opt to indulge him.

”baby, i think my fever’s going up again…” satoru pouts, gazing up at you through fluttering lashes. ”can you check?”

you smile, with a raise of your eyebrow. ”this is the fifth time you’ve asked me to check your temperature, toru.”

”just wanna make sure,” he whines. “please?”

with an exaggerated sigh, you lean down, lips once again meeting his forehead — humming against his skin. nope, his temperature hasn’t gone up. just like it hadn’t gone up the last time you checked, or the time before that.

”you’re good.”

”oh, thank god,” he exhales. ”are you sure? like, a hundred percent sure? maybe you should check again. just in case.”

”satoru,” you coo, a teasing lilt on the tip of your tongue. ”you can just ask me if you want a kiss.”

”a kiss? scandalous. i just wanna make sure my condition doesn’t worsen.”

he’s grinning, and you’re rolling your eyes, and both of you know damn well you’re going to indulge him anyway. he sighs in satisfaction when he feels your soft lips on his heated skin.

”hmm…” you narrow your eyes, thoughtfully, before looking down at him with a teasing smile. ”nope. definitely still the same temperature.” 

”you sure?”

”a hundred percent.”

”hmm. okay, got it.” he rolls over, burying his face in your stomach. wrapping his limbs around your midriff. “that’s good. just wanted to check, you know?”

”of course.”

”might need you to check again soon. just to be safe,” he chirps, biting back a soft grin. you don’t bother hiding yours.

”got it, got it,” you coo, fingers carding through his messy hair. “anything for my sick baby.” 

satoru releases a soft breath, bordering on a giggle. you can’t help but let your smile grow wider, heart brimming with affection. you let it clog up your chest until the movie’s almost over, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore.

”your room is very like you.”

it’s sudden, breaking the peaceful silence, making satoru stir. you’re both starting to get sleepy again. but he blinks up at you, studying your expression before parting his lips.

”… oh? how so?”

“well…” you stop to think. humming, absently fidgeting with a lock of your boyfriend’s hair. ”when i first walked in, i thought the whole house felt kind of empty, you know?”

satoru hums. unsure of where the conversation is going, maybe just a little intrigued. he mostly just likes listening to you talk. 

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

he closes his eyes.

there’s something soft in your tone, something silky and simple, and he can tell you’re being sincere. it’s something he likes about you — that willingness to be soft, almost pridefully so, to bare yourself even if you aren’t sure that he’ll return the favour. he likes to think it’s rubbing off on him, slowly but surely; he doesn’t think he’s quite as bad as before. telling you about things that are dear to him isn’t something that scares him, anymore. and even when you see him vulnerable, sick and delirious in bed, he isn’t afraid that you’ll use it against him.

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

”i like your place more,” he finally admits, lighthearted in its weight. your gaze flits down, but his is still lingering on the tv, not really paying attention to it. ”it feels very… you.”

a smile crawls up to rest against your lips. playing along, your hands finding solace in between his fluffy locks. ”how so?”

and satoru smiles. eyes sparkling with something mellow, like a soda pop cracked open on a boiling summer day. he shifts a little, just to gaze up at you again. ”it’s… homely. warm,” his smile only grows. “and awfully sentimental.”

he lifts a hand up, to touch your cheek. tender, as his thumb smooths against your skin. it’s warm, beneath his touch, heating up with every word he speaks. satoru’s love feels a little like the sun, when it spills out this fervently, like it could burn you into cinders — you think you’d be happy to lie in the ashes. he’s smiling at you, like sunshine, like little dusty specks of light. and he exhales.

”i wouldn’t mind staying there forever.”

the expression on his face is a lovely one. you take a moment to simply bask in it, desperate to etch it into your memory. you don’t think you could forget it even if you tried. how fondly the light of the room embraces him, that soft grin he’s shooting your way, only vaguely teasing. and his eyes, the gateways to his soul, so sincere you can’t look away.

you love this man with your whole chest. you knew before, you’ve known for a long time, but each day you fall in love all over again. it’s all you can think as you look at him, all snug and safe and happy in your lap.

you don’t realize you’ve been staring at him silently until he chuckles, pulling you out of your sentimental stupor. it only flusters you further.

”you’re cute,” satoru croons, still cradling your cheek. tender, soft fingertips against your heated skin. all you manage is a meek little furrow of your brows, but that only makes him chuckle again.

”… you can.”

he blinks. still smiling.

”stay forever, i mean.”

you can’t look at him, when you say it. the words are barely above a whisper, and you aren’t sure if they’re conscious or not. it’d be nice to say they just slipped out, but they feel somewhat deliberate, all the same. you know you mean them, either way. it’s the one thing you’re sure of.

this time, satoru is the one who can do nothing but stare, his expression unreadable. you try not to let your gaze wander to his face, his eyes; but through the peripheral of your vision, you feel like you catch a particular kind of sadness reflected in them. or maybe it’s something closer to yearning, longing. something like that.

”… well,” he finally hums, voice so low you barely pick up on it. ”maybe i will, then.”

you reach something. 

you catch a glimpse of it, at least, for just a second or two. something warm and bare, something simple and incomprehensible at the same time. an emotion so strong it leaves you reeling, yet still so light. it’s there and then it isn’t, just out of reach, and you think that if you could only find the courage to curl your fingers around his, then —

a laugh track plays from the tv, snapping you both out of your thoughts.

(the moment passes before you can fully understand it, fully comprehend it. maybe some part of you already has.)

…

satoru chuckles, reaching for another ball of mochi and popping it into his mouth. ”this movie’s awful, huh?”

”yeah,” you’re quick to agree, maybe a little too quick. grinning weakly. ”it’s good in a so bad it’s good kinda way, though.”

he hums in absentminded agreement, still chewing on the soft treat. keeping his gaze steady on the screen, the flicker of emotional scenes he hasn’t been keeping track of, barely resisting the urge to look up at you again. but his heart already feels a little too mushy for his liking — he’s not sure he could take it.

satoru doesn’t get sick often.

his immune system is strong, there’s no denying that. but more than anything, he simply can’t afford to be sick. there are people who need him, people who depend on him, and the idea of being in such a defenseless state — stuck in bed while the world continues to spin, unattended — makes him feel so anxious he could throw up. even sleeping makes him feel a little skittish, sometimes, though he’s gotten a lot better since he started falling asleep with you in his arms.

it’s funny, he thinks. before you, being sick wasn’t something that really existed in his world. if he felt a little under the weather he would simply puff out his chest and down a painkiller or two, waving it off with a flick of his wrist; no biggie, really. he’s satoru gojo, after all, and the world needs his eyes on it.

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

yeah — it’s funny, for sure. satoru never thought he’d ever enjoy being sick. 

yet here he is, head in your lap, feeling you run your fingers through his hair. kissing his forehead whenever he whines, indulging his little convoluted ploys. bringing him soup, when he gets hungry again, soup you made yourself. he wasn’t kidding when he said he tasted your love through it; it was all he could taste, with his numbed out senses, all he could feel.

you’re so good to him. there’s nothing he would trade for these moments with you, absolutely nothing. he’s glad you came over, after all. glad you’re so stubborn, and oh so caring. satoru can’t help but smile, heart almost stuffed to the brim with gratitude — what could he possibly do with this immense love in his chest?

”i love you so much,” he blurts out, practically beaming. now you’re in his lap, again, and he takes the opportunity to smear openmouthed kisses against your neck. delighting in the little squeak you try to muffle.

”where did that come from?” you blink, squirming a little in his embrace. a movie is still playing on the tv screen, one better than the last — your attention was fixed on it before satoru broke the silence.

”just felt like saying it!” he only chirps, grinning ear to ear. ”i love you. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he murmurs, earnestly, lips against your skin. ”my whole world.”

for a moment, you wonder if the fever is making him delirious. then again, this is pretty standard for satoru; always eager to fluster you, to shower you with love until you’re pushing him away. it’s overwhelming, but you’ve never minded. this is how you measure his love — little gaps between too much and never enough.

”… you’re not gonna say it back?” comes a whine, right by your ear. now he’s nibbling at your neck, little beast that he is, pouting because you let the silence linger for too long. he’s being such a baby about it. but you still rush to reassure him, echoing his words in earnest. 

”i love you too, satoru,” you smile, slightly exasperated. craning your neck so that your lips can meet his jaw, and satoru grins, giddy at the attention. ”my whole universe.”

satoru lets out a happy little noise, almost a giggle, sleepy and pleased. his arms squeeze you just a little tighter, like you could never be close enough, even when he’s got you in his lap like this. if he could, he’d keep you there all the time. attached at the hip, close as can be. 

even with a ruined date, even after worrying you, he feels well and truly satisfied. because you're here, and you’re watching a good movie, and you’re gonna stay over tonight. when it gets dark out, he’ll get to fall asleep cuddled up beside you, hold you in his arms and feel you nuzzle into his chest. then he’ll pepper your face with kisses to wake you up, and you’ll grumble all sweetly, and he’ll carry you to the kitchen despite your grumpy protests. you’ll eat breakfast together, chatting and enjoying the way the sunlight flickers around the room like a happy cat. maybe he can even make you breakfast himself, to thank you for today. 

if the fever’s gone by then, you’ll probably let him outside. then you can go get those crêpes, and maybe go to a park, or to the movie theatre, or a fun arcade, before heading back to your apartment to relax. and then he’ll stay over. the day after, too. and the day after that.

living together with you wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks. it wouldn’t be bad at all, actually. 

the thought has been on his mind for a while, now. getting to fall asleep with you every night, eat breakfast with you every morning, see more of your footprints in his life… satoru can’t think of anything he’d like more. maybe he’ll start hinting at it, slowly but surely. if he can lure you into broaching the subject, that would be ideal — but if he has to, he doesn’t mind doing it himself. you’re worth the emotional toll.

you curl into your boyfriend a little further, his jaw now resting cheekily on the top of your head, large palms underneath your shirt and rubbing circles into your bare skin. you have no idea what he’s thinking, no idea about his plans, and he thinks that’s for the best. he knows you’ll indulge him, at the end of the day.

maybe he’ll just ask you, tomorrow. if you say no, he can just blame it on the fever making him delirious.

[infictionalwonderland]

headcanons of elijah with an openly affectionate/touchy/flirty s/o? ,, bc you best believe i aint going to leave that man alone if i got my paws on him lmao

pairing: elijah x overly affectionate reader

warnings: PDA ❌, a lot of fluff ml, fem reader, mentions of blood & other vampire topics, SIMP ELIJAH xoxo, just a lot of affection and love and touching!!!

you can’t keep your hands yourself

i mean you could but why would you want to

ANYWAYY SORRU O LOVE MUSIC TOO MUCH ☹️☹️

elijah isn’t, or more accurately wasn’t a fan of pda

he didn’t judge people who were it just really was not his thing- whatsoever

BUTTTT when you, gorgeously perfect you, came into his life, his mindset on the subject changed!

you were a very affectionate person, someone who had no problem smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss on his cheek in public just to show he was urs

someone who would unabashedly sit on his lap in public so you could be closer to him

someone who would outwardly express your affection towards him in public at any given time

and he was shockingly enamoured by this

the ‘i love you’ often paired with a ridiculous nickname and prolonged cheek kiss before you skipped further ahead than him and left him to catch up— had him feeling tingly all over

the way you would take a seat and cozy up on his lap, not mattering where you were, made him feel a sense of unexpected giddiness and love for you.

your hugs made his heart explode!!!

the way you would run your hands through his combed, soft hair to relive his stress made him melt entirely

klaus thought it was disgusting — as he made clear with his eye rolls and snarky comments, tho he always hid a small smile of happiness for his older brother

rebekah thought it was absolutely, if not sickeningly adorable. she’d already planned your wedding for the both of you

kol really didn’t care

freya was just extremely happy for her younger brother, seeing the constant smile on his face around you

one of your favourite things to do was to sit in his lap and lean back with your head on his shoulder, his strong arms wrapped around your waist

ORRRRRRR when he would press gentle kisses to every patch of skin on your face, kissing your lips last: claiming every part of yur perfect face deserved a kiss!

after you both had participated in and obviously won amy fights with supernatural creature which (not so) shockingly happened frequently —

you would always take the handkerchief from his suit pocket and clean away the blood and he’d thank you with a loving kiss to your hand

you’re very very vocal with your love for him and just how attractive you find him

klaus is traumatised.

but elijah eats up every second of it with a shy blush on his cheeks every time

you like to at least have one part of your bodies touching at all times

it makes you feel safe and happy and elijah absolutely love it— he absolutely loves you

when you sit together, if you’re not on his lap his hand is on your thigh, caressing the soft skin comfortingly

he likes having an arm around your waist, that way he can pull you into him in the case of any threats but he likes it bc he can trace pattern on your skin to distract himself

just being overly cute in the streets of new orleans

it’s safe to say most of the human population love your relationship from what they see around the city

all in all— you two are the sweetest couple and even onlookers can see that easily 💓💖💘💕

[beef-fajitas]

die. i dont know what to say. i genuinely got tears in my eyes after seeing this. this is the sweetest most awesomest thing that anyone has ever done for me. wtf. im gonna be thinking about this for. a long time.

[JKLDSJFKLDSJFDLSK BRICK THE PLOT TWIST AT THE END HEHEHEHHE] I LOVE MY PLOT TWISTS!

[THE NICKNAMES THEY CALL EACH OTHER STANDS OUT IN A WAY ITS SO SWEET] WAIT RLLY?? I WAS LWKY INSECURE ABT IT- I THOUGHT IT STOOD OUT IN A BAD WAY.

[your so good at parallels YOU DONT EVEN REALIZE IT SOMETIMES LOL U REMEMBERED JAY SAYING THAT IN S4 REALLY SMART ( CLICKS TONGUE )] IM GIGGLING HELPPPP ITS LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE VOICELINES INA LL OF NINJAGO I COULD NEVER FORGET IT NOT IN A MILLION YEARS. THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭😭

[THE DETAILS WERE GOOD gooo with the flow of the story wasn't hard not expecting any less ofc :] ] im always so nervous abt the flow of the story whenever i write. hearing this. augh.

[HHSDHFSDKF THE HAND PLACEMENTS?? COLE UNINTENTIONALLY SAYING SOMETHING WITHOUT MEANING TOO IS SO IN CHARECTER LMAO SUCH A MAN] HAND PLACEMENTS MY BELOVED <333 IMO COLE GETS SO EXCITED ABT KAI HE SOMETIMES FORGETS THAT HIS WORDS ACTUALLY HAVE MEANING.

[i didnt expect the tension that came but i absolutely ate it up. ATE.] wait there was tension..? /genq im being so fr here, a lot of the time im not even aware of what im writing, it just kinda ~appears~ on the page and i just edit it to fit the general story.

[HFDSKLDS THE MISUNDERSTANDING EATING EVEN MORE] I HATE THE MISUNDERSTANDING TROPE BUT ITS A GOOD PLOT DRIVER ☹️

["deciding to give him a chance" that means alloooooot. SDFJKDLSFJKDSL] listen. if i have the misunderstanding, you just KNOW i gotta have communication. im not willing to let it go further than a couple minutes of confusion. i just cant. they gotta talk it out.

[AND THEN COLE BEING HONEST WAS JUST AWESOME. LIKE THE THINGS COLE SAID. UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT. IT WAS WRITTEN ACCURATELY FOR THE STORY OF THE BFS..... NOT TO MENTION KAI CRYING??] like i was saying earlier, sometimes he forgets his words have meaning. but when he realizes? oh god. prepare to cry your eyes out. aND KAI DID LMFAO. (so what if its a little bit of projection... kai cries, okay?) but im really glad to hear it was accurate :3

[its so realistic and yaoi at the same time.] i need it to be both. it needs to be realistic enough where i feel like im actually writing something, and yaoi enough to feed the fandom monster in me. glad to hear it worked out in my favor!

["I love you so damn much" YOUR DONE. GET OUTTA HERE] SHUT THE HELL UPPPPP UR SO SWEET I CANTTT

[smiling reading them hug they deserve it /srs] if it were up to me, all the ninja would hug all the time. they all deserve (and need) it so much more than they admit. /srs (maybe... just maybe... i may... write a fic about it... not anytime soon ofc, i need to finish the one im on rn and then im gonna collab w someone for another kai fic, but maybe after all of that..? 🤫🧏‍♂️)

[THE "YOU ASSHOLE" GOT ME LMAOOOO THE PLOT TWIST WE DIDNT KNOW BUT NEEDED] THANK YOU, THANK YOU *TAKES A BOW* ILL BE HERE ALL NIGHT !! (ill be here all night in yaoi hell because god fucking dammit i need to finish my kai birthday fic thats actually lava)

[the making out at the end sigh typical yaoi couple :// /aff] typical yaoi couple 🙄🙄 (as if i didnt make them kiss.. i feel like a kid smashing my two toys faces together if that makes sense)

[WHOOPS I DIDNT MEAN TO MAKE IT THIS LONG ( HALF SERIOUS ) i enjoyed it btw.] THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MAKING THIS SO LONG!!!! GENUINELY HAD A BLUSH ON MY FACE THE ENTIRE TIME ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY. ILYSM DIE <3 /P I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME. I WANT TO DO SOMETHING FOR YOU IN RETURN BUT IDK WHAT

@beef-fajitas promoting this and commenting about it. so normally. first of all lava shippers read this fiction if you want some precious cole and kai time...

JKLDSJFKLDSJFDLSK BRICK THE PLOT TWIST AT THE END HEHEHEHHE THE NICKNAMES THEY CALL EACH OTHER STANDS OUT IN A WAY ITS SO SWEET your so good at parallels YOU DONT EVEN REALIZE IT SOMETIMES LOL U REMEMBERED JAY SAYING THAT IN S4 REALLY SMART ( CLICKS TONGUE ) THE DETAILS WERE GOOD gooo with the flow of the story wasn't hard not expecting any less ofc :] HHSDHFSDKF THE HAND PLACEMENTS?? COLE UNINTENTIONALLY SAYING SOMETHING WITHOUT MEANING TOO IS SO IN CHARECTER LMAO SUCH A MAN i didnt expect the tension that came but i absolutely ate it up. ATE. HFDSKLDS THE MISUNDERSTANDING EATING EVEN MORE "deciding to give him a chance" that means alloooooot. SDFJKDLSFJKDSL AND THEN COLE BEING HONEST WAS JUST AWESOME. LIKE THE THINGS COLE SAID. UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT. IT WAS WRITTEN ACCURATELY FOR THE STORY OF THE BFS..... NOT TO MENTION KAI CRYING?? its so realistic and yaoi at the same time. "I love you so damn much" YOUR DONE. GET OUTTA HERE smiling reading them hug they deserve it /srs THE "YOU ASSHOLE" GOT ME LMAOOOO THE PLOT TWIST WE DIDNT KNOW BUT NEEDED the making out at the end sigh typical yaoi couple :// /aff WHOOPS I DIDNT MEAN TO MAKE IT THIS LONG ( HALF SERIOUS ) i enjoyed it btw.

[ddeonusbf]

AHHH WE BACK AGAIN LETS GET IT😭SORRY MAI MAI NOTHING WAS GONNA STOP ME FROM READING IT MWAHAHAH

also i saw your reblog and yeah! i was like "oh heeseung has something on y/n? how inch resting of him" 🧐AND CHEM JOKES ARE FUNNY LITERALLYSHUT UP 🤫 I like to hear chemistry puns periodically🤭🤭🤭🤭 AND I DIDNT FEEL PRESSURED IVE BEEN MEANING TOO FOR A HOT MINUTE AND I FINALLY HAVE TIKE SO LETS GET IT😴 NOW ON TO THE FIC

Y/N WAS SO SICK FOR ALL THE EXCUSES SHE WANTED TO USE LIKE DAMN WHY HEESEUNG HAD TO TAKE THE FALL😭😭HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY GO HEESEUNG‼️

“u-um, you just… you looked… tired.” art simping arc??? me and y/n real different i wouldve been throwing him heart eyes and shit giggling and whatnot😻😻AND NO HEESEUNG ITS NOT YOUR FAULT OKAY YOU WERE CONFESSING DONT APOLOGIZE BAE☹️☹️ and heeseung is such a sweetheart, art = triage! heeseung supremacist!!

also i love your writing style! its so descriptive and comfy, gonna have to binge all your other fics later🤭🤭

heeseung taking a photo of the sunset is so cute and feels so heeseung idk i just know he had a folder in his photo for all the sunsets and sunrises he catches. bro has me down tremendously in sixteen different ways help🥰OMG AND HE SHOWS THEM TO HIS MOM??? bro y/n move he's clearly met to be with ME! 🥴the delulu in me jumped out my bad😅BUT HE HANGS OUT WITH HIS MOM WE'RE SO SIMILAR😋i love my mom shes like one of my best friends

"LESSON 1 : if you look cute, 50% of the things you say don’t sound quite as dumb." looks like he's already got that one in the bag🤪 AND HEAR ME OUT RIGHT:.....bowties arent that bad. but they only look good on certain groups of people. no i will not specify. BUT BOWTIES ARE SO CUTE.....he does have an addiction though, and we must converse about it, effective immediately

HEESEUNG NEVER GOING ON A DATE BEFORE?? I CAN TELL THEIR CLASSMATES DONT HAVE TASTE HELLAUR????"it’s just an endless number of t-shirts with cartoon characters on them." what's that 'pose to mean?? quickly mai🤨🤨🤨 *shoves anime and cartoon character shirts in my closet* the people deserve to know!!

anyways as a glasses wearer y/n is right!! glasses either help your facial features but hide your best feature-your eyes-or they highlight your eyes but dim your facial features. for me its number one because i look fantastic with glasses on but you cant really see my eyes unless you're looking dead at me 🥸 but heeseung has super pretty eyes so glasses make him pretty, but he looks better without them🥰 and ugh taehyun😒sorry tae youve earned my disdain in this fic, you still have my heart tho😊anywas ynseung lowkey kinda cute?? y/n isnt that much a bitch as she made herself to be

“but… you’re my trash can. you’re supposed to eat what i can’t finish.” literally me and my older brother🫢i give him everything i dont want, like when my grandma makes pork, i give him all the fatty pieces🤞🏾ALSO RYUJIN YOURE SUCH A SNITCH UGH YOU DONT KNOW HOW TO SHUT UP?? WHAT IF WE DIDNT WANT TAE LNOWING? OH RIGHT, WE DIDNT. when i jump her she cant say a thing🤫ANYWAYS Y/N BOSSBABE FOR SNAPPING ON THEM HOES GET INTO ITTTTTTT🤪🤪🤪‼️‼️‼️ hater like: y/n didnt eat🥸 meanwhile y/n like:

ASYHDHDD HEESEUNG YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME HELLO??? ‘so pretty and warm, right?’ he writes. ‘kinda reminded me of you.’ SIRRRRRRRRR- and a nickname? miss sunset?? barking st the wall hehe

18374747/10 MAI THIS WAS SO GOOD‼️ I HAVE A CALL SOON SO I WONT READ THE THREE CHAPTER NOW BUT I WILL SOON THANK YOU THIS WAS SO GOOD

triage — ft. lee heeseung (chapter II)

you try to teach the nerd how to date.

synopsis: heeseung is not, by any measure, date-able. he’s dorky, he’s nerdy, and he does this weird thing where he snorts loudly every time he laughs. in fact, he loves everything that normal people are allergic to — computer science, collecting rare comic books, and birdwatching on the weekend.

given that you two have obviously nothing in common, you find yourself utterly flabbergasted when you receive a letter in your locker, on which heeseung has written, "hi. will you please teach me how to date?"

MASTERLIST HERE !

kayla’s playlist (@/miiiwaa) ♡ my shitty og playlist . tags : #.*triage .

TAGLIST

@jaeyummies @enhyflirt @kyleeanne @icedcoffeesunwoo @ssolari @skazoo @jjunis @heejake-en @koroktsuya @jeongwins @tinykoi-s @en-boyz @soobin-chois @blessed-sky @jhyunieee @kisswon @vbxrin @cosmicsunghoon @bloomedberry @jungwonielove @miiiwaa @jungwoniee @lhsng @missharubear @deonuism @sarahxy537 @bambisgirl @hrrhmay-primaryblog @yeonzzun @msxflower @sunsunu @acciomylove @sweetjaemss @seungstarss @tokyoflies @solelyenha @softforqiankun @goodforgyu @va1ry @taekbokki @luvishee @jalnandanz @person-standing @kissomen @auulraual @sonjuyeonnie @yunhowooyo @tomorrowbymoa-together @markleeisdabestdrug @aizzon @sosoa @seventeeneration @ashrocker123

chapter two

word count: 4.6k | navigation: previous / next / MASTERLIST warnings: swearing, (verbal) bullying

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎

detention.

you had both landed detention.

when you and heeseung had returned to mr lee’s classroom, it was the obvious punishment your teacher had to impose — heeseung’s crime was randomly abandoning class to confess his undying adoration for lia, and your crime was taking way too long to “search” for heeseung.

alas, your teacher was livid the instant you two had attempted to walk through the door.

as per your usual style, you were insistent on lying your way out of the punishment. you wanted to concoct some sort of elaborate (but totally believable) story about why it had taken you so long to bring heeseung back to class.

you had already brainstormed several fibs. “heeseung had broken his arm and was at the nurse’s office the entire time” was the first thing that popped into your mind, until heeseung mentioned that there would be no documentation of him ever being there if nurse kim was asked.

so, you thought you could say that “heeseung dropped and stepped on his glasses and literally couldn’t see his way around the school and had to crawl around like a dog”, but heeseung almost wept at the thought of you having to break his glasses to show real proof.

then, there was the story that “heeseung shat his pants and was too embarrassed to return back to class in fear that people would choke on the smell of his poop”, but heeseung had given you such a dark look that you thought his soul had left his body.

ultimately, heeseung and his dumb ass belief that “honesty is the best policy” triumphed, effectively forcing you to spend your afternoon perishing in detention.

“i told you!” you hiss viciously through gritted teeth, “i told you we should’ve just lied!”

with no intention to conceal your resentment, you glare at heeseung from across the vacant classroom. when his eyes meet your furious scowl, he squeaks in fright before quickly lowering his head to fervently scrub the desks.

tsk.

this annoyingly angelic goody-two-shoes isn’t even going to look at you?

stamping your lips into an unimpressed line, you dunk the mop into the bucket of water before fishing it back out again. ugh. being forced to clean the classrooms after school must be a crime — there’s no way this can’t be considered child labour.

though you’re no stranger to detention (in fact, you’ve been put on behavioural probation numerous times now), something about having to sacrifice a few hours of today’s afternoon is particularly annoying. perhaps it’s because you’re still exhausted from last night’s partying, and scrubbing away the classroom floors during detention is the last thing you want to do.

slapping the wet mop back onto the floor, you huff loudly before proceeding to polish it. five minutes pass as you return darkened stains and greyed flecks to their usual pristine condition, before you hear shuffling from across the room.

you try not to heed heeseung and his noises, until suddenly you feel somebody gently grab your mop.

it’s heeseung.

it’s heeseung that has a fist around the length of your mop, just above where your hands lie.

“what—” you snap your head up, gaping at him while he avoids your gaze.

“i-i’ll do it.” he mutters shyly, seemingly intimidated by your stare.

you straighten your back, narrowing your eyes at him. “what?”

“i-i said i’ll do it.” he repeats in a soft whisper, slowly peeling your fingers off the length of the mop. you watch with utter bewilderment as the boy turns away from you, now mopping the floor in your stead. he makes quiet, careful movements to manoeuvre into the corners of the desk legs, no further complaints to be heard.

“why? was i doing it wrong?” you frown, watching as heeseung does your job for you. he must be some sort of perfectionist, you guess.

“n-no!” he quickly shakes his head, glancing at you briskly. “u-um, you just… you looked… tired.”

oh.

your frown quickly dissipates while you stare at him blankly. he was watching you? he noticed you were tired? something about his close observation of you is somewhat touching, though you stifle down any burgeoning emotions with a clear of the throat.

“thanks.” you tell him awkwardly, rubbing the nape of your neck.

“no, it’s my fault we’re in detention after all.” heeseung mumbles. “s-sorry, i didn’t mean to—”

“stop apologising.” you brusquely interrupt. this must be the umpteenth time that you’ve reminded him of this today, though this apology doesn’t feel quite as infuriating. “i thought i told you to stop doing that.”

“r-right.” heeseung nods once, flashing you a soft, timid smile. “thanks for the reminder.”

you’re frozen, stunned by the sight of another pretty smile of his, allowing it to completely  dissolve any last speckle of your annoyance. forcefully brushing away your thoughts, you contort your lips into a contrived frown and watch as heeseung continues to clean the floor for you.

he’s a lot nicer than the people you know, isn’t he?

if you and ryujin had been sent to detention together, she would have slept at the back and forced you to do all the work. and if it had been taehyun, he wouldn’t have even showed up in the first place.

heeseung is far removed from the type of personalities that you’re frequently acquainted with, and truthfully speaking, it’s a little disconcerting. how can somebody be so nice? at times, you wonder if he’s faking his entire persona; until you realise you’re just a bitter pessimist, though you like to think that you’ve encountered far too many dishonest people to not be engineered to think this way.

it’s the circle of life.

“nice people” get chewed up and spat out like gum all the time. it’s nature — in fact, you should totally leave heeseung to clean the rest of the classroom so you can go home and take a nap.

though you try to convince yourself this, guilt begins to sprout inside your chest as you watch heeseung diligently complete your task. technically, it’s not exactly his fault that you’re in detention. since it was his first offence, mr lee was actually willing to let heeseung off with a warning.

it was you and your extensive history for breaking the rules that landed you with a punishment, and it was heeseung that had willingly insisted on doing detention with you so you wouldn’t have to clean the classroom alone.

damn it.

you feel bad.

sighing, you allow the conscience you didn’t even know you had to control your next actions — you shuffle toward heeseung and snatch the mop from him.

damn it. why are you doing this?

surprised by your action, heeseung looks up at you with a rapid blink. you roll your eyes, poking your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “i’ll do it. just clean the tables or something.” you grumble, gently shoving him away with your shoulder.

“i-it’s okay, i can—”

“it’s fine.”

heeseung vehemently shakes his head. “n-no, you’ll hurt your back! i can—”

“i said move, dweeb!”

by the time you and heeseung have finished, the classrooms are so clean that they could be used to perform a surgery. however, you’ve reached an hour so late into the afternoon that the sun has begun to set.

you both stand at the front entrance of your high school, accompanied by the ephemeral blend of a golden sunset adorning the sky. amidst the flush of soft, autumnal hues, you briefly glance over at heeseung, noticing the way he goggles in wonder by the sight. he even rummages through his backpack for his phone to capture a picture of the sky.

what a kid, you think, wondering how many sunsets you’ve seen in your life.

they’re frankly unspecial and common to you, but heeseung seems to appreciate it — and the reverse appears to also be true, given that the sunset illuminates all his best features and kisses his skin with a gentle radiance.

you stare at the gleam along the bridge of his nose and the soft flutter of his eyelashes. when he turns to you and smiles, you notice the way his mousy eyes glow like russet pearls.

“you act like you’ve never seen a sunset in your life,” you comment.

he grins proudly. “they’re just so pretty.” heeseung gushes, turning his phone toward you so you can observe the picture he’s taken. “don’t you think?”

hm. not a bad photo. “yeah, whatever.” you shrug, “they’re aight.”

heeseung pouts at your nonchalant response, admiring his phone’s screen briefly before tucking it away.

“what’s even the point of taking a photo?” you tease him with a lifted brow. “you can literally just wake up tomorrow and see it again. and the day after. and the day after.”

“i like taking pretty photos,” he answers with a soft beam, allowing the excitement to reach his eyes. “to keep them. you never know; one day you might wake up and the sun’s gone… and then it’s like, poof — no more sunsets.”

poof — no more sunsets?

jeez, for a guy so certifiably intelligent, he sounds real fucking dumb.

“tell me you’re a loser without telling me you’re a loser.” you remark sarcastically.

heeseung pouts again, tempting you with the urge to reach over and softly pinch one of his cheeks.

“i’m not a loser,” he whines. “you know, my mom appreciates them. i show them to her all the time.”

mom?

“oh god,” you groan loudly. he obviously doesn’t need birth control or other forms of contraception when his mouth does all the work. “stop speaking. please.”

“what?” he blinks cluelessly, seemingly perplexed by your reaction. “she’s my best friend. we… we play pokemon go and paint each other’s toenails on the weekends together.”

oh. sweet. lord.

“dude, gross!” you throw your head back and project your groan into the sky. “everything about that sentence is gross! and i literally just scraped old gum off taehyun’s desk!”

fuck.

how the hell are you supposed to turn this dorky weirdo into a date-able human being?

he’s not even a real person.

you’re convinced he’s some sort of sick human experiment.

“you know what?” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “i was going to wait until tomorrow, but i honestly think we need all the time we can get.”

in the medical field, triage is the process of categorising patients by level of priority. in this case, heeseung takes the utmost precedence — he’s the patient who needs the most medical attention; the boy who needs the most help. you’re never one to ever be self-sacrificing, but when you triage through your current responsibilities, this boy’s anticipated glow-up is at the top of your list.

it’s honestly painful watching him.

“t-time?” heeseung blinks. “what do you mean?”

“it means i’m coming over to yours.” you turn to him, planting both your hands on his shoulders.

“and i’m going to teach you the first lesson in how to be date-able.”

HOW TO DATE — LESSON 1 : if you look cute, 50% of the things you say don’t sound quite as dumb.

the first glance you take inside heeseung’s closet almost makes you stagger back in shock.

“heeseung,” your eyes bulge out your sockets while your jaw sweeps the carpeted floor. “what the hell is this? how many fucking bowties do you need to own?”

hundreds. there must be hundreds. all you see is a massive basket filled to the brim with them.

this isn’t just a collection — it’s a fucking addiction.

it’s the kind of addiction in which he requires an intervention — asap. he needs a couple of his close friends and family members gathered in the living room, exchanging heartfelt stories about how his obviously debilitating fixation on collecting ugly bowties affects all their lives. he needs his dearest friends to beg him to stop this insane addiction.

“what do you mean?” heeseung shuffles beside you, placing his hands on his hips as he cocks his head to the side. “you don’t like them? i… i think they look pretty good on me.” he tries to beam enthusiastically. he even puts in the effort to reach over and grab a small red bowtie with a white polka-dot pattern, holding it just between his collar bones. “see?” he coyly smiles.

“oh god, i don’t think i’m ever not going to see that.” you gape at the absurd situation. seriously, this is sick. this is so wrong and sick.

that’s when heeseung pouts before grabbing another one — this time, baby pink in colour — and holds it just between your collar bones.

“hey!” heeseung’s eyes twinkle when he smiles. “you look good in one, too!”

“stop it!” you half-whine and half-laugh, groaning as you shake your head. heeseung stifles a giggle before returning both his beloved bowties into his basket. the basket of sins, you’ve decided to call it.

“okay, moving on.” you squint, angling your neck as you attempt to browse what other sins he has stowed in his closet. “let’s say someone asks you out on a date, what’s your go-to outfit?”

“um…” heeseung hums, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “i-i don’t know… i’ve never been on a date before.”

“never?” you snap your head at him, gaping. “like, ever?”

“n-never.” he stares back with a small pout. “i-is that weird?”

you blink rapidly. you’ve probably been on the same number of dates as heeseung’s estimated IQ. “of course not,” you quickly reassure him, twirling back toward his closet. “that’s a good thing. we can start from scratch. i’ll give you a few pointers; you know, i’m the best at dates.”

“o-oh… are you really?” you feel his heavy stare as you lean forward and rifle through the various clothing items he has hung up on the clothing rack.

“hell yeah.” you answer, squinting at his clothes. oh god, it’s just an endless number of t-shirts with cartoon characters on them. you make a mental note to take him shopping next time. well, at least he has cute shoes?

“it’s all about first impressions,” you explain. “but to be honest, if you look cute, fifty percent of the things you say don’t sound quite as dumb, which is why i’m looking through your closet.”

“cute?” he mutters, “o-oh, i see. n-no wonder you’re the best…”

“i swear, when it comes to looking cute, boys just need to change their hairstyle and clothes. it’s really as simple as that.” you say, and it’s the truth; some boys really do be rocking up to school with the ugliest haircut you’ve ever seen and you suddenly feel all your initial attraction melt away like snow in the sun.

“r-really?” heeseung squeaks with surprise.

“yeah.” you nod, thinking about this from an analytical standpoint. “you shouldn’t be too worried, though. your face is really cute. you’ve got really pretty eyes and a cute nose. i like your hair, too. so all we really need to do is fix your fashion. by the way, what do you usually wear?”

you wait for his answer, only to find silence on the other end.

huh?

you turn around in confusion, only to see heeseung staring at you with an unexplainable expression. his face is incredibly red, almost like he’s blushing with the entire surface area of his face. your eyes circle in surprise, eyes bouncing between the scarlet shade of his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

subject.

you need to change the subject.

“u-um, this is really cute, by the way.” you say, flustered by heeseung’s reaction. hastily, you yank out one of his hoodies and hold it against your own body.

“i like this,” you plaster a smile on your face, though it quickly dissolves into a more genuine expression as you begin to explain why. “it’s cute. the blue is really nice, and the yellow text really pops, too. hoodies probably aren’t the best choice for a first date, but if you really like the girl, and you’ve hung out with her a few times, i think it’s a really great choice!”

he stares at you for a moment’s passing.

your eyes meet, while silence seeps between the seconds.

why is he staring at you like that?

“h-heeseung?” you blink, feeling the beat of your heart begin to echo in your chest.

“hm?” he absentmindedly mumbles, staring at you.

“uh… what do you think?” you nudge him with the hoodie.

“huh? wha– o-oh...” heeseung appears to snap into focus now, eyeing the hoodie carefully. “um… my mom bought me that. i-i like it... i think.”

you gently smile. “cool! then let’s donate literally everything else to goodwill.”

this is almost like playing real-life sims, but better.

in this case, you’re the omniscient god — you’re the divine-like puppet master that gets to determine what he wears, how he talks, and even what kind of personality he projects.

this experience has been a thrilling, nostalgic adventure back into your childhood. it’s a blast from the past because you’ve been propelled back into your favourite childhood game — dress-up. except this time, your barbie doll is lee heeseung — and truthfully speaking, you’re having way too much fun with this.

the two of you are seated cross-legged on his bed now (no comment on his iron man bed sheets), facing each other. you’ve successfully filtered through his closet and lectured him on the importance of choosing matching or complementary colours when it comes to choosing an outfit.

“okay, next thing — get rid of those glasses.”

heeseung pouts. “but… if i take them off, then i can’t see.”

“good,” you grin sarcastically. “then you won’t be able to see how ugly those glasses are.”

his frown sinks deeper into his face.

you sigh, reaching over and removing the glasses for him. he flinches at your touch, but once you remove the glasses and give him a few seconds to adjust to his new sight, you gasp with delight.

“heeseung, you look so good!” you laugh, reaching over and brushing back his hair to reveal more of his features. he blushes and dips his head in slight embarrassment, but you tuck your fingers beneath his chin and raise his head.

he does.

he really does look good.

it’s not that his glasses are ugly. it’s just that he uses them as an excuse to conceal his best feature — his eyes.

when you had called his eyes pretty earlier, you had really meant it. heeseung’s eyes are unlike anything you’ve ever seen — just when you thought you found cat-like eyes the most attractive, there is something ridiculously enchanting about his round, bambi eyes. they sparkle. they glint like hidden glitter beneath light.

“i-i look stupid.” heeseung lowers his head again and bites his bottom lip. “i-i can’t see.”

“well, i can see and i think you look great.” you scoff, gently whacking his head.

“you’re just being nice.”

“i’m not.” you say adamantly. “haven’t you met me? dude, i’m literally the biggest bitch in the school; i have no reason to be nice. i’m serious, heeseung, you look great. you should try to invest in some contact lenses or something. your eyes are so pretty.”

“y-you think?”

“for sure.”

he pauses. “th-thank you so much,” he mutters, finally succumbing to your compliments. you chuckle at his reaction, handing his glasses back.

“anyway, it’s getting late.” you sigh, glancing at your phone. “i should probably go home soon.”

heeseung slips his glasses back onto his face with ease, brushing his hair back so that they cascade down his forehead. “a-ah, i’ll drive you home!”

“it’s okay,” you shake your head. “taehyun’s picking me up.”

heeseung’s eyes widen slightly in realisation before he casts his gaze to the side.

“oh.” his shoulders slump. “right. taehyun.”

.

.

.

taehyun announces his arrival with a simple text message: ‘come out’, you read on your screen, before tucking it away inside your pocket.

“he’s here,” you bounce off heeseung’s couch, lifting yourself to your feet as you stretch your body.

“ah,” heeseung follows suit, shutting off the game console. “i’ll walk you to the door.”

you stifle a laugh, wondering what the need was for him to accompany you with just a few steps. however, you’ve surprisingly enjoyed his company a lot — taehyun had expectedly arrived much later than he’d promised, allowing heeseung to show you how to play super smash bros on the nintendo switch.

you’ve never really been the type to care much about video games, and yet heeseung had been incredibly patient in teaching you. he’s too nice for his own good, which you know because he was obviously pretending to fumble at a game you know he’s obviously very experienced in, and even let you win most games.

“hey, thanks for having me over,” you smile, slipping your handbag through your arm while your feet sink into your shoes. “maybe next time, i’ll get to meet your best friend.”

heeseung slowly bats his eyelashes in another confused expression.

“your mom?” you scoff with a short laugh, earning an instant smile from the boy.

“o-of course.” he cutely grins, “i bet she’d like you.”

“probably not,” you fasten your shoes around the back of your heels. “i’m not very parent-friendly.” you don’t think you can clearly recall the last time you had met a friend’s parents — other than taehyun and ryujin, you don’t often go to other people’s houses; you very much prefer existing in your own space.

“d-do you want me to walk you to the car?”

“nah, it’s okay.” you wink at him. “taehyun’ll probably flip shit if he finds out my friend”—you do little air-bunnies with your fingers—“is actually you.”

you’re not exactly dating taehyun (yuck, god forbid you’re ever tied down to another person), but you know the guy too well to not anticipate every toxic behaviour he has under his belt. you? hang out with another guy? taehyun would rage. it’s not really that you’re attempting to tiptoe around the guy — he just didn’t ask who you were hanging out with, so you didn’t really care to tell him.

heeseung’s eyes flicker toward the ground. “i-i see.” his head bobs gently. “well… safe trip home.”

while you’re ready to leave, you notice your hand merely hovers over his door knob. sensing your own hesitation, you turn around and glance at heeseung.

“i feel like i’m missing something.” you tell him, squinting.

“nope.” heeseung shakes his head furiously. “i made sure all your belongings were put back into your handbag.”

you stifle a laugh. “gee, thanks.”

“b-by the way…” heeseung awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “um… y-you didn’t tell anybody about the letter, right?”

of course, the letter — the very reason you’re here in the first place. the one heeseung had written to you in a desperate plight to get a girl. to get ryujin. oh god, the thought of heeseung and ryujin makes you want to shudder.

“no, why?”

he flashes you a relieved smile. “i-i don’t know, i just thought… nevermind.”

“what is it?” you frown, facing him completely. “just tell me.”

“i just… thought maybe you and your friends would make fun of me for it. taehyun… doesn’t seem to really like me. i-it’s okay if you don’t want to help if you’re… embarrassed.”

that’s when your smile falters.

embarrassed?

why would you be embarrassed?

‘nah, it’s okay.’ you wink at him. ‘taehyun’ll probably flip shit if he finds out my friend’—you do little air-bunnies with your fingers—‘is actually you.’

“oh my god,” you quickly shake your head, recalling your earlier words. “heeseung, i didn’t mean you as in you,” you say, horrified by the implication, “i just meant like, since you’re a guy and all. he just gets jealous easily. don’t worry about it, heeseung. you’re not embarrassing; i’m not embarrassed. i had fun today. i really did.”

“you did?” heeseung’s face lights up. “so did i!”

“cool,” you say. “then we’re on the same page. see you at school, yeah?”

he blushes. “y-yeah, see you at school.”

if there’s any method through which students at your school like to segregate by social hierarchy, it’s the seating in the dining hall. you’re obviously at the cool table, though really that means you’re surrounded by a bunch of pricks. most of them, like taehyun, belong to the school’s athletic teams. you’re the exception, though, because you don’t really indulge in any extracurriculars.

“dude, lunch today tastes like literal ass.” jongseong groans, ungratefully stabbing his fork into his food.

“oh yeah, you’d know exactly what ass tastes like, wouldn’t you?” yeonjun snickers, earning him a quick smack from the former.

“shut the fuck up and get a girlfriend.” jongseong sneers. “the only ass you’re getting is what you see in your reflection.”

“weak comeback, dude. try again.” yeonjun snorts, though jongseong retorts by tossing various colourful insults in the air.

amidst the bickering between the two, you feel a slight nudge against your arm. toward your right, you face ryujin, who innocently bats her eyelashes at you.

“eat my veggies, please.” she smiles, shoving her food tray toward you. you scowl at her request, lifting your palm in a threat to hit her.

“get lost.”

she pouts. “but… you’re my trash can. you’re supposed to eat what i can’t finish.”

scoffing, you prop your elbow on the table and allow your cheek to sink into your palm. “bro, you’re giving me a headache, shut the hell up.”

“jeez, what’s with you? are you tired or something?”

“leave me alone.”

“oh, right.” ryujin straightens in her seat, eagerly clutching onto your arm. “are you mad at me ‘cause i ditched you yesterday? you had detention! what was i supposed to do? wait for you?”

she’s so loud. ryujin is just so damn loud.

“speaking of, how was detention? did that four-eyed dweeb try to talk to you or something?”

your lips instantly sink into a frown at her mention of heeseung.

“wait, what? you had detention yesterday?” taehyun kicks your leg from under the table. he’s seated right across from you, so you snap your head up and glare at him.

“yeah, she did.” ryujin snorts, humoured by what she considers an ill situation. “but worse, she had it with the headmaster's little minion. you know, lee heeseung.”

“oh, heeseung?" taehyun snickers, causing your fists to ball up beside you. “that dude? bro, i swear that guy is a new breed of human. probably virgin as fuck.”

heeseung was right.

he was so fucking right.

‘i just thought maybe you and your friends would make fun of me for it.’

maybe he knows your friends better than you do.

taehyun and ryujin’s comments only begin to pile, while input from the entire table begins to flood in.

“wait, who even is that?”

“i don’t know. some irrelevant dude, i guess.”

your nails pierce the skin of your palms.

“wait, heeseung? lee heeseung? bro, that guy literally does all my homework.”

“oh god, poor him.”

“are you kidding me? guys like that are so good. you can literally just push them around and make them do whatever you want—”

“shut the fuck up!” you snap, suddenly rising to your feet. your friends jump in surprise, though you quickly snatch your handbag and scoff at them before storming off. “you guys are a bunch of loud-mouthed morons. fucking losers.”

.

.

.

exactly twenty-four hours ago, you and heeseung had been standing at the school’s entrance, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sunset. you had truthfully been admiring heeseung’s rather pretty features, while he had been staring at something he also considered pretty.

and now here you are — home, lying on your bed, in which the only sunset you have is the ceiling light you’re staring up at.

heeseung’s words echo in your mind.

you didn’t tell anybody about the letter, right?

you didn’t.

but perhaps you should mention that ryujin knows about it.

upon recalling everything your friends had spoken about heeseung, you find your lips sink into a frown. guilt pricks your heart torturously, even though you know you hadn’t participated in their bullying. you’ve never loved your friends, but something about identifying yourself with them knowing how horrible they are feels equally as terrible.

like some sort of divine timing, you feel a buzz in your pocket. you quickly fish your phone out of your skirt’s pocket before realising it’s a text from heeseung.

an image.

he’s sent you an image.

it’s a picture of today’s sunset.

‘so pretty and warm, right?’ he writes. ‘kinda reminded me of you.’

pretty.

warm.

reminded him of you.

you feel your lips twitch into a smile.

it’s ironic, because most people seem to think you’re quite a cold person. most people don’t compare you to the warmth of an afternoon sunset; most people don’t walk you to the door even if it’s just a few footsteps; most people don’t pretend to lose at video games just to make you happy.

yet here heeseung is, showing you that he is a lot nicer than most people you know.

see?

50% of the things he says don’t sound quite as dumb anymore.

it’s working.

‘thanks.’ you text back. ‘by the way...’

you think of what your friends had said about him.

you know what? fuck them.

fuck.

them.

‘i'm going to show you how to date. for real. you can get any girl you want and all the guys are going to fucking hate you.’

you watch as the text bubble from heeseung begins to appear.

and then it disappears.

and then another text appears.

‘okay, miss sunset! ^_^’

you smile.

how.

fucking.

precious.

//

to be continued.

*taglist is open, just comment or send an ask :>

a/n: HALLOOOO welcome to triage chap 2 and thank u sm for readinggg :>> hope it was okay! i realise by tumblr standards that my chapters r hella long so i actually applaud you for reading this entire thing 😭 ill try make chapters a lil shorter ;-; but!!!! thank you so much for tuning in!!!! hope u enjoyed this chapter ehehe <3 actually, before i moved schools i used to feel like the loser people used to snicker at so it kinda made me feel sad for heeseung in this chapter,,, ltrly forced me to relive the fact that i used to eat lunch in the toilets bc i was scared for people to see me have no friends lmfaoo 😭 but uh a mega glow-up for hee is coming up guys... 👀 fuck taehyun! fuck ryujin! fuck all of y/n’s dumb ass friends! anyway thank u sm for reading !! pls do share ur love & support via liking + reblogging if u can <333