#i love sick!fic...
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17 year old, CEO Tim Drake canceling a press conference and then putting out a statement like, âSorry for canceling last min, Alfred said that he was going to run my laptop through the dishwasher if I didnât clean my room. I think heâd do it :/. Also, wasnât really in the mood. Cya -Tim.â
#I love teen ceo Tim drake so much and heâs not even canon#there are a lot of angsty fics and I love them but I think thereâs such a potential for comedy#WE employees gain thousands of followers just live-tweeting the insane shit he does every day#âCEO probs not putting out statement about new tech bc I just watched his brother pull him kicking and screaming out of the buildingâ#âfound my ceo sleeping in the elevator againâ#âhead of R&D just asked me decipher an email at the CEO sent to him. it reads like gen z word saladâ#âTim Drake is a wonderful boss. he did just ask me if I wanna see him ollie. it was pretty sickâ#Tim drake#ceo tim drake#alfred pennyworth
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sick
word count: 1.8k
synopsis: in which sylus sneaks into your apartment and finds you sick. yet, you're not resting. why?
contains: sylus x mc!reader (they're not dating but sylus is pining and reader is confused), reader is implied to be in college, slightly obsessive sylus, mentions of violence and sickness, suggestive themes, cussing, and fluff.
a/n: i got sick yesterday. what better way to rest than to write about sylus? do NOT copy or steal my work. sylus WOULD NOT endorse plagiarism :)
you don't want to admit it. you really don't. but you're sick. there's no denying that with how short of breath you are, how nauseous you feel, and the goddamn soreness in the back of your throat that didn't go away with the first sip of water.
"shitâŚ" you mumble as you sluggishly move to empty the dishwasher as your roommate asked. it's bad enough that you were sick, but you were also stressed out of your mind. midterms have been kicking your ass this semester. big assignments have been piling up on your already heavy shoulders. in essence, this was a burnout month, and all that lack of sleep and unparalleled stress had finally caught up to you. in the form of a cold, that is.
"of all the times," you grumble as you struggle to stack the dishes in the cabinet. "why nowâŚ" indeed, this was a terrible time to get sick. how were you to complete all your tasks while feeling absolutely miserable? you glance at the microwave clock in desperation. 10:00 PM, it read. although you meant to sigh a breath of relief, you let out a painful cough. maybe you could finish an assignment or two by midnight. that way, you can focus on studying tomorrow, you thought to yourself.
you sniff as you return to the dishwasher to unload the rest of the dishes. as much as you were happy for your roommate leaving for the weekend to finally see her family, you couldn't help but feel resentful. why were you here struggling to do the dishes while she got to have fun? shaking your head at your bitter thoughts, you bend down, trying to grab the utensils from the dishwasher. keyword: trying.
the sudden pair of strong arms that wrapped around you prevented you from doing so. normally, you would've swiftly elbowed the person behind you and turned around to land a hard blow that would have them seeing stars. instead, you exhale shakily. you recognize the mysterious backhugger's scent. the scent of sweet wine and sharp citrus. sylus.
how the hell did he get in? you donât remember giving him a spare key when you told him your address. you look behind you, angling your head to meet his garnet eyes. "i did not give you my address just so you can sneak in like this," you say, trying your best not to sound like you're dying.
unfortunately, the nasal tone of your voice does not go unnoticed by sylus. instead of offering his usual quips, sylus furrows his brows and unclasps his right arm from your waist. you try not to flinch at the chill of his slender fingers touching your forehead. he frowns. "you're sick."
you immediately avert your gaze. "i'm not sick," you mutter as you try to bend down once more to grab the stupid utensils from the dishwasher. sylus doesn't let go. this time, he spins you around with his left arm, making sure that he can see you properly.
"you're burning up, sweetie." sylus says as flips the hand on your forehead for good measure. "you're sick and you know it."
you roll your eyes, squirming to get out of his grip. you did not want sylus to see you like this. a sick, miserable mess incapable of doing something as simple as emptying the dishwasher. you had an image to uphold after all. being vulnerable with someone like him could mean getting hurt again. last time you were vulnerable with someone⌠well, let's say you learned your lesson.
weakly, you push at sylus' arm around your waist with your small hands. you try not to think about how minuscule they looked next to sylus' deliciously veiny forearms. great, you're sick, and your mind decides to lust after sylus' arms. you shiver at your thoughts and attempt to push sylus' grip away once more. normally, escaping sylus' hold would be a reasonable task for you. after all, your sparring sessions with him prepared you to get out of sticky situations. but you were sick and exhausted out of your mind. all you could manage was a feeble squirm.
sylus' gaze moves from his hand on your forehead to your eyes. your half-lidded baggy eyes. his frown deepens. you looked extremely fatigued. your face was noticeably pale, and your intake of breath was short. not to mention, sylus could see the slight wince of pain whenever you tried to swallow your saliva. sylus sighs as he removes his hand on your forehead and replaces it with his own. you were neglecting yourself again.
under normal circumstances, you would've shied away from sylus' physical advancements. his hand on the small of your back? an immediate flinch and glare, signaling him to stop. a tap on the crown of your head? a swift jerk of your neck and avoidance of eye contact. insteadâagain, you blame it on your exhaustionâyou tiredly close your eyes, relishing in sylus' cool forehead against your heated one. no resistance to be shown.
you don't see it, but sylus' sharp eyes soften at the sight of you accepting his touch. even with the eye bags and ghastly skin, you looked ethereal. like an angel sent from heaven to save him from his own solitary hell. as much as he wants to savor this moment of you finally giving into his touch, sylus knows what he must do. you're unwell and unrested. you need to be in bed immediately.
"you should be in bed, sweetie." sylus murmurs as he pulls away from your forehead. you try not to sulk at the loss of the soothing chill of his skin. though, not without feeling conflicted because why you would even sulk about him? for god's sake, he was a criminal. he's taken countless lives. not to mention, he choked you upon meeting you, called you a disappointment, and tried to alter you after three straight days of relentless attempts at a forced resonation⌠just thinking about him drives you nuts and being driven nuts is the last thing you want right now.
"i'm fine, sylus." it was your turn to pull away, trying to put as much distance between you two as his firm grip around your waist would allow. "besides, nothing a little old tea can't fix."
with that, you turn to face the dishwasher and reach for the utensils for the umpteenth time of the night. sylus sighs and pinches his nose bridge with his free hand. as much as he admired your stubbornness, he could not help but resent it at times like these. times when you were in desperate need of a break. before you can grab the utensils, you feel yourself get lifted off the ground effortlessly.
sylus' arm on your waist had moved to your shoulder, and his other arm was hooked under your thighs. he had you in bridal style in less than a second. your eyes widen, realizing the sudden change in positions. "what are you doing?!" you cough painfully. "put me down!"
you do your best to escape sylus' new grip on you by kicking your legs and squirming uncontrollably, but it was hopeless. you were weakened due to your sickness, and sylus was determined to make sure you looked only at him instead of the goddamn dishwasher. one more look at it, and he swears he's gonna break it with his evol.
quickly and confidently, sylus exits the kitchen with you in his arms and arrives at what he guesses is your shared bedroom with your roommate. he tries not to get distracted by the fact that this is his first time in your room. god, the entire space smelled so much like you, he wanted to become one with it and watch you forever and ever. dismissing his intrusive thoughts, sylus gently places you down on your bed and starts to cover you in your blanket.
"wait, sylus," you start, trying to get up. "i have to empty the dishwasher. i have homework, too." sylus tuts as he shakes his head, his messy silver locks following suit. although he doesn't respond, sylus continues to spread out your blanket. you furrow your eyebrows at his strange behavior. "sylusâŚ" you whine. you actually whined. something you never thought you would do, especially in front of sylus. you could feel his intense gaze prick at you like little needles. you avoid his gaze, hoping to hide your flustered state.
adorable. that's what you are. incredibly adorable to the point sylus wants to grab your chin and force you to look at him as he coaxes more and more of your pretty whines out of you.
trying to fight his indecent thoughts, sylus locks eyes with you, a firm yet pleading look on his face. "you need to rest, sweetie," he leans in to adjust your pillow. "you won't get anything done in this state." you try to protest again, but sylus beats you to it. "rest. i'll take care of everything."
well, fuck. how can you say no when sylus, in all of his gorgeous glory, is centimeters from your face, telling you that he will take care of everything and asking you to do the one thing you've been longing to do for a very long time? besides, you felt sleepy ever since sylus took you in his arms. just this once. just this once, you'll allow yourself to be vulnerable with him. so that you can rest, of course. totally not because sylus had a way of comforting you so sweetly and breaking your defensive walls so charmingly.
your labored breathing slows as you cautiously nod. "fine," you yawn. "the utensils go in the very left drawer of the island while the pots and pans go in the stove oven, andâŚ" you can feel sleep beckoning for you as you continue to list instructions. sylus can't help the grin that appears on his face as he watches your cute blinks grow in intervals.
"noted, sweetie." he caresses a stray hair strand out of your face. "i'll make sure everything is back where they belong." like you to him. though, he doesn't say that part out loud. maybe another day. when you are no longer wary of him and are willing to acknowledge his very obvious affection for you. deep in his fantasy, sylus almost misses your cute snores. he chuckles, taking this chance to admire you now that you've fallen asleep.
you truly were an angel. the way your eyebrows furrowed here and there in your sleep. the way your plump lips parted at times. the way your button nose twitched sporadically. oh, sylus loved it all. he could watch you sleep forever. but he had a better task at hand: to take care of you. he assured you that he would take care of everything. and sylus is a man of his words. carefully to not wake you, sylus cups your face with his right hand. closing his eyes, he places a delicate kiss on your forehead.
"rest well, sweetie. i'll see you soon."
#i wrote this while sick#be proud of me#sylus x reader#lnds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace fic#sylus x y/n#sylus x you
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something about jason todd with a touchy!reader s/o is literally so yummie.
Youâve got him on his stomach, regrettably, he thinks, as you watch the hills and divots of his muscles roll and flex as he gets comfortable. The scarred herculean expanse of his back is exposed to you as you sit on his butt.
âDunno why I agreed to this,â he frowns, not bothering to move his head, unmuffling his musings.
He really doesnât; ten minutes ago you two were having a very civil discussion (read: arguing) about something or other. Next thing he knew, he was in your bed, on his stomach, half naked and under you.
âCause you like me,â you sing, breaking him from his thoughts, as you drag manicured fingers up his back, pressing into his taut muscle, deftly massaging each sore part of him.
âYou like this. âS okay to admit it,â you add.
He gives a noncommittal noise that gets cut off by a strangled gasp when he feels your hands pressing into the upper muscles of his back.
Thereâs a deep discomfort that settles in his stomach; heâs never been touched so lovingly, not without hidden motives tainting said touch. He isnât sure if he should push you off him or beg you to keep going.
You hum as you work his muscles, letting his inconsistent breathing and occasional gasps guide you.
You continue rubbing him down, occasionally pausing to apply more shea butter to your hands before resuming your work.
You reach up to his neck, as he sighs. You press just a hair harder, feeling a knot loosen at the pressure. Jason inhales, trying to steel himself from any possible reaction.
Regardless of his efforts, a low âFuck,â reverberates through his chest. He internally frowns at the sound of his low whine, sounding like a wounded animal. He reddens as he hears himself, internally cringing at his neediness, at your willingness, and the intimacy of it all.
âThat was pretty,â you murmur, teasing lilt in your voice. Heâs fighting the urge to shut down this moment of vulnerability the two of you are sharing. You know heâs really pushing himself, so you try to keep the extra teases locked away for another day, another less intense moment.
You shut yourself up, instead focusing your attention to Jasonâs expansive back. You press harder in the same spot, shameless in your attempt to illicit more noises from him as you whisper, âGive me another.â
He shudders, giving a shaky exhale as he composes himself.
âYouâre evil,â he grumbles, despite almost leaning up into your touch.
âSo evil,â You smile, âTotally evil.â
Not once does your touch on his back falter. He hums in agreement, softly smiling into a pillow.
âIncredibly evil,â Jason sighs. âLucky I like your evil ass.â
âAw,â you say, âRedâs finally going soft. I got you up under me and now you donât know how to act. â
Jason can hear the smile in your words. Choosing to ignore it, he closes his eyes and focuses solely on your touch.
âYeah,â He mumbles, before pausing to consider his words, âGoinâ real soft, only for you.â
#jason todd#batboys x you#jason todd x reader#batboys x reader#batboys x y/n#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd x black!reader#jason todd reader insert#jason todd fic#jason todd blurb#dcu#batboys#jason todd fluff#jason todd drabble#my writing !đď¸đ§#iâm so sick i love this man.
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new bf!rafe getting babied while heâs sick & falling deeper in love
*+:・.・ăă・.・:+*
his room was dark despite being midday, thanks to the blackout curtains shielding an array of windows lining his bedroom walls. you tiptoed carefully into the room, easing the door shut gently with your foot, your hands occupied by the tray of goodies for your sick boyfriend. on the tray was a bowl of soup, tissues, two cool washcloths, and a freshly refilled water bottle.
earlier that day, it didnât take long for you to realize rafe had come down with something. he had been moodier than normal, sneezing and coughing unnecessarily loud, and his nose had been rubbed raw from toilet paper. you ushered him quickly into his room, telling him to nap while you ran out to grab a few things. the trip took longer than youâd thought, and by the time you arrived back to tannyhill, the boy was out cold.
rafe felt the bed dip with weight, and a groan left his lips. his eyes fluttered open and closed repeatedly as you took his temperature. ââm fine, babe. seriously. jusâ have a cold or something.â you couldnât help but roll your eyes, the thermometer showing a whopping 101.5 temperature, indicating a fever.
âmhm, i know. just humor me. will make me feel better knowing youâre getting some rest.â you knew how he was. he wouldnât do anything for himself, but if it meant doing it for youâŚwell, he could manage that. anything to please his girl. rafe nodded his head slightly, prompting you to carry on with your nurse facade.
offering the warm soup, he was quick to deny it, claiming his stomach was turning, and he definitely didnât have any sort of appetite, so you left it on the tray resting on his desk. a moan of relief followed the cold cloth resting against his forehead and sliding down his skin.
âfeels nice,â he grumbled out. your lips formed into a pout, as if you were looking at a sad puppy. he was just so cute, you couldnât help but lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. âi know, baby.â
rafes mouth upturned at the petname, always a sucker for verbal affection. his brain felt like mush, and he wasnât entirely sure that you werenât some figment of his imagination. a moment of weakness, leading him to conjure up someone who knew how to relieve some of the pain he was feeling and make his heart melt at the same time.
you helped him sit up, slipping some medicine into his mouth, followed by water to help him swallow it down. his chest was bare, a light sheen of sweat sweeping across his skin. you were quick to grab the second cloth and gently run it down his chest, cleaning him off and easing the heat he felt. goosebumps rose on his skin at the cold cloth, despite his moans of relief.
his eyes had remained mostly closed, peaking at you sometimes when youâd stop touching him, wondering where youâd gone, but each time he was met with a sweet kiss to his cheek and another swipe of the cold cloth among various areas of his skin. his heart felt heavy with love as you cared for him, gazing at you each time you turned away to grab different items for him. you were like an angel, swooping down and holding his heart in your hands, bringing it back to health.
when the cloth ran warm from his heat, you placed it back on the tray, so you could use it again later after running it under some water. your hand met his forehead, trying to gauge his temperature, even though you already knew what it was.
âmy poor baby, bet you feel so icky right now.â you pouted down at him, watching as his cheeks flushed deeper.
âstop it. iâm fine.â his words did nothing to stop the smile forming on his lips. he was a sucker for your sweet words. he forced his eyes open to look at you, raising his arms out to gesture you in.
âbaby, you have a fever. i know youâre too warm; cuddling wonât help.â despite your response to his gesture, it didnât take much to convince you, which you proved as you lay next to him when he grumbled at you. rafe rested his head on your skin, feeling the coolness of it against his cheek. âjust for a sec, promise. jusâ a second.â
you laid there for the rest of the night, as he had quickly fallen back asleep on you. your soft skin and scent, which he loved so much, provided more comfort than a cool washcloth or some warm soup ever could.
taglist: @sunkissedrafe
#kind of a follow up to my last newbf!rafe post#i love sick rafe#i love him#obx#obx cast#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx imagine#obx x reader#dark rafe cameron#obx smut#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe imagine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron thoughts#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe obx#rafe cameron concepts
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lovey dovey (alt ver of the first one under the cut!)
#HEEHEEEEE GINHIJI BIG LOVE#so refreshing that i can mess around and draw them to my hearts contentâŚ..#so domestic hereâŚâŚ..im sick cough cough splat#i love them so goddamn much you have no idea#all the little moments that are possible are so fun to draw even if i mostly just draw them yelling and arguing most of the time#iâve read too much fluff fic and now this is what i have fhdnnfjdjfn suffer with me#silly men are silly and in love#sakata gintoki#hijikata toushirou#ginhiji#gintoki x hijikata#hijigin#hijikata x gintoki#gintama#ok bye
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IF YOU ASK ME TO LEAVE, IâLL STAY FOREVER ; SATORU GOJO
synopsis; satoru is stubborn; even when plagued by such a high fever, he insists thereâs no need to take care of him. thankfully, youâre equally as stubborn.
word count; 10.8k
contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, implied non-sorcerer!reader, sickfic, reverse comfort, sickening amounts of fluff, lots of petnames, satoru gojo vs the mortifying ordeal of being loved, just a tinyyyy bit of angst if u rlly squint, literally just satoru being pampered for like 10k words straight, heâs cute when heâs sick but still manages to be a lil shit <33, heâs also a huge sap you have been warned!!
a/n; what can i say, im a proud member of the âsatoru gojo needs to be babied relentlesslyâ club <33 heâs just a little guy!! tagging @catchuuu my beloved for being the sweetest enjoy a healthy dose of sick sleepy satoru <33 i am tagging all toru enjoyers in spirit btw i love u all
youâve never seen satoru like this before.
head buried into a big pillow, white locks tousled and sticking to his forehead â skin sweaty, hot to the touch, with a flushed face to match. heavy breaths fall from his parted lips, blinking in and out of consciousness, squeezing his eyes shut.
itâs nothing like the joyous, loud, cocky satoru youâre so used to. heâs weak. heâs fatigued.
heâs completely, undoubtedly sick.
âreally, baby,â he slurs, raspy and dry. still attempting to raise himself up, arms straining under the weight of his shivering body. âthereâs no need fâ ââ
unceremoniously, his limbs give out beneath him, and he tumbles right back down; a meek little wince escaping his throat as his face falls back into the mattress. the sound makes your heart squeeze tightly in your chest.
âah. thatâsâŚâ he tries to speak, a disgruntled hum muffled by the sheets. â⌠annoying.â
satoru sounds frustrated. you can tell heâs resisting the urge to close his eyes, a little helpless, unable to even move properly, like a fish out of water. heâs still breathing unevenly, still sweating, still burning up â you can practically feel it, from where youâre standing, crouched down by his bed.
youâve never, ever seen satoru like this. youâve seen him sniffling during flu season, wrecked with headaches during rainy season. youâve seen him vulnerable; not many times, but enough that it matters.Â
but youâve never seen him like this.
(and it makes you terribly anxious.)
âsatoru, please just ââ you croak, gnawing at your bottom lip. trying desperately to swallow the worry in your chest. âdonât overdo it. please?â
you can hear the anxious little timbre of your own voice, and you can feel the frown tugging at your lips. but you canât do anything to quell the insistent pitter patter of your heartbeat, the ache that accompanies it. satoruâs lying down, still trying to gather the strength to reassure you, even through the feverish haze clouding his mind.Â
he looks so small.
this wasnât what you were expecting to see, today. you were expecting to meet up with satoru, and see his happy little grin, those tiny dimples and freckles that only show themselves in the light of the sun. you were expecting to feel the weight of his hand in yours, as you strolled down to the new crĂŞpe stand heâs been wanting to check out since he first found their instagram account.
you were expecting to see him happy. healthy. a little obnoxious, a little annoying â but hopelessly sweet. all the love you could ever need, molded into a human shape. your little angel.
a sigh slips from your lips. you canât help it; because satoru is just so stubborn, so closed off, and he can be such an idiot sometimes. you knew something was off the moment he sent you that text, asking you oh so charmingly, apologetically, if you could postpone your date for just an hour or so. you knew something was wrong, but he still wouldnât let up until you brought out the 𼺠emojis.Â
and then he told you he was fine. itâs all he ever is, apparently.
my throatâs just a little scratchy, is all. wouldnât want you to miss out on the voice you love so much, yeah?
give me an hour and iâll be perfect for you. <3
moron.
heâs curled up in a fetal position, trying to stop himself from shivering, muttering little reassurances under his breath that you canât make out. wearing ripped jeans and a nice jacket, like he was fully prepared to head out like this â like he genuinely thought an hour, some painkillers and a dream would be enough to chase away a fever this severe. like he was so desperate to see you he was fully willing to take that risk.
moron. moron. he shouldâve called you the moment he realized he was sick. instead, you had to coax him into letting you come over, with a flurry of sad and cute emojis you know make him go weak at the knees when theyâre coming from you.
and here you are. in satoruâs house, in front of his bed, trying to convince him that he is, in fact, sick.Â
but he just wonât listen.
âjust â gimme a couple minutes, honey?â your boyfriend mumbles, barely coherent, stringing words together haphazardly. awfully dizzy. âi just need the painkillers to kick in, i promise i ââ
âsatoru.â
thereâs a sad tint to your voice, now. unmistakable. one that satoru notices, even through the feverish, muddy filter over his reality.Â
and it makes him quiet down.
(he doesnât want to disappoint you.)
as gently as you can, you settle down on the bed, eyes painfully softened. overflowing with care. towering over him, leaning close â to press your lips against his scorching forehead, brushing away his sweaty bangs with a palpable tenderness. your voice soothing, coming out almost as a low coo. youâre frustrated, and exasperated.
but most of all, youâre worried.
âgo back to sleep,â you hum, a gentle command. your hand finds his, cold skin meeting warm, tracing circles over his palm. âiâll take care of you.â
âthereâs no need,â he mutters, instantaneous. so used to denying kindness.Â
but he curls an arm around your waist, anyway, tugging you closer; a little needy. like youâre much too far away for his liking. finally beginning to settle down, coaxed into resting by the soft touches your grace him with. itâs only a matter of time.
so you keep your lips against his forehead, cradling his slender fingers in yours, murmuring little whispered reassurances. and before you know it, his lashes have fluttered shut, like a white dove landing on the ground. he still looks so troubled, so meek. you canât resist the urge to soothe him, hand cupping his face, thumb smoothing over the apple of his cheek. you watch him lean into it, eyes dripping with care. your poor baby.Â
for a couple precious moments, you allow yourself to indulge in the sight. even like this, he looks a bit like an angel, a painting come to life. like one wrong brushstroke could smudge him.Â
so youâre delicate, as you trace little hearts into his skin, delicate as you maneuver his body enough to peel the layers of clothing off him â leaving him in only an oversized tee and a pair of briefs. satoru can only whine, softly, so quiet you barely even hear him. so disoriented, on the brink of falling into a deep slumber. some part of him is trying to resist, youâre sure, still agonizing over the date heâs missing out on. as if anything matters more than his health.
but it doesnât work. he can only let out a tiny groan, hopelessly pliant as you tuck him in, pulling a big blanket over his shoulders. you card through his hair, another soft kiss planted on his sweaty forehead â and your hand stays between his locks until youâre sure heâs asleep. his breathing mellows out, his grip around your waist loosens, seeking comfort from you even in his dreams.
youâd crawl under the blankets with him, but you have work to do.
stealing one final glance at your fever-ridden lover, your heartbeat ricochets. he still looks so meek, all warm and sweaty, shirt sticking to his skin. a frown tugs at your bottom lip.
satoru is always so stubborn, refusing to lean on others for support. you wish he had called you immediately, nagged at you to come baby him. sure, you mightâve sighed in faux exasperation, and teased him a little, but it still wouldâve made you feel happy. useful. and you wouldâve done it in a heartbeat. maybe, if you just prove that you can take care of him properly, heâll do it next time.
so you stand up, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead one last time, and make your way towards the kitchen.
satoruâs house is spacious. a little too spacious, enough for at least three people to live in comfortably; nice furniture, an expensive sofa in the living room, a large tv youâre almost certain he only keeps around for white noise. such are the ways of the rich, you suppose. he doesnât invite you over very often, so youâve never had the chance to get very affiliated with the space. itâs always the other way around â him, waiting for you on the couch when you get home, chirping out an unconvincing donât even worry about it, baby! when you ask how he got in without a key. or him, showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, filling the sleepy silence with jokes to distract you from the bags under his eyes.
(he likes it when you cling to him in your sleep â he sleeps a lot better that way. thatâs what he told you, at least, when you brought him coffee in bed that one time. a little glimmer of honesty.)
he stays over so often he might as well just move in, but you arenât really sure how to even approach that subject. some part of you fears itâd be too much, too intimate, that heâd pack his bags and run away. bringing all his secrets with him, that soft laughter youâve grown so fond of. so you figure itâs better to let him make a home out of yours, let him curl up on your couch and snack on the candy you hid in your kitchen cabinets. thatâs safe for him.
and now that youâve seen his home up close â if you can even call it that â you think youâre starting to understand his preference. because itâs spacious, yes, but also empty. save for expensive furniture and fake houseplants, there isnât anything to indicate that the apartment belongs to him, that he feels comfortable there. like he hasnât even bothered to make it his. like itâs about to be sold, and youâre just one of the potential buyers, checking the place out. admiring the patterns of the floorboards and the walls.
it doesnât feel like satoru at all.Â
his own bedroom was another story, a much more pleasant one. a lot more satoru. filled with little trinkets, key charms and souvenirs and silly figurines. a framed photo of three students by the windowsill, an old uniform hanging by his closet, socks strewn about here and there. a dying houseplant. comic books and movie posters and a ps5 you donât think heâs touched since he finished spiderman 2. a king sized bed, that makes him look like a spoiled little princess when heâs lying in it, next to a cat plushie you won for him at a fair. knowing he actually sleeps with it kind of makes you want to cry.
thereâs this particular scent, too, lingering in the air. mellow, nostalgic, the kind that soothes you with just a whiff; a blend between sunlight, expensive cologne, and something sweet. it clings to all his favorite clothes, to his skin. youâd live in it if you could.Â
something constricts, inside your chest â like thorny vines strangling your beating heart, pressing down ever so slightly. just thinking about it, about him, about his distressed expression as his head hit the pillow. making your way over to his kitchen, getting yourself affiliated with the space, preparing to make a good soup for his fever. the fridge is almost empty, save for sweets and that one drink you like. the takeout boxes on his kitchen table tells you all you need to know.
it only makes you worry more.
luckily, you were clever enough to buy your own ingredients on the way here. chop, chop, into tiny little pieces. chicken soup should help, shouldnât it? itâs all you can focus on, all you can hope for. anything is fine; you just want to help him, be of use somehow. he does so much for you.
you just want to give some of it back.
satoruâs loneliness is a subtle thing. flexible, alert, slipping away at the slightest sign of knowing eyes. for someone whoâs so often surrounded by people, cracking jokes and laughing louder than anyone else, he doesnât seem to make any noise when heâs alone. he curls into himself, just a bit, and a kind of reminiscence smooths over the contours of his face.Â
thatâs when you see him. that lonely, lonely guy. resigned to his self-imposed isolation, paradoxically yearning for something more. watching as the cherry trees bloom, like theyâll give him the answers he seeks once they bear fruit.
but the moment you come into view, he smiles. knowing you wonât push it â that youâll let him take his time. that youâll let him flee, just a little.Â
still, you canât help but wish heâd lean on you a little more. you wish you could chase his loneliness away with a pitchfork, but itâs a fickle creature. you somehow doubt he wants to part with it.Â
all you can do is love him. love him, love him, and love him some more; until heâs had his fill.
(youâre not sure he ever will. itâs a good thing, a very good thing, because youâre almost certain youâll never run out.)Â
and thatâs why youâre here. in his ghost of a home, his kitchen, pouring water into a large pot. tender, sprinkling love over every single action, every slice and dice, every piece of chicken and veggies thrown into the boiling water. you try and you try, hoping itâll reach him.
but before you can make another attempt, something reaches you, instead.
two long arms curl around your waist, suddenly, something warm and soft pressing itself against your back. and you almost flinch, completely caught up in the stirring of the soup, unsure of how much time has passed since you began. it jolts you out of your thoughts.Â
you know who it is, though. never mind the fact that heâs the only other person in the apartment; you know itâs him by his touch alone, the weight of his arms, that particular scent that surrounds him. like memories of summer.
itâs awfully sweet, the way he clings to you, the soft little blissful sigh that slips from his lips. but before you can feel moved at the domesticity of the gesture, worry clouds your senses. he doesnât even get the chance to speak.
âsatoru ââ you place a palm on his forearm, craning your head to look back at him. his forehead rests against your shoulder, and his eyes are closed. heâs still so warm, too warm. âwhat are you doing here? you should be resting.âÂ
your boyfriend mumbles something, under his breath, something that your ears canât quite digest. he shifts, a little, as if getting ready to put on some sort of act â to smile and joke, or laugh and tease you. you can imagine what heâd say if he wasnât in such a feverish state; heâd hug you from behind, a low purr of whatâcha up to? whispered right into your ear. then youâd jolt, and heâd giggle sheepishly, satisfied with the reaction.
but now, all he can do is cough. still leaning against you, gripping onto your midriff a little more desperately than usual. you step away from the stove, turning around, making sure your hands never leave his. looking up at him with concern in your eyes, noticing his little frown.
âcâmon, you need to lie down.â you reach for his cheek, cupping it in your palm, and he practically melts into it. enjoying the chilly sensation to his fever-ridden skin. âthe soupâll be finished soon, okay?â
â⌠you made,â he tries, syllables falling from his lips haphazardly. âsoup ââ a series of coughs. they cut him off, and the worry in your chest only deepens.Â
âdonât push yourself, okay? youâre really sick, dummy.â satoru pouts, but doesnât say anything, only clinging to you tighter when you usher him away. âletâs go back to your room, alright?â
but he wonât budge. heâs so sleepy, so sick and delirious, putting all his body weight on you. you try your best not to stumble beneath it.
âhoney,â you plead, holding him securely in your embrace. his arms around your waist, your hands on his shoulders. âwork with me, please? just gotta get you back to bed ââ
ââsâŚâ he whispers, suddenly, a raspy little thing. scratchy, meek, awfully earnest; you wonder if heâs too sick not to be. â⌠too lonely without you.âÂ
a moment passes. your breath hitches pitifully, at the base of your throat.
satoru is hugging you so tightly, as if you could disappear at any moment, slip away if he doesnât keep you close. heâs holding you as if pleading for comfort, for a touch of safety. as if he needs you. if his meek little admission hadnât already melted your heart the marrow, that thought certainly wouldâve done the job.
taking a moment to collect yourself, you inhale, face surely aflame. satoru just nuzzles into your shoulder, too tired to say anything else, wanting to be close to you. itâs a wonder your knees donât buckle.
gently, you let your hand trail upwards, palm smoothing down his hair. softly, like heâs a clingy, overgrown cat. âsorry,â you start, just a little breathless. âiâll be with you, okay? wonât leave you alone. i promise.â
thereâs an earnesty in your words that you doubt you could ever fake. satoru must hear it too, you think, because he finally begins to work with you. allowing you to stumble towards his bedroom, supporting his weight.
but once you make it to his bed, he still refuses to let go of you.
âtoru, gotta go finish that soup. ân make you some tea.â you rub his back, soothingly, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. shaking his head and emitting a throaty groan, only squeezing you tighter when you try to guide him under the covers. how cruel of him, to act so cute when said soup is most likely boiling over by the stove. âplease, sweetie? it wonât take long. i promise. you can go back to sleep.â
another groggy huff. youâre both still standing by the edge of the bed, and satoru still wonât let you leave. all you can do is sigh, smearing a little kiss against his neck.Â
he squirms, ever so slightly, and you get an idea.
so you keep pressing little kisses against his skin, knowing just how to make him melt. feeling him relax in your embrace, snuggle into your chest, so pliant that he lets you tuck him in â as long as your lips stay pressed against his jaw. before he can realize whatâs happening, you grab hold of the blanket, draping it over him; his half-lidded eyes blinking up at you. you press a final kiss against his forehead, grabbing the cat plushie from the edge of the bed and placing it close enough for satoru to reach if need be.
âiâll hurry, toru. be a good boy and stay here, alright?âÂ
a teasing lilt sneaks into your voice, coaxed out by how adorable your boyfriend looks like this; baby blue eyes all droopy, snowy hair messy as it falls across the cushion heâs resting on. blinking sluggishly, grunting a little in response.Â
when you scurry off the bed and make your way towards the door, you glance back at him. heâs still looking in your direction, with half-lidded eyes, and your chest aches. âiâll be back soon, baby,â you try to soothe him. âtry to sleep.â
this time, you hurry. body working almost on autopilot, images of your boyfriend still tugging at your heartstrings like heâs arranging an orchestra, moving your legs forward. before you know it, youâre walking back, carrying a tray with both your hands. steam wafts up from the hot soup and the warm cup of tea, shaking a little as you walk, a pair of painkillers in your pocket. just in case he needs more. an eager, pulsating joy rushes through your veins â now you can be with him, tend to him, not leave him alone in a room so like him you wish you could stay there forever.Â
your footsteps are light, almost careful as they cross the threshold. satoru stirs, waiting for you to come to his side, looking like a kicked puppy in his giant bed. he tries to lift himself up, but it looks like it requires an intense amount of focus, like his elbows could buckle any second.Â
âcareful,â you croon, hurrying over, placing the tray on the nightstand. gently pushing him back down on the mattress. he complies almost instantly, too out of it to put up a real fight. staring at you, as if in awe.
to satoru, you appear almost as an angel, a somewhat blurry figure that he recognizes without looking. your very presence is soothing, like a lullaby in human form. with the hazy filter clouding his mind, he canât even seem to form words correctly â all satoru can focus on is you. your movements, the lilt of your voice, a cold hand dulling the heat of his forehead. Â
his fever still hasnât gone down. you try and muster a smile, but youâre sure it must look painfully coated in unease. crouching down, you place your elbows on the bed, your jaw meeting the mattress. youâre at eye level with him, now.
âhey,â you start, low and comforting. you donât want to be too loud. âsorry it took so long.â
using what little energy he has left, satoru crosses the distance between you, inching closer and closer. noticing it, you reach a hand out to cup his cheek â lips quick to find his forehead. a barely audible sigh leaves him, and you smile.
âdâyou think you can eat?â you whisper, gazing at him fondly. treating him a little like a baby, maybe, but you canât help it when heâs like this. quiet as a mouse. âi made soup and tea⌠sound okay?â
he tries to make a noise. it comes out sounding like a strange blend between a dissatisfied groan and an affirming hum, but he still ends up nodding slightly. you wonder if indulging you is ingrained into his bone structure.Â
â⌠okay. think you can sit up, toru?â
once again, your boyfriend only hums â but he does begin to move, trying to hoist himself up, wobbling pitifully. you help, keeping him steady until his spine meets the headboard. slumped against it, he blinks slowly, feverishly.
âthank you.â you press a chaste kiss against his cheek, before reaching for the cup of tea, the scent of chamomile and lavender filling your senses. you blow on it softly. âhere. it should help with your throat, so try to drink a bit, okay? sâ got honey in it.â
silently, he accepts the cup, bringing it to his lips. when he takes a sip, you catch the slightest hint of a grimace on his lips; even with your warning of careful, itâs hot, you think he must have managed to burn his tongue.Â
satoru keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to worry you. but he canât say bringing himself to drink it is an easy endeavor, with how sweaty it makes him feel, how it forces him to acknowledge how painfully dry his throat is. how he canât even taste the herbs.
he wants to be good for you, though.
so he gulps it down, slowly, managing to sip almost all of it until you decide to give him a break. compared to this morning, he already feels just a little better, a little less like heâs in a fever dream. youâre sitting by the bedside, so patient, so caring. he canât take his eyes off you, even now. clearing his throat, attempting to get used to speaking again. âthanks.â
the mutter sounds strained, but slightly easier on the ears, easier to make out than before. courtesy of the honey, you assume. gosh, you hadnât realized youâd begun to miss his voice so much.Â
âno problem,â you hum, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. âthink you can eat something? or is that too much?â
ââcourse,â he croaks. thereâs a slight sense of liveliness in his eyes that wasnât there before, but before he can continue, heâs caught off by a small coughing fit. harmless, but sufficient in making you worry.Â
âno need to force yourself,â you soothe, patting down his head, watching as he quiets down. the tea mightâve given him a temporary energy boost, but you still donât want him to overdo it. âjust relax, satoru.â
he hums, weakly, and you reward him with a light ruffle of his hair. then you direct your attention to the soup on the nightstand, still hot, smelling of vegetable broth and fresh chicken and coriander. you bring the bowl down to your lap, and take a spoonful of the soup, blowing on it like you did with the tea. bringing it towards his lips.Â
âi dunno if itâll taste very good,â you admit, scratching absently at the back of your neck. âbut it should help with the fever, at least. iâd be happy if you could eat a bit.â
as his lips make contact with the metal of the spoon, satoru canât help but let himself be swept away. he still feels a little too hazy, too feverish to really comprehend whatâs happening; he feels oddly bare like this, vulnerable, a little afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he doesnât keep it shut. so he opts to accept the treatment heâs receiving, not putting up a fight or making a fuss. not meeting your expectant eyes.
(he feels a little shy, being spoonfed by you. how very unlike him.)
the soup does feel soothing. he thinks he can even get a sense of the taste, how hard you mustâve worked on it. but more than anything, the way youâre acting is like balm to his soul â looking at him so kindly, treating him so tenderly. offering him spoon after spoon with gentle words of encouragement. being babied in such a way makes him feel so oddly content that heâs almost embarrassed. it should be the other way around.Â
yet here you are, spoonfeeding him soup that you made yourself, because heâs sick, even though he hates to admit it, and you care about him. he allows the information to linger in the back of his head, for a while, wallowing in the comfort it brings him. fully comprehending it would take too much of a toll on him, in this state.Â
satoru basks in the intimacy of the situation, and so do you. brushing strands of hair away when they stick to his skin, pressing your lips against his forehead to check his temperature. you keep doing it until satoruâs appetite dwindles.
âalright, that should be fine ââ you glance down at the bowl, now roughly half-empty. more than enough, you think. âuhh⌠how do you feel?â
â⌠better,â satoru answers, truthfully, the ghost of a smile on his glossy lips. âthank you.â
for a second, you only stare, saying nothing. thereâs something in satoruâs expression that catches you off guard, something thatâs a little hard to identify. is it the way the light reflects off his skin, his pupils? the red, feverish flush of his skin? that flimsy little smile? or is it the honesty in his eyes, the way heâs looking at you like heâs trying to convey something he canât put into words?Â
as you look at him, take him in, the boy you love so dearly, you canât help but feel like he just carved open his chest â let you peek inside his ribcage. itâs hard not to feel flustered, in the presence of something so vulnerable.
and heâs thanking you. as if taking care of him is a great burden, a chore, something youâd demand gratitude for. you want to tell him that itâs the bare minimum, the very least of what he deserves. the very least of what you could, should do for him.
you want to tell him that heâs safe, here. that thereâs no need to be the strongest, whatever the hell that means, that he can let go of the burdens you know he hides from you. that he can just be your sick, terribly stubborn boyfriend.
â⌠okay,â is all you breathe out, every other word getting stuck in the back of your throat. âthatâs good.â
satoruâs fingers curl around yours, suddenly, where they lay on your lap. his movements are still a little groggy, disoriented, as he brings your hand up to his lips. theyâre warm and soft, especially so in light of his fever. he closes his eyes, white lashes catching the light of the sun, flitting in through the haphazardly closed blinds. your heartbeat stutters.
â⌠love you,â he mutters. a soft little thing. your eyes donât leave his face, and your lips part before your brain can instruct them to.
âi love you too,â you blurt out, instantaneous. like you couldnât bear to keep him waiting. â⌠satoru.â
he smiles against your skin. he always does, at the sound of those words. you make him feel so terribly, terribly weak, all the time, everyday. you make him feel so human, and he canât bring himself to think of it as a bad thing anymore.Â
heâs still cradling your hand when he brings it down to the blanket. âthanks for coming,â he continues, pushing himself. trying to get the words out while he still has the energy to say them. âyou didnât have to.â
theyâre a little clumsy, a little stale on his tongue, but theyâre honest. he is thankful â the prospect of being seen like this is discomforting, gruelingly so, but he doesnât mind nearly as much if itâs you. heâd never tell you, but he did feel just a little lonely, when he woke up this morning. disoriented, enveloped by hot flashes of pain, in a way heâs not used to in the slightest. missing out on your date, too, that he had been looking forward to ever since you decided on a time.Â
but, as if sensing it, you came to his rescue. the feeling of your lips on his skin was the first sensation he felt, when he woke up for the second time â with you by his side, this time. his guardian angel, carrying the scent of spring with you. the memory of a certain boy, of better times.Â
(satoru thinks youâre nostalgia personified. he likes to imagine that you met as children, underneath a cherry tree somewhere, but he knows itâs not true. thereâs no way he wouldnât remember you.)
you smile. pleased, at his show of vulnerability, small as it may be. âi wanted to,â you assure him. equally honest, equally full of double meanings and hidden messages that neither of you need to uncover to understand. â⌠i care about you. of course iâd come.â
a light, raspy chuckle; thatâs all satoru manages to vocalize. his mind is stuffed, and thereâs an ache in his chest, longing to be filled. itâs been there for a while now. but somehow, some way, you manage to fill it up, slowly but surely, almost effortlessly â with every sound you make, every slight movement, every flicker of an expression on your face. everything seems so effortlessly perfect, in his eyes.
the words leave his lips before his mind can think the thought to reel them back in.Â
âwhat did i do to deserve youâŚ?â
you blink. a moment passes.
then your eyes soften, considerably so, crumbling at the corners like the cookies satoru loves so much. heâs looking at you, eyes soft in a similar sense, layered over with adoration. you think the love inside your chest might crawl out of your throat and eat him alive.
a chuckle of your own drips into the air, quivering slightly. terribly fond. this time, youâre the one who drags his hand up to meet your lips; kissing his knuckle softly. his breath hitches.
âiâm the one who should be saying that to you,â you grin, a little weakly. and you mean it. you donât think youâve ever meant anything more.Â
itâs so honest that it strikes a cord right down his heart, more heat than the fever can account for rushing to his cheeks. satoru hopes you donât notice it. all he can do is squeeze your fingers, lightly, not trusting his voice not to break. silence lingers, and you only gaze at him softly.Â
â⌠do you want anything else?â you finally ask, with a tilt of your head. still so eager to assist, racking your brain to come up with anything else to do for him. âiâll get it for you, no matter what it is.â
and, truthfully, satoru thinks youâve done more than enough. more than he could ever make up for. but heâs always been greedy, and thereâs one thing, only one thing, one thing he canât help but ask for. something he craves more than anything. he canât help but indulge himself, indulge in his selfishness, in the need to feel your skin against his.Â
so he stretches his arms out, and looks at you with a distinctly needy glint in his eyes. his fingers move in a grabby motion, almost unconsciously, and he mightâve been embarrassed if he wasnât still so feverish. all he wants is to keep you close, to make the hollowness inside his chest dissipate. you always make that lonely feeling go away.
needless to say, you heed his request. almost instantly, your heart pumping in a steady rhythm, with this visceral desire to keep him close, to protect him. and who are you to resist, when heâs asking for it himself?
you waste no time crawling beneath the covers, situating yourself right next to your lover. only then do you finally, finally, reach your arms out to pull him close; so close you feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart. his cheek meets the softness of your chest, snuggling closer, and you card a hand through his soft locks. his arms reach around your midriff, a perfect puzzle piece, and he releases an audible sigh â deep and satisfied. in his tired, clingy state, he subconsciously throws a leg over yours, trapping you further.Â
you wouldnât have it any other way.Â
finally, satoru can fall asleep. with the fever still clouding his senses, and your nimble fingers smoothing along his scalp, the occasional kiss to his head as he listens to your soft heartbeat, heâs drifted off before either of you know it. melting into you, into your warm embrace, cheek squished against your chest. tiny little breaths fall from his lips, and you feel like youâre cradling the whole world in your arms.Â
youâre relieved. making yourself comfortable on your back, with satoru sleeping soundly on top of you, hoping heâll feel better when he wakes up. careful, even with your breathing, intent on letting him sleep. knowing he doesnât get nearly as much rest as he should, most days.Â
before long, even you succumb to the cozy atmosphere, gradually dozing off. satoru is always warm, even more so now, and his weight is comforting.
stifling a yawn, you tug him a little bit closer, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. you could use a day of catching up on lost sleep, too.
when you wake up, youâre acutely aware of something poking your cheek.
itâs a ticklish sensation, sort of irritating, and it rouses you from your cozy slumber. disgruntled, so cruelly ripped away from your sweet dreams â satoru was in it, you think. you feel robbed.
still, you canât be too mad. not when the real deal is right in front of you, eyes crinkled and full of warmth, a teasing smile on his lips. heâs still snuggled into your chest, all cozy and cute, as you lay on your back, propped up by a myriad of fluffy pillows. he looks up at you adoringly.
âwell hello there,â he purrs, shooting a giddy little grin your way. still poking your cheek. âwakey-wakey, sunshine!â
a series of blinks. you stir a little further, the sleepy haze of your brain beginning to slip off, slowly but surely. it takes a couple of seconds for you to remember why youâre here, what happened before you fell asleep.Â
â⌠hey,â you greet, at last, stifling a yawn and squeezing your eyes shut. stretching lazily, like a sleepy cat. âhow do you feelâŚ?â
âiâm perfect. better than perfect, actually,â satoru chirps, a little cheeky, hoisting himself up so that heâs hovering above you. a hint of mischief in those pretty eyes. âyouâre a good nurse, yâknow?â
you huff out a chuckle. as always, his actions reveal more than his words â you could tell he felt a lot better the moment you saw his smile, heard how he formed his words. âalright, thatâs good,â you hum, exhaling softly. âhow long was i asleep? what time is it?â
âi woke up just now, too,â satoru lies, albeit a small one. he did wake up recently, only to spend what he thinks mustâve been at least fifteen minutes staring at you until he physically couldnât take it anymore. he had to hear your voice, see your smile. itâs a personal record for him; usually he spends less time admiring your peaceful expression, far too eager to speak to you.
âitâs pretty late,â he continues, another small lie. pleased with himself. âway too late for you to go back, actually. how about you spend the night?â
another blink, your eyelids heavy and droopy as they open and close. then youâre reaching for your phone on the nightstand, and checking the time. a smile is quick to bloom on your lips, teasing and bubbly, as you tilt your head to meet his gaze.
âitâs only four, satoru.â
âway, way too late,â he only reaffirms, flopping down on top of you again, keeping you from leaving. âgod knows what kinda creeps are out there at this hour â much too unsafe. iâm just looking out for you, baby.â
âof course,â you indulge him, a sly little roll of your eyes that makes him pout. âyou know i was planning on staying over anyway, right?â
âwell, of course! i wouldnât expect anything less from my favorite nurse.â
his eyes betray his words, gleaming with a sudden colour of excitement, all glitter and relief. a joy that clogs up his throat like seafoam, and spills out from his lips. you look down at him, for a second, unable to resist the temptation â reaching for his forehead with the back of your hand.Â
itâs significantly less scalding, now.Â
you let out a sigh, laced with relief, one you didnât know youâd been holding in. âit really has gone down,â you hum, stretching the sleep from your limbs again. âthatâs good.â
satoru huffs. âi said i was perfect, right? donât you trust me, my sweet lover?â
âi never know with you,â you give him a huff of your own, exasperated. fond. âyou said you were just fine this morning, too.â
âi was!â he whines. piling up lie after lie. âi totally couldâve made it to that date, you know. i got worse because you had no faith in my abilities.â
âright. of course.â you shoot him a lopsided grin. âyou just donât wanna admit the fever beat your ass, huh?â
âsee? no faith.â a chuckle slips from your lips, and satoru has to bite back a smile. âunbelievable. i fought that fever off just for you, and here you are, laughing at me.â
âoh? i thought it was thanks to my top notch nursing skills?â
âwell, that too! but it was mostly me.â
a sigh. âwhatever you say.â then youâre smiling, once more, unable to help yourself. eyes crinkled at the edges, soft around the corners. âiâm just glad youâre better. i was worried.â
satoru pouts, again, but you can tell he acknowledges it â your earnest concern. this is how you love, the both of you, through words that never say it all and actions that say the words your mouths canât fit. decoding the meaning of it all in silent gestures, glints in your eyes. little truth games.
âyou really thought a lilâ fever was gonna be enough to keep me down?â he shakes his head once, then twice. and you know that what he means to say is i never want you to worry. âcâmon, now, baby.â
another lighthearted roll of your eyes. âyeah, yeah, yeah. my sincerest apologies, my strong, stubborn, totally-not-sick boyfriend.â
âdonât you mean your strong, perfect, beautiful, clever, flawless, totally-not-sick boyfriend?â
âdonât think i didnât notice you sneaking the stubborn out of there.â
âhehe.â
a silent moment passes, something tender filling up the space between your words. satoruâs weight is still so comforting, like a big blanket, his arms enveloping you as he breathes in your scent. youâre so happy that heâs acting insufferable again.
âalright, my honeybee,â he suddenly chirps, breaking the silence, hoisting himself up. âtime to go. we can still get those crĂŞpes if we hurry.â
you blink. once, then twice.
â⌠satoru.â
âyeah? whatâs up?â
you give him an unimpressed look, gazing up at him, towering over you like he fully thought youâd be alright with letting him leave. âyouâre⌠not going out today,â you deadpan. âyou know that, right?â
this time, heâs the one who blinks. once, then twice.
âhuh? why not?â
âuh, because youâre sick, maybe?â
âwhat?â satoru pretends to be shocked, offended, as if he canât believe youâd even suggest something so outrageous. âiâm all better, though!â
you raise an eyebrow, thoroughly displeased. all better? âyour fever isnât gone, satoru. itâs just not horrible anymore. youâll get yourself even more sick if you go out now.â
âi wonât! seriously!â he insists, looking down at you with a sorry attempt at puppy dog eyes. âi feel good enough to run a marathon!â
âyouâre not doing that either,â you mutter. then a sigh, exasperated. you canât let this charade go on for too long. âcome on, satoru â donât be so stubborn. we can go there another time.â
âbut ââ
âbesides, didnât you say i have to spend the night because itâs too late to go outside? remember the creeps?â thereâs amusement in your voice, a light smile on your lips. âwhat if they get us?â
âwell, they obviously wonât get you while iâm there,â he huffs. âwhat, you donât think i can protect you properly? youâre hurting me, angel.â
you bite back an incredulous laugh. god, heâs stubborn. youâre so in love with him you just barely restrain the urge to pull him in for a kiss.
âsa-to-ru,â you coo, dragging each syllable out, sending a shiver down his spine. âweâre not going outside. end of discussion.â
âwhy not, though?â he continues to pout, still refusing to give in. resorting to cheap guilt-tripping. âdonât you wanna go on a date with me? you donât want to see me happy, is that it?â
you only sigh, thoroughly exasperated, reaching up to cup his cheek nonetheless. he nuzzles into it. âyouâre such a baby.â
âyour baby.â
another sigh, to mask your adoration. at this rate, the back and forth will never end, so you scramble for solutions.
âcanât we just have our date here?â you suggest, after some contemplation. âi bought some ice cream on my way here. we could watch a movie, or something. isnât that enough?â
satoruâs eyes bore into yours. contemplative, as he lets the silence linger, gears turning inside his mind. he wants to go outside with you, wants to hold your hand and hear you hum happily as you bite into your crĂŞpe; wants to steal a bite when youâre not looking.
but it is a tempting offer. you could eat ice cream, and binge a bunch of movies, and he could rest his head in your lap. coax you into playing with his hair.
(heâs maybe, just maybe, a little bit tired, too.)
so, finally, he sighs â softly. in resignation.Â
â⌠well, i guess thatâs fine,â he pouts, allowing himself to fall back into your embrace. his voice is muffled, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. âi wanted crĂŞpes, thoughâŚâ
âiâll get you your crepes,â you assure him, relieved to have reached a compromise. âi can go buy âem myself and come back. then we ââ
âno, no, no!â satoru suddenly interjects. whining, tugging you closer. âyouâre not going anywhere. not without me!â
a sigh, just as adoring as it is fatigued. âthen iâll⌠order crĂŞpes, or something. or weâll eat ice cream today and then crĂŞpes when youâre better. does that sound okay?â
satoru is silent, for a while.
â⌠okay,â he hums. âthatâs fine.â
âhaah. okay, good ââ
âhowever!âÂ
you give him a look, a silent what now? that has him smiling. shuffling a little, in your embrace, planting his jaw on top of your chest and gazing up at you with a grin. âinstead of the crĂŞpes, i want a kiss.â
you blink. exasperated, as an amused chuckle follows. âso convoluted. you can just ask, you know?â you donât give him time to answer, eager to appease the pouty man. âwhatever.âÂ
leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. sweet and soft. to your surprise, heâs still pouting when you pull away. âi meant on the lips,â he explains, as if it was obvious.Â
a tilt of your head.Â
â⌠but youâre sick.â
âso?â satoru just pouts, expression practically etched into his face at this point. âyou wonât kiss me anymore? just cause iâve got a tiny, miniscule fever?â he huffs, turning his head to the right and shutting his eyes. âif you donât love me anymore, you can just say that.â
another sigh leaves your lips. heâs so ridiculous. you canât really deny him, though.
â⌠fine. itâs your fault if i get sick, though.â
in the blink of an eye, heâs perked right back up. wagging his non-existent tail, closing his eyes and waiting for you to try again. silly.
but you relent. his lips are only slightly warmer than usual, and you choose to see it as the good sign it is, proof that his fever truly is starting to dissipate. you feel satoru relax, melting into the kiss, but before it can drag out too long youâve pulled away. ââ there. happy now?âÂ
âfor now,â he quips, equally teasing. heâs cute, though. a little kiss or two is a small price to pay for the spark of joy in his iris, even if it ends with you sick on your deathbed in a couple of days.Â
âthatâll do,â you grin, hoisting yourself up with your elbows, carrying satoru with you, his jaw still on your chest. âwanna go eat some ice cream, mr unreasonable?â
you donât really need an answer. of course satoru wants ice cream. youâve never seen him turn down anything sweet â and, lo and behold, he perks up again, getting into a sitting position. like an excited puppy.Â
âgot it,â you chuckle, stopping to think for a moment. âthereâs soup left, too. but maybe youâd rather order something? it turned out kinda so-so.â
satoru gapes. âyou kidding? that was the best soup iâve ever had!âÂ
his exclamation makes you roll your eyes, words so coated in confidence that you almost want to believe him. âsatoru. you donât have to lie.â
âiâm not!â
âyou couldnât even taste it.â
âi could, i could!â he stubbornly whines. âi tasted all your love. every single drop!â
you give him a look. he only grins at you, a little teasing, a little giddy. you canât help but feel a bit embarrassed; averting your gaze with a sharp scoff. âyeah? and how did my love taste?â
satoru leans forward. itâs sudden, and you blink, instinctively leaning back in turn. heâs wearing a signature smirk when he stops moving, close enough that you feel his breath on your skin. hot.
âdelicious,â he purrs, glancing down at your lips. blue eyes gleaming with mirth. âbest thing iâve ever had.â
you know heâs just trying to fluster you, so you try to fight against it, but it doesnât work nearly as well as youâd like â crumbling under his gaze, averting your own with a quiet huff. and he lets you off the hook, satisfied with your embarrassed expression. pulling back slightly, letting you breathe.Â
as swiftly as you can, you regain your composure. clearing your throat. âwell, you can have more of it later, then,â you make a move to get off the bed. âletâs go eat ice cream.â
after being caged in by satoru for so long, your limbs are a little stiff, caught under the weight of his boundless love. when your feet hit the soft flooring, you stretch them out, watching satoru follow your lead. still clad in that sweaty shirt.
âyou should probably get a change of clothes,â you suggest, exhaling as your muscles loosen up. âyouâve been wearing that shirt all day.â
âoh? is that an excuse to see me out of it, sweetheart?â satoru grins, fresh mischief gleaming in his eyes. âyou know you can always just ask.âÂ
you huff out a sardonic breath. âyeah, yeah, whatever. throw on a hoodie or something, weirdo.â you stifle a giggle when he makes an offended noise behind you. âand some pants.â
âyou donât like the underwear?â he looks towards the corner of the room, studying himself in the mirror. âthis is an expensive brand, you know?â
âyouâre the only person on planet earth whoâd give a fuck about underwear brands,â you scoff, a little snarky. âjust â put some comfortable clothes on, okay? iâll go get the ice cream ready.â
âwait!â he exclaims, attaching himself to you, curling his arms around your bicep. âyouâre not allowed to go anywhere without me, remember?âÂ
â⌠okay, okay. hurry up and get changed, then.â
sitting back down on the bed, while satoru walks towards the closet, you scroll through your phone â refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, youâre well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek. you wonât give him the satisfaction.
when heâs done, heâs wearing a comfy hoodie and some sweatpants. itâs a good look on him, casual and cozy. awfully cute. he wastes no time in attaching himself to you, again, an arm linked with yours as you travel to the kitchen; grabbing the pints of ice cream from the freezer, a couple snack bags from the drawers, before plopping down on the couch.
satoru maneuvers you into his lap, and you donât put up a fight, leaning into him as your back meets his chest. he keeps you locked in place, arms around your waist, planting his jaw on the top of your head. and he relaxes, comforted by your smaller body pressed up against his. holding you so close satisfies a certain protective itch in his brain, never failing to calm him down. a safe haven, of sorts.
you watch the movie and eat the snacks, chattering away, letting the silence linger every now and then. after a while, satoru gets a slight headache, resting his head in your lap and whining for you to soothe him. you do so without any teasing; youâre much too soft for him. and heâs still sick, even if heâs doing better. you couldnât resist him even if you tried.
so you opt to indulge him.
âbaby, i think my feverâs going up againâŚâ satoru pouts, gazing up at you through fluttering lashes. âcan you check?â
you smile, with a raise of your eyebrow. âthis is the fifth time youâve asked me to check your temperature, toru.â
âjust wanna make sure,â he whines. âplease?â
with an exaggerated sigh, you lean down, lips once again meeting his forehead â humming against his skin. nope, his temperature hasnât gone up. just like it hadnât gone up the last time you checked, or the time before that.
âyouâre good.â
âoh, thank god,â he exhales. âare you sure? like, a hundred percent sure? maybe you should check again. just in case.â
âsatoru,â you coo, a teasing lilt on the tip of your tongue. âyou can just ask me if you want a kiss.â
âa kiss? scandalous. i just wanna make sure my condition doesnât worsen.â
heâs grinning, and youâre rolling your eyes, and both of you know damn well youâre going to indulge him anyway. he sighs in satisfaction when he feels your soft lips on his heated skin.
âhmmâŚâ you narrow your eyes, thoughtfully, before looking down at him with a teasing smile. ânope. definitely still the same temperature.âÂ
âyou sure?â
âa hundred percent.â
âhmm. okay, got it.â he rolls over, burying his face in your stomach. wrapping his limbs around your midriff. âthatâs good. just wanted to check, you know?â
âof course.â
âmight need you to check again soon. just to be safe,â he chirps, biting back a soft grin. you donât bother hiding yours.
âgot it, got it,â you coo, fingers carding through his messy hair. âanything for my sick baby.âÂ
satoru releases a soft breath, bordering on a giggle. you canât help but let your smile grow wider, heart brimming with affection. you let it clog up your chest until the movieâs almost over, and you simply canât help yourself anymore.
âyour room is very like you.â
itâs sudden, breaking the peaceful silence, making satoru stir. youâre both starting to get sleepy again. but he blinks up at you, studying your expression before parting his lips.
â⌠oh? how so?â
âwellâŚâ you stop to think. humming, absently fidgeting with a lock of your boyfriendâs hair. âwhen i first walked in, i thought the whole house felt kind of empty, you know?â
satoru hums. unsure of where the conversation is going, maybe just a little intrigued. he mostly just likes listening to you talk.Â
âbut then i went into your room, and â it just felt very you. kinda messy, and stuff, but cozy. and a little sentimental.â satoru looks up at you, admiring that certain soft glimmer in your eyes. you meet his stare with a smile. âmaybe it doesnât make sense? i guess iâve just been thinking about it.â
he closes his eyes.
thereâs something soft in your tone, something silky and simple, and he can tell youâre being sincere. itâs something he likes about you â that willingness to be soft, almost pridefully so, to bare yourself even if you arenât sure that heâll return the favour. he likes to think itâs rubbing off on him, slowly but surely; he doesnât think heâs quite as bad as before. telling you about things that are dear to him isnât something that scares him, anymore. and even when you see him vulnerable, sick and delirious in bed, he isnât afraid that youâll use it against him.
youâre a comfort; his safe haven. a place to rest his weary head. maybe you always have been, even before he really got to know you.
âi like your place more,â he finally admits, lighthearted in its weight. your gaze flits down, but his is still lingering on the tv, not really paying attention to it. âit feels very⌠you.â
a smile crawls up to rest against your lips. playing along, your hands finding solace in between his fluffy locks. âhow so?â
and satoru smiles. eyes sparkling with something mellow, like a soda pop cracked open on a boiling summer day. he shifts a little, just to gaze up at you again. âitâs⌠homely. warm,â his smile only grows. âand awfully sentimental.â
he lifts a hand up, to touch your cheek. tender, as his thumb smooths against your skin. itâs warm, beneath his touch, heating up with every word he speaks. satoruâs love feels a little like the sun, when it spills out this fervently, like it could burn you into cinders â you think youâd be happy to lie in the ashes. heâs smiling at you, like sunshine, like little dusty specks of light. and he exhales.
âi wouldnât mind staying there forever.â
the expression on his face is a lovely one. you take a moment to simply bask in it, desperate to etch it into your memory. you donât think you could forget it even if you tried. how fondly the light of the room embraces him, that soft grin heâs shooting your way, only vaguely teasing. and his eyes, the gateways to his soul, so sincere you canât look away.
you love this man with your whole chest. you knew before, youâve known for a long time, but each day you fall in love all over again. itâs all you can think as you look at him, all snug and safe and happy in your lap.
you donât realize youâve been staring at him silently until he chuckles, pulling you out of your sentimental stupor. it only flusters you further.
âyouâre cute,â satoru croons, still cradling your cheek. tender, soft fingertips against your heated skin. all you manage is a meek little furrow of your brows, but that only makes him chuckle again.
â⌠you can.â
he blinks. still smiling.
âstay forever, i mean.â
you canât look at him, when you say it. the words are barely above a whisper, and you arenât sure if theyâre conscious or not. itâd be nice to say they just slipped out, but they feel somewhat deliberate, all the same. you know you mean them, either way. itâs the one thing youâre sure of.
this time, satoru is the one who can do nothing but stare, his expression unreadable. you try not to let your gaze wander to his face, his eyes; but through the peripheral of your vision, you feel like you catch a particular kind of sadness reflected in them. or maybe itâs something closer to yearning, longing. something like that.
â⌠well,â he finally hums, voice so low you barely pick up on it. âmaybe i will, then.â
you reach something.Â
you catch a glimpse of it, at least, for just a second or two. something warm and bare, something simple and incomprehensible at the same time. an emotion so strong it leaves you reeling, yet still so light. itâs there and then it isnât, just out of reach, and you think that if you could only find the courage to curl your fingers around his, then â
a laugh track plays from the tv, snapping you both out of your thoughts.
(the moment passes before you can fully understand it, fully comprehend it. maybe some part of you already has.)
âŚ
satoru chuckles, reaching for another ball of mochi and popping it into his mouth. âthis movieâs awful, huh?â
âyeah,â youâre quick to agree, maybe a little too quick. grinning weakly. âitâs good in a so bad itâs good kinda way, though.â
he hums in absentminded agreement, still chewing on the soft treat. keeping his gaze steady on the screen, the flicker of emotional scenes he hasnât been keeping track of, barely resisting the urge to look up at you again. but his heart already feels a little too mushy for his liking â heâs not sure he could take it.
satoru doesnât get sick often.
his immune system is strong, thereâs no denying that. but more than anything, he simply canât afford to be sick. there are people who need him, people who depend on him, and the idea of being in such a defenseless state â stuck in bed while the world continues to spin, unattended â makes him feel so anxious he could throw up. even sleeping makes him feel a little skittish, sometimes, though heâs gotten a lot better since he started falling asleep with you in his arms.
itâs funny, he thinks. before you, being sick wasnât something that really existed in his world. if he felt a little under the weather he would simply puff out his chest and down a painkiller or two, waving it off with a flick of his wrist; no biggie, really. heâs satoru gojo, after all, and the world needs his eyes on it.
but then you came along. you came to his rescue, spring in your pockets, and you took care of him, with what he knows to be love. genuine, earnest concern for his wellbeing. his happiness.
yeah â itâs funny, for sure. satoru never thought heâd ever enjoy being sick.Â
yet here he is, head in your lap, feeling you run your fingers through his hair. kissing his forehead whenever he whines, indulging his little convoluted ploys. bringing him soup, when he gets hungry again, soup you made yourself. he wasnât kidding when he said he tasted your love through it; it was all he could taste, with his numbed out senses, all he could feel.
youâre so good to him. thereâs nothing he would trade for these moments with you, absolutely nothing. heâs glad you came over, after all. glad youâre so stubborn, and oh so caring. satoru canât help but smile, heart almost stuffed to the brim with gratitude â what could he possibly do with this immense love in his chest?
âi love you so much,â he blurts out, practically beaming. now youâre in his lap, again, and he takes the opportunity to smear openmouthed kisses against your neck. delighting in the little squeak you try to muffle.
âwhere did that come from?â you blink, squirming a little in his embrace. a movie is still playing on the tv screen, one better than the last â your attention was fixed on it before satoru broke the silence.
âjust felt like saying it!â he only chirps, grinning ear to ear. âi love you. youâre the best thing that ever happened to me,â he murmurs, earnestly, lips against your skin. âmy whole world.â
for a moment, you wonder if the fever is making him delirious. then again, this is pretty standard for satoru; always eager to fluster you, to shower you with love until youâre pushing him away. itâs overwhelming, but youâve never minded. this is how you measure his love â little gaps between too much and never enough.
â⌠youâre not gonna say it back?â comes a whine, right by your ear. now heâs nibbling at your neck, little beast that he is, pouting because you let the silence linger for too long. heâs being such a baby about it. but you still rush to reassure him, echoing his words in earnest.Â
âi love you too, satoru,â you smile, slightly exasperated. craning your neck so that your lips can meet his jaw, and satoru grins, giddy at the attention. âmy whole universe.â
satoru lets out a happy little noise, almost a giggle, sleepy and pleased. his arms squeeze you just a little tighter, like you could never be close enough, even when heâs got you in his lap like this. if he could, heâd keep you there all the time. attached at the hip, close as can be.Â
even with a ruined date, even after worrying you, he feels well and truly satisfied. because you're here, and youâre watching a good movie, and youâre gonna stay over tonight. when it gets dark out, heâll get to fall asleep cuddled up beside you, hold you in his arms and feel you nuzzle into his chest. then heâll pepper your face with kisses to wake you up, and youâll grumble all sweetly, and heâll carry you to the kitchen despite your grumpy protests. youâll eat breakfast together, chatting and enjoying the way the sunlight flickers around the room like a happy cat. maybe he can even make you breakfast himself, to thank you for today.Â
if the feverâs gone by then, youâll probably let him outside. then you can go get those crĂŞpes, and maybe go to a park, or to the movie theatre, or a fun arcade, before heading back to your apartment to relax. and then heâll stay over. the day after, too. and the day after that.
living together with you wouldnât be so bad, he thinks. it wouldnât be bad at all, actually.Â
the thought has been on his mind for a while, now. getting to fall asleep with you every night, eat breakfast with you every morning, see more of your footprints in his life⌠satoru canât think of anything heâd like more. maybe heâll start hinting at it, slowly but surely. if he can lure you into broaching the subject, that would be ideal â but if he has to, he doesnât mind doing it himself. youâre worth the emotional toll.
you curl into your boyfriend a little further, his jaw now resting cheekily on the top of your head, large palms underneath your shirt and rubbing circles into your bare skin. you have no idea what heâs thinking, no idea about his plans, and he thinks thatâs for the best. he knows youâll indulge him, at the end of the day.
maybe heâll just ask you, tomorrow. if you say no, he can just blame it on the fever making him delirious.
#save me sick soft sweet sappy satoruâŚ.. save meâŚâŚ..#he means the wholeeee universe to me :â3 i love this specific toru sm !! i really do think heâs a lonely sweetie at heart :((#i wrote this fic a LONG time ago but i polished it a bunch so hopefully it doesnt feel rusty !!#i scrambled to come up w a title in time but i think this one kinda slaps idk ⌠im severely sleepy rn so it might. Not be. though đđ#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#jjk x you#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x y/n
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so Bill had read Statement Abnegation if you had't read it then GO AND DO IT RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW I'M SAYING- also ford had read it too.
#gravity falls#bill cipher#stanford pines#billford#book of bill#statement abnegation#that fic is the reason why my obsession can't die...#also i drew ford for like the first time in my life lol#i always have been a bill cipher guy#i love bill cipher so fucking much that im literally sick#fanfic#fanfic rec#fanfiction#fanfiction recommendation
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bart and wallyâs relationship is hilarious but when you take a step back itâs excruciating. they canât stand each other but theyâre bonded by one unbreakable similarity: iris west was the first person to ever love them when the world told them they were unloveable
#bart allen#wally west#flashfam#I CANâT WITH THEM TODAY I CANâT.#god. iris west your impactâŚ#bart and wally who have a hard time understanding love because of their childhoods.#wally who was abused bart who was raised in a lab.#your aunt and uncle who loved you in the way your parents never did both die and years later you meet their grandson.#you canât help but hate him you canât help but love him. etc etc etc#*clears throat* ANYWAYS#just wrote a bart & wally fic scene that I feel sick over
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Pt2 to this post
'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.
It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.
Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'
'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'
Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.
'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'
'What happened?'
He sighs. 'It's complicated.'
'Wanna tell me about it?'
The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.
But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.
He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and â no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.
'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.
Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.
'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that â that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'
'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.
Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.
'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'
Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.
'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.
'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'
She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'
'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'
She nods. 'Okay.'
For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.
'Is it Eddie?'
Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.
'Wha- what?'
'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'
'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.
Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'
Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'
'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'
'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'
Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way â and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'
To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.
'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'
'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'
'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'
'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.
Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)
#look i can and i will exploit the miscommunication trope until yall are sick and tired of it#bc steddie is actually the perfect couple for keeping that trope believable#they're idiots with terrible communication skills it's canon#they WOULD#âcan't you just talk to him?â âwait what i can????â IT'S SO THEM OKAY#nancy is the only sane person here i don't make the rules#don't mind me rambling about stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#nancy wheeler#platonic stancy#(i love platonic stancy they mean the world to me)#(i truly didn't mean to trick anyone into reading about them this just kinda. happened. idk)#this is making me wanna write more about their friendship actually they deserve their own fic#stranger things#fruity ficlet
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michael mell gets bullied by an evil supercomputer.png this is not a michael gets squipped au btw lol i just wanted to draw smth silly. anyways i love this guy forreel <3
cropped ver.
#be more chill#bmc#bmc fanart#michael mell#bmc michael#hellooooo bmc fandom#(my voice echoes distantly along an empty hallway)#yeah idk be more chill pops up in my head every year or so and i go mentally ill#this time specifically i randomly thought of that sick as fuck bakunawa au#like dawg that one og fic was my first ever favorite fic on ao3#(bmc is the first fandom i even looked up on ao3 too)#soooo yeah i reread it and its one of the few things in this world that nostalgia didnt rose tint#its still banger i still love that fic to itty bitty bits#anyways uh rant over. bmc will never let me leave. help.
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A c o l d n i g h t s h a r e d
Ă pairing: venture x reader
Ă words: 1109
Ă content: gender neutral reader, fluff, comfort, slight crushing
Ă summary: After a long day of work at the dig site, the two of you help eachother wind down and get ready for sleep.
[ A/N ] : Hello hi ive become severely obsessed with this Venture creature and im not seeing enough fanfics with them so of course i had to pick the pen up myself and get to work.
After a long day of work at the dig site, the two of you help eachother wind down and get ready for sleep. Sitting close by the fire, you help them clean up.
Holding the tissues you brought with you in hand, you began gently wiping Ventures face from all the dirt and dust as they sat slightly hunched over to help you reach better.
"Aw come on, do we really have to?" They playfully whined with a weak laugh, not truly being against this but they would rather be asleep right now.
"Oh shush" you replied with a soft smile, playfully wiping their lips to keep Venture quiet, their complaints now muffled.
You knew Venture would crawl into their tent all dusty and not see a problem with it, focused only on the excitement of getting back to work first thing in the very early morning. But knowing you- they knew you wouldn't let that happen.
After wiping their mouth clean you pause, staring at their lips, thoughts trailing somewhere else, somewhere pleasant, while your other hand cupped their face and thumb began to stroke their features...
Venture noticed your pause after a moment and blushed averting their eyes. Not knowing what to do they cleared their throat.
"Hm? Oh!" You caught yourself.
You yourself were now blushing while you continued your work. Now wiping their eyebrows, cheeks and then nose. A chill visibly ran through your body as the cold night wind picked up ever so slightly. You gently tilt Ventures face to get their chin and neck as well, trying not too be overly obvious while staring at their tattoo. The touch of your fingers, soft and slow, was so soothing to them, so sweet and comforting, relaxing even. They'd fall asleep in your hands any moment you worried.
They draw out a big, exaggerated yawn.
"Mmmokay!" they exclaim as they quickly pat their thighs before getting up in what seemed to be a hurry.
"Since we are done here-" Venture turned while dragging you by the hand as if you two agreed prior to whatever they were planning now.
"Huh??!"
Venture turned to you with an innocent look and their lips pouted slightly before they defend themselves "I mean, the night is cold, i thought we could- uh -share my tent and keep eachother warm?"
You just stare at eachother for a moment before you speak.
"I uh, sure, it is rather... cold" You're not sure how else to answer, too focused on the idea of being so close as to share a tent with them.
"Cool!"
Hands still intertwined, theirs much rougher to the touch than yours, you walked over to Ventures humble tent which was only a couple steps away from the fire. You wished it wasn't so close...
...
Venture let you crawl in first and the tent seemed pretty spacious at first, with soft bedding spread beneath and a small oil lamp next to the pillow, until Venture crawled in after you. Venture is broad and tall after all, you wondered how they even fit here without you.
You were propped up on your elbow as you watched Venture fluff up the pillow for the both of you, finally resting their head on one end. Their eyes looked deeply into yours, an invitation.
You haven't been this close with them ever before, your stomach quickly began doing somersaults at this realization, heart pumping faster. There was no backing out now, you yearned for their warmth.
Having to scoot a little closer, you lay down next to them, fitting your head on the other end of the pillow. Your faces were close, so close you could see Ventures eyes gleam with the soft glow cast from the oil lamp, the light catching the shine of their eyebrow piercing as well. In turn, they observed your face and its shine.
There was a silence between you two, a comfortable yet tense one. The sound of your calm breathes filled the tent, accompanied by the crackling of the campfire outside. Even further out crickets and other bugs could be heard singing their lullabies quietly, as if they knew not to disturb this moment.
You decide then to be bold and run your fingers, hesitantly at first as if afraid to be burnt, through Ventures wild locks. They were so soft yet thick and- dirt... grains of dirt and sand fell from Ventures strands, only a few but noticeable to you.
You clicked your tongue. "Guess i missed a spot" you scold yourself.
"Its okay" They take your hand in theirs and rest them between the two of you, giving yours a squeeze " you can get it next time" Venture said with a lazy smile, letting their chipped tooth peak through their lips. Their thumb running circles onto your palm.
The lack of distance between you became comfortable soon, so Venture decided to to shrink it even further when they laid their hand on your lower back grasping it, your body instinctively stiffened at their unannounced touch and they yanked you closer. Bodies pressing against one another, noses almost touching. Your heart picked up the pace again, thumping in response before Ventures hand started trailing further down all the while you still maintained eye contact.
With confidence Venture ran their large hand down your back, then hip, then thigh, then leg, hooking a hand under your knee on their way up and lifting your leg letting it snake around theirs.
Seeing you were still red and stunned by their advances, Venture decided to help you out. Taking your hand in theirs they guided it to their waist, firmly leaving it there. You got the hint and held them as their hand returned to your thigh.
Breaking that intense eye contact you had to close your eyes for a moment, the situation becoming a lot for you all at once, all too quickly. But then, all of the sudden a surge of energy rushed through your body and you kissed Venture. You kissed them, placing a sweet but small kiss on their lips and let it linger for only a short second before pulling away, now watching their reaction.
Ventures face was beaming like a thousand suns, they didn't think you had it in you and as a reward they returned the favour. With confidence they kissed you passionately yet gently, only for a moment, before pulling away and then kissing you once more. You locked eyes again while exchanging sweet smiles, yours shy, their smug.
Venture gave you one last pull connecting their forehead with yours as they closed their eyes. Soon, you did the same.
#WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT I FINALLY FINISHED A FIC HOLYYYY#i love them so much im gonna be SICK#venture#venture overwatch#sloane cameron#venture x reader#x reader#overwatch x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#fluff#comfort#short fic
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small lightbrush dump bc i read the most immaculate fic of them last night and cant find anything else that good i havent read. im so obsessed w this yuri rn
#inanimate insanity#inanimate insanity fanart#ii paintbrush#ii lightbrush#lightbrush#i think .. lb gives words of affirmation rly easily and liberally.. but if u return it 2 her she would cry#she acts so unserious and silly and is always being so nice she doesnt hear it enough.. idk sometimes i read too much fic and not enough#canon content so feel free to curse me out if thats ooc#and i think paintys go to love language would be smth wordless and simple like touch or quality time#ough ..... ough ......... the yuri ..........................#like im gonna be sick theyre so cute
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The boy stops in his tracks. âI know you,â he says, tilting his head curiously. Heâs not tall, but heâs regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leiaâs hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?
âThatâs nice,â she says, and shoots him anyway.
He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. Sheâs only seen one of those before, and itâs Vaderâs. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, sheâs in deep shit.
Sheâs smart enough to know when sheâs outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.
Later, as sheâs getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didnât try to stop her.
She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. âDoes he not like it here?â Sheâd asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. âIs itâŚbecause of me?â
âOh, Leia,â her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. âItâs not that, I promise.â
âThen what is it?â
âMaster Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.â Brehaâs eyes grew deeper, darker. âIt was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, thatâs all.â
Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.
The next time sheâd seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didnât seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. âHeâs lonely,â sheâd told her mother. âNo one should be lonely.â
Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. Heâd aged thirty years in the ten it had been.
He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.
âLeia,â he greets. âItâs been a long time.â
Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.
Kenobi freezes in his tracks. âLuke?â He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if heâd been speaking directly into her ear.
Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.
In an instant, Leia understands everything.
Kenobi is still staring at the boy heâd lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.
Later, as sheâs pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.
Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.
âThey know where you are,â he hisses frantically. âTheyâre coming for you. You have to run.â
âWait!â Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness sheâd felt since theyâd landed. She tended to trust her gut. âHow do you know? How much time do we have?â
âNot important, and not enough,â he says. âI have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.â
âHow do I know I can trust you? I donât even know who you are.â
He pauses. âCall me Skywalker.â
âThatâs not an answer, Skywalker.â
âYes it is.â
She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.
âShit,â Skywalker mutters. âI have to go. Iâll be in contact, okay? Donât ever tell me where you are, or where youâre heading. Vader and Palpatine arenât shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.â
âButââ
Itâs too late. The comm has disconnected.
She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know theyâre here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?
Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.
Itâs probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.
Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. âHey Princess, can you tell these idiotsââ
She makes a decision then and there.
âWeâre leaving.â
âWhat?â
âWeâre evacuating, effective immediately.â She pushes past him, and he follows so close heâs nearly stepping on her heel.
âWhy? I think itâs pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesnât hurt, either.â
âApparently too cozy.â She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. âEmergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, Iâll let you know where weâre headed when weâre in orbit.â
He salutes and scurries off.
âWoah, hey now.â Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. âWhatâs going on?â
âThereâs a new informant. He told me the Empire knows weâre here. Theyâre coming for us.â
âAnd you trust this person becauseâŚâ
âI donât have a choice,â she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. âItâs either heâs lying and weâre not in danger, or heâs telling the truth and weâre going to die if we donât listen. Itâs not exactly hard math.â
It could be a trap of course, but he hadnât suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasnât inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.
He squints at her. âThatâs not it.â
âWhat?â
âI donât believe you,â he insists. Heâs so infuriating. Leia doesnât know why she hasnât kicked him out yet.
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
âYes you do, and youâre either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.â
âWho said I was riding on your hunk of junk?â She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that canât fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesnât need to know that.
âWell?â
Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesnât know when she let that happen.
âI feel it,â she admits, defeated. âSomething tells me heâs trustworthy. Weâll wait and see if itâs right.â
He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside sheâs jittery at the scrutiny. They donât have time for this.
âYeah, all right,â Han finally says.
âReally?â
âYes, really.â He rolls his eyes, like sheâs not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man sheâs never even met. âNow come on, Princess, werenât you the one who said we had to hurry?â
What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They donât have time to find out.
âSo thereâs good news and bad news.â
âBad news first,â she demands.
âThey know thereâs a mole.â
âShit.â Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empireâs plans. âThe good news?â
âTheyâve tasked me with hunting down this âpathetic rebel spy,ââ Skywalker says, humor in his voice. âThat should buy me some time.â
Leia canât quite stop the snort she lets out. âSeriously?â
âYep. Youâre speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.â
âWell congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.â
âThank you,â he says grandly. Then, quieter, âIt wonât last, Princess. Theyâll find out eventually.â
âI know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.â
âWill it?â He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesnât know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.
Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.
Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator PadmĂŠ Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.
Unless he didnât.
Itâs ridiculous. Itâs impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.
But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.
The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.
Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatineâs intrusions.
Powerful enough to hide the fact that heâs a spy.
Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.
Maybe Luke isnât so bad after all.
âNo, no, no,â she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. âDonât be dead, please donât be dead.â
âPrincessâŚâ Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.
âNo, heâs not dead. Heâs not. Luke!â
A faint cough answers her, and sheâs so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, âSome damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?â
âLuke, itâs me,â she sobs. âItâs Leia. Youâre at the Rebel Base. Youâre safe.â
More coughing, and thereâs a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, âYou knowâŚmy name?â
âI figured it out.â
âSmart.â This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.
âShit, kid,â Han says, moving another piece of rubble. âDonât talk. Weâre gonna get you out of here, all right?â
âStand back,â Luke chokes out.
âWhat?â
âStand back. Please.â
Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.
âClear,â she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.
The TIE explodes.
âFuck!â Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that sheâd just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.
And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.
âLuke!â She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.
As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.
Han is still looking at the TIE. âCan you do that?â He asks quietly.
Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. âIs that what youâre most concerned with right now? Really?â
âExcuse me for asking, Princess!â
âItâs white,â Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. âI hate wearing white.â
âShould I be offended?â
He rolls his eyes. âDonât even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.â
âWell,â she says gingerly. âI guess itâs a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think weâre twins.â
He snorts. âYeah, right.â
#star wars#star wars fanfiction#luke skywalker#han solo#leia organa#imperial luke skywalker#exactly when luke was taken by the empire is totally up to speculation it could honestly be anywhere from newborn to 5#as for why luke has his dadâs blue lightsaber here instead of like a red one or smth- well you see your honor I thought it would be a slay#but also when you think about it for more than 5 seconds youâre like actually yeah thatâs sick and twisted of palpatine and vader actually#youâre carrying your fathers most treasured weapon#you donât know your father once fought the rise of the very empire you stand to inherit with that blade. you donât know who he defended#you donât know your father brought about the end of the republic with that same weapon#he killed the younglings with it. he fought his closest companion with it#youâre carrying what was once your fathers most treasured weapon. you are your fathers most treasured weapon#just as your father is a weapon now#also I didnât make it clear but obi-wan has his âstrike me down and I become strongerâ moment like he still dies on purpose to cause proble#but when he saw luke he couldnât look away. he had to see him with living eyes one last time#can u tell I had So Many Thoughts on everyone elseâs perspective in this fic too#han is having a constant crisis in the background because 1) force is real 2) princess is annoying AND pretty which sucks for him#in particular and 3) pretty princess is learning to use the force and is hot while doing it. Chewie is laughing at him. life is hell#good lord did not mean to put an entire essay in the tags. i love their super special twin powers (cosmic entity that binds their souls)#edit: GUYS I FORGOT TO NAME THE FUCKING AU#AND WHEN I TRY AND FIX IT IT GLITCHES OUT ON MEEE đđđ
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EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOURE DOING RIGHT FUCKING NOW
EVERYBODY SHUT UP IMMEDIATELY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#the teru & reigen virus can attack at any time.#over the most miniscule things at that.#IVE CONSIDERED THE POSSIBILITY OF THEM BOTH LIKING IT BEFORE. BECAUSE OF REIGENâS. TASTE IN MOVIES#BUT. AHHHHH!!!!! HAHGHHHGHG!!!!!!!!!!!#its REAL#teru finding reigenâs fdp poster. barely restraining his overjoyed wonder that someone else enjoys something niche he enjoys#teru in his most normalest voice ever: oh wow you like this movie too? what a coincidence! [jittering so bad he might burst]#the teru&reigen movie lineup must he INSANE#be*#i need to make a fic right now (is about to go to sleep)#the possibilities. (<-is insane and crazy and insatiable)#flashback to the flying dead pig comic. tear streaks down cheek#I COULD SENSE THE ENERGY FROM A MILE AWAY. CANNOT HIDE FROM ME#i think reigen would enjoy having someone to talk crappy movies with. but teru would genuinely love them i think so reigen would have to#tread lightly while speaking about them#reigen: yeah the direction in this movie was totally messy#teru concealing biggest saddest frown ever: it is just creative. you dont know a goddamn thing#reigen would not hide his truths [emoji] but he would pity the boy#teru&reigen seventeen hour discussion about old obscure movies (NO SURVIVORS RITSU CAUGHT IN THE BLAST AND KILLED)#im sick#i also love how this trivia is worded. its very deliberate if you get what i mean#â[muttering out of side of mouth] also..if you didnt knowâŚ..â#its a fun piece of factoid to share. and i. i really. im im teally. i jsut . i am telaly gals thhat they worded it aaid ltit like thaey did.#THIS IS SUXH NOTHINGBURGER. IM SORRY#dude this is why i have the teru reigen family album. im desperate for the smallest of morsels. just a CRUMBBB PLEAAASE#GHHAHAHEHEHAJA !!!!! HHHRHEGEGAHAHS S AAWWHHHH AHHHHBABHAHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHH!!! RRRRAGHSHHAAAGAGEGGEHHRHRH#mob psycho 100#mp100#teruki hanazawa#reigen arataka
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thoughts on âfell firstâ sanji and âfell harderâ zoro? âfell harderâ sanji and âfell firstâ zoro seems more typical for their characters so itâs seen more in fanfic, but i think a reversal would be just as fitting.
sanji, whoâs been in love since they were in east blue waters, learning to temper his affections so it simmers just beneath his skin, his expressions, his actions. undeniably constant, but subtle, controlled, and nonetheless warm- like the flame of a lighter. when he hands zoro something he prepared with extra thought and care and is gifted a small, pleased smile after the mosshead takes a brutish bite, he tucks the vision away into his pocket like a handkerchief. something to retrieve and treasure later.
then thereâs zoro, who had always acknowledged sanji as an equal- his other half in battle. he knew sanji was important to him, that they had a bond that differed from those he shared with his other crewmates. it wasnât until the events of zou and whole cake island did he realize it was love. and since then, heâs been in a constant war with his feelings- a kind of battle that made him plant his feet, grit his teeth, and clutch his heart like he did his swords. everytime he saw sanji, he was engulfed in rampant thoughts, loud and wild like the bonfire that illuminates a chaotic celebration.
and sanji, whoâs been there and done that, easily shoots a glare, already long accepted it would never happen.
#zosan#one piece#one piece spoilers#sanji#roronoa zoro#ouuuuu they make me so sick#i would love to expand on this and turn it into a fic somehow#I invite anyone who sees my vision to do whatever they want with it#HAHSHAHD
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Was it scary when you met your culinary idol and he stared at you like heâd found his? Was it scary when he told you that you are everything else? Was it scary how much he trusted you with everything so quickly? Was it scary when he confided in you for the first time about his brother? Was it scary when he defended you stabbing his cousin? Was it scary when he turned out to be exactly who you didnât want him to be but different? Was it scary when he apologized to you first? Was it scary when you accepted his offer to share a dream? Was it scary when you didnât shirk off the way his hands always seem to find their way on you? Was it scary when his focus left you? Was it scary when he asked you how you were feeling? Was it scary when he promised not to let your fail? Was it scary when he gifted you custom chef whites? Was it scary when he asked you to keep his brotherâs final words at your expo station? Was it scary when he screamed out for you during the soft opening of your restaurant? Was it scary when he said he was never going to let it happen again? Was it scary when he offered you a third share of his restaurant in an official contract? Was it scary when his mental health started deteriorating in front of you but you still wanted to take care of him? Was it scary when you got an offer for something more perfect and didnât immediately run away? Was it scary when you tried to find the words to tell him what you were really feeling and couldn't? Was it scary when he demanded you take your place at his side amongst some of the best chefs in the world? Was it scary when you realized maybe you can't leave him because there's too much love shared between you?
Sydneyâs never going to grow if she doesnât learn how to get over her fears. Her fear of failure and her fear of losing the people that she loves. Loving somebody is a truly scary thing but at some point weâve got to stop running away if what we want and who we need has been right there.
#ok this is the last one#sydcarmy#I love my pookie bears#I love their imperfect love story#they are both so confused and so damaged in the same but different ways#and once they realize this itâs going to be so glorious#see Carmy is not all bad#they truly make me sick#carmy x sydney#the Bear meta#I guess#Iâm going back to fic writing now
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