#i am so sick and delirious right now

[tone-chan]

what if we just taught Eido that throwing up the middle finger is a greeting in The Last City

[poetriarchy]

k i got the space heater AND the humidifier goin.g. i am snuggled in bed by lamplight. but this is NOT sleep mode. this is go time

[gay-dorito-dust]

May I request BootHill and Argenti with a crush who’s reckless and accidentally confessed due to a particularly bad injury?

Crush doesn’t care for getting injured at all and always brushes off their concerns when they get injured but one day they just get rlly badly hurt and when they try to do the usual

“I’m okay”

It just kinda snaps in the boys?

(Sorry if this is too much)

Boothill

‘You fudging idiot!’ Boothill screamed when he saw the massive gash on your side. ‘You’ve gone and gotten yourself hurt again!’

‘I’m okay.’ You said as casually as you could while trying not to wince as Boothill began to put pressure on your wound to prevent it from bleeding out further. The gash fucking killed but you weren’t about to let him know how much it hurt, you refused to as you’ve dealt with far worse.

You haven’t, actually, that was a fucking lie to begin with.

‘I’m okay’ they say.’ Boothill scoffs, ‘yeah right, you’ve only gone and done it now! For fork’s sake would it kill you to actually act like you want to fudging live for once?!’

He knew you were a reckless spirit for the moment you first met, you were someone who didn’t care how many scars would litter your skin, only caring about finishing the mission no matter how debilitating the pain was. At first he didn’t care to know your name nor your reasoning as to why you act the way you did, but when he started to feel something for you, that’s when he began to worry himself sick over you.

Boothill genuinely wondered whether or not you cared that you lived after each and every suicide mission, you couldn’t be mended or rebuilt like he could, you weren’t invincible as you’d like to this you were and Boothill could only hope that today served as a reminder of that.

Boothill didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t bare it as he’s already lost his friends, family and his darling Arabella who’s smile so wide you could see the her gap tooth on full display. Arabella was just learning to walk when she was taken from him along with everyone else who meant everything to him; Revenge was his only motive and loosing you would only make him surrender to it a hell of lot faster.

‘If all you’re going to do is shout about how stupid I am then you can fuck off and leave me here to die since I’m such a idiot in your eyes, mr spaghetti western.’ You barked, hating Boothill’s unnecessary comments and hating the worried look within his eyes even more, it made you feel useless and pathetic.

Boothill looked at you as though you’ve grown a second head, lost on how that was the conclusion you came to, you must be delirious from the blood loss. ‘Fork me do I have to spell it out for you- I like you fudging dummy!’ He exclaimed. ‘I’m mad not because I hate you but because you’re hurt and I’m scared of loosing you darling!’ He chuckled humourlessly as he presses his forehead against yours, the one time where he was glad that his face was the last places where he could feel your warmth seep into him. ‘Your recklessness has me on the edge of insanity more than once sweetheart. I mean do you know just how much it hurt to see you like this? I might as well have gone on a tirade and hunt down every son of a nice lady who played a part in your scars.’

You remained in stunned silence.

This confession wasn’t something you were expecting from someone like Boothill, it made you wonder whether you were imaging this for yourself, and the reality was that he wasn’t actually here with you and you were indeed dying alone with no one to provide you company other then dead corpses waiting for you to join them. So in hopes of proving yourself wrong, you lifted a hand to his cheek, watched as he melted against it, his warmth seeping into your skin.

He was here.

Boothill was here and this was real, all this was real.

‘I like you too your silly cowboy.’ You whispered before pressing a tender kiss to his plush lips. A battlefield wasn’t a great place for a confession nor for love to blossom but if that was the case then why did it feel so right for the both of you in that moment.

Later you were taken to medical and Boothill, your official partner, went back to talking your ear off about how reckless you were, but would press kisses to your forehead and hands to let you know that he’ll take care of you from now on.

Argenti hated it whenever you came back from missions injured and your carelessness towards the scrapes and bruises that littered your body didn’t exactly help either.

‘I’m fine.’ You said after spraining an ankle.

‘I’ll live.’ You waved him off dismissively after hurting your side during a mission.

It seemed as though you never held yourself in the same regard as he did, and Argenti couldn’t help but feel his heart break the more and more he witness you disregard other people’s concern, acting though you had a paper cut rather then a wound that wound take you out of action for a good couple of weeks.

So when he found you with your back pressed up against a wall and a deep gash on your leg that made it hard for you to stand never less walk.

‘My beloved rose!’ He cried as he rushed to your side, setting aside his weapon as he inspected the wound.

‘I’m okay, it’s only a small gash.’ You told him but Argenti wasn’t about to hear it, not this time. He wasn’t going to allow you the chance to dismiss him when you were severely injured. So when he levelled you with a stare, you began to wish you could take back your words as seeing such a stern expression on a man as beautiful as Argenti was actually downright terrifying. ‘This is vastly different than a small gash, this is a serious injury that could alter your life’s trajectory for good if we treat it with such disregard as you have done with previous injuries.’ He told you with a seriousness that had you listen to him.

‘And why do you care?’ You asked.

‘I’ve always cared.’ Argenti replied straightforward, ‘every injury I’ve cared. I worried for your health, your well-being, both physical and mental, but you don’t seem to do the same and that pains me because you are so-‘

‘-reckless?’ You cut in, having heard the same thing from pretty much everyone and believing Argenti would be no different from them.

‘-beautiful.’ Argenti said and your breath caught in your throat. ‘You are so beautiful to me, my rose. I have found myself grown quite fond of you in a short amount of time that any pain caused to you might as well be my own.’ He finished as he saw the conflicting emotions within your eyes and prays that you could find the truth within his words.

‘Why?’ You asked. ‘What would a knight of beauty want with a reckless idiot like me?’

Argenti smiled softly. ‘You may be reckless but you are far from an idiot my dear, I like you a lot and I merely say this in fear of a future where I may never get the chance to do so for multiple reasons. Whether or not you accept is solely up to you.’ Argenti felt as though he had finally gotten a heavy weight off of his chest, but felt a pinch of anxiety when you didn’t respond after a period of time, and began to wonder whether this was a smart move on his behalf.

‘I always dreamed of having a knight in shining armour.’ You admitted, raising a hand to cup the back of his head. ‘But I didn’t think that dream would come true until you came along and I knew in that moment I would give you my heart and so much more.’ Argenti breathes a sigh of relief as he rests his forehead against your own, nuzzling your noses together briefly. ‘I’d be more than honoured of being your knight, if you’ll let me.’

You chuckled as you looked at him fondly. ‘I’d be more than happy to my cherry haired beauty.’ You replied as Argenti was quick to scoop you in his arms and carried you to the medics, who told you that you’d be out of action for quite a while and Argenti was more then happy to be your caregiver during that time, you couldn’t be more happier at the opportunity of being with your knight in shining armour.

[whoistartaglia]

delirious

does a confession count when it comes from someone delirious with fever?

alhaitham x reader

you’re clearly sick with fever, you know it, alhaitham knows it, and even your professor to whom you’ve never said a single word knows it. so why are you, wearing a black mask, coughing up a lung, and a second away from sleep, in lecture?

alhaitham has his own hypotheses to that particular question, but the fact remains is that there’s still about ten more minutes of lecture and he doesn’t know if you’re going to make it. not because of death—at least, he certainly hopes not—but because he meant it when he said you’re a whisp away from dreamland. one blink might send you head first into a fever dream, and you honestly think you might be in one when alhaitham silently packs his bag and silently moves through the lecture hall to sit next to you.

“what are you doing?” you whisper.

“taking you home.”

you cough before responding, and alhaitham cringes at the sound.

“home?”

“back to the dorm,” he clarifies.

you and alhaitham both live in the same dorm, though you only realized it when he came knocking on your door, with only the message of “you’re being too loud, i’m trying to study, please quiet down” when you opened it. your roommate was understandably annoyed by his obtrusiveness, and you were too, to an extent. until you told your roommate the very next day you thought he was cute and recognized him from lecture.

a lost cause, your roommate called you.

a lost cause was right.

“why?” you ask again through another cough.

alhaitham shrugs. “consider it me doing something nice.”

“but you’re not nice?”

alhaitham raises an eyebrow. your face is pale and laced with confusion, and if the statement didn’t come out as a sincere question, alhaitham would be much more offended. presently, he’s a little miffed—of course he’s nice, just when he wants to be, which may or may not be less than the average person��and has just realized something very interesting.

you don’t have much of a filter when sick with fever.

you’re also not very… present. he had to nudge you when the lecture ended and the professor started packing up. he had to subsequently coax you to pack up, because you told him you were so tired you could fall asleep right there and then.

“you can’t do that.”

“but why?”

“it’s too warm in here and lecture chairs are uncomfortable, and another class is coming in.”

“i don’t care,” you told him, a pout gracing your features.

“well, i do,” alhaitham says, standing. he looks down at you. “now, are you going to let me walk you back or are you doing to stay?”

“stay.”

so you have a streak of stubbornness when you’re sick, too. alhaitham rolls his eyes and starts packing your stuff himself, tossing in your laptop (which hasn’t been touched the entire lecture) and notebook (which also has remained unopened) and even takes your phone, plopping it in before zippering the bag shut, tossing it over his shoulder, and heading towards the exit.

it takes you a second in your hazed state to realize what happened before you pull yourself up and out of your seat and into the hallway. alhaitham’s nowhere to be found and you’re about to unleash a string of curses on his good name before you hear footsteps behind you.

“ready to go?”

you glare at him. “isn’t it a crime to mess with someone who’s sick?”

“a crime? no. morally wrong? maybe.” alhaitham shrugs, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “but that’s something for the philosophers to decide.”

you huff as you walk along side him, out of the lecture hall and onto the main campus. it’s a cold winter afternoon and you pull your sweatshirt around you tighter. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick if you didn’t insist on not wearing a winter coat when the temperature is near freezing. but then again, if you hadn’t gotten sick, then this serendipitous exchange might not have occurred.

as if reading your thoughts, alhaitham asks, “did your forget your jacket?”

“i didn’t wear one.”

“why not?”

“i am immune to the cold.”

“i assume that’s why your sick.”

“i’m not sick,” you tell him. a following series of coughs proves you wrong and has alhaitham raising his eyebrows. “okay, maybe i’m a little sick.”

“maybe just a little,” alhaitham agrees with you.

you spend the remainder of the short walk in silence, and it’s only when alhaitham leaves your side to open the door to your dorm that you realize you’re back. you think that, if this were any other time, you’d be thrilled and blushing that your crush walked you back to your dorm. he even insisted upon it. a part of you is, but it’s unfortunate you can’t outwardly show it—that is, you don’t really have the energy to.

you also can’t believe this is actually happening and real. your mind is currently afloat in a realm of feverish haze, a sign that you need a nap, but before you can unlock your dorm door, alhaitham pauses ourside of it.

he clears his throat and looks down at you staring up at him, like he’s a comet in the sky. “why did you come to lecture today? you’re clearly not feeling well.”

you stare at him through a sick-filled haze, like you might currently be lost in a fever dream you can’t quite wake up from. like you don’t know if it’s him asking or a fragment of your feverish imagination playing a trick on you.

“because i wanted to see you.”

the words, said so innocently, echo in alhaitham’s ears. you look as if you’ve either forgotten what you just said or unsure if you said anything at all. in the back of his mind, alhaitham wonders if him prying you for your feelings on him would also be a moral debate for the philosophers, but decides to press a little harder, dig a little deeper.

“why did you want to see me?”

“because…” you hesitate, tilt your head, consider the question. “because i like you?”

like the statement from earlier, it comes out as a question. as if it’s something obvious that you’re having a hard time believing alhaitham doesn’t know. as if it’s a simple truth, like the sky is blue, so simple it shouldn’t need explanation.

if you weren’t so sick right now, you might have blushed and looked down at your shoes before blinking up at him through your eyelashes and saying something coy. but like alhaitham realized earlier, you have little to no filter right now.

“i’m going to take a nap,” you tell him, before unlocking your door, waving goodbye, and shutting it firmly in his face.

alhaitham blinks, looks around for a second, then focused on your closed dorm door. he thought you might have liked him—especially when you started glancing at him more during lecture, and even asked to be his partner for a homework assignment. but could he really trust a confession from you in your addled state?

alhaitham shrugs and turns away from the door and walks down the hallway to his own room. when he enters, his roommate looks at him inquisitively, because alhaitham’s blushing, and alhaitham never blushes like this, but he brushes him off. alhaitham decides he’ll ask you again for confirmation when you’ve recovered, just to make sure.

but now he’s starting to feel sick, and wonders if he also might have a fever—from whatever sickness you have or a newfound lovesickness, he can only hypothesize. (it’s probably the latter.)

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere batfam with a sick reader?

Yes but sick reader who is still defiant because hello, they kidnapped you?????

Reader is just glaring at them with tired eyes and a red nose as they once again tuck her under the covers, Dick is highly worried as he frets over you like a mama hen because he did have a heart attack when he caught you standing in front of your open window, where "harsh" gusts of cold air were "attacking your fragile form", so of course, he had to drag you in and wrap his arms around you, rub his cheek against you because he NEEDS to warm you immediately, lest you die of hypothermia.

Yes, Dick overreacts. And yes, Damian will accompany his brother in his delusions, or well, take any chance he gets to scold you.

"You should be in bed, Y/n." Damian said sternly, his eyes narrowed because how dare you worry his favourite brother like this. "Didn't Dick tell you to rest? Are you that incapable of following simple commands?"

You narrowed your eyes back at him, opening your mouth to say something mean but got cut off by your own coughing fit, making Dick rush to help you drink some water, rubbing your back along it. Your throat felt scractchy, and it hurt to speak, but you still wanted to convey your feelings so-

You flipped him off. For a nano second, because Dick immediately grabbed your hand and tucked it back under the covers while Damian's eyes widened at you disrespect, but before he could make any more gremlin noises, but Bruce walked in and Damian knew better than to complain to him about you when youre already sick, cause Bruce wouldve still favoured you.

"Y/n? How do you feel now?" Bruce asked, his voice gentle as he walked closer to where Dick was throwing away your mountain of tissues.

"Im fine. I wanna go out-" "No." "And why not?" "Because youre sick." "You may be Batman, but youre not a doctor!" "I am your father though."

No, youre not. You wanted to say, but knew that would only piss him off and you need to be on his good side if you want Dick and the others to be off your back so that you can escape.

"Whats her temperature?" Bruce asked Dick, who put a thermometer in your mouth quickly. Dick sighed as he told Bruce how you were out of bed and standing in your balcony in the cold just moments ago.

Bruce placed a palm over your forehead, and you tried to move away but there wasnt really any space or energy for you to do that. Bruce's eyes shifted the slightest bit at your burning forehead. "Why do you insist on getting out of bed and sleeping on the floor? Ive already had to pick you up 3 times in the past 2 days."

You pulled out the thermometer and glared at him. "Im fine. Its just sniffles." Bruce's lip quirked a little. You looked absolutely adorable in your delirious state, like an angry kitten.

"I dont think its just sniffles this time. And-" Bruce pulled the thermometer from your hands that you were hiding under the covers. "-dont hide the thermometer from me." His eyes scanned it and the twitch in his brow was enough for Dick to know that the number was too high.

Bruce then eyed the cough syrup next to your side table- its still full.

"Why havent you been taking your medicine?"

"Im not sick-"

"White paint has more color than you do right now. So why havent you been taking the medicine?" Bruce asked and even though he was a little annoyed, he had enough practice dealing with the other kid's rebellious phases to have the patience of a saint.

You shrugged. "How do I know its just cough syrup and not a sedative?" "It is a sedative too. Its supposed to make you sleepy." "Well, I dont wanna sleep and let my guard down in a house full of 5 strange men." You obviously never counted Alfred- hes the only normal one here- except for the part that he wont call the cops for you, but oh well.

Bruce just casted a look to Dick and before you knew it, Dick was pinching your nostrils close and titling your head up while Bruce grabbed the syrup and poured some in your mouth before clamping his hand over it. You struggled to break free, but you were obviously no match to them. Still, tears of frustration pricked your eyes as you looked at them in betrayal and hatred.

"Drink this and dont argue with me, please." Bruce said- well, he genuinely requested at this point.

You didnt have much of a choice other than swallowing it.

With a defiant glare, you begin closing your eyes as your body gave into the effects of the drug, the last thing that you felt were Bruce kissing your forehead while Dick pecked your cheek.

Jason finally decides to drop by the Wayne manor, only to be greeted with the sight of reader lying on the kitchen floor. His heart stopped for a moment- you werent breathing-

"Y/n!" He rushed to your side, only to be smacked in the face by you.

"Shush. Dont be too loud." Your voice sounded like sandpaper against rocks.

Jason huffed. "Well, sorry for freaking out. I thought you were dead-"

"From a cough? Im not weak."

"Yeah? So, what exactly are you doing on the cold floor in the middle of the night?"

"..."

"Well?"

"What? So I cant even take a nap in this house? Jesus Christ, am I allowed to have any autonomy here?"

"Y/n." Jason called, clearly unamused by your sarcasm.

"Fine. I may have fallen and then didnt have the energy to get up, so im just catching my breath here."

"Why are you even out of bed?"

"I was hungry and Im not gonna drink another spoon of Alfred's bland soup again." Alfred made it bland on purpose so that your throat wouldnt be irritated.

"Please stop wasting whats left of your voice on complaints of the soup that you cant even taste." Jason chuckled as he picked you up, only for you to push at his chest weakly.

"I dont need your help. I can walk on my own."

Jason quirked a brow. "If you can make it to the front door without fainting or throwing up, I'll help you escape." You stared at the front door- it wasnt too far, but judging by the fact that its even hard for you to breathe properly and that youve fainted way too many times by just standing for more than a couple of minutes.

But youre stubborn. With great effort, you pushed yourself off Jason and used the kitchen island to pull yourself up. Jason decided to walk in front of you and stand near the kitchen exit because he really wanted to see your struggling face.

You took a trembling step, then another, one hand still using the support of the island until it ended and you were only a couple of feet away from Jason. At this point, you were already out of breath and when you took another step, your legs gave out and the room began spinning.

Luckily, Jason was quick to react. "Alright, just place your arm around mine- or just fall on me, that works too." He teased when you couldnt hold your body weight.

You slumped in his arms. "Just take me to my room." You huffed.

"Alright." Jason lifted your legs up and carried you back up the stairs. "You know you'd get better a lot faster if you just stayed in bed and took your medicine on time. Wouldnt that make your chances of escaping the manor better?"

You stared at him blankly. "Wow. The world must be ending for Jason Todd to be making logical suggestions."

Jason rolled his eyes as he tucked you in bed. "Im just saying, if you get better faster, you'll get to try running from us quicker too."

How do you explain to him that you just dont want to comply to them, even when they're helping you. How do you explain that you dont wanna listen to them because the soft pitiful, patronising look they get in their eyes when they look at you makes you wanna scream and carve your skin out. These are strangers, rich men who just kidnapped you to be a part of their family. No one is that kind. And nothing ever comes for free. Nothing.

"Do you need something? Food, perhaps?" Jason asked. You shook your head. "No, I think Im gonna throw up."

"Oh shit." Jason was hauling his ass out of the room t get you a bucket, only to return with a backpack.

You barely held your puke as you asked. "Wait- whose is this?"

"I dont know!? Damian's?!"

You grinned. "Oh, perfect." You proceeded to throw up into Damian's bag. That little shit just got on your nerves.

BONUS:

"I know you have attachment issues with your blanket but its been a couple of days now and you need to let me wash it." Dick said, trying to tug it out of your grip.

You sniffled and glared. "Im not a child who needs their blankie, Dick. Im just too cold without it and no other blanket can warm me up the same way it does."

"Give the blankie, Y/n." Dick said seriously.

"Its not a blankie." You retorted, but before you could react, Tim suddenly grabbed you while Dick ripped away the blanket. And even though he immediately replaces it with a clean blanket, you still let out a gut wrenching cry

"You'll have it back tomorrow-" Tim starts saying, only for you to sneeze directly in his face, making him freeze.

"And that's why we use tissues." Dick says, wiping both your nose and Tim's face with tissues, while you're not making any effort to suppress the grin that comes on your lips.

[generalsmemories]

HELLOO THEREE!! i love how dedicated you to jing yuan!! Can i have req for 1k event???

Fluff sentences "8" + fluff scenarios "4"!!

Thank you so much!!

I keep looking forward to your JY work!!

Bedrest

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: Not letting the sick one move an inch + playing with their hair until they fall asleep & "You're going to get sick if you keep coddling me." "And you're just going to get worse if I don't" || 1k event also requested by @/thetwinkims

✧ content: fluff, established relationship, i swear it's just fluff like for once there's no hidden angst over here.

✧ a/n: hello fellow jing yuan lovers, i'm still alive. this was once again written at 1 AM and not edited at all so if there's any writing mistakes, no there isn't. the initial plan was to keep this one in the drafts while I also write other WIPS to feel productive but i have honestly starved ya'll for months at this point i'm so sorry i'm back with milk.

have soft jing yuan just giggling, is he delirious, sleepy or just in love? we don't know.

If you could describe Jing Yuan in one word other than mischievous, it would be stubborn. The General of the Xianzhou Luofu is too stubborn for his own good, you don't know if this stubbornness of his is rooted in his desire to protect Luofu from danger, or from the fact that he just dislikes when people wish for him to do something in particular.

In any case, his stubborn and mischievous nature could very well be linked to that of a feline - which he himself has been told that he share similar traits of, despite being fully human.

You just wished that he would be less stubborn when it also came to his health.

"Jing Yuan, how many times have I told you to just lay down…!" you say whilst gritting your teeth, using almost every ounce of your strength to push the general back down on the bed. Jing Yuan merely lets out a quiet chuckle, still trying "playfully" wrangling with you. "I'm injured, not sick, dear." he says, to which you merely roll your eyes in exhaustion.

Jing Yuan truly loves it when you finally forego your usual gentle demeanour to a more brazen one. It's usually a side of you that only he can see, more so because he's the only one who can annoy you enough to make you realize that gentle words and probing won't get you anywhere.

"I don't think someone with a temperature of 40 degrees is only injured, darling. Now can you please just lay down before you reopen your wounds?" you plead once again, pressing the heels of your palms further down Jing Yuan's broad shoulder which shook in quiet laughter at your desperate struggle.

"I'm wide awake after having taken numerous naps because per your request though?" he informs, finally settling back down on the bed which finally allows you to lean back to sit on the edge of the bed again. "Last time you insisted that you were fine, I had to get Mimi to help haul you up the stairs because you could barely move." you remind him with a huff, Jing Yuan turning over on his side to face you, his already messy bangs sweeping over to the side to almost cover his right eye.

He didn't say anything, his arm was still laid behind his head to act as another form of cushion while the other rested lazily over the bedsheets. You could however see the golden eyes peering deeply into your own between the grey strands. A silent request that he didn't dare utter to you.

Jing Yuan rarely requested things from you after all.

With a sigh, you turn your body over and hoist your knees over the bed. Nudging Jing Yuan's arm aside with your hands, "Move them." you quietly demand, the same golden eyes that were peering at you blinking in slight confusion. "What for?" he questions softly while moving his arm upwards.

You don't reply, merely raising the thin blanket up to lay down beside Jing Yuan - making sure that you were hoisted a bit higher up than he was. You snake one arm around Jing Yuan's neck, a silent request to make him scoot closer to you.

When he's close enough, you hook your chin over his head while pressing his face towards your chest, the other arm wrapping around his hair. "There we go."

A few beats of silence passes by, you can feel Jing Yuan take in a few more breaths than normal whilst his eyelashes brush against the material of your shirt, the material thin enough to feel every movement of his face that's pressed against the upper part of your torso.

And then he's shaking in another quiet chuckle, "You're going to get sick if you keep coddling me at this point, darling." he says, and yet the arms that snake around your waist and the way he snuggles deeper into your chest indicates that he won't let you go now that he got you within his grasp.

He can tell that you're rolling your eyes yet again. You decide to answer his jab with a small peck on top of his head, mostly focusing your attention to the locks of hair in between your fingers, curling a particular strand around your finger whilst your other thumb is busy rubbing soothing circles at his hipbone. "And you're just going to get worse if I don't."

The general merely huffs out a laugh, replying to the peck on his head with kiss against your shirt. "You spoil me way too much." is the last thing he whispers, before he quickly falls into a deep slumber.

Because you both know that Jing Yuan truly never sleeps unless you're near him.

[buckyalpine]

Come back to you

Bucky x pregnant!reader 

What happens when a time travel mission ends up with a version of Bucky from the 40′s standing on the time travel platform. 

Warnings: FLUFFFFF, sweet charming 40′s Bucky, time travel, teensiest bit of angst. 

-

“Buck, are you sure about this” You shuffled nervously by the platform Bucky was standing on, his latest mission requiring him to travel through a time portal. It wasn’t something he hadn’t done before but time travel was still tricky and the last thing you wanted was something happening to Bucky. 

Especially now. 

“I’ll be fine doll” Bucky assured you, holding onto a device Tony had made to gather information, the time stamp on the portal set to 1943. All he had to do was locate the coordinates he was given, scan a few documents and return to the present. Ever since you found out you were pregnant, Bucky pulled himself out of high risk missions but this seemed easy enough and he was the only one familiar with the location. “Promise I’ll come right back to you in just a few seconds babygirl” 

He gave you a wink, kissing your cheek before nodding to Bruce who was by the machine console, rechecking the timestamps and settings so all Bucky had to do was press a button on his suit when he was ready to come back. You held your breath, standing back while the platform lit to life, a flash of white nearly making Bucky disappear instantly. While the mission could feel like minutes to hours for him, it would be mere seconds for you. 

You fidgeted with your fingers while Steve monitored Bucky’s tracker, getting the platform ready for him to return. You nearly let out the breath you were holding, seeing a green light indicate Bucky had pressed the button to return and you’d have him back in your arms again. 

“Alright, the portal is stable, he’ll be back in 5...4...3...2...1″

The bright light flashed again, the super soldier standing right where he’d left, not a hair out of place. Bucky blinked, looking down at his suit, frozen on the spot before looking to his best friend, the only person he seemed to recognize in the room. 

“St-Steve?” 

“Buck” Steve’s brows furrowed noting the way Bucky’s eyes darted around the room with a confused look on his face.

“Where-where am I?” Bucky whipped his head around, before looking to his best friend again for answers. “What am I wearing?” He looked down at his hands, eyes growing wide when he saw his metal one, flexing his vibranium digits. “My arm?” 

He looked like a lost puppy, unable to move from where he was standing, nearly pinching himself because he had to be dreaming. “What’s going on punk, where am I, why-why does everything look so different, where are we?” 

You felt sick to your stomach as your husband looked at you for not more than a second having no idea who you were, having no idea where he was himself. He tugged at the sleek material of the tac suit with an expression of fascination and horror, his flesh hand tracing over the metal one. 

“Steve, whats going on?” You looked over to him, blinking back tears, already feeling panic rise in your chest, desperately hoping the time travel made Bucky a little delirious, something a bit of rest would fix. Steve swallowed thickly, slowly approaching Bucky, something telling him the confusion was more complex than just being shaken from time travel. 

“What year is it, Buck”

Bucky looked at Steve with furrowed brows but answered anyway. 

“1943″ 

“Your full title?” 

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th” He replied with confidence, not a hint of humor in his voice. He stood with the confidence of a soldier, shoulders rolled back, with a strong stance. Steve nodded while Bruce immediately started to fiddle with the portal, understanding the mission had altered something in Bucky. The Bucky that stood before everyone was physically from the present but his mind was from the 40′s. 

“Just give me a sec Buck, I’ll be with you in a minute” Steve keep his voice light, not wanting to worry his bestfriend further. He took away the device Bucky was holding, leading him to stand away from the platform while he gently led you away to speak with Bruce. “Banner, what the hell” 

“His departure was fine but there must have been a glitch with the portal coming back. When Barnes travelled back, something warped with his memories; right now he’s Bucky from 1943. He doesn’t have any recollection of anything after that”  Bruce continued to press at buttons while carefully watching Bucky walk around the lab, his face softening in sympathy.

Bucky eyes held child like wonder, staring at the high ceilings and vast technology he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He found himself wandering around the room, waiting for his bestfriend to tell him what was going on, distracting himself with science in the mean time. 

He always loved science. 

Tony and Sam joined the lab after a few frantic text messages; Tony joining Bruce in trying to figure out what went wrong whereas Sam had come to check on you and make sure you were okay. Sam sat down with you, gently squeezing your hand in his, not wanting stress to end up hurting you or the pregnancy.

“He doesn’t remember me” You blinked back tears, your hand coming up to rest on your swollen belly, watching Bucky stare at the other creations Tony had lying around on the tables, in his own little world of fascination and utter confusion.

“Look, we’re gonna get him back. Remember when Scott returned as a baby and then an old man 10 seconds later and he wasn’t sure which version of himself shit his pants?” He gave you a comforting smile, taking you put of the lab to rest while Steve made his way over to Bucky. “C’mon mama, terminator would wage war on all of us if we didn’t take care of you. He’s gonna be okay, he’d want you to be taking care of yourself first” 

Steve kept Bucky occupied for the time being, not wanting to confuse him with too much, only explaining a few things to him such as the metal arm. Bucky understood bits and pieces, such as something about time travel, war and something else about a mad scientist. Any details about you were left out, not wanting to complicate things further. 

Over the next few days, Bucky was learning to adjust to the modern world all over again, staying in Steve’s room while Tony and Bruce worked on resetting the portal. You kept your distance from him, going about your routine as best as you could along with a sadness pulling at your heart when you didn’t have him by your side. 

The bed was too cold. 

It wasn’t comfortable when he wasn’t there to be your human body pillow. 

He wasn’t there to cuddle up with when you were feeling needy.

He wasn’t immediately by your side with chamomile tea that soothed any nausea you felt, always knowing when you needed some without you saying anything. 

He wasn’t there with his warm and cool hands to sooth the kicks that nudged in your belly; your Bucky would always have his hands on you, obsessed with his pretty angel all full of him. 

Now you had to wait. 

But even Bucky from 1943 couldn’t take his eyes off you. 

“Whose that?” Bucky pointed over at you, having noticed that you spent a lot of time alone, no partner by your side though you were clearly very pregnant and nearing your due date. You had come to the kitchen to make some tea, not realizing both super soldiers were grabbing a snack after a morning run, deciding to continue with what you were doing instead of leaving abruptly. Steve glanced over to where Bucky was looking at, his eyes growing wide noticing the concerned look on his best friends face.  

“This is y/n” Steve nodded for you to come over, letting his hand rest on your back to give you some support while Bucky gave you a boyish smile. “Y/n, this is my best friend, the very James Buchanan Barnes, the same punk I’ve told you a lot about” 

“You can just call me Bucky” 

“Nice to meet you” You gave him a soft smile, returning his charming one, feeling butterflies all over again just like the first time you had met him. Your cheeks grew warm when he gave you his hand, immediately asking if you needed help with anything else. 

“You need us to get you anything, doll? Why don’t you go rest in the living room, I can bring this to you once the waters boiled” He sent you away so you could get off your feet, watching you with heart eyes as you waddled away out of the kitchen. He then shook his head, remembering that you probably had a husband and it wasn’t right for him to look at you that way. 

Steve shook his head at Bucky’s antics as the brunette grabbed a bag of chamomile tea before pouring the water in and checking the temperature before bringing it over to you. He didn’t linger around too much, wanting to be respectful, letting you relax while he made his way back to Steve. 

However, each day his curiosity only grew. Between passing good mornings and shy smiles, he couldn’t help but wonder why no one ever mentioned anything about your partner or spouse. It had been nearly 3 weeks and you were always alone. He wasn’t one to pry and he definitely didn’t want to come off as nosy or seem like he wanted to know your business. 

Still.

He didn’t like that he hadn’t seen anyone by your side the whole time.

12:45 AM

Bucky’s ears perked up when he heard soft footsteps padding towards the kitchen, setting down the book he was reading to find your tired face, your hand resting on your baby bump. He felt something tug at his heart seeing sleep still etched on your face, hair still tousled, your other hand supporting your back. He sprung to his feet, leading you to sit down before you could say anything, crouching down while keeping your hand in his. 

“What do you need doll, should I get some water started?” He gave you a gentle squeeze when you nodded, hearing the faint rumble of your tummy, “Maybe a snack too” He grinned, getting up and filling a kettle and rummaging through the fridge to cut up some fruit, adding a double chocolate cookie on the side. 

“There ya go, can’t have you goin’ back to be hungry” He gave you a wink, sitting down beside you with his own mug. 

“Thank you, Bucky” You couldn’t help but giggle at the cookie he proudly added to your plate. 

“You don’t have to thank me sweets, I’m happy to help” Bucky insisted, pleased to see you munch on the fruit with a satisfied hum, chuckling when your eyes rolled back as you sunk your teeth into the cookie. “Can’t have you doin’ all this by yourself” 

“Well, I’m not by myself when you’re around” You gave him a light hearted smile, wishing you could slink into his arms and feel him wrap you up, blinking back tears that stung your eyes. 

“You’re doin’ this alone?” Bucky looked at you with wide eyes, shock evident in his voice, a sliver of anger slipping through. How could anyone abandon someone as sweet as you, especially when you were carrying their child. 

“I-um-sort of-” You nodded, hoping to keep your emotions at bay, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

No. 

You’re right here.

But you’re so far away

Your mind was screaming but there was nothing else you could say, taking a sip of your tea to keep yourself from sniffling. 

“I’m sorry sweets, bet you’re real strong though. Always smilin’ like sunshine”  Bucky sat closer to you, resting his hand on top of yours, holding it softly. He gave you one of his classic dashing smiles, washing up your cup and plate before walking you back up stairs and wishing you a good night. You snuggled up in your sheets with a content sigh; whether it was Bucky from the 40′s or Bucky from today, both were still sweet and protective as ever.

-

You made your way downstairs with your shopping list in hand, growing fed up with the lack of potato chips in the cupboards and still needing to get baby supplied with your due date growing even closer. You slipped on a comfy sun dress, stepping into the elevator and passing through the common room. You paused at the sight of your Bucky, his nose tucked in a book again, the sunlight from the ceiling high windows making his skin glow. You adored the slight scrunch of his nose as his eyes flicked over the words, heavily engrossed in another sci-fi novel, his favorite thing to read after raiding Steve’s library. 

“Good morning’ doll” He peeked up from his book, giving you a bright smile, noting you were dressed to go out, “goin’ somewhere?” 

“Just going to get some fresh air, stop by the store for some things I need” 

“Is anyone going with you?” Bucky set down his book, looking over his shoulder to see if someone was going to accompany you, frowning when he saw there was no one else. 

“I’ll be fine Bucky, really-”

“Not a chance, my ma would have my head if I just let you go out alone, especially right now” Bucky shook his head, shoving a bookmark between the pages and setting it on the coffee table. “Pretty dame like you shouldn’t be going out alone. Steve can grab what you need from the store, just give him the list. I’ll take you out for a walk" 

Bucky kept his hand gently at the small of your back, the other holding your hand as you both walked though the park, keeping his eyes trained everywhere, making sure you were safe.

“Are you feelin’ alright?” He asked, always pausing incase you felt tired, concerned etched on his face whenever you huffed, firming his grip around you. “Let’s get you home sweets” 

As you both walked back home, you missed your Bucky even more, a part of you enjoying spending time with the sweet care free man from the 40′s, another part of you desperately missing your husband. Once you got back, Tony was waiting for you, taking you over to the lab where Bruce was still tinkering away, both men looking exhausted from endless nights of no sleep. 

“Good news, we’re almost ready, should be good to go in just a few days” Tony smiled, noting your face fall ever so slightly, your heart jumping because you’d finally get Bucky back but you’d miss the young soldier version of him. 

“You’re gonna miss pre-grumpy terminator, huh” Tony chuckled, while you playfully rolled your eyes, waddling back to the kitchen, following the scent of something sweet that caught your attention. You smiled at the sight of Bucky moving gracefully around the kitchen, every so often asking FRIDAY questions, his eyes lighting up with joy each time the AI answered. You didn’t want to disturb him, quietly entering until you felt a strong kick to your side. 

“Oof-” 

Bucky looked up to see your face scrunch, dropping the spoon he was holding and making his way to you.  

“Doll? What’s wrong, are you okay?” 

“They’re kicking” You smiled, resting your hands over your tummy, trying to soothe the movement but to no avail. They only responded to their daddy. 

“They?” Bucky’s eyes grew wide, taking in what you  just said while you nodded, taking his hands in yours and placing them on your belly where the babies fluttered, their little feet pressing against your skin. 

“Two baby boys”

“S’like you got me and Stevie in there” Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparking in awe feeling the movement in your belly, “Causin’ a ruckus for their ma. Can I get somethin’ for ya?” He gave you a boyish smile, ushering you to sit down. 

“They seem to respond to you” You hummed, feeling your little ones settle after Bucky’s hands rested on your stomach, something that seemed to soothe all three of you. “Sometimes they only rest when I walk around, tire all of us out” 

Bucky thought for a moment, his face glowing when an idea popped into his head. 

“Steve just showed me how to work this, not that it makes much sense” Bucky fidgeted with his phone for a bit, his tongue sticking out with his focus. He pulled up a playlist of 40′s music, picking something slow before setting the phone down and helping you back on your feet, “Maybe this will help” 

“What are you doing Bucky” You giggled as Bucky took your hand in his and twirled you towards him, your hands resting on his chest. He kept his hands around your baby bump, rubbing soft circles on your sensitive skin, dancing with you in the kitchen. 

“I’ll be gentle” he started to sway with you, humming along to the soft music, “Can’t have those little punks tiring you out, mama” You allowed yourself to melt into his touch, turning your body to the side so you could rest your head against his chest, hearing the same steady beat of his heart that grounded you. You nearly fell asleep with the way he held you, keeping you and your babies safe, his soft scent surrounding you, every muscle in your body relaxing. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you up to bed” He whispered when he noticed your eyelids grow heavy, a small yawn slipping past your lips the more you snuggled into his arms. He pushed away the thought of scooping you up into his arms, not wanting to over step his boundaries, holding you close to his side instead as you made your way up the elevator. 

“Thank you for that dance, soldier” You gave him a shy smile while he stood by your door, every part of him wanting to hold you for longer. 

“You’re a real charmer, sweets” Bucky blushed, his hands still resting on your baby bump, “I’m tellin’ ya, if you were mine...” He caught himself before speaking to much, his cheeks turning peachier. 

It was evident things were different in the future.

If he had met you just like this in the 40′s, he would have stepped up and been by your side. Of course, he’d ask you to marry him, have Steve as his best man. He would have wanted to be your man, a good husband to you and a father to your babies if you’d let him. He indulged in his fantasy for a little longer, thinking about the two little boys he’d be happy to call his and perhaps having a baby girl later on. 

“What if I was yours” you gazed up at him while he gave you a signature flirty smirk, bright blues twinkling. 

“You’d be my darlin’, my sugar” Bucky pressed an innocent kiss to your cheek, blushing more himself when you giggled, returning his kiss to the dimple on his chin. 

“Maybe one day, solider” 

“I’d like that, babydoll”

-

You held your breath watching Bucky step on the platform again, repeating back all the instructions Steve had given him, still a little confused about time travel but trusting anything his best friend said. 

“Push this button when you get to these coordinates and you’ll come right back” Steve assured him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. 

“You sure I won’t die, punk?” Bucky snorted, checking over his tac suit, glancing over to you, wishing he could take you back with him. 

Maybe one day. 

“Take care of yourself doll” Bucky quickly stepped off the platform to give you another kiss before getting back on with a grin at the wolf whistle from Sam and Tony, waving to those in the room before giving Bruce nod. He disappeared in a flash, your anxiety kicking up again waiting for your Bucky to come back, the green signal lighting up once again, just like last time....

“Alright, 5..4..3..2..1″ Everyone stood in silence as Bucky reappeared once again, blinking just as he had done before, but this time, his eyes landing to you first. 

“Bucky?” You whispered, still holding your breath as he stepped towards you, a relieved smile on his face, instantly enveloping you into a hug, inhaling your soft scent, the one that reminded him of home, his heart, his safe space. 

“Hey darlin’” He kissed the top of your head, before cupping your face to look at him, peppering soft kisses across your cheek before dropping his hands and slipping them up your shirt to feel your belly, smiling at the feeling of soft flutters and kicks. 

“You’re back” You pulled him down for a kiss, letting out a relieved sigh at the feeling of his warm pillowy lips finally on yours again, ignoring the hollering that went on in the background, your hands clutching onto him. 

“Told you I’d be back” He smiled against your lips, scooping you into his arms, not wasting another second, taking you straight to your shared bedroom. He set you down gently on your feet before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. 

“My darlin’ my sugar” He playfully whispered, holding you close to him. You gasped, pulling away to see his lips tick up into a smirk, giving you a wink, 

“You-you remember?” 

He nodded, pressing another kiss to your lips. 

“You said maybe one day” He dropped to his knees, resting his head on your swollen belly, his heart swelling at the feeling of his babies, finally home again with the one person who lightened up his life “Glad to see you’re mine, babydoll” 

Tags: @glxwingrxse​ @hungryyeyess​ @sebsgirl71479​ @beabutterfly987​ @teambarnes72​ @witchywhore​ @jamesbuckybarneswify​ @slutforsexyseabass​ @chrisdrysdale​ @littlemarvelmenfan​ @buggy14​ @whimsyplaty92​ @sergntbarnes​ @inkedaztec​ @pono-pura-vida​ @moonlightreader649​ @brooklynscherry-z​ @elle14-blog1​ @justsebstan​ @littlelightnings​ @happyt0exist​ @emmabarnes​ @bethyruth​ @matchat3a​ @cjand10​ @getwellsoontana​ @cherryschaos​ @lokisasgardianvampirequeen​ @ashenc-blog​ @buckybarnessimpp​ @potatothots​ @goldylions​ @high-functioning-lokipath​ @morganemorganite-blog​ @kingfleury​ @peaches1958​ @spiderman-stilinski​ @peaceinourtime82​ @gublur​ @wintersmelodie​ @geeky-politics-46​ @lolawassad​ @almosttoopizza​ @a-poor-gryffindork​ @alternativeprincess​ @buckycallsmeaslut​ @kamaria-sweet-writes​ @charmedbysarge​ @xnorthstar3x​ @kryoee7​ @alina02​ @gh0stgurl​ @polishprincess999​ @jessybarnes​ @alltheficsiwant​ @chemtrails-club​ @eralen​ @perdidosbucky-yyo​ @clqrosmgc​   @buckybarnessweetheart​   @pandaxnienke​   @manyfandomsfanvergent​  

[moonstruckme]

My stomach hurts so bad!! I feel so sick Bb do u think u could write a fic with James or Steve with a super sick gf???

I'm sorry about your stomach babe! Hopefully you're feeling much better by now, thank you for requesting

cw: food poisoning (no vom or anything, just mentioned)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 615 words

You whine, curling in on yourself like you can squash your insides into numbness. “I feel so gross,” you whine. 

“You are pretty gross,” Steve replies, knuckles running up and down your arm. 

You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, appalled. “You’re not supposed to agree with me!” 

“What?” Your boyfriend gives you a disbelieving look. “I didn’t say you were hideous, but you are definitely grosser than usual. Like, if we’re taking you on your best day, this is at least thirty percent more gross than that. I can’t agree with that?” 

“No!”

“In that case, I think you’re delirious with fever, babe. I never said anything about you being gross.” 

Despite yourself, a reluctant little chuckle puffs out of you. Steve grins. 

“Even if you were gross,” he drags his palm down the length of your back, letting it curve over your hip to your thigh before starting back in the other direction, “you’d still be way hotter than anyone else I’ve ever seen. It’s only fair that you get gross every now and then. You know, to make everyone else feel better.” 

“I don’t think everyone else is that worried about it,” you say. 

“That’s where I think you’re wrong. Think about it: we eat at the same place we go to all the time, and only you get food poisoning? That’s not chance, that is a planned attack.” 

You look up at him amusedly. “You think this was an assassination attempt?” 

“I mean, without the killing part, probably, but yeah.” 

You hum, settling back in on his lap. “You’re starting to sound like your nerd friends.” 

Steve’s mouth drops open playfully. “I am not! And anyway, if you tune out Wheeler’s brother, sometimes they’re making some good points.” 

You start to smile just before another cramp seizes your middle, rolling through you with a wave of nausea. Steve’s grip on you tightens as your eyes screw shut. 

“Shit.” He sounds part sympathetic and part like he might be in pain himself, one hand worming underneath your arms to rub at your stomach. “I’m sorry, baby. I know it sucks. All we can do is ride it out, and it should be gone by morning.” 

You make a small, distressed sound. “We don’t even know if it’s food poisoning.” 

“Nah, it is.” 

Steve’s massaging helps, and gradually the pain lessens. You take deep breaths until you can think clearly again. 

“How are you so sure?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “It’s just the only thing that makes sense. You’re just getting whatever it was out of your system. You’ll be good as new soon, just you wait.” 

You shoot him a dubious look. “What, you think you’re a doctor now?” 

“No, but I kinda look like I could play one on TV, right?” At your bewildered silence, Steve goes on, his hand still moving gently over your stomach. “I’m just saying, have you ever seen those soap operas in the hospitals? If they came out to Hawkins to do their casting calls, I’d be snatched up in a hot second, babe.” 

You study him. Steve is undeniably handsome, this isn’t new information. He has a firm brow paired with sweetheart eyes and mussable hair, plus a classical sort of bone structure that’s humanized by the odd blemish or mole. Nice skin and a nicer smile. Good hands, too, one of which is currently caressing your hurting stomach while the other plays with the ends of your hair. 

“Nope,” you say, completely lovestruck. “I don’t see it.”

“That’s okay.” Steve gives the pudge of your stomach a gentle squeeze. “It’s just the fever getting to you again.”

[llamagoddessofficial]

How would Farmer Sans handle hearing that MC was sick? Maybe they usually meet up a certain time while managing their morning chores and they’re just.. not there, only for him to later find that they’re bedridden

"hey, pumpkin."

The sound of Sans' voice, regardless of how soft it was, made you panic.

You sat bolt upright from your spot curled into the couch, jolting out of your strange fever dream. A cooling pack fell off your head, and a blanket you didn’t remember grabbing slipped from your shoulders to your lap.

Immediately, you could tell that you weren’t on your home couch. You didn’t recognise the blanket someone had tucked you under. You weren’t cold, you couldn’t smell the usual mix of dust and gradually fading damp - in fact, there were many wonderful scents mingling in the warm air, soup and tea and a sweet bread aroma that made your stomach rumble. 

It certainly wasn’t where you expected to wake up, after you fell asleep in front of the dodgy TV once the painkillers finally kicked in. This was someone else’s couch. And after a few bleary moments, you recognised it all. 

... It was Sans’ couch. You were in his house.

You looked up a little to see the man himself, as handsome as ever, leaning over the back of the sofa and looking at you. A gentle flicker of relief passed over his face. 

“rise and shine,” he said, voice as warm as the room. “how’re you feelin’?”

Huh? 

...

Your eyes widened. "S-Sans!?"

Bad decision. At such a sudden vocalisation, your body decided that was the perfect moment to send you into a horrendous coughing fit that made the inside of your throat feel like someone had gone at it with sandpaper.

Sans just put a big gentle hand on your back, letting you work through it, quiet as you hacked your lungs up.

Eventually the coughing eased off; once you had control of your body again, you turned your gaze back to him.

"Y-you...” Your cheeks were starting to burn. “why am I...?"

“you weren’t answerin’ the phone. i got worried.” As he spoke, you kept messing with your shirt, nervously pulling it down over yourself. “came to check on you, an’ you were totally out of it, could barely answer me. i had to go work, but figured i should bring you somewhere me an’ pap can keep an eye on you.”

... Oh no. You put your hands over your face, slowly getting quieter and quieter as the situation dawned on you. “Y-you really didn’t need to...”

“course we did. ain’t safe for you to be so sick all on yer own.”

This was a nightmare. Now, on top of being sick, you were absolutely mortified at Sans seeing you in this state. Tired, achy, sweaty... you were dressed in a stained old shirt and pyjama pants, visibly unshowered and pretty much as ungroomed as one could get. You distinctly remembered throwing stuff on your floor before you fell asleep, too weak to get up and go put it in the garbage - empty blister packs and used, crumpled tissues. Did he see all your dirty trash when he came to find you?

You wanted to melt into the couch. He had seen you delirious and ill, at your absolute greasiest and grossest. Stars, what did he think of you now?

“I-I’ve been out for hours?” you asked.

“mhm.”

Your whole world was coming down around your ears. Why couldn’t Sans have just let you die at home, where no one would see your shame?

“you didn't tell me you were sick,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear. There was a strangely... sullen edge to his tone? 

Your face was on fire. You had already intruded so much on him and his brother’s kindness over the last few weeks. Sans had repaired your stove and water pipes, bought you fresh food from the farm, helped fix a leak in the roof, not to mention when you asked him to stay the night like you were a frightened baby. Now here you were; being sick and disgusting right in the middle of his house. 

Before he could say anything else, you pushed the blanket off you, swinging your legs over the side of the couch and scrambling to your feet.

“I-I should get home,” you said, hoarse.

Immediately, Sans’ brows raised. You didn't look at him for long, walking unsteadily and trying your best to concentrate on not tipping over.

“I’m so sorry to intrude. I’ll just-”

... Your feet went out from underneath you. 

You squeaked, loudly - but Sans didn’t care, he scooped you up like you didn’t weigh a thing. To him, you probably didn’t weigh a thing. You could feel his massive strength through his clothes, and you immediately knew that if he wanted to, he could’ve thrown you straight into the air like a child.

You couldn’t tell if it was the height that was dizzying, how close your face was to his, or if you were just way weaker right now than you realised. But immediately your hands balled in his shirt.

"... easy," he murmured, one arm under your thighs. "i don't bite."

... Your face filled with so much heat it felt as if the tips of your ears were going to set alight. You tried to say something, but when you opened your mouth, literally nothing came out. Not a sound. All you could do was hold on to his shoulders.

Sans’ voice became normal again, jokingly stern. “sorry. not goin’ anywhere on my watch, pet. you need to rest. look at you - yer burnin' up.”

Your whole body had tensed up. But not out of fear. You just stared into his eyelights.

He very gently sat you back down onto the couch, putting the cold pack into your hands. “you stay right there, ok? i’ll getcha some soup. it should be ready by now.”

"O-ok," you helplessly replied.

Sans moved away, disappearing into the kitchen.

...

There wasn't much else you could do, but lay down and put the cooling pack back on your head... trying to figure out how to make your heart slow down.

[bbhyeoliskooks]

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 | hnk

kai thinks you deserve better... maybe someone like him.

✥ genre: bestfriend!Kai x gn reader, soft fluff and a pinch of angst, 800+ words

✥ warnings: mentions of infidelity

✥ song rec: Boyfriend -- Big Time Rush

Wrapped up in Kai's silky blue bedsheets, you were mourning the loss of your last relationship which just so happened to end the same day. Immediately after being broken up with, you asked Kai if you could stay over to be distracted; there was no way you would stay in your room, haunted by the many gifts and memories that were made. Although it was on such short notice, the boy agreed nonetheless, hoping that his presence could somehow make things better. He picked up some chicken noodle soup, a comfort meal that may not be the cure to heartbreak but could ease your heart and health a little bit.

Shivering, you cuddled up next to Kai and his many plushies. You relished in his natural warmth as though he was a teddy bear. Silently he let you lay against his arm, immediately drawing circles on the top of your head. You hummed, his presence easing the blow of the breakup from earlier. The only thing that could be heard was your breaths over the shuffling of the bedsheets, but Kai didn't mind. He liked when you cuddled, something that had come to a standstill since you started dating your horrible ex of a significant other.

Yes, Kai wasn't afraid to say it, always speaking his mind whenever your old significant other came up. From the moment you two met, he disapproved, buying into your ex's reputation more than getting to know the person themselves. Plus, he didn't appreciate that you couldn't be as close to him since it'd look weird to the outside world and your ex. Time didn't soften Kai's opposition from your significant other and he always hated them for who they seemed to be. So when you came to him, crying that your ex hadn't been faithful for a long while, he wasn't exactly surprised. But did he say that?

He was unable to criticize your choices in people as you curled closer to his chest, enjoying his comfort. He smiled quietly while you sighed, intentionally ignoring the soup that was specifically bought for you. He may have forgotten to get some food in your system but only because you were physically close to him again like one of his plushies. He also didn't care that you could possibly get sick, willing to become ill as well as long as it meant you felt better from a horrible predicament. It seemed as though you belonged right there in his lap, perfectly molded for your resting and whenever you needed him. If anything, Kai was made for you; how could you not realize that?

Your eyelashes fluttered as you looked up at him, a frown on your face. Probably delirious from the heartbreak and the new cold you were getting (your ex thought it was a good idea to break up with you as soon as possible, even if that meant in the rain), you tugged on the ends of Kai's soft blue hoodie. He looked at you very confused but attentive to whatever you needed. If you wanted him to spin 10 times even if he became dizzy, he would do it. If you wanted him to grab your favorite drink even though it was 30 minutes, he would do it. He waited for whatever you were going to say, gazing at you expectantly.

Your voice faltered as you asked softly, "am I unloveable?"

Kai, now frowning, shook his head. Rage boiled in his blood, flowing through his fingers as he stopped combing your hair. Did your ex make you feel like that? His throat felt parched, too angry that you out of anyone else would be feeling like that. No one should be feeling that, much less you, his best friend that he had come to admire so much.

"Of course not. You deserve so much better, Y/N."

Although you knew that Kai was just trying to cheer you up as your best friend, you couldn't help but feel that it was a lie. Your self-love and confidence was at an all-time low, plummeting to where you assumed it would never recover. You weren't going to pester your best friend for more reassurance though, knowing that he would probably find it annoying- your insecurity and issues that came from a relationship he never approved.

Kai, studying your crestfallen expression, wanted to do whatever to make you feel better. He thought that his words were good at the moment but of course, they were only bandages that covered deep wounds. He looked away, too embarrassed to look you in the eye. His thoughts were rather scandalous, not something that a best friend should think. All the while, he cupped your cheek gently, making you look at him.

You watched him, face heating up as he spoke quietly.

"You deserve better," he paused before rubbing his thumb delicately on your cheek, "maybe... maybe someone like me."

Released: July 6, 2024 (4:28pm CT)

Thoughts: bro I literally need hyuka to comfort me about my cheating ex 😒 I want to be wrapped up in his sheets with him holding me while his plushies watch 😭😭😭 delulu hours open it seems… ALSO LOOK AT HOW FINE HE IS IN THE PICTURES LIKE WTH HYUKA 😞

Tags:

[invertedspearofseveneleven]

Bedrest (boyfriend!Nanami Kento x fem! reader)

Summary: your boyfriend Nanami takes care of you while you're sick and on your period

CONTENT WARNING: Illness, period pains (reader) fluff, love even, Nanami loves you so very much it is almost sickening, short self-hate moment but nothing insane I promise

Author's note - I too am cramping so bad I'm awake at night, so I wrote this while delirious and missing a certain college friend (situationship across the fucking US? fuck) Needed Nanami to take care of my sorry ass

This is also my first JJK work, so pleasepleasepleaseplease give me your thoughts!

READ THIS ON AO3!! -

Thank you! Love you!

Sick. The sickest you’ve ever been on your period. Sure, you’d be stuffy or have a runny nose when your time of the month rolled around, but this was diabolical. Your head throbbed with a headache that no amount of water seemed to slow. Finally, you canceled your noon meeting and went home. NEVER before had cramps or illness made you leave your place of work. On the way to your car, you bumped into a familiar white-haired sorcerer.

“Y/N!” he shouted across the parking lot. “Skipping out?” You wince at his loud voice, but nod, sunglasses on to block out all unnecessary light from your pupils.

“Yeah, not feeling well.” your answer is short, not curt, but aiming for a sense of urgency. Your headache is fast changing to a migraine, and spots of blue light dot the side of your vision. Gojo doesn’t seem to notice. “I’ll call the funeral home, you’re obviously near death if you’re leaving this early.” he rasps out a laugh. Any other time, you would have laughed along, but right now, your focus is on getting home. As fate would have it, Gojo’s phone rings and he says goodbye before answering it. You smile and nod, moving quickly to your car and speeding out of the lot. 

Home isn’t far away, and out of habit, you drive without much thought. A good thing too, otherwise the mental strength to sit up, focus on directions, and not crash would have been too much. It would have been easier to sleep at your desk. 

The house is calm when you enter, and you hear Mino, your Ragdoll, meowing softly to you when the door shuts. You drop your keys, purse, and briefcase unceremoniously onto the table. Holding the edge of the counter, you move gently across the room, eyes on the couch. When you reach it, you flop down and pull blankets around you. Suddenly you’re freezing. Is there a window open? The blankets feel heavy and soft, but there’s no warmth to be found. Taking a deep breath, you get up off the couch, looking at the room. You move dishes to the sink, thinking that you’ll wash them. You remember the pile of dirty laundry in the bedroom, and get to it, only to drag what you can to the washing machine. There’s clothes inside, you flip them to the dryer, and pull the dry clothes into the laundry basket. When you start the machines and get up off the floor, you notice dirt and grit on your hands. The floor needs to be swept. Why is the house such a wreck? The thought of cleaning is stomach turning right now, and you feel tears push at your eyes.

Useless. Useless. That’s all you can  think of yourself. You can’t finish a workday, can’t imagine folding the warm laundry, hate the image of dishes in the sink, and your stomach is cramping so badly you can’t breathe. Dusting off your hands on your pants, you lurch, that’s the only word for the movement, holding the walls of the hallway, and lean into your bedroom.

You can smell his cologne still. You always leave before he does, so he gets ready long after you’re gone. He comes home later, and you would give anything to smell his warm skin, not just the memory of who’s hand sprayed the scent in the air. You crawl into his side of the bed, burying yourself under the heavy comforters and soft bedspreads. His smell wraps around you and lulls you to sleep.

You wake up to the door closing again. Mino had sat with you on the couch for a little, but when you fell asleep, she must have left for a different part of the apartment. You hear a soft thump when Mino jumps to the floor from what you assume to be her usual perch, a seat on the barstools by the counter. There's a jingling of keys, soft murmuring, and a crinkling noise. 

Bags? I just went to the store… 

You consider other possibilities, but none match up the way you need them to, and your head hurts like mad. You squeeze your eyes shut and push at your temples. You hear the door open, and Nanami joins you in the room, his presence so comforting, you don’t even have to look to know it’s him. “Go to mama.” His soft voice coos, and a weight joins you, padding near. Mino prods at your exposed ear with a cool nose. A curtain rod clinks and the familiar squeeeak of the unoiled window sounds. 

“Just some air. It’s a little stuffy in here, love.”

“Hi, Kento.” your voice sounds foreign, even to you. How long has it been since you spoke aloud? You try to clear your throat, but only succeed in coughing. You hear Nanami move to your side, joining Mino.

“Gosh, y/n…” He moves your hands to the side and feels your forehead. You can almost see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but it isn’t hard to read his emotions, he’s obviously very concerned. “You’re really warm.” He moves his large cool hand from your forehead to your cheek, and you can’t help but lean into it, chasing the cool it offers. Any other time, you’d make a goofy face and act entirely relieved, but now, the movement is genuine. 

Nanami shakes his head. He rises, moving out of the room. You watch him go, and pet Mino absentmindedly. In the next room, a bustling rises, ebbs, and ceases. The dishwasher can be heard opening. The sink turns on. A broom moves quickly. In five minutes, Nanami is back. His blue shirt sleeves are rolled to the elbow, and he has a small dishcloth over his shoulder.

"Did you get home and try to clean? My dear, what would the world do without you? Sicker than I've ever seen you, and still, you work. Well, now it's my turn." His light eyes shine at you, he must have taken off his glasses. He has such lovely eyes, you find yourself musing. 

“Thank you, love.”

Did I say that out loud?

You must have, but that’s besides the point. Still wrapped in soft blankets, Nanami picks you up gingerly, holding you against him and moving from the bedroom. The small sitting room area is clean as anything, how long had he been working? Maybe you had fallen asleep. 

Nanami places you gently on the couch, pulling the cloth from his shoulder. You notice it leaving a mark on the fabric, and when he applies it to your forehead, it's pleasantly cool from being soaked in sink water. The rush of cool on your feverish skin makes you pull the blanket you’re cocooned in closer around you, but deep down, you know that you need to cool off before you overheat. Nanami has disappeared into the bedroom again, and you close your eyes, hoping to fall asleep again. 

You wake up again in Nanami’s strong arms. He crosses back into the bedroom, taking care not to let you bump a wall or a doorframe. The windows are wide open, the fan is on, and the bed has been stripped and remade. 

“Let’s get you into something more comfortable.” He whispers, placing you in a seated position at the end of the bed. Checking to see you’re stable, he turns to the closet and dresser. Looking down, you realize you’re still in your button down and dress pants. Lord, you must really be sick.

“I- can’t, can’t miss work…” you trail off as Nanami turns to you with a gentle look that seems to say really? 

“That’s all you can think of right now? My love...” He pulls open a drawer and looks through it, his back to you. “Let’s get you changed, and if you feel better in the morning, I promise we’ll discuss you returning to work.” He turns back, a large, soft looking t shirt in hand. It’s yellow, your favorite color.

He looks at you, then your hands, with an oddly furrowed brow. Leaving the room, he spots what he was searching for, the discarded towel, on the floor next to the couch. You hear him rewet it at the sink, before coming back and picking up where he left off. Pressing a slow kiss to your head, he kneels by the bed, taking your hands in his.

The large, cool, square palms feel incredible against your arms, and you’re tempted to sit like that for hours, soaking in the cool of his skin while you shiver for your blanket. Slowly, Nanami moves your hands to the collar of your shirt. “Unbutton that for me.” The command is simple, and you realize that, in any other situation, it would have been EXTREMELY hot. For the time being, you decide to tuck that thought away to bring up later. The shirt is wrapped around you strangely, probably from the crash you had when you got home. When it’s loose enough, you pull it up over your head. Nanami is ready, taking it from you and sliding the t-shirt over you. He deftly flips the dress shirt into the laundry basket, and moves a hand behind you, unclipping your bra through your shirt. The movement is so natural you find yourself shocked by its simplicity, and laugh, a short bark followed by a cough. You take a breath, a freer one, and move the undergarment off gently, under the shirt.

But your laugh is enough for Nanami, who sees his lover through the veil of illness. He smiles at you, and leans forward to kiss you. Your hands fly up on their own, and you chastise him between giggles and short coughs.

“No WAY I’m getting you sick, mister.” “No better way I can think to spend a weekend with you.” His soft eyes are aimed right at your lips, even though his words are  sent right to you. 

“So, sick and achy? I simply can’t allow this.”

“I’m risking it.” He leans forward and kisses you slowly. You laugh around the kiss, moving your head away and blushing as he sprinkles kisses all across the bridge of your nose. He’s smiling too, you can feel it. In a practiced move, though handled now with care, he hooks his hands into the sides of your pants, refusing to break the kiss. The waistband slips down, revealing your legs and making goosebumps prick on your skin. 

Once your pants are completely off, leaving you in your black, everyday underwear, Nanami moves to stand above you, scooping you up again. You wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his face in your hand. The lines of his cheekbones and jaw are etched into your memory, a mix of angles and shapes that is so strange to consider being comforting, and yet… 

Sitting you down onto the cool, light blanket, Nanami takes the re-wet washcloth to your flushed skin. He trails it across your decolletage, down your neck, along your arms and legs, and over your face as well. The trace coldness on your skin that it leaves in its wake is exactly what you need, and you sink a little lower onto the bed. Nanami smiles softly, happy to see you get a bit of relief. He tucks you in, under only one blanket instead of the pile he found you under.

“I know it may be uncomfortable, but trust me, it will help the fever break. The kettle just boiled, and I’ll make you some tea, so sit tight.”

The command is again, said with loving intent, and makes your heart float a little. He slips from the room, and you hear a beep and the sound of water pouring. Leaning back, you relish the feeling of cool, while missing some warmth. Nanami is back quickly, carrying some medication from the drugstore and a mug of sleepytime. 

“When did you-”

“Gojo gave me a call about your rather hurried exit today.” He answers, a hint of a laugh in his voice. He places everything on the bedside table before moving out of sight behind the door frame, and you hear his voice fade slightly before returning. 

“I- well, this is actually a little embarrassing. I’ve been tracking your cycle for a while now, and I noticed that your immune system tends to take a hit right at the start of your period. And, um, with cold season hitting its peak, I had an idea of some things you might need.” He’s been looking at the ground, and you can see that he’s half proud and half… something else. Ashamed? “I swear I didn’t think it was going to be this bad, I just wanted to come by with everything you’d need. Or, well, want.” from behind his back, Nanami pulls out a plush cat, similar to Mino in every way but two. One, it’s grey, not white. And two, it’s, um, portly. It looks like it weighs more than you’d expect. Nanami scoots next to you and places it on your stomach, eliciting a soft gasp of surprise from you. It’s weighted, for sure, but it's warm too. “You put it in the microwave. The saleswoman said it was full of rice and lavender, and since you like lavender I thou-” You cut him off, moving as quickly as you can over to him and pulling him down to you. He laughs at the sudden fall, but then gasps, rolling off of you. “Hey! You’re in a lot of pain, I’m not crushing you, too. Are-” He cuts himself off now, looking at the figure holding him and, shaking? 

“Y/n, darling, are you crying?”

You are, the tears pushing hot trails down your face. Your breath is shaky, and there’s something about this whole situation that makes you laugh.

“You’re so, sniff, you’re so wonderful.”

Nanami’s eyebrows knit together, and he smiles, pulling you closer to stroke your hair softly. His other hand lays flush against your back, and he begins gently running his kept nails against it, massaging your tired muscles. “Only for my girl.” He kisses your forehead and rests his cheek against the warm skin. “You work too hard not to be taken care of AT LEAST once a month.” He gives you a squeeze before leaning to the table and picking up the mug of tea with the tiny cup of cough syrup. 

“Now take a sip for me, and shoot this back, you’ll feel better.”

[007reid]

u have absolutely no idea what 'coffee caramels' did to me omg 😭 u write spencer and his mannerisms so WELL hsbsghdbdh so i come to u with a lil request if that's okay with u !!

spencer insists on playing pretend-doctor for reader who's sick (but denying it) so he invokes his technically-a-doctor card and gives his second opinion just to take care of reader n smother them w looooove

essentially just him teasing y/n and being the stupid Cute attentive nerd he is <3

(inspired by S5E3 where he gets stuck at the bau w garcia bc he was being stubborn abt his injury)

i am never ever Normal abt this guy 😞 i look forward to reading more of ur work and losing my mind over reid with u, aine !! mwa

hiii tysm for requesting, youre so fucking sweet!! <33 drop an emoji to let me know who you are and let’s loose our mind over our fav boy together anon!!!! also sorry this took so long, i wrote like 3k but then hated it so i started over, i love this prompt sm so i feel like i had to do it justice.

pspspsp i love s5 spence so fucking much... his hair went from beautiful to ethereal to mad sexy...s5 treated us well. requests are ALWAYS appreciated !!!!!!

soup. spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader, 3k

you've been off it for so long, dodging virus after virus and disease after disease and just right when you thought that you are immune to sickness, you caught it. the inevitable fever.

there was no denying it, you've tried. after getting a headache, you popped a tylenol before you went to sleep, nonchalant. the next morning was when reality really came crashing down. a sore throat.

it progressively got worse throughout the day, and when you came crashing into bed after a long day at work, your nose was feeling stuffy and your were coughing, spewing sickness everywhere you went. you woke up in the middle of night sweating like you had just ran a fucking marathon and only able to breathe through one nostril unless you shift your body entirely.

you did not take to these news well. firmly in denial, you still planned to show up to work the next day.

except you didn't show up to work. sickly and delirious, the part when you press snooze then snooze again slip your mind and at one point you must've turn off your alarm entirely. drifting in and out of consciousness and slipping into dream after dream, it gets harder to tell what is real and what is not.

"y/n? y/n!"

now, it is very probable that the voice isn’t actually real, because why the hell would you be hearing spencer reid’s voice outside of work? the chances are slim to none, and despite the heat pounding at your skull you manage to smile. there is something unexplainably comforting about spencer’s voice, soft and deliberate. it would be foolish to say that under the mad spell he’d cast on you (him simply saying two words) he’s managed to melt away your headache, because he didn’t. you still feel like shit.

“y/n?”

you frown, the voice sounding too insistent and real and not matching up with the visuals of your dream. you feel a tapping on your shoulder and when you blink your eyes open you could’ve screamed.

you jump up and then backwards, huddling your blanket with you, scared for your life. because right in front of you is perhaps the most intimidating creature on the earth; spencer reid in a purple sweater vest with his face so close to yours he could breathe in your sickness, hair tucked carefully behind his ear.

“spencer?” you ask incredulously, but instead your voice comes out a rasp. you clear your throat, feeling something warm creep up your cheek. it might be a blush, but you blame it on the chills. you keep blinking, trying to regain your vision and feel instantaneous embarrassment. you look a mess, sick and dehydrated with dry lips and bad hair and you probably reek of morning breath. and spencer’s there, looking like heaven’s finest angel, smiling at you like he’s smiling at a person and not a monster. spencer has the tendency to treat and look at everyone like they’re the love of his life. you sort of hate it.

“hi y/n,” he breathes, crouching down on the floor before you on the bed. “i—“

“what are you doing here?” you’re too impatient to wait, still in shock.

now. you try not to make it obvious that you have a mad crush on spencer, because if the fact were to spill, you’re not eager cleaning up the consequences. it’s an unestablished, unspoken rule that should be common sense that no workplace dating will be allowed and usually it’s a ridiculous rule, because who the hell would want to date their coworker, like actually? work crushes are normal but they exist only in a part of your day, an eye-candy for you to stare at to get through the day, then you go home or go out and forget about them. who actually has serious work crushes, actually? actually? it’s ridiculous.

your defense is completely solid, you’d say. your number one defense is you can’t help the fact that you and spencer were meant to be friends. the moment you joined the team, you and spencer clicked together like two lego pieces, despite your clashing personalities. you find it refreshing to have someone like spencer, someone who’s soft and sweet but cunning and resourceful but thoughtful and kind, and it was equally refreshing for spencer to have someone blunt and straightforward but still patient enough to put up with him.

spencer doesn’t like physical touch but ever since your first week he made you the exception and if you could, you would parade the privilege around like a badge. what can you say, you’re proud to be spencer’s little exception, anyone would be. he makes you feel special, differently than the others do and what’s a girl to do? to have that great of a relationship with a coworker and not be work spouses and not be actually head over heels with the guy? how laughable.

it’s not something you’re proud of, however. you know it’s a lost cause, chasing after spencer. it hurts, sometimes, but you always patted yourself on the back with an ‘it is what it is.’ spencer, as sweet and vulnerable as he is, has layers behind his thinly veiled heart. he talks a lot but he never talks about himself and he never talks about the past so he doesn’t have to revive it, so all the memories are just wounds left out and neglected to burn. spencer’s trouble, definitely trouble, but it’s hard to be aware of the workload that spencer reid is when he’s rambling to you about something as innocent as halloween or knocking his knuckles on your knee during a flight trying to get your attention.

spencer blinks sheepishly, settling criss cross apple sauce on the ground, lanky legs twisting uncomfortably. “you didn’t come into work and you didn’t answer your phone,” he explains. “emily told me to go check on you.”

you nod. he’s here because emily told him to. it makes a lot more sense now. “i’ll head in the office now,” you say, making your way out of bed, wiping at your eyes. “sorry—“

“no you’re not,” spencer says immediately, not even hesitating. he places a hand on your upper chest, pressing you back down on the bed. the butterflies at the pit of your stomach throws a fit. you know he means nothing by the action—has spencer reid ever been the one knowledgeable about romance?—but knowing that doesn’t help the heat that spread up your cheeks that’s definitely not from the sickness. “you’re burning up,” he says. “i’ll get you some water. you should clean up,” he says, uncrossing his legs difficultly and then stumbling out the room, mismatched socks slipping on the hardwood floor.

you take advantage of the time that spencer’s not there and race to the bathroom, ignoring the blackout and the dizziness that threatens to make you faint from getting up too abruptly. you squirt some toothpaste onto your toothbrush and by the time you exit the bathroom, spencer is already there, waiting, except he’s by your desk, hands on a book.

typical.

he perks up when he hears your footsteps pad into the room, turning around, looking like a child who’s been caught with your book in his hands. you smile at him, albeit it’s a pathetic smile. you feel dizzy.

“you like toni morrison?”

“i love toni morrison,” spencer chirps, excitement bouncing all over his face. “especially her masterwork, beloved,” he looks back down at your red copy admiringly then sets it down. "get back in bed," he says, and you can't wrap your hand around how ridiculous the situation is. your coworker, or work crush, is at your house, checking your temperature and shooing you to bed to rest. "i bought you soup so you can eat up, i--"

“you bought me soup?” you ask, incredulous. spencer nods seriously.

“it's proven that eating soup makes people feel better, not just some stereotype. the right amount of sodium can help help relieve sore throat pains and the vitamins and minerals found in soup can play a very large part in recovery...i had a feeling you were going to be sick, it’s the weather, you know? everyone is catching the cold. you need to eat it before it gets cold, the heat helps with nasal digestion and also sinus pressure and it'll be useless if you ate it lukewarm...i’ll be right back…” and with the babbling his voice fades out as he walks back out to the living room, leaving you alone standing on the side of your bed. you look at the forgotten copy of beloved set carefully back onto your desk, smiling to yourself slightly before climbing back into bed, because spencer says so and spencer’s always right but mostly because your legs feel like they’re going to give out.

spencer is speedy, striding several steps at once with his ridiculously long legs that looks unnaturally lanky but once he reaches your room again, soup and spoon in hand you were already nodding off, head lolling and eyes slipping shut. spencer stops at your bed stand, thinking to himself for a second before balancing the plastic bowl of soup on one hand and using the other to gently nudge at your face, waking you up. he grimaces when he feels that your skin burns to the touch, a bright tint to your cheeks that he hates himself for liking because you're sick, he shouldn't be thinking that you're pretty or stuff like that.

spencer waves the thought away, determined to focus on his mission. deliver soup, make sure you're okay, and send his farewells. that's what emily told him to do, and even though derek added a "kiss her goodnight too, loverboy!" he's only going to listen to emily, because emily knows best.

yes. perfect. that's exactly what he's going to do.

"hey," he whispers, caressing his thumb across the lightly purple patch under your eye, frowning to himself. you haven't been getting good enough sleep, and he feels guiltier for waking you up, but then straightens himself up resolutely--no. emily said the soup must be delivered and consumed--just to melt again when your eyes flutter open, confused and traces of sleep still floating around your facial expression. "sorry," he mumbles, feeling oddly embarrassed. "it's just--i mean, you don't have to, jus' want you to eat something before you sleep again."

you sit up slowly, and once you're fully awake again, the smell of the soup hits you like a bucket of ice and you suddenly feel your mouth watering. you feel like a princess, sitting there with your hands crossed in your lap while you wait for spencer to unwrap the plastic utensils and tissues from its clear packaging, carefully opening up the lid of the soup on the night stand and hot steam floats around the room, engulfing both you and spencer in a bubble of tomato soup.

spencer, a planner that he is, didn't let you eat directly from the plastic take-out bowl from the restaurant and had rummaged through your kitchen for a bowl and pours half the soup into the ceramic, no spillage and perfectly clean. then he hands the soup to you, and you eat.

to say that spencer is concerned is to say the least. you're a profiler, and you're trained to pick up on this sort of thing but you only need to be a child with an undeveloped brain to work out that spencer's worried, watching your every move and monitoring that you eat enough, the crease in his brows deepen whenever you set the bowl down so you pick it up again and stuff two more spoonfuls in your mouth, to hopefully make him worry less.

the silence is awkward, the only sounds in the room is you biting down on the spoon occasionally as you drink your soup and spencer watching intently, hands on his chin and unaware of his staring problem. you and spencer rarely has these kind of silences, the silences where you scramble for things to say because the atmosphere would always be too comfortable. you sneak glances at him as you eat. since spencer's completely oblivious to the heaviness of the silence, you feel it's up to you to break it.

"i'll clock in once i'm finish eating this, don't worry," you say, trying your best to sound reassuring as you try to choke back a spoonful of soup too big. you lick your lips, and spencer is biting his, a bad habit.

"no you're not, y/n," he says, exasperated. normally, when spencer uses his 'i'm right so you should listen to me' tone like this, it means he's geared for an argument and you would be happy to challenge him, but now you can't find the energy for it. yet you muster enough up anyway.

"i'm only a bit shaken up 'cause of the weather," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible, still in the calm before the storm of the bicker. "'m not immobile. and i already used up all my off days visiting my family--"

spencer, however, didn't bother for the peaceful offering. "you're not coming in today, y/n," he says, and he sounds a bit anxious but you know his true intent. his eyes are mirthful with confidence, and he knows he's already won the argument. despite the buzzing in your ears and the fuzziness in your brain, you can't let the bastard win. you can't.

“i can’t miss anymore days spencer, and i won’t,” you say coldly, but you slurping on the soup hungrily like it’s your last day on earth sort of ruined your cool facade. “i’m not too sick, either, it’ll be useless for me to stay home—“

spencer reaches to press his palm against your forehead, his skin cold to the touch. you close your eyes instinctively.

“you’re burning up,” he announces. “means your sick. you’re not coming in today, y/n.”

“says who?” you say defensively, feeling a bit like you’re loosing.

“says me,” spencer says cooly, cheeky smile at his lips. you should hate it more than you do. “who’s a doctor.”

you scoff. “so now you’re an actual doctor? you got a medical phd on you?”

“i have a bachelor in medicine and enough doctorates to make me slightly knowledgeable in every field,” spencer quips and you didn’t even know that he had a bachelor in medicine. how many fucking degrees does this guy even have on his resume?

“whatever,” you grumble, sounding a lot like someone who’s just got defeated. you set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand and spencer hands you a bottled water before you could think about needing water. you pluck it from his offering hands, muttering a “thanks” under your breath.

spencer laughs quietly, watching you drink patiently and putting the cap back on when you hand him back the bottle, setting it next to your soup. you feel ridiculously babied and your cheeks burn with the guilt you feel. you’re talking him off his office hours just to be here and feed you stuff and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

spencer, the 24/7 profiler, notices. "is something wrong?" he asks innocently, round eyes blinking and oblivious. bless him. "you got redder. is it too hot? i can adjust the a/c."

“fine,” you mumble, still a little embarrassed with your realization. “little cold, actually.”

“it's the chills from your fever,” spencer informs you. “i…” he pauses, frowning again, frustrated from not being able to finish his thought. he abandons it. “do you need anything else?”

“no spence,” you laugh sort of pathetically, throat strained. “you’ve been an angel already. you can go back to the office, if you want.”

spencer thinks back to what emily had told him. soup. make sure she’s ok. leave. he’s done the past two steps. it’s time he completes his mission.

but…

“are you sure?” he prods, a little bit of him hoping that you'd say no. he doesn't know what it is; something bothering him, making him dread leaving.

you didn't get the cue. "mhmm," you shoot him a reassuring smile. as reassuring as you can manage, anyway, grimacing at the insistent throb in your head. spencer gnaws on his bottom lip, indecisive. you don't know what he was deciding between.

whatever battle it was, he wraps it up quick. "okay," he repeats. "i'll get back."

"you do that."

"remember to drink water."

"i will."

"do you need me to bring you more?"

"i'm okay."

"okay."

"okay."

the conversation feels incomplete and spencer isn't interested to complete it, booting out the door, except he lingers for a bit and awkwardly turns around, hand on the frame. you are already looking at him when he looks at you.

you and spencer are never this awkward, never this hesitant and strange. the tension that suffocates your room feels like signature first-date-tension, the kind of nervous excitement and tip-toeing blind lovers and uncertainty.

"are you sure?"

i'd rather you stay. you push the response away. "i am."

"you have medicine right?"

you do have medicine. for a brief moment, you want to lie about it; want to say that you ran out this morning and then he would run to the store for you and return and then spend more time in your insufferable, sickly presence. you brush the thought away within a second. never in a million years do you want to bother spencer, especially not with a thing as selfish as that. maybe it's because of your biased vision but spencer is looking like he's desperate to leave, practically screaming for outlet at the door. it's time you let him go and indulge in the worst sleep you'll ever have.

"yeah," you say, clearing your throat. "i do."

"okay," spencer says. "i'll go."

"thanks," you add awkwardly. "for the soup. and for coming."

"'course" spencer says absentmindedly, lingering at the door frame but not looking at you in particular, not looking at anything. he snaps back and sends you a wave. spencer has a power to him where everything he does looks unplanned, like he's doing it against his own will.

he leaves. if you had change your mind and ask for him to come back, for him to stay, he would've. no hesitation. but you didn't, and he wiggles back in his broken in converses and return back to the bau with no elevator partner.

maybe another day.

a/n: sorry for the ending, this was getting too long so i had to cut it short 😓😓but i think it's kinda fitting! lmk if you guys want a part 2 <3

[ihatedtoadmit]

One-way ticket

pairing: vampire! Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive, again

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: Your relationship with your otherworldly boyfriend has reached a point of no return, something you embrace with open arms.

a/n: I blame @writingforstraykids for this, again, as she made me watch Railway and reignite my love for vampire AUs, even though I'm still deeply buried in my werewolf brainrot. So take this thing I wrote at 2 am in a delirious haze, that song blasted into my ears directly with such force I now have the lyrics engraved into my brain.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

Fascination had always driven me as I lived my life, surroundings endlessly housing something interesting enough for me to poke at, to unravel it and see how it ticked. Never once did I harm something in the process though, tenderly handling each animal as I observed them, always told I look like a child on Christmas night with the nebula of stars that had crawled into my eyes.

He’d said the same thing the first time we had met, truly met, real identity revealed for me to know. It had been a huge step in the connection we had shared, and it had only deepened this endless love I harboured for the man.

His smile alone was enough to lighten my day, sharp canines glinting in the light and yet I only found them all the more endearing, a fact he’d never failed to point out with the most love-sick expression I had ever seen.

It was a casual night when he’d beckoned me over to the couch where he sat, pulling my taller form down into his lap easily. With one hand on one of my knees and the other on the small of my back, he stared up into my surprised eyes, only chuckling at my reaction with that stupidly attractive dimpled smile of his.

“Did you know, love, that those silly stories about vampires aren’t all wrong?” - he started, immediately gaining my full attention. His smile only grew as he knew what buttons to push to earn it this fast, knowing me more than I knew myself at this point.

Being together for a few years granted that advantage to a person.

“What did you guys call it? Soulmates, I think? We do have that, or something similar at least. It’s a pull towards the one person we are connected to for eternity, unable to ignore or ever get rid of it. They’re the other halves of our souls we had lost in the afterlife, carved apart for having chosen immortality.”

His gaze never once wandered from me and I relished in it, drinking it all in like a starved animal. Every word was etched into my brain and I leaned closer, one hand carefully reaching up to cup Chan’s face. He leaned into my touch as my thumb caressed the skin residing underneath those bright, wine red and hauntingly white orbs, their shine temporarily hidden as he closed them in bliss.

“You’re my other half, my love. Knew it the moment our eyes met, the moment you didn’t run away when I revealed my true nature and instead looked at me with more love.”

His whispered words clearly rang inside my head despite the intense focus I had over his features, getting lost in his stare. It was as if he was worshipping me, memorising every little feature of my face, of my presence itself.

I didn’t move away when he leaned in, our lips sealed together, a rare act from someone as reserved as me. The hold he had on me only tightened and it told me everything I needed to know, his appreciation for this unique moment shared with me through our fleeting kiss.

“I want to share eternity with you, baby. Want to have you by my side forever, watch every sunset together until the universe itself ends.”

His words, albeit as cheesy as they could be, only spurred this burning feeling inside my chest that sparked from nothing. No, not nothing. It was created by that loving look in his eyes, the one that craved me in every possible way; both in body and in mind.

My limbs moved before I could even think about a coherent reply, weight shifting as our legs were now pressed close together, bodies facing each other. His face, the one that never once turned away from me, was framed by both my hands and he acted as if he wanted nothing less than that.

It was as if he wanted his entire body to be framed by my presence itself, so enamoured with me it hurt to witness.

A thumb gently pushed at his lips until his jaw opened slightly, sharp canine revealed and glinting in the vermillion liquid I coated it with. The wound on my finger stung and yet I could care less, much too focused on the man in front of me, the one my heart beat for with all its stubborn might.

His pupils widened the moment my blood hit his tongue, the only answer he needed before he spurred into action.

The inferno inside me only burned brighter when he picked me up, not strained by my weight at all. And as he carried me away, tenderly placing me onto our shared bed, I understood what he meant by that pulling feeling. It laid beneath that raging fire, overshadowed by its sudden and unusual appearance.

Despite that, it remained firmly in its place, so tied to Chan’s presence that living without the man caused my heart to nearly stop beating.

As if he’d heard my heart skipping a beat he moved, so close I could feel the chill from every inch of his skin that covered his dead body. His lips ghosted over my heated skin as he trapped me beneath himself, trailing along the veins pulsing just beneath my skin, hidden to us, mere humans, yet oh so obvious to his kind. It had always fascinated me how he could see them so well, so easily, yet I had only gotten a chuckle and a teasing answer whenever I’d asked, hiding his secrets away from me.

This time that same question couldn’t even leave my lips as he devoted every little touch to me and only me, his reverence so strong I could hear their words even without a single sound.

Fangs grazed my neck and goosebumps covered my skin, a little kiss my comfort the moment he noticed it. Despite that he continued, gazing up at me one final time, allowing me to see those irresistible depths turn brighter; vermillion mixed with burgundy while the whites shifted, painting my sight with endless mismatched roses swaying in the wind.

The pull inside me strengthened and the flower fields were disturbed, gentle swaying now turning violent, yet never once harming me with a single thorn.

His lips kissed the side of my neck and the muscles hidden beneath jumped at the sudden contact, the gentle action broken by sharp pain and the feeling of loss. My hands encircled him and travelled into his divine bangs, only turning them messier with each audible gulp he took.

Never once did fear take root inside my chest, my lover’s actions so gentle they felt nothing less than a ritual of worship, of devotion, only meant for me to bear witness to.

And as the world started growing dark, vision wavering and hold turning weak, those lips I knew oh so well left my neck, leaving a tiny lick and a kiss before familiar eyes met mine. He hovered above me like that, hand going up to cup my cheek as I stared at him, at those wonderful rose fields, and his expression only turned more loving in return, if possible at all.

Those endlessly starving orbs were the last thing I saw before my eyes fluttered closed, unable to keep myself awake with the sudden wave of exhaustion that swept over me. I didn’t realise how much he’d drank, just how much he had truly taken in such a short amount of time, and yet I trusted him completely even on death’s door.

The taste of iron lingered on my tongue as something dripped into my mouth, fingers careful as they pushed my lips open forcefully. It dripped down my throat and my body automatically took it in, as if embracing a missing piece I didn’t even know was needed.

Chilled air hit the shell of my ear as Chan leaned closer, the liquid fusing with my soul itself and stirring awake something I had long lost.

“Wake up, love, the night’s only just begun.”

[munsonkitten]

“Can I tell you something?” Steve whispers, tugging Eddie in closer to his body.

Eddie hums in response, nuzzling his face into Steve’s neck. “Sure, baby.”

“You know how we got you out of the Upside Down and brought you back here?” Steve asks. He rubs his hands up and down Eddie’s back, and continues without waiting for an answer. “I carried you up to the bathtub in my parents’ bathroom, got your pants off, and you were covered in so much blood, and I was already fighting off an infection myself, so I wasn’t all there, and I honestly… Man, I honestly thought the bats ate your dick and that I’d have to break the news.”

Eddie snorts, a quiet laugh pressed to Steve’s skin.

“Then you said to me, and you were half-conscious and kind of delirious, you said ‘if you wanna look at my pussy, at least buy me dinner first,’” Steve whispers. “Figured maybe it was fine, then.”

“Wait,” Eddie says, pulling back. “Is that why you always brought food when you started coming over?”

Steve laughs, then shakes his head. Quietly, he answers, “Nah, man, that was because you lost like forty pounds from not eating.”

“Well, that’s not as fun,” Eddie huffs. “Can we pretend you’ve just been trying to catch a glimpse ever since?”

“Sure,” Steve whispers. “I mean, not that I wasn’t trying to catch another glimpse, I mean that much is pretty obvious at this point, but, nah. I was just worried you weren’t eating enough.”

Eddie hums again and rolls over onto his back. “I don’t remember much. Being here, I mean. I just… I mean, I have bits and pieces, but then I remember waking up in the hospital with Wayne next to my bed. I didn’t think that was real, to be honest.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “Yeah, it, uh… I tried taking care of you, and after I kinda put the pieces together, I wasn’t gonna let anyone else see you or touch you, I mean, I kind of knew what it meant, you know, to be transsexual, and I didn’t know everything, but I figured it was enough that I found out without your permission. I mean, I think about… Never mind, just… Yeah, so I tried taking care of you, but, like I said, I was sick, too. I think, um, it was Nancy… She kind of found us half-dead in my bed after not hearing from us for a couple days. She got in contact with Wayne, got us both to the hospital. You were there longer than me.”

“Does Nancy know?” Eddie whispers. “I mean, we talk a lot, and she’s never… She’s never mentioned it, but would she if she did?”

“She doesn’t know, baby. As far as I know, she doesn’t. I’m telling you, man, I didn’t let anyone else see you for days. I was…”

“My guard dog, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Steve chuckles.

“Mhm,” Eddie hums. “Should give you a treat.”

Steve smiles, presses a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “I’ve got it already.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie mumbles. “You can’t break out the Harrington charm right now.”

“Why not?” Steve asks.

“Because I’m gonna need to fuck you again for that and I don’t think I can move.”

Steve laughs and curls himself around Eddie. “Alright, I’ll cool it with the charm, then.”

They both sleep soundly that night, but Steve finds himself thinking about all of those complicated things before he drifts off, and again when he wakes up in the morning, as he watches Eddie fix his hair and slide on his rings over painted nails.

from chapter 5 of “you make me feel like i am whole again” on ao3

[jamil-s-wifey]

Hello :3 Can I get a long scenario with my dearest Jamil?

I really love him so much >///< so here is my scenario, I hope you can accept

Jamil got sick and has a fever. MC stayed beside him and nursed him for 3 days without blinking and finally he recovered. He started to remember her care during his illness after his fever dropped. And when he woke up, MC hugged him tightly. A bit long, huh? 😅 I would be happy with little NSFW, not gonna lie.

Well hello there, fellow Jamil enthusiast~ It has certainly been a hot minute, hasn't it? It is my utmost pleasure to present you with the *long-awaited* scenario at hand! A bit of NSFW, some heart-warming fluff and Jamil finally getting a GODDAMN break, coming right up! It's not full on NSFW, just a lil bit, as requested, I don't know why it turned out like that- still, I hope this is good! (Tbh, it fits the scenario)

P.S. This hit close to home, I used to be a very sickly child and I still catch all sorta sicknesses a lot easier than normal people. So, what he will experience here is all based on very PERSONAL and very SALTY experience. 🙃

"What am I gonna do with you? You can't keep pushing yourself so much!" You murmured, pressing a cold cloth to Jamil's forehead as he slept soundly.

.......

Jamil hated being sick. Pretty normal right? Everybody hates being sick.

But to Jamil, sickness meant pushing through and continuing with his chores, regardless of his wellbeing. Imagine cooking above a hot stove with a high temperature. Can't be pleasant, can it?

But even the hardest stones could crack under enough force - such is the way the world works. It was towards the end of the day, as Jamil was preparing Kalim's dinner, when he felt his body give out under him. All day he'd been going around with a fever, he felt as if his own body was rotting on the inside, screaming at him to stop and have a break. His eyes were watery and felt as though they were burning in his eye sockets.

He couldn't even reach a chair to sit, before his knees buckled and he fell to the floor - too dizzy and too weak. Rarely did he ever get this sick, but this time it was bad. He moved to a more comfortable position and remained like that, trying to gather enough strength to get some medicine..... He most certainly didn't realise he'd fallen asleep, too tired to move, nor did he hear Kalim's worried voice when he found him on the floor in the kitchen.

And Kalim? Kalim was terrified! Quickly he called on his dorm members to move him to his room and immediately called you, crying on the phone, worried that Jamil might never wake up. (That's not how colds work, Kalim-) Worried about Jamil, you immediately rushed to the Scarabia dorm, medicine in hand.

_____________

And now here you are, in the present, taking extensive care of your near delirious not-quite-boyfriend-but-kinda-love-interest. He'd occasionally wake up and exchange barely audible pleasantries with you, drink his "extra healthy and full of good stuff" chicken soup (whatever that was supposed to entail) and then fall back into slumber. His fever has gone down drastically, but the utter exhaustion left in its wake has kept him bedridden. Apparently it was a seasonal fever, which just so happened to hit Jamil, who in turn chose to ignore it in the beginning.

You'd taken the liberty to remain situated in his room for about three days.

Day one was the worst - high fever, clattering teeth and a sleepless night to boot. You'd change his shirt every time he'd drench it in sweat whilst fighting off the fever. You'd switch up the cloth every time it lost its cooling effect, you'd remained by his side the entire time, least he needed something anything at all.

"Once you get better, I'm so gonna yell at you for not taking better care of yourself.... You're lucky I love you." You'd mumbled, barely audible in the quiet of the room as he slept.

Day two was better - he slept through most of it and you could in turn prepare some soup, as well as cover most of his chores, get a pass from the teachers AND even leave him some of your notes for when he recovers. (Look at you go! He'd better propose imo)

Now, on day three he was evidently much healthier. Finally he gave up trying to get out of bed, and instead lay resting, drinking his medicine, feeling utterly pampered by you.

_____________

"How long have you...been here?" You seemed pretty tired in his eyes. The moment you heard his voice you immediately threw yourself gently on him, gently crushing his bones in a hug.

"A while." You responded, face buried in his chest. In reality, you hadn't had a proper night of sleep in about 3 days. You DID sleep, Kalim even prepared a guest bedroom, but you chose to remain next to Jamil for most of the time. "Do you know how worried I was?"

"You didn't have to do all this, you know? You could've get sick too."

"I could've, but I haven't. For somebody with such a keen eye and monstrous deliberation, you really don't know how to take care of yourself properly." You quipped back, moving to sit on the bed next to him.

"As, so I'm being reprimanded now." His gaze softened. "Thank you....for taking care of me these last few days... I've forgotten what it's like to not have to worry or do anything... I feel like I've slept a lifetime... I don't know how I could possibly return the favour."

You can't stay mad at him. He knows it, you know it. Hell, even the Great Seven know it.

"Return it by recovering completely."

He chose not to continue the conversation. He knew arguing was pointless.

"You know, while I was sleeping, or trying to, I was mostly aware of what was happening around me." He began, pushing himself up, in a sitting position. "When you'd quietly hum to yourself, or cuss when you couldn't find something..."

"Ah- well, did you now? Sorry if you had a difficult time falling asleep because of me. " you felt your cheeks warm up a bit.

"No no, please. It's fine. You've taken such good care of me. I just... couldn't help but hear something, which perhaps I wasn't meant to."

He reached out, tangling his hand in your hair.

"Something about you loving me?"

...

Nope, all that heat in your cheeks? Gone. Now it was just coldness and dread.

He saw your frazzled state and chuckled. "I guess I'm really lucky, to have you to take *such* good care of me, huh."

He leaned in, but stopped just centimetres away.

"I shouldn't."

You heart dropped even lower, if that was even possible.

"I could get you sick.~" There was a lilt to his voice, but his eyes showed concern.

"Oh, for fuck's sake-" you leaned in, smashing your lips onto his. He smiled into the kiss, pulling you towards him.

Naturally, you moved to sit in his lap, his hands moving to your waist.

"Your feelings are returned, for the record." He mumbled in between heated kisses. The more heated the kisses became, the more his hands would wander until-

In the blink of an eye, he flipped you over, so that you were underneath him. Skillfully he unbuttoned the first few buttons of your uniform, revealing more of your neck and collarbones. "I think I have a way of returning the favour. You took such good care of me, I think it's my turn~"

His attention moved to your neck, leaving heated languid kisses and playful bites on your skin. His hand trailed down to spread your legs, moving between them. Every single touch of his was intoxicating. Pretty quickly your shirt was thrown on the floor, the supple flesh underneath - covered in hickeys.

"Are you not going to undress as well? Or should I do that for you?" you asked, breathless, yet teasing in manner. Well. As teasing as one could get, given how achingly turned on you were. "Like you didn't have more than enough time to appreciate the view, during these last few days." he teased right back, but his hands moved to grip the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time." He practically purred, fingers gliding over your stomach, gently trailing lower and lower.

"Of course, you can tell me to stop anytime."

"I don't want you to."

"As you wish, my dear. Then I'll make sure to indulge, taking, tasting, touching every single part of you. "

[split-spectrum]

Concessions

Chapter 4

Pairing: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, orgasm denial, edging, porn with very little plot

Description: Obi Wan chooses to undertake a trial that forbids him from sex for one year, and asks you to serve as his witness. As his close friend, you don't mind helping him. The rules of the trial are very clear. You make it your personal mission to find every exception.

☆☆☆

"Perhaps you should go," Obi Wan says, turning away from you after he closes the door to his quarters.

"I will," you assure him, already coming closer, not willing to let him put any distance between you. "Just as soon as we're finished."

He glances back at you, raising his brows in that helpless way of his, looking decidedly done with your antics, yet ravenously aroused despite it all. "We both have commitments in the morning."

You step around him, sliding your hands beneath his robe and dropping it to the floor, running your palms down his chest and pushing him firmly backward. "We'll be quick."

When his back hits the wall, a soft huffing noise leaves him. "Like we were in the detention cell?"

Your cheeks flush. Teasing him with soft licks, pulling off just to make him moan for you - to hear him plainly confess that you'd made him feel good... His accusation is embarrassingly well-founded. You clearly hadn't been speeding to the finish.

"Have it your way," you answer, voice as coolly detached as you can manage while everything in you is pulled tight, burning to touch him again. "I won't even use my mouth."

Your hand cups him through his clothes and he looks pained, almost sick. The creases in the corners of his eyes deepen and his face contorts into a scowl even as he lifts his chin and rests his head back against the wall to get a better view. He watches under heavy eyelids as you gather his pants and tug them down.

You lean into him, loving the way he twitches in your hand, and whisper close to his ear, "It'll be fast, promise."

He's still wearing that disapproving face when you squeeze him, already hard and throbbing between his legs. He's so pent up you can almost feel the heat radiating off of him. No matter how hard he pinches his brow, it doesn't help his case one bit. His eyes haven't left your hand for a moment. When you tug him, hot and dry and quick, your name falls from his mouth in a reflexively disapproving tone.

You just keep murmuring warm words against his neck. "Relax. Let me make you feel good."

A soft string of expletives drift through his clenched teeth. He's sucking air, hissing, trying to keep the stutter in his breath under control.

"I'll be honest, Obi Wan," you purr right next to his ear. "I am glad you didn't ask someone else. Having the chance to do this has been..."

You started the sentence with the intention to keep nudging him toward orgasm as fast as possible. Just running your mouth with whatever seductive words came to mind. But you've loosed a little too much of the truth, and you find you can't finish the thought.

Instead, you flick your wrist and curl your palm up and over his head, dragging through the precum that's been slowly pouring out of him since the detention cell. Your other hand slips down to cup his swollen balls, and he makes a strangled gasping sound.

"Fuck, mmm, there, it's-" he huffs through shaky breaths.

Again, he's saying, without saying it. You eagerly obey, stroking his cock and gently playing with his balls until his eyes have rolled back and he's starting to murmur filthy words you've never heard before.

"Oh, I'm close-" he chokes out after a few more moments of this; hardly any effort on your part. You're heaving your breaths right along with his, and you can almost feel how wide your pupils must be blown out right now, watching him writhing at your touch, right at the edge of coming. You feel perverted, eyes glued to his cock, only tearing up every few seconds to glimpse his sweaty, delirious face, waiting for the moment when his suffering turns to ecstasy.

"Come for me," you push. "I want to see it."

I want to taste it, you think, but you wonder if it might be too much to admit.

As if it's the first time it's occurred to him, Obi Wan opens his eyes to toss a quick, frantic glance at the table, and then around him.

"Blast, I hadn't-" his eyes roll closed again when you speed up your strokes, not wanting him to get distracted. His voice goes strained and airy. "Where- where shall I-"

It's so fastidious of him, wondering if he should make a mess of your clothes or the floor, and you can't help a little gush of adoration for him at the sight of his helpless, urgent face. You're about to give him your answer by falling to your knees when you hear a faint knocking sound.

Both of your hands still, and he drops the hem of his tunic to cover himself. Your eyes flick up to his.

"What was that?" you whisper, desperately hoping you can both agree to pretend you didn't hear it.

He swallows, giving a shake of head before looking frustratedly at the door.

You softly graze him a few times, not willing to give up. Not again.

"Master?" a small voice calls through the wood.

Obi Wan's eyes close and the mussed hair at the back of his head meets the wall as he releases a long, slow breath through his nose.

"Just a moment," he calls back, and you have to fight not to audibly groan.

You let him go when he tugs his pants back up, and you back across the room when he goes for the door. He stops to seemingly gather himself, silent and unmoving for a long moment before he opens it. The lights of the city illuminate the hall window behind the small figure in the doorway.

"Anakin," Obi Wan says with a slight tone of concern. "What is it?"

The boy isn't quite meeting his eyes. "I... had a nightmare."

Obi Wan sighs while Anakin looks off to the side. "My padawan..." he says softly, "we've discussed this before. You're getting too old for this... this..."

You can see, even in the dim light, how Anakin's little brow tightens, his downcast stare turning hard and sullen. Obi Wan doesn't finish his sentence. He just sighs again. "Come in."

Anakin finds you standing in the kitchen, pretending to find something to drink in the conservator. "Hi Ani," you greet him with a warm smile. It's not his fault, after all, that your evening is now hideously and irrevocably ruined. "You okay?"

His questioning stare turns shy again. "Yes, I'm okay."

"You can sleep in the main room," Obi Wan calls from behind him, already laying down blankets on the couch in what seems to be part of a too-familiar routine.

Anakin blushes and turns around, clearly not having expected to explain himself to anyone besides Obi Wan. Gratefully, you put down your juice and head for the door.

"We can work on that report some other time, Obi Wan," you tell him, catching his violently repressed gaze as you leave. "See you later."

"Of course," he answers, short and clipped. "Some other time."

--

'Some other time' arrives more swiftly than you'd expected.

You've seen more of him in the temple today than you can stand, really. You'd been obligated to participate in a training exhibition for a class of padawan learners, and when you'd walked in to see him in a tight-fitting undershirt, training rod in hand and soft, billowing pants hung loosely around his waist, you'd nearly turned around and walked out. The grappling portion of the demonstration had bordered on torture.

And at the end of the day, finally able to find some time alone in your quarters, there's one task more pressing than all others. You'd hardly made it through the door before you were stripping.

Perhaps it's unbefitting a young Jedi to find herself flushed, straining to remove her clothes, and shuffling beneath her covers to touch herself while thinking of another Jedi's warm breath tickling her ear, his legs wrapped around her waist as he'd pinned her to the ground. But you don't much care, at the moment. You're a luminous being, to be sure, but your body has been ignored for higher ideals all day.

Your middle finger is just about to brush the tip of your relief when your comlink finds the worst possible time to go off. Sucking air between your teeth, you sit up, pushing the covers back to check the screen and make sure you can ignore the call. Unfortunately, Master Plo's name is illuminated, and you quickly pull on your clothes and become a decent Jedi once again.

"...yes, Master. I'm sorry my last report was a bit further down the timeline than expected..."

"Oh, it isn't? Then how may I..."

"Oh, that's terrible..."

"... No, I have no other pressing matters..."

"... I see. Does- does Obi Wan know that you've asked me? Of course. Yes, I can leave right away..."

And that conversation is how you now find yourself requisitioning a ship at an unreasonably late hour, awaiting the arrival of Obi Wan and his padawan at the docks.

The path you'd charted for Master Plo's operation in the Shaltin Tunnels requires a stop near Florum for refueling. There are no alternate stops due to a recent dispute on Zygeria, meaning the one you'd planned is the only option. Unfortunately for everyone, pirates had gotten wind that there was only one feasible stop for Republic-friendly ships, and had threatened the private operators of the fuel depot, in an effort to commandeer the depot, and the profits. The pirates' plan had backfired, and rather than have their fuel in the hands of brigadeers and losing all their money, the fuel depot halted their supply line and closed business to relocate.

This essentially now means that no traffic can flow through the tunnels, but more importantly, it means that the mercy mission Plo had been planning for months to bring supplies to refugees of the Jedi-Zygerian conflict will be cancelled unless you can find a way to convince the fuel depot to reopen, at least temporarily, with the promise of Jedi protection.

It makes sense for him to have asked you. You're the one with the most up-to-date knowledge of navigating the tunnels. And Obi Wan, though still young, is already gaining a reputation as a skilled negotiator. You're the right team, no doubt.

The fact that heading to the Outer Rim will mean several days of hyperspace travel together, on a small ship, with nothing to do but kill time... that's the part that's making you tap your stylus on your data pad, biting your lip as you check your supply list for the seventh time.

At least it won't be just the two of you. Anakin will take up practically all of his time and attention, and while he's training his apprentice, you'll spend all your extra time in your personal quarters. You check the ship's layout again, to locate them.

Oh, wonderful - you have the largest available ship tonight, and there are no private quarters. Just one shared crew-rest room, with bunks built into the interior wall.

It's fine. Who needs privacy, anyway?

You're brought out of your thoughts when you hear Anakin and Obi Wan's voices approaching. It's hard to pinpoint where they are, in the dim light on the other side of the ship. You can hear them both, but Anakin's sounds fainter.

"Master, please, this isn't fair-"

"Fairness has nothing to do with it, young padawan. I need you to hear my words: Your lightsaber is your life. It's not simply another object, to be easily replaced."

"I know that, Master, I know-"

"If you knew, then you wouldn't be arguing."

You watch Obi Wan emerge from the shadows, talking to the small figure he's holding in his hand. Anakin's holoimage is scowling profusely.

"I shouldn't be punished just because my lightsaber got crushed. Something bad already happened to me, and now you're making it worse."

Obi Wan gives you a slight lift of his eyes in greeting as he nears you, bringing the conversation to an end. "Anakin, this is not a punishment, though it is a lesson. You must stay behind to attend the next gathering in a few days. I will not have you join me on a mission without a weapon."

There's a pause, Anakin's mouth screwed up in what you anticipate to be the start of another argument, but he eventually drops his head. "Yes, Master," he grouses, looking to the side.

"Goodnight, Anakin. May the Force aid you on your journey."

"Goodnight, Master," the sullen voice replies as Obi Wan marches past you, entering the cargo bay of the ship and shutting off his comlink.

You follow him inside, a smirk forthcoming despite your apprehension at hearing that Anakin won't be joining you.

Obi Wan sighs tiredly, then turns to look back at you. "Well, is everything ready?"

"It is," you answer, then let your smirk loose. "Anakin's lost another lightsaber? Hopefully he's learning his lesson this time."

"It isn't a lesson," He says dismissively as he strides over to the pilot's controls, pulling up the ship's schematic. "It's a punishment."

You lift your eyebrows in amusement, following him.

"Either way..." you drawl, folding your arms as you lean against the console next to him, datapad hanging casually over your elbow. "Looks like it's just the two of us."

He looks up at you, then back to the screen, and flicks his eyebrows without looking at you to indicate he'd heard what you said. But he doesn't say anything back.

"So," you go on, carefully testing the waters, "I was wondering... should these be on the list, or no?"

You uncross your arms, turning the datapad so he can see the supply list, scrolled to the bottom where the last item reads 'binders'.

He frowns thoughtfully. "I don't forsee any need to take prisoners."

You shift against the console, loosing a breath. Is he intentionally making this difficult?

"Not for that."

"For-" His face drops. "Oh."

"I could... finish what we started," you offer, mustering your boldness.

"N-no," he stammers. You've never heard him stammer in your life. "I don't, uh..." He tilts his chin down, clearing his throat and evening out his tone. "I think we should focus on our mission."

A few long beats pass while you let your eyes dance over his face, working out his expression. He has to be so pent up right now, but you wouldn't know it from looking. You can't blame him, though, for not wanting to try after the most recent, painful denial.

"Okay," you say softly, a small smile in place. "We can focus on the mission."

You go back to studying your checklists as the bay doors close and Obi Wan locks in your coordinates. The lights of Coruscant are soon replaced with the lights of hyperspace, and all your interruptions and excuses are replaced with the cold, quiet hum of an empty ship.

--

Yawning as the caf finishes brewing, you take out one mug from the ship's small galley, and then a second. It's been a long day-cycle. You've both spent some time settling in, putting your supplies and belongings away, and now there's nothing left to do but to wait and to prepare.

Obi Wan has taken his place right back at the pilot's seat, one leg crossed over the other as he flips through screens on his datapad. You bring the two mugs with you as you make your way back over to him. Hooking your finger out from the side of your caf, you press a button on the wall that slides out a chair, and you bump the other mug against Obi Wan's shoulder as you take your seat.

"Caf?"

He glances at it, then hums his appreciation as he takes it from you. "Thank you."

You study him for a moment, then tilt your head. "Well?"

"Yes?" he asks without looking up.

"I thought we could talk about our plan of approach."

He lifts his gaze. "Our plan?"

You were sipping your drink, but you abruptly stop. "The mission?"

He taps the screen in his lap and it goes dark. "I think there's been a misunderstanding. I have been tasked with negotiations. There is no need for both of us to be involved."

Your eyebrow wrenches violently upward, but you manage to keep your tone calm. "So, if you're the negotiator, that makes me the... what?"

"Navigator," he finishes easily.

"Navi-" You cut yourself off before you raise your voice. Then you try again. "If I didn't know better, I would say It sounds like you expect me to sit on the ship while you do all the work."

"You don't need to stay on the ship, but if you'll allow me the courtesy of taking the lead..."

Allow him the courtesy. You can't deny his skill in manipulation. He's already crowned himself captain of the team, and now he'll pretend to defer to your authority. You can hardly keep from rolling your eyes. But there's no point in arguing, as long as the job gets done.

You take a long sip to maintain your composure. "Alright. So what is your plan, then?"

He straightens his shoulders, then answers simply, "I haven't got a plan." When you widen your eyes, he quickly adds, "It isn't necessary."

"What do you mean it isn't necessary?"

He sighs, then uncrosses his leg and places his caf on the control panel. "Being overprepared before first contact can often do more harm than good. I don't wish to form any opinions until we meet."

You laugh a little, in disbelief. "You don't want to overprepare, so you make no plans at all?"

"The fuel depot is owned by humans, yet we do not know anything about them. Not what system they hail from, their enemies or allies... The only reliable information is that they seek to make credits, and they don't particularly care for pirates."

"Fine. No direct plan of approach," you allow. "Then why not at least practice some possible scenarios?"

"I would rather not."

"You'd rather not." You shake your head. "Why? Why not let me help you?"

"It just isn't necessary."

You let your irritation collapse into silence. If you were giving anyone else the look you're giving him, they would shrink in discomfort. But he meets your hard stare with one of his own, and you feel your pulse beginning to pound.

"I see now. This is about your ego."

You say it, and you stand up and walk away.

You convince yourself you're giving him the unflinching criticism of the Jedi, pointing out his flaws while not sparing his feelings. But as you turn your back to him, reaching again for the caf to top off your cup, you know you said it not only because it's true, but because it felt good.

"You can believe what you like," he says, and you hear him leave his chair. "But I have my own methods, and you should respect that."

You sniff a short laugh, not looking back at him. "Okay, sure. I'll respect your method of removing me from my own mission."

"That isn't a fair assessment. Each of us have certain strengths-"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" you interrupt. "Don't condescend to me, Obi Wan. You want the satisfaction of knowing you saved the day, again."

"I don't want anything, except to help Master Plo accomplish his goals."

"Unless it means that you don't make all the decisions along the way."

Suddenly, he's beside you, clearly tired of talking to your back. He puts his hand on the countertop next to your mug, and catches your eyes. "I don't find this amusing."

You raise your brows. "I wasn't joking."

"I won't have my integrity questioned."

You turn to him, arms folded. "I wasn't questioning your integrity. I just don't understand why you don't see me as an asset. It seems foolish."

He scoffs. "Of course I see you as an asset. And I am not trying to diminish your abilities-"

"It's funny to hear you insist upon that point, and yet-"

"Stars!" Obi Wan finally shouts over you. Then he rolls his eyes, looking off to the side in exasperation. "Why do you have to be so..."

You blink, startled by his outburst, and suddenly aware that you've slowly backed up against the side wall of the small galley area. You cross your arms tighter, bracing your back against it. "So... what?"

"So..." he trails off, seeming to be searching for the right word. "...abrasive."

"Abrasive?"

"Yes, and difficult," he says, voice softer, but holding an edge that hadn't been there before.

You let the comment hang between you, noting the tension in his jaw. He's still staring at you, unflinching. Usually he would apologize right about now. But when he doesn't back down, you tamp down the thrumming in your chest and take a breath before responding with as neutral a tone as you can manage. "If you find me so abrasive and difficult, then why have we been friends for as long as we have?"

He doesn't reply, just closes his mouth and stares through you. It looks like he's trying to come up with an answer, which makes you bristle.

"Why did you ask me for help with the Nikkama if you can't stand to be around me?" you push.

Your question clearly gets under his skin, and several odd emotions swim through his gaze before he finally answers. "Perhaps that was a mistake."

Your stomach drops. You hadn't expected that, but you won't give him the satisfaction of reacting. You shrug yourself up from the wall, making him back up a little, and slide out of the galley to head back to the crew quarters.

"Well, glad we have that clarified. I'm going to have a rest. If I have permission for that, Captain."

He calls your name as you walk away, and you don't bother to look back, pressing the button to close the door behind you.

--

You emerge from the refresher, towel-drying and still very on-edge, much later.

Alone in the crew quarters, you'd found meditation elusive in your current state, and decided to try a shower to clear your mind. It calmed you down a little, but Obi Wan's words are still needling you as you slide into your underclothes. They're going to be spinning in your head for a long time, you realize. Maybe this was a mistake, after all. Just like he'd said.

The soft fabric slips up your thighs as your towel drops to the floor, and you're just closing up the front of your bodice when the door to the room slides open.

Obi Wan doesn't see you at first, crossing over to where you're standing beside the bunks built into the wall. The lights in the room are turned down from when you'd been trying to meditate. When he looks up and sees you, he stops dead where he stands.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says, averting his eyes immediately to the floor. "I heard the refresher and I thought... thought I had time to- to..."

He's already halfway back to the door, not finishing his sentence, when you ask bluntly, "To what?"

"There is a datacard I need," he explains, still looking at the ground. "I will find it later. I apologize."

You scowl, pulling on your loose-flowing pants and tying them off at your waist. "Might as well get it now."

"No, it's not-"

"They're your quarters, too. Just get whatever you need," and get out, you want to add, but you hold your tongue.

He hesitates, then turns without looking at you, walking back to his bunk. He doesn't say a word as you watch him retrieve his bag of personal supplies.

His silence drags on, and you want to get your tunic, but he's standing between you and your bed where it sits. So instead, you watch him dig and pretend not to be feeling as exposed as you are.

"Did you get those files on Cadinth I sent you?" you ask, trying to pass the time.

"I did," he replies, sorting through the bag and not looking up.

"Did you review them?"

He doesn't answer.

"Did you even glance at them?"

"I've said I have the files."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I will get to them."

"When?"

He drops the top of his bag, resting it on the bunk, and looks over at you, keeping his eyes leveled at your face. "I've told you I will read them. Why must you doubt everything I say?"

"Because you're doubting me first," you retort, childishly. "I told you everything I sent was relevant, so why put off reading it?"

"I have a process."

"And everything needs to go according to your plans."

"I could say the same of you."

You feel your cheeks heating, frustration simmering up to a boiling point. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He turns toward you, his task forgotten. "You seem to imply I have a problem with control. Perhaps you should look inward."

"Unbelievable. You're going to turn this on me?"

"I'm simply pointing out-"

"No, you're choosing not to listen. And as usual, you're manipulating things in your favor."

"In my favor?" He takes a few steps toward you as he talks. "Nothing about this situation has been in my favor. On that, you can be assured."

"Which part, exactly, has been so trying for you? Unilaterally planning the mission based on your personal preference? Or just dealing with me? Is that it?"

"Stop trying my patience. You are looking for an argument, and I won't be drawn into it."

Your eyes widen. Then you sneer. "I am so tired of you trying to put me in my place."

He barks an insulted laugh. "I've done no such thing."

"Really?" you ask. "Then tell me, what do you call what you've been doing? I have all the same training and experience as you, and yet I'm not worthy of taking part in your mission? I'm a liability?"

"No," he scowls, tossing a look at the wall like he's trying to gather himself.

"Then what? What am I?"

"A distraction," he spits, instantly, as if it's been on the edge of spilling out of him for quite some time.

Your jaw goes rigid, your head suddenly filled with static. That's the way he views you?

His eyes soften for a moment, and he opens his mouth as if he's about to take it back, but that would only be more insulting - pretending he didn't mean it. You don't want to give him the chance.

"You've always been arrogant, but this is a whole new level."

His scowl deepens. "That is not what I meant. I'm not... not capable of-"

"Of thinking from anyone's point of view but your own?" You huff derisively. "I don't see how any explanation you give would make this less insulting. I'm a Jedi Knight, same as you, Obi Wan, and I deserve the same-"

"Yes, you are!" he bursts out, nearly making you take a step back as he closes the distance between your bodies. "Have you considered behaving like one?"

Your brow pinches, but you're too distracted by him pressing in close to respond properly. "I... what- what are you..."

"You have shown no compassion; no consideration." You see the frustration in his eyes as he closes in. "And I am at your mercy, unfortunately for us both."

"I don't understand what that means," you murmur, still overcome with irritation, but put off-balance now, by the way he's talking.

He glares at you. "Don't- don't play the fool." His gaze slides down to where your clavicle rises and falls, the tops of your breasts spilling over your tight underclothes. He quickly flicks his eyes back up to your face. "It doesn't suit you."

That one look is enough to make you squeeze your thighs together, but it isn't enough to cool your temper. "You're the fool, if you think you can guilt me into following your orders by quoting principles at me."

It shouldn't thrill you so much to watch the corner of his mouth curl in displeasure, but it does.

"You're impossible."

"Oh? The perfect Jedi finally admits he lacks compassion, but only when it comes to me."

"It's not compassion I lack," he grits out.

"Then what is it, Obi Wan?" you ask, practically talking against his mouth.

His lashes flutter as he drops them once, then twice, to your parted lips. But the signals lighting up in your brain have to be wrong, because he can't be thinking of kissing you.

You try, desperately, to get things back on track. But when you speak, your voice comes out as a whisper. "What is it you lack?"

Silence. Silence. Silence. And then - his mouth on yours.

He kisses you deeply, and suddenly all of the fury you'd built up inside is translated into the pent up, raw hunger that it truly is. His hand is holding your jaw, pulling you close, keeping you steady for him to devour. You whimper softly, and he answers the question at last:

"Control."

You exhale, whining against his tongue as he walks you backward, gripping your waist and pressing you down into the lowest bunk. Your hands fly up into his hair, clutching wildly at soft, golden fistfuls, and letting your fingers run down his scalp as he lowers his mouth to your neck. Heat pulses between your legs as he drags his wet mouth over your sensitive skin.

"Fuck," you moan, "This is- we can't... We're not supposed to..."

He groans into your neck, and the sound makes everything in you pull up tight and hot. He closes his mouth over yours again, teeth grazing your bottom lip. You pull him in deeper, your teeth clashing with his as the kiss devolves into something messier, more primal, more urgent.

You roll your hips, needing to feel more of him, and his body eagerly responds. He's stiff in his pants, and feeling him drag against you is making you lose your mind. Your hand instinctively moves to touch him, but he grips your wrist with iron-clad certainty.

"Stop," he says, even as he continues kissing you. "I can't- can't take it."

He presses your hand into the bed until you go limp, and then releases. You bring it up to his face, rubbing your palm along his bearded jaw. "I'll take care of you," you plead into his mouth. "Just let me."

His breath is getting ragged, and when he pulls back, his lips are swollen, bright with color from being sucked and bitten. He shakes his head, brow pinched tight. "I wish that I could, darling, but stars above, just look at you."

Your panting breath cuts off, caught in your throat. You try, but your mind isn't functioning enough to say anything in response.

"If I do not stop now, I won't stop at all." He leans down to kiss you, pressing his lips softly against yours. Then he whispers, floating warm words against your ear, "You'll have me begging to finish inside of you."

Your eyes squeeze shut as you wonder if it's possible to come just from his voice. He nips just below your jaw, then sucks slowly down your neck as you do your best not to writhe out of your clothes.

"And we can't have that, can we?" he rumbles at the side of your throat.

It takes every last drop of your willpower to shake your head, but you do it.

"N-no."

No. You agree. Of course not.

But... fucking why, again?

--

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment or message me to be added to the taglist :)

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