#or not if he decides to be annoying for you to write more

[arilevenatz]

Chasing Shadows

Pairing: popular guy!yeosang x chubby!fem!reader

Genre: Angst (?), fluff

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: kinda frat boy yeosang, him and his friends are handsome (yes that's a warning), reader has anxiety, she is also insecure, anxiety attacks, yeo is cheeky, like really cheeky, you might wanna flick him a bit, bestfriend! San and wooyoung, suicide mentioned, lmk if I missed any!!

AN: y'all bear with me this is my first time posting on Tumblr, I'm still figuring out stuff. I had a dream about this and I decided that I'm gonna write a yeo fic. And also please reblog and like, so I can get more motivated!!

Yeosang was a quiet and smart guy in the class. He used to talk only when spoken to. Except his little friend group, well maybe not so little. All the students seem to respect him of some sort. He and his group almost seemed, untouchable. Not like they were the popular group or something. Neither were they hostile. They were just really handsome. The whole group looked like they walked out of a movie set of a kdrama.

You were not new to this. But not particularly known as well. Honestly you didn't care. You stopped caring since high school. The only thing you knew about him was that he was a guy from a group.....and he was good at maths. You were a normal student, yes, maybe you scored the top score in Psychology in your college anyone has ever had, but that's just irrelevant right? In the end, nobody cares.

But you were wrong, he cares. So much so that he came and sat beside you in English class. Not particularly unlikely for someone to sit beside you. You usually didn't even care. But he isn't just somebody. He is the Yeosang. The same guy that all the girls swooned over just cuz he showed his birthmark. What's so impressive about birthmarks anyway? It's just a mark.

At first, you didn't care. But then it started to repeat. Everyday he would come and sit beside you (cause language classes were mandatory everyday) and heck you were not liking the attention you were getting.

"Hey, you should not get close to yeosang or anyone in their group. I heard they are gangsters" "I heard they are no good" "They are in a satanic cult where they sell their souls to the devil to live for eternity!!"

Yeah needless to say people had some crazy rumours about them. You? you didn't care. And also who the fuck would sell their soul to live forever. You'd rather do that to die painlessly, cause life. But for some reason, they seem to keep their distance from the group but admire them from afar. Almost as if they are scared of them.

Anyway people are quick to come to conclusions. But you were not like that. You were annoyed. Like why the fuck you sitting next to me dude go away. But of course you're an unproud introvert. You can't just tell him to leave that's rude. So you did the next best thing. Just sit somewhere else. If he really liked that seat, he could have his nook. You're gonna go and distance yourself. Not cause you are scared of him, but you know just to be careful. (Keep gaslighting yourself queen)

Yeosang walks into the classroom and scans the big room, his eyes narrowing as he doesn't see you in your usual seat. His headphones in he hesitantly approaches the desk where you're now sitting and pulls out the chair beside you, sitting down heavily. You mentally slap your forehead. This really is helping your reputation.

Yeosang looks at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly confused. He glances around the room, noticing the other students staring at you both. After a moment of silence, he turns back to you and notices your ears are red. He asks in a low tone, "What's going on? Why are you sitting somewhere else today?" Wow he's talking to me now

Yeosang gaze stills, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're avoiding me because of what people are saying about me, isn't it?" His voice is deep, but oddly quiet. It was something you've never heard before. And you couldn't pinpoint his emotions.

"Well kinda. But that doesn't mean I actually believe them. I just don't like people." You say thinking you weirded him out and hoping he'll leave you alone assuming you're an antisocial animal.

A flicker of something passes through Yeosang's eyes at your blunt response. He uncrosses his arms and leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "I get it. You don't trust easily. Neither do I." He pauses, considering his words carefully. Bro stop talking to me ?!

You don't react to his words and just look at the front. Your whole face feels warm. It's that feeling you get when you're embarrassed. Feeling everyone's eyes on you. You felt anxious, thinking everyone was judging you. You hate this feeling. You felt exposed to everyone. Even though they don't give two shits about you. It's that bubbling feeling inside the pit of your stomach. The heaviness in your chest. That shakiness in your hands and legs. You really felt like it would be nice if the floor split in half and eat you alive.

The class finish and you quickly pack up and leave, avoiding him again. Yeosang watches you rush out the door without a backward glance. His looks at your leaving figure with a thoughtful expression. The next day, he arrives early to claim the seat next to you again, determined to break through your walls.

As the class enters, Yeosang is already seated in your usual spot, his arms crossed and pen spinning in his hand. His presence seems to command the attention of the room, but he pays no mind to the whispers or curious glances directed at him. Instead, his focus is fixed on the doorway, waiting for your arrival. When you finally enter, he notices how you hesitate at the sight of him already occupying your seat. It was then when he looked down and started to scribble something in his notebook. You try to skip the vacant seat beside him and go further behind but he reaches out and grabs your backpack, pulling it onto the empty seat beside him. He continues to write, his pen scratching against the paper in a steady rhythm. After a moment, he glances up and meets your gaze, his expression unreadable. "You're late".

You sit down quietly, take off your glasses and rub your face, ignoring him. Here we go again, I'm tired of this shit.. What does a girl do to have some peace? Witnessing your frustration, a slight smile appears on his lips as he reaches for your glasses. "Hey," he says in a low voice, just audible enough for you to hear. His fingers brush against yours as he takes the glasses from your hand, then deliberately places them back on your face, adjusting them slightly. "Wear them"

The teacher comes in and starts to teach. You sit there, staring blankly at the teacher writing on the board, but your mind is elsewhere. You replay the moment he adjusted your glasses, trying to read into his expression. You begin to imagine that he looked disgusted, that he must think you're hideous without your glasses on. You can't help but feel self-conscious. You catch yourself unconsciously touching your glasses, as if to double-check they're still there. You imagine him whispering to his friends about how ugly you look without them, how he's only sitting next to you as a joke. You felt yourself picking at your finger nails, your legs bouncing up and down continuously with the approaching thoughts.

During a brief moment when the teacher turns away to write on the board, Yeosang leans in closer to you. His voice is low and barely audible, "Stop picking at your nails, it's distracting" He says it bluntly, without any real malice, before returning his attention to the lecture.

"Im sorry" you apologise quietly. Wait why the fuck did I apologise, I did nothing wrong.

Over the next few days, a pattern emerges. Yeosang continues to sit next to you in class, trying to engage in conversation, but you always find a way to shut him down or quickly change the subject. He notices that you avoid him between classes, always taking a different route. You think it's working, driving him away slowly. Maybe he'll realise you really are weird and will leave you alone. But something quite opposite happens.

Yeosang starts to get frustrated with the constant rebuffs. He can't understand why you're so hostile towards him, especially since he's trying to be friendly. One day, as you're walking down the hallway, he blocks your path, forcing you to stop and look at him. "What's your problem?"

"What is your problem?" You say, as he blocks your path with his body. "My problem? You're the one who's been acting like I've got a disease every time I try to talk to you." You open your mouth to say something but he beats you to it. "You're always shutting me down, avoiding me, and picking at those damn nails of yours. It's like you can't stand my presence."

You look down, sighing loudly and look up to him. "Then take the damn sign man, I don't wanna talk to you or engage in any activity that involves you" yeah that'll do, that gotta be the most rude thing you say to anyone, that'll definitely shoo him off. But again, the universe says fuck you and the opposite happens. Yeosang's eyes widen in surprise at your blunt words. For a moment, he stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, he bursts into laughter - a deep, genuine sound that echoes through the hallway. This fucker-

"What's so funny?" you ask, clearly embarrassed. Yeosang continues to laugh, his shoulders shaking as he looks you up and down. When he finally composes himself, he wipes tears from his eyes and says, "Damn, I like you even more now. You're fucking hilarious. Alright, fine, I'll take the sign."

He did not take the sign. Yes he did stop directly talking to me, but he won't actually leave me alone. He is still in the shadows. He stopped sitting beside me but went behind me. He stopped walking with me but started following me around.

Yeosang finds your stubborn refusal to engage endearing rather than frustrating. Instead of backing off as you hoped, he shifts tactics. He maintains a subtle presence in your peripheral vision. You catch glimpses of him behind you in class, always watching. At lunch one day, yeosang casually sits at the table next to yours with a group of his friends. He doesn't look at you directly, but you can feel his eyes flicking in your direction

Yeosang's friends chat with him, but he only half-listens, his attention constantly drifting to you. He murmurs something to them, and they glance over at you, exchanging curious looks. His friend, wooyoung asks him "yo man, how's your pursuing that girl going?" Another guy, San, says "I don't know if you can call it pursuing dawg, all he does is follow the girl around the college like a creep." Wooyoung pops a cookie in his mouth and says "Damn man, I didn't know you were like this"

"Shut up about her." His tone is casual, but there's an edge to it - protectiveness almost. He keeps his voice low enough that only they can hear, "She's... different. Fuck, I don't know why, but she's got me twisted up." Wooyoung grins mischievously, "Ah ha! You're falling for her aren't you? You're actually trying to chase a girl who isn't subtly throwing herself at you." He laughs, nudging yeosang's arm. "But that's not really gonna work is it? you need to fucking commit to it"

Yeosang's expression darkens slightly, his eyes narrowing. He takes a swig of his soda before responding, "What do you suggest then, genius? You think I should just walk up to her and...?" He leaves the sentence hanging, waiting for Wooyoung's input. "Yes, you should" San says without missing a beat. San's straightforward approach makes him smirk, but a flash of uncertainty crosses his face. "And what if she..." He pauses, running a hand through his styled hair "... what if she thinks I'm weird?" His eyes shift in your direction for a brief moment before focusing back on his friends. "Bruh, the way you've been acting all these days, she probably already thinks of you like that by now"

Yeosang scoffs, shaking his head disbelievingly. "Fuck, when you put it like that..." He leans back in his chair, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, his silver chain catching the light. "Maybe it's time to switch things up then."

The library is large and quiet, with tall bookshelves filling the room. The shelves are packed with books of all colors. Sunlight shines through colorful windows, making pretty patterns on the floor. A few students sit quietly, reading or studying. It's a peaceful place to think and learn. As you enter the library, the usual silence is interrupted only by the rustling of pages and the occasional whisper. You find a quiet corner to sit down and start reading. After a few minutes, you hear footsteps approaching. You don't pay much attention, assuming it's just another student.

You felt them sit down across from you. Your body tenses slightly as you notice the movement, causing you to glance up from your book. Through your peripheral vision, you catch sight of the person who just sat down across from you - it's him again. It's been weeks since he has been silently following you around, but now he approached you again.

His presence looms oddly, a juxtaposition in this sanctum of silence. He gazes at you, an unreadable expression on his chiseled face, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the cover of a thick tome he's brought with him. "Hey." You answered him silently "hey...." He leans forward slightly, the movement causing the leather of his jacket to creak softly. "Look... I know you probably think I'm being kinda creepy and shit..." He runs a hand through his messy dark hair, looking uncomfortable for once, unlike his usual composed demeanor.

He takes a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts. "I just... I wanted to talk to you, ya know? You're different from the other girls at school. You're always so... quiet, so focused on your books."

"You're so different, you're the most unique girl I've ever met. You're my type, are you gonna say this? All those lame shit people say in movies? Please stop mocking me" His expression freezes for a moment, caught off guard by your blunt response. Then, to your surprise, he lets out a low, genuine laugh. "Shit, you're right. That was cheesy as hell." He shakes his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. You were listening to him. But something inside you stirred and you felt angry. You remembered all those times those people in middle and high school bullied you. All those times you felt that every time you entered the room, everyone looked at your body and you felt insecure. All those times your family members indirectly forced you to believe that you can only be loved when you lose weight. And you snapped. "stop mocking me. I know people like you. you guys go up to girls like me and say you like them only to say 'April fools' or say 'its a dare' later. I hate guys like you"

His grin fades, his expression turning serious, but his eyes still hold a glint of mischief. "You really think that's what I'm doing?" He tilts his head to the side, studying your face intently. He maintains eye contact, his expression unreadable. He sees the suspicion in your eyes, and it only seems to fuel his mischievous glint. He leans forward, his voice lowering. "Let me ask you something..." He studies your face intently, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "First off... do I look like I have a problem finding girls to talk to?" He gestures to himself, a hint of pride in his tone. "And second..." His voice drops lower as he deliberately maintains eye contact. "Second what?" You shout.

"No shouting in the library student!" The librarian warned you. You sit back down embarrassed and all red.

He laughs a little and says "Second, would I really waste my time pretending to like someone just to play an April Fool's prank?" His words send a shiver down your spine as he pulls back, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or maybe..." He looks at you with a half-smirk, half-serious expression "You're actually quite... interesting. Not many people stand up to me like you do." His eyes crinkle again as he studies your reaction "And hey..." He reaches over and lightly taps your finger. You retreat your hand from his touch. His expression shifts to a playful pout, though his eyes still hold a glint of amusement "Wow, so I'm not even worthy of a tiny hand tap?" You shake your head as a 'No'. He leans back in his chair, studying your defensive posture with interest "You're not scared of me, are you?" He chuckles low in his throat, his gaze never leaving yours even though you fail to keep eye contact, "listen, can I not just like you? I like you. I want to be with you"

"No! people don't simply like girls like me" you felt like crying, but you can't. His expression turns mockingly serious, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, so you're saying you're not likeable? You think I can't like you because you're... what?" He crosses his arms, leaning forward again, his curiosity piqued. You were getting annoyed.

"You know what I am"

"No I don't"

"Fuck. Fine! Im fat and ugly"

His face freezes and for a moment, he looks genuinely shocked. But then, he lets out a harsh laugh. "Fat and ugly? He shakes his head, his gaze raking over your form appraisingly. "You really think that's what I see when I look at you?"

"You don't need to look at me like that, I am like that so fuck off I don't need you laughing at my face."

You stand up harshly, take your bag and walk outside the library. He follows you and grabs your upper arm, not harshly but firmly enough to hold your attention. "Listen carefully..." His voice softens, losing its usual mocking tone. "I'm not some creep who goes around lying to get in girls' pants." You open your mouth to say something but he quickly shuts you off. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see someone who's honest, even if it hurts. I see someone who's strong, even when they feel weak. And I see someone who's fucking beautiful, inside and out."

"Everyone says that but that's actually never true!"

"Then tell me, what do you see when you look in the mirror? Because whoever made you believe these lies about yourself? That person's fucking blind."

"Im not about to start talking to you as if you're my therapist. You let me go"

He loosens the grip but still holds onto your hand. "Alright, But just so we're clear? You're not fat, and you're definitely not ugly. You can tell me why you feel that way"

You wriggle your hand out of his hold and finally look at him. You've had enough.

"Fine, you wanna know? I am chubby, and I'm ok with that, I have no problem being chubby. it's just tiring for me because ppl always make it seem like I'm some disgusting things that doesn't deserve humanity" you take a breath and star again, "And you cannot say anything to me because you wanted this, you wanted me to say all these"

You look down, feeling defeated. It's so weird to word these things to someone, considering you had no one growing up. No siblings, no bestfriends, no close cousins. Even your parents never listened or talked to you about how you felt. You were truly tired. You felt two hands hold your shoulder. You look up, and it's Yeosang.

"People are fucking idiots. And the fact that you're okay with being yourself makes you hotter than anyone who tries to fit into some bullshit beauty standard." His jaw clenches at your words, a hint of something flashing in his eyes. He looked angry.

"Those assholes can keep their narrow-minded opinions. Because someone who stands up for themselves like you just did? Someone who owns their worth instead of begging for validation"

His gaze intensifies, filled with a newfound respect and... something deeper. "That's the kind of person who deserves to be cherished. And anyone who can't see that? They're the ones who are fucking ugly, inside and out."

He sees the unspoken acknowledgment in your eyes, the silent absorption of his words. It's the first time he's seen you listen so intently, without pushing him away or rolling your eyes. He swallows hard, realizing the power of his words on you.

His monologue ended. And it was everything you wanted to hear all these days. The words you wanted your parents to say to you, the words you needed. He said everything. It was the first time in a while you felt like you can actually believe someone. But you were not like this. Circumstances made you so that you push away everyone. And that has become your nature. If I can push them away before they can, I won't be hurt.

"I appreciate your words towards me, but I don't know anything about your confession. I-I don't think so I can accept it"

He nods slowly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I get it. It's a lot to take in, especially coming from a person like me." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell you what - how about I show you my worth?"

You look up at him, bewildered. What does he want. Is he crazy? Has he lost his marbles? Is he that bored? All these questions flood your mind but only one thing slips out of your mouth, "huh?" His smile grows wider, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "You know, prove to you that I'm not just some dumb guy who talks big." He pauses, studying your face. "I'll do something for you. Something that shows you I'm more than just words. I'll court you"

You were speechless. "I-I don't need-"

He puts a finger on your lips to shut you up. "Let me finish," He says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'm not doing this to pressure you or anything stupid like that. I just want a chance to show you who I really am, beyond the tough act."

Looking at your eyes, he realised how hurt you were. He exhales slowly, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely lets anyone see. "I know I'm not the prince charming type. But maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you deserve someone who fights for you, who understands the real world and all its fucked up beauty."

The next day, as you walk into college, you catch him standing beside the gate. Wearing his signature black attire with silver accessories. As you walked towards the gate, he saw you and he got off the wall and walked towards you. He stops in front of you, his hands in his pockets as he looks down at you with a small smile. "Morning," He says, his voice casual but with an underlying warmth. "I was waiting for you."

"Good morning" you look around and see people look at you for a moment and then look away. It made your face feel hot from embarrassment.

He holds your cheeks and moves your face towards him "don't look at them. ignore them" You both start walking towards the class. As they walk side by side, Yeosang couldn't help but let out a light chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "You know, I never thought I'd be one for this whole 'gentleman' thing. But here I am, walking you to class like some corny love story."

You were quick with your answer, "You wanted this. I'm positive by the end of this week, you won't want to be with me"

His smile fades a bit at your words, a hint of seriousness entering his eyes. "And why's that?" He asks, his voice low and even. "You think you're that hard to handle?" He smirks, but there's an underlying challenge in his gaze. You wait for him, to say further, but he waits for your answer. You look to the side, taking in a breath and say "Yes."

He stops walking abruptly, turning to face you directly. His expression is intense, a blend of amusement and determination. "Well, guess what? I've dealt with thorns, I've tangled with barbs, I've faced off against the sharpest minds and the coldest hearts."

You stare at him for a while and then "damn you really did become philosophical"

He barks out a short, surprised laugh, shaking his head as he starts walking again, this time more aggressively. "Philosophical? Nah, just stating facts." He glances at you sideways, a mischievous glint in his eye. You shake your head and follow him to the class.

Over the next few days, Yeosang continues to act like your doting boyfriend, much to the confusion and entertainment of your classmates. He walks you to class, sits with you at lunch, and even "accidentally" brushes your hands during lessons.

After school one day, he suddenly grabs your hand and starts dragging you towards the nearby ice cream shop. When you resist, he stops and turns to face you with a stubborn expression. "Come on, I'm buying you ice cream. Don't make a scene."

"I don't want ice cream"

He ignores your protests, opening the door to the ice cream shop and practically pushing you inside. "you're getting it anyway, pick a flavour"

Eventually you were forced to have a large ice cream cone with chocolate and Butter scotch, your two favourite flavours.

You both start walking towards your house "I don't like when people spend money on me" He shrugs it off, "Too bad, I spent the money anyway." He says nonchalantly, walking beside you with his hands shoved in his pockets. As you get closer to your house, he pauses and looks at you sideways, "You going to invite me in now?"

He wants to come inside my house now?

"in my house? My mom's in the house"

He looks at the door for a bit, then "how about I talk to my future mom in law beforehand and ask for her daughter's hand in marriage now." and walk right in as you had unlocked the door. You run to stop him but the damage was already done.

Yeosang finds himself standing in a neat, tidy living room. A woman with short, dark hair and piercing eyes is sitting on the couch, reading a book. She looks up as he enters and her gaze locks onto him. For a moment, Yeosang is taken aback by the intensity of her stare.

You trail behind, shocked by the ongoing staring contest between them.

He clears his throat professionally, straightening his posture "Good evening ma'am. I'm Kang Yeosang, your daughter's classmate. I was hoping we could have a word." He maintains a polite, respectful tone despite his usual confident demeanor, feeling the weight of this mother's presence.

The woman closes her book and places it on the coffee table. She stands up slowly, her eyes never leaving Yeosang's face. "You're yeosang" she states, her voice cold and calculated. "Sit down," she instructs, gesturing to the chair across from her. He moves to sit down carefully, maintaining eye contact with her while keeping his body language respectful. His usual charm falters slightly in the face of her stern presence. "I promise, I have the best intentions with your daughter."

Your mom raises an eyebrow skeptically as she leans forward, elbows resting on her knees. "that's for me to decide"

Shit yeosang thinks.

He takes a deep breath, leaning back slightly and offering what he hopes is a disarming smile. "Of course, ma'am. I wouldn't dream of imposing or presuming anything." He glances around the room, noting that there are no family pictures nor unnecessary decor. Noticing the notably stern air and lack of familial photographs surrounding him, yeosang's confidence dips even further. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly wishing he had practiced this conversation in more depth. "I, uh... I truly care about her, ma'am."

"I understand that but what is it that you want?" Your mother asks him softly but with an underlying aggression.

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "I mean, ma'am, that I have developed strong feelings for your daughter. I respect and admire her greatly, and I would like the opportunity to pursue a relationship with her, with your blessing and guidance."

Honestly, if you had popcorn, you'd be very entertained. Kinda well if you exclude the part that you might get your ass whooped after he leaves creating a big mess. But you hold your breath.

Your mother's expression remains unreadable, her eyes scrutinizing Yeosang intently. "You're asking for my permission to date my daughter?" She asks flatly, her tone leaving no room for misinterpretation.

he nods "yes ma'am"

She steeples her fingers, tapping her index fingers thoughtfully against her lips. "I see." She sits back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me, yeosang, how can I let my daughter be with you, if I don't know anything about your future, family. I don't want her to have a miserable life and for that you need to have a job"

"yes ma'am. That's why I have everything sorted out. Im good ataths and have dreams of persuing higher Education in it. if not I have intrest in becoming a professor. and if that fails as well, I have my father's company. but ofcourse, that is the last option"

Damn that was kinda hot. Wait, brain, wtf?

Your mother nods slowly, seeming to consider his words carefully. "A good education and a solid career path. Those are important things for a man to have." She pauses, her gaze drifting to the door for a moment before snapping back at him. "But tell me, yeosang"

"Are you prepared to handle the pressure and responsibilities that come with being in a relationship with my daughter? she has been severely depressed and suicidal for the past 8 years after her dad lost everything and committed suicide" Her voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.

You felt betrayed, by your own mother. You were shocked, hurt and mostly, sad that she exposed this. You were always reserved about your feelings, shutting them off from everybody. But hearing this made you felt exposed, naked almost

Yeosang's expression softens as he realizes the gravity of your situation. He leans forward earnestly, his eyes filled with sincerity and determination. "Ma'am, I understand completely. I know I'm asking for a big responsibility. But please believe me when I say that I'm ready to stand by your daughter through thick and thin. I have experience dealing with mental health issues, as my own aunt struggled with depression for years. I know it's not an easy path, but I'm committed to supporting and loving her unconditionally."

Your mother studies him intently, her hard exterior cracking slightly to reveal a glimmer of hope and relief in her eyes. "You're a good man, Yeosang. Most boys your age would run away screaming at the thought of dealing with something like this"

He shrugs and says something that made your eyes tear,

"I love her ma'am"

Your mother's expression softens further, a rare smile tugging at her lips. "I can see that you truly care for my daughter. That's the most important thing to me." She pauses, her mind made up. "You have my blessing to date my daughter, Yeosang."

AN: whooo I got this done guys clap in the comments. I hope y'all enjoyed this and if you did, please reblog so I can reach even more people. I love yalllll

[rmadridcore]

Cabin Moments

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Summary: After a hilarious cookie mishap, you and Jude escape the cold and find yourselves melting into each other in a cabin warmed by love and a crackling fire.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Author’s note: I’ve been wanting to write something Christmas themed and I decided to combine it with one of my requests ✨ Hope you’ll love it, happy holidays everyone 🤍🤍🤍

Jude had approached baking with the same confidence he brought to the pitch, but the batter currently clinging to the ceiling suggested otherwise. It was a few days before Christmas, and after ending the year with a win, Jude had whisked you away on the snowy getaway you’d both been looking forward to for weeks. Nestled in a cozy, picturesque cabin surrounded by a blanket of thick, crisp snow, the two of you had every intention of soaking up this peaceful time together before heading to England to celebrate the holidays with his family.

After a playful afternoon of snowball fights and building lopsided snowmen, you’d returned to the cabin, cheeks pink from the cold and laughter. That’s when Jude had insisted on baking cookies for you — a gesture he’d framed as a “thank you” for always taking care of him during his grueling season. You’d tried, and failed, to talk him out of it, knowing all too well that Jude’s cooking was less “Michelin star” and more “hazardous experiment.”

“Babe, why is there flour on your forehead?” you asked, squinting at him from your perch at the kitchen counter. Your chin rested in your palm as you watched his questionable culinary process unfold.

“Because the bag exploded on its own,” he replied, his tone completely serious as he stirred a bowl of unidentifiable liquid that was supposed to be cookie dough.

“Uh-huh,” you said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “And I’m guessing the whisk didn’t magically fling batter onto the ceiling either?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Okay, that one might’ve been me.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. It was impossible to stay annoyed when he looked so determined, even if his methods were… unconventional. He whisked the mixture with such vigor you half-expected the bowl to launch itself off the counter. Butter, eggs, sugar, flour, vanilla, and a pinch of salt were haphazardly combined in a way that made you want to intervene at least ten times. The butter wasn’t properly melted, the flour was clearly insufficient, and his measurements were more guesswork than precision — but he was so resolute in doing this himself that you decided to let him be.

And prayed the cookies wouldn’t kill you.

As Jude began shaping the dough, his brows furrowed in concentration. He rolled an oddly lumpy blob in his hands, inspecting it as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Do cookies need to be round, or is that just a societal norm?” he asked, holding up the blob for your opinion.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter, doubling over as the absurdity of the question sank in. “No, Jude, they don’t need to be round,” you teased. “But it helps. Want me to take over?”

Tempted as he was by your offer, Jude stood firm. “No, thank you. I’ve got this.” His voice was confident, even as his hands struggled to mold the dough into something remotely spherical.

After what felt like an eternity, Jude triumphantly placed six misshapen dough balls onto a tray and slid them into the oven. Turning back to survey the kitchen, his eyes widened in disbelief. The once-pristine space now looked like a war zone — flour dusted every surface, utensils were strewn everywhere, and a suspicious trail of chocolate chips led to the corner of the counter.

He caught your knowing look and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe I’ll let you help with the cleanup,” he admitted sheepishly.

You grinned, grabbing a dishcloth. “I thought you’d never ask.”

As the cookies baked, the two of you worked side by side to restore some semblance of order to the kitchen, exchanging teasing remarks and stifling laughter at the chaos Jude had created. The air was filled with the warm, sweet scent of vanilla and butter, but also the undeniable warmth of shared joy and affection.

A soft ding from Jude’s phone broke the quiet, signaling that his cookies were ready.

“They’re done!” he shouted, darting to the oven with the kind of excitement you’d expect from a five year old on Christmas morning. You stifled a laugh, watching him as he carefully pulled the tray out, his expression radiating pride.

His enthusiasm was endearing, until you remembered the last time he’d insisted on cooking. You prepared yourself for what was likely going to be an unforgettable culinary experience.

The cookies cooled for a few minutes, and then you both grabbed one, each taking a tentative bite. It only took a second for reality to hit. The moment your teeth met the cookie, it felt as though your entire dental health history flashed before your eyes.

“Jude, what is this?!” you exclaimed, your jaw protesting from the sheer effort it took to chew.

Beside you, Jude was in the same boat, though he valiantly tried to act like it wasn’t a disaster. He set his cookie down slowly, as if to avoid offending it. “They’re just… crunchy,” he said, forcing nonchalance.

“They’re not crunchy, Jude. I think I just tested the limits of my dental insurance policy,” you replied, gingerly placing the cookie back on the plate and vowing never to attempt another bite.

Jude’s face fell, a cute pout forming as he stared at the offending baked goods. He looked so disappointed it tugged at your heart. Bless him, he had just wanted to make something special for you.

“It’s okay, my love,” you said, softening your tone as you approached him. You cupped his face gently and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. “I’m still so proud of you. You’ll do better next time.”

Your reassurance brought a small smile back to his face. He hugged you tightly, his chin resting atop your head as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“You probably won’t,” you whispered teasingly, unable to resist.

“Hey!” he protested, pulling back with an offended look that made you laugh.

“I’m kidding,” you said, pecking the tip of his nose. “How about you go light the fireplace, and I’ll make us some hot chocolate? Deal?”

“Deal,” he replied, clearly agreeing that cooking should forever remain your domain.

You set to work preparing two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, using the adorable Christmas-themed mugs Jude’s mom had gifted the two of you just a few days ago. With the rich scent of chocolate filling the air, you carried the mugs into the living room.

Jude was already sprawled on the couch, the fireplace crackling and casting a warm, flickering glow around the room. The cabin was utterly serene, the kind of cozy that made you want to live in this moment forever.

You handed him his mug before curling up beside him, his free arm naturally draping over your shoulders.

For a while, the two of you sipped your drinks in peaceful silence, the warmth of the fire wrapping around you like a soft blanket. It was a much-needed pause, a rare moment of tranquility amid the chaos of your lives.

“I wish I could freeze time,” Jude murmured, his voice breaking the quiet as he rested his head against yours. “Just stay like this forever.”

“What would we even do all day?” you teased, humming contentedly as the sweet, creamy liquid soothed your throat.

“This,” he replied simply, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your arm. “And maybe… I’d hold you a little closer.”

His words made your heart swell. You turned to look at him, your eyes brimming with affection. The way the firelight danced across his features left you breathless. He was stunning, and in this light, his expression so relaxed, so full of love, he somehow seemed even more beautiful.

“You look so different like this,” you whispered, your fingers grazing his jaw in a tender caress.

“Different?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Softer,” you said, smiling as your hand lingered on his cheek.

“Softer, huh?” he teased, his lips quirking into a grin. “That’s a first.”

“Not your muscles, silly,” you replied, rolling your eyes playfully. “Your eyes. They’re glowing. Like you’re thinking about something.”

He gazed deeply into your eyes, his demeanor calm and tender. “Just thinking how lucky I am to have you,” he said softly, his words making your heart flutter, as they always did.

You leaned in, pressing your lips against his, gifting him a short but heartfelt kiss that carried every ounce of your affection.

Turning your head, you let your eyes settle on the fire burning in the hearth, its soft glow casting a magical warmth over the room. “There’s something about this moment,” you murmured, “something magical, isn’t there?”

Jude brushed a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for a moment as his arms tightened around you. “You’re the magic,” he whispered against your skin. “The rest is just the setting.”

Your gaze flicked back to him, your chest swelling with love as a warm, fuzzy feeling settled deep within you. He reached for your mug, setting it alongside his on the coffee table.

“I don’t want anything between us, not even hot chocolate,” he explained when you gave him a curious look.

Before you could respond, he pulled you into his embrace, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and brimming with emotion. His tongue grazed your bottom lip, and you granted him entry, allowing him to explore your mouth with delicate care. His hands traced slow, soothing patterns along your back as he lowered you onto the couch, his body hovering over yours, never breaking the kiss.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck, nails grazing softly along his skin, sending visible shivers through him. He moaned quietly into your mouth, the sound igniting a fire in your belly.

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his lips trailing a path to your neck where he began leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses. His warm breath sent tingles coursing through you, your skin heating beneath his touch. “I love you more than anything.”

“Jude,” you sighed his name, your voice a soft groan of pleasure. “I love you too.”

He hooked one of your legs over his hip, his lips continuing their worshipful journey along your neck and collarbone. Jude’s hands worked quickly, pulling his top off in one swift motion before reaching for your sweater, lifting it over your head. You unclasped your bra and tossed it aside, your bare skin now exposed to his hungry gaze.

He cupped one of your breasts, his thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin while his mouth captured the peak of your other breast. His lips and tongue teased your nipple with a mix of tenderness and desire, leaving you breathless as soft moans slipped from your lips.

“Jude,” you moaned again, the sound spurring him on.

Hearing you say his name like that was his greatest reward — a confirmation that he was making you feel good. It fueled him, his own pleasure second to the joy of knowing he was satisfying you.

Within moments, the rest of your clothes were discarded, leaving you naked beneath him. The firelight danced across your skin, painting you in a soft, golden glow that took Jude’s breath away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. “I’m obsessed with you.”

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers exploring your wet folds with slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You were already ready for him, Jude had that effect on you. Just his touch, his words, even the way he looked at you could leave you completely undone.

You whimpered softly as his fingers left you, watching as he stroked himself a few times before positioning himself at your entrance. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he began to push into you slowly.

A deep groan escaped your lips as he filled you, stretching you perfectly in a way that was both intense and utterly satisfying. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging slightly into his skin as you adjusted to his size.

When you tilted your hips upward, your body signaling your readiness, he began to move, his thrusts slow and purposeful as he lost himself in you.

A soft, almost inaudible sigh escapes your lips as Jude begins to move, his hips rocking slowly, savoring every second. There’s no rush — neither of you are in a hurry. For the first time in what feels like forever, you both have all the time in the world to explore each other’s bodies, to bask in the tenderness and love that envelopes the moment.

His rhythm is steady and purposeful, his thrusts full of affection. Each movement feels like a silent declaration of how much he loves you.

Jude lifts his head to meet your gaze, his dark eyes melting into yours, filled with devotion and longing. Your fingers curl into the back of his head, your breaths mingling as your hearts beat in perfect synchrony.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” he whispers, his voice soft yet full of intensity, as if the words themselves carry the weight of his entire heart. His hand gently brushes strands of hair away from your face, revealing every detail of your expression.

Your eyes hold all the emotion that words could never fully express. If others wear their hearts on their sleeves, you and Jude carry yours in your eyes, transparent and undeniable.

He moves gently within you, every thrust igniting a fire in your core, sending pleasure rippling through your body. His lips find yours, warm and inviting, and his tongue slips past your parted lips to deepen the kiss. Slowly, he trails his kisses along your jawline, then down to your neck, his mouth hot against your skin.

Soft moans spill from your lips as his pace quickens, each movement perfectly calculated to bring you closer to the edge. Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper as your hands explore the expanse of his back. He groans softly against your neck, the sound vibrating through you and making your skin tingle.

“You feel so good,” Jude murmurs, his voice thick with adoration. “So perfect.”

His large hand moves to cup your breast, his fingers teasing the hardened peak with a gentle pinch. He presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder, his lips lingering on your heated skin.

“Jude, you make me feel so good,” you say breathlessly, tilting your head back to give him more access. Your words spur him on, his lips trailing even lower, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

Hearing you say those words is everything to Jude. It fuels him, his desire to make you happy, to make you feel cherished, surging through him like a tidal wave. He pauses, his lips leaving your skin to gaze into your eyes once more.

“Y/N, you’re my everything,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. His eyes lock with yours, and you see the love radiating from them. It’s overwhelming, almost too much to bear, yet you welcome it, reveling in the intensity of his feelings for you.

Even without his words, you can feel it. His every touch, every glance, every moment you’ve shared has shown you how much he adores you. But hearing him say it, especially now, sends warmth flooding through your chest.

He captures your hand in his, bringing it above your head, intertwining your fingers tightly. His thrusts remain slow and deliberate, his body perfectly aligned with yours as he leans closer, his forehead resting against yours.

“You’re mine, right?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

The question feels so silly to you, but you know Jude well enough to understand the quiet need for reassurance beneath it. Even though he knows your heart belongs to him, hearing you say it, especially in a moment this intimate, brings him a joy he can’t describe.

You smile, your free hand gently cupping his face as you whisper, “Of course, my love. I’m yours. Forever.”

The words ignite something within him. His thrusts pick up slightly, enough to send waves of pleasure cascading through your body, inching you closer to the edge. Your soft cries of pleasure echo in his ears, and he knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be — wrapped in your arms, lost in the love you share.

Jude gazed down at you, his breaths heavy and labored but his heart fuller than ever. To him, you felt like a dream, a tangible piece of heaven he could hold, yet somehow still untouchably divine. There was an ethereal connection between the two of you, unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

The moment he had you in his life, he knew there was no going back. How could he? You made him feel like he was perpetually on cloud nine. You were the light that brightened even the most ordinary days, a warmth that banished every shadow.

As his pace quickened, your fingers squeezed his tightly. He responded by leaning down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was deep, fervent, and all-consuming. It wasn’t just a kiss — it was a declaration, a pouring out of emotions from the deepest corners of both your hearts.

To Jude, it felt as though he were floating on warm water, his entire being weightless and suspended in bliss. His heart swelled, threatening to burst from how much he loved you.

“I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with sincerity.

And he truly felt like the luckiest man alive. You loved him without reservation, understood him like no one else ever had, and supported him in ways that made him feel invincible. He never thought his life had been lacking before he met you, but now, he understood — nothing could ever compare to the completeness he felt with you by his side.

His thrusts quickened slightly, urgency mingling with tenderness as both of you approached your highs. Your intertwined hands tightened simultaneously, the shared gesture grounding you both in the moment.

Your lips remained locked as the peak hit, his warm release filling you just as your orgasm surged through you, sending tremors down your spine. Your walls clenched around him, eliciting a low, guttural groan from deep in his chest that you swallowed with your own cries of pleasure.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your labored breaths mingling with the soft crackle of the fire. Jude slumped against you, his weight resting on you in a way that felt grounding and secure. He was careful not to crush you, but he also didn’t want to break the closeness of the moment.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his head, gently caressing his slightly damp hair. The soothing motion sent shivers down his spine yet again, a sensation that never seemed to grow old no matter how often you touched him.

The cabin was silent, save for the occasional pop of the firewood. Outside, the snow was falling heavily, blanketing the world in stillness and cold. But inside, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, you felt untouched by the chill.

Jude rested his head on your chest, pressing lazy, loving kisses along your collarbone as he listened to your heartbeat — steady, soothing, and his favorite sound in the world. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, the crackling fire and the scent of pine only adding to the magic of the moment.

Though it felt like perfection, both of you knew this was just the beginning. With Christmas just around the corner, the love and passion you shared promised even more magic ahead. And as the snow continued to fall outside, you lay there together, hearts full, basking in a warmth that no fire could ever rival.

[luciferanalyzestar]

Viv definitely not planned out things because she has habit of arbitrarily change plots and characters because of one thing that she gets interested in (Vaggie being an angel? That was just a popular fan theory about her which Viv made canon, Vaggie was originally intended to be a sinner who was a prostitute that died in 2014, Did you know that Cherri Bomb is australian just because Viv listened to australian music? Or how Nifty is made to be japanese just because her pilot va can speak japanese fluently? Or how stolas x blitzo came to be just because she saw a piece of fanart where young stolas and blitzo meet each other)

Vaggie being a prostitute would be better if Viv did not create her. Naming a sex worker after genitals is misogynistic. End of story!

Her backstory is similar to the hundreds of cases of serial killers targeting sex workers because they knew the sex work is stigmatized and no one will notice that they went missing. There have been times where a woman survived her attempted murder, but no one believed her due to her status of being a sex worker.

Vaggie's name not being changed is also childish on Viv's part. She is the only Sapphic character in Hazbin and that is her name?? Just learned that Vaggie is not a WLW/Lesbian, she labeled as 'Queer' on her fandom wiki page, I don't know how to feel about this info.

Viv will never beat the misogynist allegations.

Back to the show, Vaggie being an angel makes Charlie and Vaggie's relationship to similar to Lucifer and Lilith's. I think Charlie/Vaggie's relationship would have been stronger if Vaggie stayed a Sinner.

Imagine in episode five when Lucifer said that Sinners are all awful people and Charlie claps back and uses Vaggie as an example of how some Sinners are kind people that got screwed over or done certain 'sinful' things to protect themselves?

If Viv wanted Vaggie being an angel to have more weight to it, remove all the Alastor bullshit, have a moment where Lucifer would have taken Vaggie aside while Charlie distracted. He confronts her saying that he knows she is an angel and asks Vaggie how she rounded up in Hell. Vaggie does not explain her full backstory, but she was once an exorcist, and that Charlie does not know.

"Post-pilot dialogue recording, Vivziepop decided that she wanted Cherri to be Australian, after becoming inspired by Australian folk music. Though the dialogue could not be re-recorded, Vivziepop has expressed interest in making Cherri Australian for future episodes and projects featuring the character."

Oh, my goodness. It does not help that Cherri's voice is annoying and forced. Americans cannot do an Australian accent without it sounding unrealistic. Anyway, if Viv founds something to be "cool", she just adds it to a character. When Cherri gets her own song, will the instrumentals be inspired by Australian folk music?

"Vivziepop said that, although she had yet to lock down all of the characters' races and ethnicities, she had been writing Niffty with a mind to her being Japanese. This was originally due to Niffty's pilot voice actress being able to speak Japanese fluently."

No wonder they changed Niffy's skin tone from the plot to the show. Saying that a character is now Japanese while their skin tone is yellow is unfortunate.

Do you know how surprised fans are when finding Niffty is Japanese? I find it 'funny' that Cherri has an accent, but Niffty does not one? Her VA is from Japanese descent. I would have been neat if Niffty said certain words in Japanese when speaking like how Vaggie does but with Spanish.

I remember seeing a post about the child Stolas/Blitz fanart, but I cannot find it for the life of me. They actually showed what the fanart looked like. I FOUND IT!! This was shared by an alleged ex-Spindlehorse employee. They said that another crew member drew it, not a random fan.

Blitz and Stolas being "childhood friends to lovers" is corny! I have no issue with the trope, but Blitz was sold to Paimon to play with Stolas for the day. That is dark which would have been fine if the show portrays it has dark and how twisted the Ars Goetia are and not "AWWWWWW! <3 THE ARE SO CUTE AND DESERVE TO BE TOGETHER!!!!!!!!" Them knowing each other as child is never bought up again in season two either so what was the point?

Viv not her own stories planned out is obvious. There nothing wrong with changing a plot detail or characterization. Do not do it last minute where episodes are in production and lines are being recorded.

[justaparsec94]

Firsts

Author's Note: For @spaceyjessa. Written for the prompts: Snowed In and First Christmas (I couldn't decide so I combined them lol). I'm a little rusty after not writing for so long so I hope this is ok! Happy Holidays!

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,407

If Crosshair had to pick one thing out of his long list of dislikes as the thing he liked least, it would probably be snow. He let out an annoyed huff, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting from one foot to the other in an effort to maintain some warmth as he stood outside The Havoc Marauder. Even with his HUD on his view was almost completely obstructed by the falling snow. Perhaps, that was part of why he disliked it so much, snipers and poor visibility didn’t mix well. But the bigger reason was because he just downright hated the cold. No planet had any right to be this cold. It was icier than a Kaminoan’s heart. 

In theory, it had been a simple mission: retrieve Separatist intel from a supposedly abandoned outpost on some outer rim planet that no one had ever heard the name of before. It was easy—so easy that he and his brothers had actually been offended when the mission had come through to them. But in typical Bad Batch fashion, nothing ever turned out quite as easy as they expected.

The first problem had been that the abandoned outpost wasn’t actually abandoned, but that had made this boring mission much less boring. There was nothing The Batch liked more than scrapping a bunch of clankers. They’d made sure the place was well and truly abandoned once they were through with it and grabbed the data chip that they’d been sent to retrieve. It was at that point as they’d been on the way back to their ship that they’d encountered problem number two, the weather. It had been cold and snowing when they’d arrived but what had started out as a light dusting had turned into a downright blizzard. They’d barely been able to see a foot in front of them as they’d made their way back, the wind so strong it felt as if it was blowing right through their supposedly insulated armour. 

They’d made it though, mostly because Tech had a homing beacon on The Marauder that he could trace on his data pad but then they had encountered problem number three, likely due to the snow, their ship wouldn’t start. Instead of powering up like usual, all they were greeted with were warning alarms. 

All of which had led to his current position, standing guard outside, miserable, in the freezing cold while Tech was in the bowels of the ship, trying to figure out what was wrong with it. He cursed softly under his breath as he shifted from foot to foot again, trying to bring back some feeling into his frozen feet. A quick look at his HUD showed that the temperature was just continuing to drop. 

A curse from beneath The Marauder snapped him out of his own brooding, he turned and took a few short steps to where he could just make out Tech’s boots sticking out from underneath the ship. He ducked down, joints protesting from the cold as he did so. 

“What is it?” He called out to Tech.  

Tech didn’t answer for a long moment, so long that Crosshair was about to call out to him, or better yet, kick him in the leg when he started to move. Crosshair stood back up as his brother crawled out from underneath the ship.

“I have discovered the issue,” Tech stated matter-of-factly as he pulled out his datapad, his helmeted gaze shifting down to it as he began to type something. 

Crosshair waited for a long moment, crossing his arms over his chest once more, irritation growing by the moment, “Are you going to elaborate or…”

“Oh,” Tech made a surprised sound, as though he’d forgotten that Crosshair was there, “Well, the good news is that I will be able to make the necessary repairs. Unfortunately, based on the research I have done on this planet and the way the temperature is rapidly falling, I will not be able to complete the repairs until tomorrow morning. If I attempted to do so now I would likely freeze to death before the repairs are completed.” 

Crosshair was quiet for a moment as he took in that bit of information, “It would be a noble sacrifice,” He said before he snickered, ducking out of the way as Tech swiped at him. 

With the mystery of the broken ship now solved, Crosshair wasted no time in getting back inside and out of the snow. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of staying the night on this planet but at least The Marauder still had heat. And most important of all, you were on the ship.

Crosshair shook the snow that had accumulated on him off as the ramp hissed closed behind the two of them. The snow was gone but the chill in his bones remained as he reached up to pull his helmet off his head. He only managed to take a step further into the ship before he was accosted by a small body. 

“Here,” You said quickly, throwing one of the heated blankets you kept stored on board as part of your med kit over his shoulders. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, shivering slightly as you moved away to do the same for Tech. 

Before he could even frown at the loss of contact you’d returned to his side, concern etched on your features as you looked up at him. His heart rattled in his chest as your gazes met, a feeling that wasn’t new to him but still caught him off guard every time. You were so beautiful, sometimes it was like staring directly at a muzzle flash. 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise as you reached out to place a gentle hand on the exposed skin on his neck. Your brow furrowed as his skin tingled beneath the touch, the warmth of your hand against his cold skin sent a shiver down his spine. He cast a quick look over at Tech but his brother wasn’t paying any attention, instead, he was typing away on his database, the blanket you’d given him thrown over his shoulders. 

He lifted a gloved hand to cover your own, expression questioning as you looked at him. The relationship between the two of you was still relatively new, having come to a head after you’d been injured on a mission a few months previously, so he still wasn’t quite used to public displays of affection. Generally, you were entirely professional whenever his brothers were around and he was well, himself, so this gentle touch was somewhat surprising. Usually, it was reserved for the quiet moments between the two of you. 

“You’re freezing,” you replied softly, seemingly catching on to his line of thinking, “You need to get out of this armour. It’s just trapping in the cold air.” 

Crosshair smirked, his voice only loud enough for you to hear, “Trying to get me undressed?” 

“Cross,” you rolled your eyes but a smile bloomed on your face, “Behave.” 

He had another snarky response on the tip of his tongue but he was interrupted by Hunter coming out of the cockpit, Wrecker hot on his heels. 

“What’s the situation Tech?” Hunter asked, dark brow furrowed with concern as he looked at their brother. 

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Crosshair drawled before Tech could answer earning him a glare from both Hunter and Tech. He snorted in amusement before his attention was pulled away by your warm and nimble fingers making easy work of removing his armour. Normally, he wouldn’t accept help with his gear, even from you, but in that moment he wasn’t about to turn away from any source of heat. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to curl up in a ball beneath the warm blanket hanging over his shoulders. Preferably with you. 

Hunter sighed, rubbing his hand against his face in frustration before looking back at Tech, “I guess the bad news.”  

“Delivering the information in that way would be illogical,” Tech stated, “I have discovered the source of the problem and I will be able to repair it, however due to the storm and the rapidly falling temperature I will not be able to do so until the storm breaks. According to the weather reports and information I have gathered on this planet, that should be sometime tomorrow morning.” 

Hunter groaned while you paused your work momentarily. A considering look overtook your face as you looked between Hunter and Tech. 

“Aw man,” Wrecker groaned loudly, “you mean we’re stranded???”

“Snowed in would be a more accurate term,” Tech replied simply before turning his attention back to his datapad. 

Wrecker groaned even louder before muttering about bad luck and being hungry and a multitude of other things. Tech simply shrugged, unbothered by this turn of events, and made his way into the cockpit. 

“Well, better get comfy then,” Hunter replied, frustration evident in his voice as he looked at the remaining members of the squad. 

Crosshair looked over at you with a frown as you suddenly stepped away from him. You’d managed to remove the top half of his armour, leaving it in a neat pile at his feet, and he was feeling much warmer than before but he’d been enjoying the feeling of your hands on him, perhaps a bit too much.  

His brow furrowed as he watched you grab your coat from where you had placed it on one of the jump seats earlier. There was a gleam in your eyes suddenly that he wasn’t quite sure he liked the look of. 

“What are you doing?” He asked gruffly as you pulled your coat back on. Both Hunter and Wrecker looked over at you questioningly as well as you zipped up your coat and wrapped your scarf around your neck. 

You smiled brightly at him before you pulled the scarf up over your nose, his heart flipped traitorously at the sight, just as it always did, “I’m just going to go grab something quick. I’ll be right back!”

“Did you miss the part where Tech said he’d freeze to death?” Crosshair hissed, narrowing his eyes at you. 

You rolled your eyes, much to his annoyance, “No, I heard. But that’s why I’m going to go right now, not later.”

“It’s freezing out and you can barely see anything!” Crosshair snapped as he stooped to pick up the armour you had removed. There was no way he was letting you go out there alone, “You’re going to get lost!”

“I am not and put that armour back down. I know exactly where I’m going. I’ll be less than five minutes!” You protested, pulling his chest plate back out of his hands and adding it back to the pile. 

Crosshair’s ire was rising by the moment, “You could freeze out there!” 

You quirked an eyebrow at him, before pulling up the hood of your jacket, leaving nothing but your eyes showing, “That would happen regardless if you’re there or not.”

Crosshair spluttered, anger coursing through him but before he could say anything else you patted him on the shoulder, “I’ll be fine Cross, unlike you I’m used to the cold, I grew up on a planet with a weather condition other than just rain. And if I’m not back in five minutes you can send out the search party for me.”

“If you’re not back in five minutes I’m just going to let you freeze,” Crosshair replied grumpily, even though it was a complete lie. If you weren’t back in 4 minutes and 30 seconds he was going to be out that door faster than a jump into hyperspace. 

“So rude,” You said with a laugh, you gripped both of his arms with your gloved hands, giving him a gentle squeeze, “It was nice knowing you then.” 

His scowl deepened as you pulled away, normally you were very logical and level-headed, which he admired that about you, so whatever idea that had come into your head that was making you think this was a good idea was completely out of the normal. 

“Wait,” He hissed softly before you could make more than a few steps toward the door. 

You paused looking up at him as he lifted his hands, pulling the scarf around your face just a little tighter and tugging it up to cover more of your face. It had slipped while you’d be talking and that was completely unacceptable. He wasn't about to let you freeze to death on his watch.

Your eyes were warm as you looked up at him for a quick moment before you hit the button to release the ramp of The Marauder.

“Five minutes!” You called back at him over your shoulder happily as you made your way down the ramp. 

He continued to scowl after you for a long moment, arms crossed over his chest unhappily as the door rose once more, sealing off the outside world. With an annoyed huff, he turned back towards his armour that needed to be stowed in his kit only to pause as he caught sight of his brothers. 

Wrecker was clearly pretending to be busy by moving an old equipment crate around while Hunter was just outright looking at Crosshair with an amused expression. 

“Shut up!” He hissed, picking up one of his vambraces and throwing it at his eldest brother who ducked away from it easily. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Hunter replied, his tone as amused as his expression before he disappeared into the cockpit to join Tech. Wrecker simply whistled casually in a very poor attempt to pretend he didn’t know what was going on. Crosshair frowned, cursing softly under his breath at your insistence to do something stupid and his own inability to keep his feelings in check as he bent down to retrieve the rest of his armour. At least you’d been right about one thing, he was much warmer without it on. 

Thankfully, you were true to your word and by the time he’d stored the rest of his gear away (4 minutes and 23 seconds to be exact) you’d returned to the ship, something bundled beneath a blanket under your arm, looking like you’d just single-handedly won the war. 

Curious about what you were up to, the rest of the squad re-appeared as the door to The Marauder hissed closed behind you. Your smile was so radiant as you pulled off your scarf that it made Crosshair’s stomach clench. Despite still being somewhat annoyed at your little side quest, he was unable to resist following after you as you headed towards where Gonky was currently plugged in placing whatever was in your arms on top of the sleeping droid. 

“Ta-da!” You announced happily, clapping your hands together in excitement as you revealed a small…tree. 

The Batch was quiet for a long moment while you simply bounced happily on your feet, looking between them all expectantly. 

“Why did you bring a tree on the ship?” Tech asked finally, breaking the silence. 

“It’s Life Day tomorrow!” You replied excitedly, “So, I figured if we’re going to be stuck here then we should celebrate. Make it a little more festive in here!” 

“Life day?” Hunter asked though it came out more of a statement than a question. 

You frowned suddenly and Crosshair instantly wanted to kick Hunter for ruining your enthusiasm, “You.. do know what life day is, right?” You asked, concern suddenly evident on your face.

Of course, they did, but only because they had once had to listen to Tech prattle on about it during a mission when they’d been stuck in hyperspace. Not because they actually celebrated it. There wasn’t much room in a clone's life for celebrations or holidays. 

“You mean the traditional Wookie holiday that has been perpetuated by large businesses to drive consumerism?” Tech asked without even looking up from his datapad, his tone completely matter-of-fact. 

Crosshair wasn’t able to stop the snort of amusement that left him at the look on your face at Tech’s comment. It was somewhere between outrage and resignation.

“Well, yes,” You replied with a grumble, though your grumpy tone was more endearing than threatening, “But it’s about more than that! It’s about spending time with your friends and family, the people you love and care about!” 

“And.. you require a holiday to do this?” Tech asked skeptically as he finally looked up from his datapad, his eyebrows were raised towards his hairline questioningly.  

Your frown deepened to an even more amusing level, “Well, no, we shouldn’t,” Your eyes narrowed slightly at Tech, “But that’s it, no more questions from Tech.” 

Crosshair snorted again as you clapped your hands together once more, brightening considerably, “Who wants to help me decorate?”

“Oh, me! Me!” Wrecker answered excitedly, rocketing up from where he’d been sitting in one of the jump seats and bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of you. Crosshair couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his over-the-top excitement. You, on the other hand, looked thrilled by his enthusiasm. 

“We don’t have any decorations.” Tech pointed out, “What will…”

“No more questions!” You cut him off in a sing-song voice before you grabbed Wrecker's large hands in your own and dragged him towards the back of the ship. Powerless, as he always was when it came to you, Crosshair followed along behind. Admittedly he was curious about what you’d be able to find that would count as a “decoration”. 

Within the hour they were all once again gathered around the Life Day tree, which now sported an assortment of random spare parts and a few extra headlamps as decorations while Hunter handed out their rations. 

Clearly taking their lack of Life Day experience as an opportunity to educate them, you’d started regaling them with some of your favourite Life Day stories. They all listened with wrapt attention, much more interested in your stories than Tech’s technical information about the holiday. Crosshair was unable to take his eyes off you, you were so beautiful, face lit up with excitement and laughter as you talked. There were a lot of moments, especially ones like these when you shone so brightly, that he still couldn’t quite believe that you’d chosen him, of all people. 

The hours melted away as you talked, his brothers joining in with their own stories, not specific to Life Day but the ones that had been passed on from clone to clone over the years, it was all they had to share but you listened and laughed right along with them. Crosshair remained quiet, simply basking in the warmth of the ship and enjoying the sight of the people he cared about most simply enjoying each other’s company. It was the most peaceful he’d felt in a very long time and he knew that was mostly because of you. You’d added so much to all of their lives, fitting into the squad as though you’d always belonged there.

Eventually, the stories slowed, and voices lowered before stopping altogether. Crosshair smirked as he watched your eyes begin to droop, your body slumping back in your chair as you curled further into the blanket that had once been wrapped around his shoulders. He’d been just about to jab you with his foot and order you off to bed when suddenly the sounds of Wrecker snoring rocked the ship, startling you awake once more. 

Hunter stood at the sound, casting an amused look at their brother who was fast asleep in his chair, “I’ll take first watch, get some rest.” He made his way back over to the cockpit before anyone could even think about objecting. Silently, Tech rose, giving them both a nod before he headed over towards one of the bunks and climbed up to the top. There were only three since one of them was usually on watch and there hadn’t been a need for more before you’d joined the squad.  Despite your protests, you’d been given the middle one permanently which had left the other two for them to rotate through. 

Crosshair’s eyes followed you as you rose, pulling the blanket closer around you as you made your way over to him. He reached out to gently grasp your hip through the blanket, closing the distance between the two of you with a soft tug.

You smiled softly before you bent over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, making his skin burn, “Goodnight, Cross,” You said quietly, squeezing his shoulder gently before making your way over to your bunk. Unfortunately, you only slept together when you weren’t aboard The Marauder and surrounded by his brothers. 

With a sigh, Crosshair stood and kicked the chair Wrecker had been sleeping in, jolting him awake. He, fortunately, had the ability to fall asleep anywhere and not suffer any consequences. Wrecker on the other hand would be sore if he slept all night in a chair and then they would never hear the end of it the next day. 

“Go to bed,” Crosshair ordered sternly.

Wrecker grumbled something incoherent as he stood, still half asleep but somehow he managed to stumble his way over to the bunks. Crosshair watched with amusement as he collapsed in a heap, snoring once more the moment his head hit his thin regulation pillow. 

Crosshair was about to return to his chair to get some sleep of his own when he paused, his eyes straying over to where you were now curled up in your bunk. As usual, his heart picked up a notch as he looked at you. At that moment there was absolutely nowhere he wanted to be more than in that bed with you. He suddenly wasn’t sure why he bothered pretending like he wasn’t as crazy about you as he was. 

You let out a surprised squeak, eyes popping open and he climbed into the bunk, shouldering you over and tugging at the blanket until he was between you and the wall. He pulled you in close, the lines of your body matching up perfectly with his own before he pulled the blanket back up over the both of you. 

“What is this? You asked, tone amused but you snuggled closer into him nonetheless. You moved your hands to rest over top of his own where they were wrapped around your stomach, holding you close.  

“For warmth,” Crosshair replied dryly. 

“Ah yes, of course,” You let out a soft laugh, “Practical as always.” 

He snorted, tucking his chin against your shoulder and closing his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t been all that tired but the warmth you were giving off was very quickly changing that. 

“Does your Life Day celebration usually involve rations?” Crosshair asked quietly, despite how ridiculous he’d found the whole thing at first he found himself growing curious about the holiday. Mostly because he wanted to know more about your life and the things you felt were important. 

You let out a soft snort of laughter, “Well no, but it’s the people that matter most, Cross.” 

“Hmm..” he replied, skeptical. 

“It is!” you cried, indignantly, turning your head slightly so you could look at him out of your peripheral vision, pinching his hand lightly in response. 

“If you say so,” He drawled. 

You laughed softly again, shaking your head before you turned around to face him. In this position, your faces were only inches apart and he had to try very hard not to kiss you. 

“I will say that the rations were a first. My mum always goes a little crazy, she loves life day. There’s always so much food. It’s hard to even move after because you're always so full. Hopefully, we’ll be able to go next year.” 

Crosshair’s entire body seized at your casual comment. Thinking of the future wasn’t something he ever allowed himself to do. He didn’t see the point of getting his hopes up. A future, a family, that wasn’t something he had ever thought he could have. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out with future talk,” You said softly, trying your best to meet his averted gaze. You’d caught onto his avoidance of the future much quicker than he would have liked. Though he shouldn’t have been surprised, you’d always had the ability to see him in a way no one else ever could. 

“You didn’t…” He started gruffly, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. You’d read him so easily and that still unnerved him at times.

More than just avoiding getting his hopes up by not thinking about the future, there was a part of him, an admittedly large part that was constantly worried that one day you would realize that you could do so much better than him. He was just a clone, a defective one at that, and he had nothing to offer you. Not even time was on his side. 

“Cross,” You started softly, one hand reaching up to cup his jaw, gentle touch forcing his chin down so that your eyes could meet. Your gaze was so warm that it made his heart clench, “You know I love you, right?” You continued, as though you could hear his very thoughts.

It wasn’t the first time you’d said it but the overwhelming feelings that filled him each time you did never changed. He’d never been a man of many words so he showed you just how much you meant to him in one of the few ways he knew how. 

You let out another soft sound of surprise as he pressed his lips to your own, pulling you so close that it became difficult to tell where one of you ended and the other began. When the two of you were like this, the future didn’t seem that intimidating and it was easier to forget about all the doubts that seemed to constantly haunt him. There was just the two of you, as you were meant to be. 

He nipped gently at your lower lip once before pulling back slightly, resting his forehead against your own before closing his eyes. You let out a soft sigh as your hand slid down from his jaw to rest over his heart, bunching gently in the fabric of his blacks. 

“Next Life Day we’re getting a bigger tree,” Crosshair said after a long, quiet moment. 

You laughed softly, body shaking slightly in his arms, “Of course, Cross. Anything for you.” 

He grunted happily in response, eyes growing heavier as sleep began to take over. 

“Happy first Life Day, Crosshair,” You whispered, just before he drifted off to sleep. Warm, content, and most of all, happy. 

[seastarblue]

Writemas Day Twenty-Three

YAHOOOOO SECOND TO LAST DAY

here’s a lil thingy with child Kaiden (about 6-7) and her family! very cute teehee

I originally was gonna do an angst thing but idk it wasn’t hitting so yuh

today’s prompts!

and the ones I used:

setting: blizzard

feeling: the charm of a smile

Kaiden pressed her face against the window, mesmerized at the blizzard raging outside. She wondered how much snow would fall; if their house would be covered in it, or maybe the whole mountain would be a blanket of fluffy white frigid-ness. That would be fun. All that snow to play in!

“It is snowing out there, isn’t it?” Mama asked, knitting as she always did when the family of four was trapped inside.

“Mm,” came Papa’s reply, eyes still closed while he lay on the couch.

“Oh, Kaiden, come here. You’ll catch cold if you’re too close to the window, dear.”

She reluctantly followed her mother’s words, sitting near Issac instead. He played with blocks, clacking them around and giggling at the sounds they made. She still stared at the furious fluttering snowstorm, slightly annoyed at not being able to press her face against the window. It felt nice.

“That’s better. Thank you, dearie,” her mother smiled, and Kaiden felt its charm from the other side of the room. She liked Mama’s smile. It felt nice, too.

What didn’t feel nice was the sound of her baby brother banging his blocks together. It hurt, kind of. Not like a scrape, or a tummy ache, but another kind of hurt. She wanted him to stop. But how…?

After some thought, she decided a gently placed pillow smack would do the trick. Standing up, she took a small pillow from her father, and as she raised it over her head—

“Kaiden, no,” Papa said, eyes still closed.

“…wasn’t gonna do it hard…” she mumbled.

“Still.”

After some more thought, she supposed giving him another toy would have to do. One that was small. And soft, so it wouldn’t make noise. She looked around the living room, searching for the perfect toy to replace the blocks, and… there! A little stuffed chicken, right next to Mama’s knitting chair. Kaiden stepped over the blocks, and the scattered pillows, and finally the chicken was in her hands.

She went back to Issac and waited till he looked at her. Then, she showed him the stuffy. He didn’t seem interested at first, but after seeing her pretend-play with it, he started babbling and making to take it. Kaiden gave it to him gladly.

Another victory! Kaiden sat closer to the window as a little reward for herself.

��——

waaaaaaaaaaaaah baby Kai baby Zac I love them <3

General Writing Taglist! Lemme know if you’d like on via dm!

@bunnymermaidwrites @abiteofhoney @aalinaaaaaa @vesanal @cepheusgalaxy

@fifis-corner @urnumber1star @thebookishkiwi @sunflowerrosy @theink-stainedfolk

@threedaysgross @mundanemoongirl @satohqbanana @bamber344 @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese

@viridis-icithus @cc-writes-stuff @anothersummerofsleep @sharkblizzardblogs

@verdant-mainframe @kittrrrr @ruvastuon @agirlandherquill (<- the host!) @annothersummerofsleep

@nczaversnick @zerotothex @oliolioxenfreewrites

yay I hope yall enjoyed :>

[sagittariusdarkarrow]

👀 I don’t know if I show this to Vince or if I try to hide this from him... (But I admit I also want more).

As thanks for a favour, Wu Xie is given an ancient foreign artifact. (He's convinced it's cursed from the moment he lays eyes on it.) (It's a Palantír.)

Waves of smoke, ash and fire unfurled within the translucent sphere, in glow and shadow remaking an unclear image, which tried to take shape and move among the jumbled sounds that overlapped - the screams and clash of thousands of swords, the tear apart mountains and seas.

Wu Xie saw many cursed things during his lifetime, but that 'gift for a favor' - an ancient crystal ball that displayed a long crack on its surface, as if the vision inside it could escape, - was certainly something he had seriously considered just not touching.

The destruction of an age far older than the world he knew seemed an illusion, - a trick of that artifact to draw the horror that, again, the world would be consumed in the same way, - but if the vision was true, the fallen ruins where he, strangely, could read 'Minas Tirith' carved into the stones, somewhere must exist to be found.

(Oh gods, Fixa, thank you so much for this prompt! And I'm sorry for the overuse of commas to keep this in 3 sentences kjsskjs. Now this will live in my head for a while...)

[tojiscrack]

15.2k words 😩

now what would you do if i told you we’re currently at 20.06k words? 🤭

[mitamicah]

aaaaaa I'm so excited you got the ARE YOU from Jere!!!!! Are you designing the tattoo already???

I am still not over that and especially now with his story like how dARE YOU 😭🤣

ARe yOU 👀👀👀

I have most of the design ready i just went into a state were i can nothing but fanboy for a hot minute so I hope to get myself calm enough to transfer my pictures and scan the page so I can work on it 😍

[anastacialy]

y'know, i keep making a habit of swinging my bat at hornets nests, but i have to say i'm getting so, so tired of people complaining about shows not making perfect sense when they aren't even close to done. we're four episodes into this season of doctor who. we're four episodes into this season of bridgerton. and yet in both fandoms i keep seeing people whine that such and such didn't make sense or it wasn't explained all the way and by god you guys i think maybe explanations might come later in the season. this is something most viewers will recognize as being called a 'plot.'

[blueheartedmayor]

OOC:

[mintedwitcher]

I am violently wrestling Evan Buckley out of Tim Minear's hands until that man can give him a love interest who doesn't just fuck off at random okay thanks.

[ctl-yuejie]

pride month is definitely for baking brownies

wasn’t really vibing with the date (he was sweet but had nothing to say about himself and also nothing he wanted to know about me), started going south when he went into the bushes to relieve himself and wouldn’t understand that i didn’t want to touch his hands afterwards

tried to be polite when turning him down (we were walking towards his house) but then he started insisting we would try this and if it is sth that creeps me out it is a guy not accepting a no. also turns out he lied about his age.

said he was 25 when he’s 32. he thought i was 22. i like to belief that it is reasonable of me to question him for hitting on a “22″ year old saying he’s 25 when he is indeed 32.

[roger-paladino]

It’s probably also good to note for people unfamiliar with EMH that most of the bad things Habit has done on screen can be summed up in just torture and murder, with the scenes of him and Vinnie in the end showing some themes of manipulation and abuse.

The refrences to Nazis and rape come in from entries on the blog CANYOUSEETHEWORDS which is content you can easily skip over if that makes you uncomfortable to read about. (I think specifically it’s only mentioned in two posts, but I’d need to double check. and as far as my memory goes these things are only mentioned and never written in detail.)

These blog entries are really good supplimentary material for explaining how the HABIT is supposed to be the worse of the worst (as if him eating a baby on screen wasn’t proof enough). Of course this goes over peoples heads and they act like he’s pretty much just the bad boy yandere boyfriend trope.

[alexiroflife]

jjk men when you aren't feeling well but try to hide it...

"hello! i was wondering if you could write an angst but w comfort fluff headcannon w the jjk men? i was thinking reader has an injury or is sick but she hides it, but they find out. it would be great if you can, but if not i totally understand. your writing is amazing!!!" -anon

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

satoru gojo: (sprained ankle!)

you're fucked.

you know you are the moment you go to pick yourself up from your boyfriend's hardwood kitchen floors and wince in pain in reaction to the pressure in your left ankle.

you hiss, immediately stumbling back to a sitting position. You look over your outstretched foot to find that your ankle is rapidly swelling, and you curse under your breath.

this is so inconvenient. of all times to injure yourself, you of course had to a day before an important mission. you never handle injuries very well. you are always so quick to brush them off, or at least be in denial about them because you can't stand the thought of feeling helpless or incapable.

especially not when satoru gojo is your boyfriend, who unfortunately knows you far too well to overlook something like an injury to your ankle.

damn. what are you supposed to do? satoru will never let you out of his sight, let alone allow you to go on this mission if he finds out about your injury. as much as you love the way he looks after you, you're not in the mood to accept the fact that you may not be able to walk for a few days without his help.

you try to stand again, stubborn with determination. you grip onto the countertop and rise slowly on your able foot, then lean to press your injured foot down slowly. okay... not so bad! Maybe you can add just a little bit more pressure, and-

"fuck," you curse, sharp pain throbbing through your foot the moment you try to walk. You lift your leg immediately and whimper, leaning your body against the counter. "god dammit," you pout.

you should ice it, you think, but icing it will only make the injury more real. maybe it's not so bad, right? maybe if you just sit down for a bit and push it to the back of your head, it will go away?

you know it's not smart, but truthfully, you don't have the time to worry about a stupid ankle. you're sure you only irritated it. with some rest, you'll be fine.

you hop your way up the stairs with your hand gripping the railing tightly to your shared bedroom and ease yourself into bed. you decide you'll take a nap while you wait for satoru to come home, ignoring the simmering pain in your swollen ankle.

"babyyy!"

you wake suddenly to the sound of satoru's voice singing through the house. you jump and immediately hold in a whimper of pain when you accidentally shift your foot beneath the covers. you can tell solely by the lack of mobility in your ankle that it's, unsurprisingly, gotten worse.

you panic, moving quickly to prop your back up against the headboard. you fix yourself in the most normal possible position you can without agitating your foot, and you turn to the door with an innocent expression the second satoru bursts through with a beam.

"hey, pretty," he walks in and immediately crouches over the bed to wrap you up in a hug. you cringe as his lips meet every crook of your face, his body enveloping you in warmth. "missed you so much today," he sighs.

"missed you too, toru," you wrap your arms around his back. "how was your day?"

"same old same old. the higher-ups only get more annoying each day, if that's even possible," he grumbles into your ear, slumping against you. "what are you doing cooped up here all by yourself? you taking a nap?"

"yeah, I just woke up," you tell him with a hefty exhale, his lips meeting the crook of your neck lazily as he nuzzles into you. "you wanna take one with me, you big baby?" you giggle.

"god yes," satoru agrees. "but first, I'm starving. did you eat while I was gone?"

"nah, I waited for you, toru."

"well, you normally cook, baby, I was waiting for you."

you momentarily freeze and he pulls back reluctantly, not before dotting one more kiss to the crook of your jaw. you had completely forgotten about making dinner, but seeing how you couldn't even walk, those cards were off the table.

he looks down at you with his arms propped on either side of your figure on the bed. your ankle continues to throb, and while you try to hide the pain that you are currently in by shifting ever so subtly beneath him, his sapphire eyes catch the twitch in your brow and the motion of your body beneath his blindfold.

"not that I care if you cook or not. obviously you were tired..." he trails off. "you okay?"

fucking hell, damn those six eyes.

you nod despite yourself, keeping a soft smile as you brush your fingers over satoru's hair. "yeah, of course. just tired like you said. I'm sorry about dinner, it slipped my mind."

"don't you dare apologize," he ducks down to kiss your cheek loudly. "we can go out to eat. make it a date before your big mission tomorrow, yeah?"

you internally deflate. the idea sounds amazing, but going on a date would mean getting up, getting dressed, and walking out the door. you're unfortunately physically incapable of doing any of the above at the moment.

satoru watches the way your shoulders slump and your lips part as if to protest, and he tilts his head in slight confusion. "...or not..." he says slowly.

"sorry, toru, it's not that I don't wanna go, i just don't have the energy..." you excuse pathetically.

satoru's face tells you that he doesn't buy your words, but he complies nonetheless. "that's no problem, baby, we can order in instead."

you sigh and nod with a gentle smile. "that sounds great."

"someone's feeling real lazy today, huh?" he teases, hooking his finger into his blindfold to peel it from his face, revealing his bright irises gazing curiously down at you. "you sure you're just tired?"

"yeah... why?"

"i'm just askin," he says. his eyes dart over you one more time before he pushes himself up with an exhale and tugging at your arm. "come on, let's go to the living room to order."

why the hell does he want to move around so much?!

"um- why can't we just order here?"

a smile quirks on Satoru's lips as though you've made a joke. "cause, we'll be downstairs once the food gets here," he says.

you pucker your lips slightly and tilt your head. "can't we just eat it up here and you can go get it?"

gojo's eyes are now slim with suspicion as he pulls himself back over to you. "i mean, of course i can but you never eat takeout in bed, we always cuddle downstairs and eat."

"I'm tired, can't i change it up today?"

"you know i have no problem doing what you want and pampering you baby," satoru starts slowly. his eyes dash to your legs, and he suddenly notes that he has not seen you bend them in the few minutes he has been home. in fact, you had been rather stagnant instead of running up to clobber him when he entered the room, whether you were previously asleep or not. "but you're acting a little weird."

"no, I'm not," you deny adamantly. you have always been a poor liar, but in the face of Satoru Gojo, your lack of talent in the arena only proves to be more prominent. "you think too much, you know that?"

"you think so?" he raises a brow at you, a hint of playfulness remaining though it is steadily fleeting the longer he examines you. "you think i'm thinking too much if i feel like you're lying to me?"

you press your lips together tightly. "...yes."

"hm," he nods. "come here for a second, pretty," he requests, stepping back a bit to give you room to stand. "just real quick, then you can lay back down and I'll get us that food."

"why do you want me to stand?"

"i wanna give you a big hug," he opens his arms widely. "c'mon, give your loving boyfriend a hug. you'd never deny me that after such a long day."

"come hug me here, then," you roll your eyes, turning to look the other way as heat overtakes your body.

"i want to hold you and pick you up," he argues, knowingly. "just stand and walk to me for one second."

"no."

"no?!"

"no, i don't want to."

"don't want to or you can't?" he accuses, face falling along with his arms. he moves to sit at the edge of the bed beside your legs, resting a hand over your uninjured one. "why can't you get up?" he asks, this time a tad more serious.

"i don't feel like it, satoru, god," you murmur in annoyance, growing agitated with his swiftness to notice that something is wrong.

"don't 'satoru' me, baby, you're the one not telling the truth," he says. "what's wrong with your legs?"

"nothing."

"then stand up."

"no, satoru. stop telling me to stand."

"i will if you tell me what's wrong."

"nothing's wrong!" you shrug harshly, crossing your arms and suddenly taking interest in whatever is outside of the bedroom window. satoru stares at you intently for a moment then back down at your covered legs.

he gazes harshly between the two, pondering, before reaching over to rip the comforter upward to reveal your bare feet. you gasp slightly, jerking to stop him, when your swollen ankle is revealed.

his brows immediately angle and he leans to hastily look over it. "(y/n), what the hell?! what happened to your foot?"

you grow embarrassed suddenly, moving to brush his hands away. "it's not that bad, stop," you say, going to move your leg to the side when you hiss sharply.

"not that bad? baby, your ankle's the size of a golfball!"

"satoru, you're being dramatic."

"what happened?" he asks, concerned. "did this happen while I was gone?"

"it's fine, relax."

"(y/n)," satoru begins sternly. you can tell that you've pinched a nerve. "i'm about to lose it if you don't tell me how this happened and why you were trying to hide it from me."

you frown. "But-"

"Now."

you hug your arms around yourself with another meek shrug. "it's humiliating..." you murmur.

satoru softens slightly. "baby, humiliating? i'm worried about you getting hurt."

"yeah, but-" you sigh and close your eyes, your emotions suddenly getting the best of you. you hate feeling small and weak, as though you can't handle yourself, and you swear every time you injure yourself or get sick, it's the worst possible thing that could happen in the entire world. "i don't know. whatever."

"uh uh uh," your white-haired boyfriend tuts, leaning over the smooth his hand over your leg comfortingly. "it's not 'whatever.' i know exactly how you are. you can't fool me. is this about your mission tomorrow?"

"it's not just about the mission, toru, i just don't- i hate it when i can't do stuff on my own."

"you don't have to tell me something i'm already well aware of." you give him a look. "don't look at me like that. i know you like the back of my hand, and i especially know when you're uncomfortable."

"i get it, toru," you frown.

"why the attitude, hm?" he asks, leaning over to prop his elbow on the other side of you, his body resting against your lap as he peers up at you gently. "it's okay to get hurt- well, no, it's not okay for you to get hurt because it makes me wanna die, but you get what I mean."

your lips twitch in amusement momentarily, leading satoru to grin widely.

"there's that pretty smile."

"it's just-" you huff. "it was such a stupid thing... i rolled my ankle stepping down from closing the cabinets and when it started getting worse, i thought it was so dumb that something so small did that to me so i left it alone. now it's probably twisted, and i just feel really..."

"you're not weak," satoru interjects urgently. "if that's what you're saying, which i'm pretty sure you are. you're far from what i would call weak."

"still. it still made me feel weak. and i'm supposed to go on that mission tomorrow, and i don't know what the hell i'm gonna tell yaga-"

"forget the mission."

"...satoru, i can't just-"

"you can and you will. you have an injury, baby. you can't walk. it's okay, i'll talk to yaga and he'll get someone else on the assignment while I take care of you."

"but the fact that you even have to do that because i was clumsy!" you shake your head and look down. "it's so ridiculous. and i knew you were gonna worry..."

"of course i'm gonna worry, (y/n). no less than you'd worry for me."

"but you're you."

"so? do you worry for me any less because of that?"

"i mean... i know you're always gonna be fine, but... yeah, i guess."

"you guess?" satoru scoffs. "to think, my girlfriend doesn't care about me..."

"oh shut up," you nudge his head away. his grin remains, face turning back to you as he captures you in his soft gaze. "obviously I worry."

"then, there you go," satoru says. his free hand runs over your hip. "i know you can handle yourself just fine and that you're strong as hell, but whether you're going on a mission or stubbing your toe, I'm worrying 'cause i love you."

you pout slightly. "I love you too."

"i know," he beams, kissing your thigh. "so stop with that. as if you'd ever be weak for getting a little boo boo."

"yeah, but now you're not gonna let me do anything," you whine.

"is there really such a big problem with that?" satoru smirks. "try hiding an injury from me again, and you really won't be able to do anything. now let me see."

he pushes himself up to round the edge of the bed. he kneels down and cradles your foot in his hand delicately, fingers grazing the area of swelling. his brow angles. "can you move it?"

you shake your head slowly. "not without it hurting."

"in all seriousness, baby, you need to take better care of yourself. why didn't you ice it?"

"...i wanted it to go away."

"and you walked up the stairs after rolling your ankle?!"

"i wanted to get into bed!"

satoru lowers his head. "what am i gonna do with you? you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."

"it's really not that serious. i just need to rest it a bit and then I'll be fine-"

"i'm gonna go cook you some dinner, okay? then we can eat in bed and cuddle, and then I'll run you a hot bath later."

"satoru, i just said it's not that serious! please don't go burning down the house because of my ankle. we can literally still order food," you try to convince him, but the blue-eyed man is already on his feet, by your side, and kissing your lips.

"not another word. you're practically dying, now, i have to look after you."

"toru-"

"i'll be right back, i'm gonna grab you some ice and a pillow for your foot."

"satoru!"

but when you call him, he's already zooming out of the room and down the stairs. you sigh and plop your head back against the headboard with a soft smile. as humiliating as you find it to be injured, you can never say that gojo doesn't do everything he can, if not excessively more, to look after you when you are.

suguru geto: (cold!)

shit.

you step into the bathroom for the umpteenth time today to blow your nose, clearing your searing throat as you do so with a groan.

something in you knew this morning that you were coming down with a cold when you woke up to that dreadful scratch in the back of your throat, but the idea of getting sick physically ails you more than actually being sick does.

you're far too busy today to be weighed down by some common cold. you're in between meetings at work as you toss another tissue into the women's trash. You have paperwork to finish filling out by midnight, and you have to pick up the girls later from daycare.

how can you be sick of all things?

you know it's likely because you run yourself ragged more often than you need to, and suguru always tells you to slow down and take a breath, but you rarely listen to him. your life moves at a quick pace, constantly on the run from one task to the next, and you truly do not feel that you have the leisure of giving yourself one second to rest.

you're on the verge of earning a new promotion, and you need the money. you need the opportunities, and the accomplishments to care for the family you've built with geto. just as suguru works tirelessly to manage his cult, you work tirelessly to keep a living for yourself.

you're proud of the work you have done, truly you are, but at times it feels as though you are amounting to nothing, chasing promises of a higher position that have yet to come. despite the haziness of the path ahead, you push harder and harder each day.

suguru hates it, how you drive yourself to the brink of insanity day in and day out, but you can't help but be an overachiever. you can't help but work hard for those who may not even deserve it.

and now, of course, you're sick. you can feel your temperature spiking, your nose is stuffy, and your head is pounding. you want to go home and curl into bed, but you have responsibilities to fulfill. just a few more hours... then you're home with geto, with the girls, safe in bed just to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow.

you jump when your phone suddenly rings in your pocket. you pull it out to see your boyfriend's contact, and you straighten yourself up as best as you can to make it sound as though you aren't struggling to breathe through your nostrils.

"hello?"

"hey, babe, how's work going?" suguru's soothing voice echoes through the phone and you sigh, clinging to the comfort his tone provides. you miss him. you want to go home already.

"it's good," you lie. "i have a few more meetings. then some paperwork to finish, but I'll be able to get mimi and nana on time."

"actually, i called to tell you not to worry about that. i got finished up here with the group pretty early, so i'll be able to get them later."

you're relieved that you won't have to expose the girls to your germs in the car. "okay, thanks for letting me know. you need me to pick up some food on the way home?"

"no, we're gonna make pizzas later. the girls have been dying to try it making it from scratch forever, so i'll take them to the store once i get them."

"...oh. okay..." you nod. "there's nothing else you need me to do then?"

"just to come home in one piece," suguru says. "i'm trying to take some stuff off your plate, (y/n). you've been exhausted, and you can't tell me otherwise."

"sugu, I'm fine," you dismiss him, only to turn your head into your elbow to muffle a cough. you forget to mute the call when you do so.

"what was that? are you okay?" the dark-haired man questions quickly. "you're not sick, are you?"

"no, no," you deny fast, voice slightly hoarse. you clear your throat quickly. "something was just- stuck in my throat. but I'm fine. i'm not sick."

suguru's quiet for a moment, and you chew on the inside of your lip while you wait for him to respond. you know it's impossible to fool suguru, especially when it comes to matters regarding you or the girls, but you can't handle him worrying over you right now. his concerns would only bring you back to reality, pulling you from this cycle of overworking you've fallen into. you need to keep going. You can't stop, and if suguru knows you're sick, he will make you stop.

"suguru? you there?" you finally say.

"oh yeah, i'm here," he responds rather quickly, and you internally curse yourself. "what time do you get off?"

"uhhh..." you think about it for a moment. it's 3:30 now, and technically you only have an hour and a half left, but since the girls will be picked up by Suguru, you realize you can finish your paperwork in the office. "today's kind of a long day... so I probably won't be home until... 7?"

"(Y/n)."

"i know, i know, but listen, i just have to finish up this paperwork. that's all."

"weren't you just gonna do it at home?"

"well, yeah, but since you're getting the girls, it's kinda easier for me to finish it here..." you start mumbling lowly, knowing that whatever explanation you give is not one that suguru will willingly accept.

"babe, please just come home at a normal time today. you can't keep doing this to yourself."

"i promise it won't be past 7. i swear. just let me get this done, and I'll be home."

suguru releases a hefty sigh, and you can picture him rubbing his thumb against his forehead in stress. "7 o'clock, (y/n). i mean it. if you're so much as five minutes late, i'm coming over there myself with rainbow dragon."

you chuckle softly. "i promise it won't get to that. i'll be fine, alright? i'll text you when I'm headed out."

"okay. I'll see you in a bit."

after your meetings had ended, your cold symptoms grew worse. your coughs were more frequent, a pile of tissues were stacked at your cubicle, and the glare of your computer screen felt as though it was burning a hole into your already aching head.

you feel miserable, and as luck would have it, your boss placed a new stack of papers onto your desk to finish filling out before you went home on his way out of the door.

you're alone in the office now, surrounded by excess assignments, and you can hardly breathe through your nose. you check the time, and its thirty to the time you told suguru you'd be home. you groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

you're tired. your bones are aching. you want to be with the girls, you want to be home, you don't want to do this anymore. you're so burned out, it hurts, and you want to cry and collapse face-first onto your desk at the same time.

just then, your phone lights up with a message from suguru. you open it eagerly to be greeted with an image of the girls beaming up at the camera in the kitchen, hands covered in tomato sauce as they display them to the phone. beneath the photo, suguru types.

we miss you :(

you break, placing your phone down and shielding your face in your hands as the tears flow. god, you miss spending time with them. you're hardly home anymore because you've been so busy with work, and you're yearning to be held by your boyfriend, to hear the girls laugh, to sink into the bed combined with your deteriorating physical state makes you feel worse.

you miss having a life.

you don't know how long you spend crying in your empty office before your body shuts down on you completely. the energy you exerted shedding tears in addition to your long days at work send you into a deep sleep. before you know it, you're knocked out with your cheek pressed against one of your unfinished papers.

the second you failed to answer Suguru's text, he knew something was wrong. he calls, and calls, and calls after twenty minutes, but you don't answer. He wastes absolutely no time in calling up manami to look after the girls before trekking out of the house to you with rainbow dragon, just as he promised.

he's prepared to break a window when he sees the janitor leaving the building. he takes the opportunity to swoop in through the doors after grumbling something about his girlfriend being inside, before making his way up to you.

when he reaches your office, he finds you lying in the only occupied cubicle. His eyes go wide as he studies your slumped figure, walking slowly to where you're seated. he notes the tissues and cough drop wrappers crowding your space, then the tears that coat your lashes when he kneels down.

"jesus, (y/n)," he murmurs, swiftly getting to work and clearing your desk of all your trash. when he's done, he crouches by you again and runs a hand over your back. "baby, wake up for me. come on," he coaxes softly.

you stir, face tightening in discomfort. suguru sees the bags under your eyes and his frown deepens. Eventually, you wake with furrowed brows, adjusting your blurry eyes to the sight of suguru gazing down at you worriedly.

"sugu...?" you mumble weakly, only to be interrupted by a few coughs that rack your chest. suguru's heart aches.

"i knew it," he sighs, eyes hardening as his hand strokes over your warm forehead. "why don't you listen?"

"what are you doing here?" you grumble, picking your head up slowly. you're greeted with a retched reminder of your headache, and you wince, pressing your hand to your head.

"we had an agreement, remember?" he reminds you, and you slowly recall. you move to grab your phone and the time reads 7:15. "i wasn't joking."

"suguru..."

"stop," he immediately cuts you off. "look at you, (y/n). you've made yourself sick."

"it's just a- a cough," you murmur, rubbing your irritated eyes harshly.

"that's bullshit, baby," he tells you rather firmly. "i don't know why you're trying to hide this from me when i knew something like this would happen. we're going home."

"no, wait, Suguru, i didn't finish my paperwork yet."

"do you think I give two shits about your paperwork?"

his tone comes off rather harshly, and both of you notice. he blinks his eyes tensely and readjusts himself, attempting to reel in his anger. his anger for you, over your lack of care for your wellbeing, at your fucking boss for letting you work yourself like this.

"you've been killing yourself for weeks, (y/n). i won't let you anymore. this is the last straw."

"hold on," you urge. suguru looks down at you, befuddled. "i really can't just up and leave my work behind like this. I'm sorry, I can't."

"what's more important to you, (y/n)? being healthy or working yourself to death?" he proposes, almost pained by the latter. "if you cared about your well-being, you would have asked for an extension or at least had a conversation with your dick of a boss about doing this another time. anyone can see that you aren't feeling well, and someone who cares will tell you that enough is enough."

"don't make me do this, suguru," you whimper. suguru's face relaxes when he sees your eyes glossing over. "don't make me stop. I can't stop."

"baby," he curls his brows, holding your cheek in his hand as he kneels before you. "why are you doing this to yourself?"

"b-because, I have to..."

"no, you don't. i've been telling you this for years, you don't have to do this."

"but I need to make something of myself. i have to keep going. i can't just quit, because if I do, then what will any of this have meant? why have i been doing this?"

"you're breaking my heart, baby," suguru exhales. "this job doesn't define you. i see how hardworking, smart, and strong you are. i see the effort you put into everything you do. i see the commitment in your heart. i see it everywhere, all the time, and that is one of many reasons why i love you so much."

your lips wobble as you look into his hazel eyes as his voice and words melt you into his palm. you've been moving so fast all this time, you've been trying to prevent yourself from falling into suguru's warmth, which has always had the power to make you do anything he says.

"but I can't stand to watch you make yourself sick because you think there's more you need to do. this isn't good for you. you know it isn't."

you nod, red nose flaring as you sniff. "i know," you admit.

"so please, please take a break. i'm literally begging you. you need to come home and rest. i'll take care of everything else, just come home. lay down. come back to us. to me."

your shoulders jerk as a few tears drop from your eyes. "sugu, i can't do this anymore," you finally give in. "i don't even feel like myself. i just want to go home."

"then let's go baby, come on," he stands and takes you with him in his arms, pressing your body to his as he holds you. you sink into him, your exhaustion and your sickness finally crashing down over you. "i'm gonna fucking kill your boss," he murmurs into your hair.

you laugh weakly against him, closing your eyes. "later. just take me home, now. please."

"yes ma'am," he nods, kneeling down to pick you up into his arms. you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest.

"m'gonna get you sick," you mutter.

"we can be sick together," he chuckles. "the girls and I can make you some soup. they've been obsessed with cooking lately," he says, leaning over to shut off your monitor before carrying you off to the elevators.

"that picture of them you sent earlier made me so sad. I miss you guys so much."

"i'm sorry baby, i didn't mean to upset you that much. i was only trying to guilt you a little into coming home early."

you slap his shoulder pathetically. "asshole."

"i know, i'm sorry," he kisses your head. "gonna get you all better in no time."

kento nanami: (low iron!)

you have always been a little anemic, and of course that never really posed as a terrible challenge for you until you ran out of iron supplements.

it is your responsibility undoubtedly to keep track of when you run out and when you need to restock, but recently, you've found yourself neglecting the habit.

you never did like taking iron pills, or any supplements for that matter. you feel as though they take too much out of your daily life, as though they're a burden to your existence, and the harder you think about it, the less inclined you are to keep track of it.

it's been about three weeks since you last took your iron, and while you would like to say that you have improved significantly, you would be lying.

perhaps the first few days of not taking your supplements was fine, but as time droned on, the symptoms kicked back in rather quickly. you are extremely tired all the time, you feel lighter on your feet as if you are going to pass out at any given moment, and your hands and feet are ridiculously cold though it is now the summertime, and the weather outside thoroughly contrasts your body temperature.

you're in denial about the changes, of course. you want to be able to feel fine without the crutch of your pills, but the reality of the situation is that you don't, and it's crushing you for some reason.

what's crushing you more is that you know how disappointed nanami will be to find out that you haven't been being responsible in stocking up on your supplements. he would normally keep track of when you run out in addition to you, but he's reeled it in a bit over the past few months because you wanted him to trust that you can handle taking care of something that you've managed all of your life, so he did.

and yet, here you are, trying to hide the symptoms of your iron deficiency that are only proving harder to veil. nanami has already asked you a few times if you are feeling okay over the past few weeks, therefore you know that he suspects exactly what is happening, but you brush him off each time.

"i'm good, honey," you'd tell him. "just had a long day. what about you? how are you feeling?"

you feel like shit lying to him, but you're afraid of being truthful for some reason. he would scold you, and you'd have to resort to the aid of your only weakness all over again.

god, why can't you just be normal?

you've even tried to ween off of the strict iron-sufficient diet that you've been on practically all your life because you feel like you have something to prove, especially in this world of jujutsu. how can you be a sorcerer with low iron? how can something so smell render you so weak? it's pathetic.

you don't want to think about it, in truth. you want it all to just go away. you want to be fine, to feel fine without eating certain things constantly or taking those damn pills, and you try to force yourself to, but it only grows worse the longer you hide it.

you stumble into your home after a long day of teaching and press your back to the door with a sigh. you know nanami won't be home for another forty or so minutes, so you kick your shoes off, go grab a water, and plop down on the couch.

you feel so tired. you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, leaning back. this is stupid, you think. you're being stupid. just reorder the damn pills.

but something stubborn within you refuses. something within you that must prove you can push past this.

you decide to watch some tv to distract you as you wait for nanami to return home. he suggested cooking for you tonight, so you rest until you hear him walking through the door.

"hi honey," he greets. you turn to smile gently at him as he rounds the corner. your cheeks pinch with happiness, your current turmoil momentarily forgotten when you see your husband approach. you go to stand and walk into his open arms, just like you normally do when he comes home.

you put the remote to the side and shoot up. your mind is occupied only by nanami as you move toward him, but you see his face drop and your vision turns upside down, and suddenly, you're falling.

kento is quick to react, ducking down impressively to catch you in his arms before you can hit the ground. you collapse into him, head dizzy and breath suddenly gone.

"sweetheart?! (y/n) are you alright? are you awake?"

you groan, shifting in his strong arms as they cradle you securely. when your vision regains focus, you're staring up at nanami's worried face, your body resting over his lap. you blink rapidly before realizing what just happened.

"oh shit," you whisper.

"(y/n)," nanami says your name again, caressing your cheek sweetly. "are you here with me now?"

"y-yeah," you nod, moving to sit up and press your hand to his chest. "i'm alright."

"absolutely not," he stops you immediately, pressing against you to lay you back down on his lip. you frown, looking up at him. "don't even try sitting up like that right now."

"kento," you start, growing worried by the tense look on his face. "i'm okay, really. i just sat up too fast."

"i know," he affirms, his thumb still smoothing over your skin. "and care to tell me why that alone is making you pass out?"

you can't find the words to respond as you stare at him, likely as guiltily as you feel. he hums knowingly.

"right," he sighs. "(y/n), how long has it been since you've taken your iron?"

and there it is. the very question you had been dreading.

"...i'm not sure what you're-"

"don't. really, don't," he interjects firmly and you shiver, rather unfamiliar with this side of your doting partner. "i'm still trying to adjust to the fact that you haven't been truthful with me. the least you can do is tell me how long it's been."

your heart drops. "kento..."

"i'm not in the mood for stalling, sweetheart. go on. out with it."

the sternness of his voice hardly matches the way he is holding you and stroking your cheek, but nevertheless, you feel awful. you avert your gaze and shrink into yourself. "three weeks."

"three?" he repeats incredulously, and you nod in shame. "i knew it had been over a week, but three, (y/n)?"

"i know," you mutter.

"why? after you told me not to check after you, to trust that you'd take care of yourself," nanami questions. "this is why i tried to help you. i know it can be a hassle sometimes, and forgetting is one thing, but to deliberately stop taking them when you know how much i worry about it... when you know how important it is for you?"

you bite hard on your lip and look away, brows curling. nanami notices immediately and softens himself, leaning down closer to you.

"my love," he starts. "i don't mean to upset you, but this is very upsetting to me."

"i know. i know, i'm sorry..." you whimper.

"but not because it's about me, (y/n), because it's about you. and you've been hiding this from me, of all things. i don't understand."

"i just didn't wanna take them anymore, ken," you say quietly.

the blonde furrows his brows. "you didn't want to take them? have you not been taking them for years?"

"i have but that's the problem. i'm a sorcerer now, and..." you exhale. "the point of being a sorcerer is to not have anything weighing you down, and this weighs me down."

"if anything, (y/n), not taking the supplements weighs you down more."

"no, i just mean- all of it, the whole iron deficiency, i hate it," you confess. "i'm tired of relying on something to be strong. i'm tired of being tied down to this. i wanted to see if i could overcome it, but i can't. i'll always have this problem, and it sucks, ken," you ramble. "if i could go without taking these pills and still do my job like i always have, then just maybe.... maybe i could be better. and i could prove that i... i don't need those stupid pills, or the extra greens, or the- whatever. just all of it."

nanami looks down at you rather sadly. "i had no idea you felt this way."

"i haven't always felt this way. it's just lately, i don't know, i feel pressured to go beyond."

"darling, your iron-deficiency doesn't make you any less talented than other sorcerers."

"i know. i mean, i should know, but i can't help but feel that way."

nanami presses his lips together, smoothing a knuckle over your cheekbone. "i'm sorry you feel like this."

"it's not your fault, ken. and i shouldn't have kept this from you, i know. i'm sorry. i just felt humiliated by it."

"there's nothing for you to be humiliated by," he reassures you. "your deficiency is no different from any of us having to feed ourselves or drink water in between missions to keep ourselves alive. it's a necessity, and though we are sorcerers, we live off of necessities to keep ourselves physically and mentally able to work. you have a responsibility to yourself. just like the rest of us. just because your iron's a little lower doesn't mean anything about who you are as a sorcerer."

"...i never thought of it like that. i've just been thinking of it as a burden."

"it's only a burden if you view it that way. you are a grade one sorcerer who i have watched climb the ranks effortlessly since we were in high school, all the while with an iron deficiency that you have always taken supplements for. that never stopped you," he says. "the problem comes in when you don't keep up with yourself and take care of those needs. just like how i'd be unable to work if i decided to skip my last few meals and drink less water."

"that makes sense," you mumble, capturing his soft brown eyes with yours.

"good," he nods. "(y/n) you can't neglect your needs like this."

"i know."

"i'm being serious. i'll start checking behind you again if i find out that you're not doing what you need to do to take care of your body."

"i know, ken, i'm sorry, i-" you stop yourself and shake your head. "i just let my insecurities get the best of me."

"then, let me handle taking care of your insecurities. you handle taking your supplements. do we have an agreement?"

you nod slowly. "yeah. we do. i'm sorry for lying again, ken."

"please don't do it again," he sighs, ducking to kiss your forehead. "but i know you wouldn't lie to me about anything else, and that you hiding this was solely out of fear."

you slowly move to sit up, and this time, kento helps you very gradually. he guides you back to sit on the couch and cups your face gently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "i'll go order some more iron and then get started on dinner. alright?"

you hum with a soft smile. "alright. i love you, ken."

he returns your loving smile. "i love you more, sweetheart."

choso kamo: (broken finger!)

it had fully been an accident.

you should have been paying more attention to what you were doing and at the same time, so should have panda.

it really was an honest mistake. you were standing in the doorway as everyone left the classroom, your fingers clutched around the frame as everyone filed out. you were asking around if anyone had seen your boyfriend, and yuta mentioned that he saw him with yuji earlier that day.

you thanked him, and just as you were about to pull your hand away, panda, who was the last out of the room, slammed the door shut behind him thinking you had already moved out of the way.

but you hadn't.

the door flew into your index and middle fingers and you screamed bloody murder. the cursed corpse as well as his classmates whipped their heads around, and to panda's horror, you were knocking your forehead against the wall with tears in your eyes as your fingers trembled in the doorframe.

"(Y/N), HOLY SHIT I'M SO SORRY!"

you hadn't expected panda to actually break one of your fingers, but you give the freak credit for his unnatural strength. you later find out that yuji and choso had gone out to grab food for you when you see a text from your boyfriend pop up asking what flavor ramen you want the second you learn that shoko will not be available until late tonight.

for the time being, you're given a finger splint and pain medicine as though you aren't freaking surrounded by jujutsu sorcery.

and god, did it hurt! like, really, really hurt. your fingers are throbbing, and the one that isn't broken is bruised and stained with some blood. you wish you could be angrier at panda, but his groveling before your feet on his knees eases your frustration a bit. after all, it hadn't been on purpose.

you're sent home and you are given no choice but to wait until choso returns, and you're... nervous. choso never handles the ailment of his loved ones very well. his spiritual and physical connection to his brothers wellbeings' often causes him to lose his mind every time yuji gets accidentally punched in the face during training, and when it comes to you? well, choso is just the same if not somehow worse.

you remember one time you got a papercut and winced when your finger made contact with soap. choso was quick to your side, grasping your wrist and looking over your hand as though it had been severed off.

one thing you have come to know in your relationship with the brunette is that he would (and has) killed someone for the sake of the people closest to him. he does not mess around when it comes to his family, and he certainly doesn't mess around when it comes to you.

and while you think he can be a bit excessive with making sure you're alright when it's hardly necessary, it's first and foremost endearing, and it only makes you realize that he will go ballistic the second he finds out that someone broke your finger.

he doesn't naively think that you can never go unharmed, though he would be incredibly content with the notion if it were plausible. he's familiar with scars, wounds, fights, and battles, and he knows you're in the very center of it just as much as he and his brother are. but still, he hates it when you're hurt. he wants to protect you as best as he can, or to at least prevent you from suffering any more than a sorcerer already has to suffer. he only wants you to be safe.

so to prevent him from having a heart attack, you decide it's better if he doesn't know about the incident. when you answer his texts before heading home, you mention nothing about your poor finger in hopes of him not finding out at least until after you're healed.

that plan of yours, however, fails when choso comes barging through the door three hours earlier than you expected him to return. your eyes go wide from where you sit on the couch, and you have no time to even go to hide your fingers behind your back when choso marches up to you, agitated.

"uh-" you're cut off when he grabs your arm gently and lifts it into the air, your taped crooked finger showcasing itself to him. you press your lips together at how poorly the plan to conceal this from him has failed. "cho-"

"were you gonna tell me about this?" his violet eyes fly to yours in a fury, and you're almost stunned by how aggravated he looks. his voice is calm, low, but his face is wrecked with concern and almost betrayal.

"...i was, but i wanted to wait because i didn't want you to freak out..." you say slowly, watching him softly. "like you are now..?"

"that's not fair, (y/n)," he frowns and you furrow your brows. "that's not fair at all."

"woah, hold on... are you mad at me?"

"i don't know," he answers you honestly, looking between your face and your trembling hand. "i'm... upset."

"who told you about my fingers, love?"

"yuji got a text from yuta," he tells you, moving to sit down on the space beside you with your hand still cradled in his. "he said that panda was begging me not to kill him, and this was after i had talked to you."

"oh..." you sigh. "okay, yeah, i can see how that looks."

"why didn't you tell me you got hurt? and pretty badly too? where's ieiri?"

"she won't be back on campus for another hour," you explain. "i didn't want you to worry, cho, i figured i'd just tell you after it was better, but..."

"why would you try to hide something from me?" he asks you, suddenly sounding hurt. it's clear on his face that he doesn't understand why you would conceal something as important as your health from him, whether it was small or not. you tell each other everything, and that shouldn't have stopped now of all times because you don't want him to worry.

"i didn't know you'd get so upset, cho, honestly," you tell him. "i-" you stop when a sharp pain shoots through your fingers and you gasp. choso's face drops and he gently sets your hand down to his lap, panicked.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes. "shit, you must be in a lot of pain."

"it's nothing i haven't experienced before," you try to reassure him, giving him a tight smile.

"why does that matter?" choso drags his brows together. "pain is pain. i don't like when you feel any of it."

you melt. "i know. i know you don't, i don't like when you feel any of it either."

"so don't... keep stuff like this from me, (y/n)," he says sternly. "please, i need to know. i don't have the same connection to you that i have with my blood brothers, but i'm still connected to you all the same. when you hurt, i hurt."

"i get it cho, i'm sorry," you nod bashfully. "i wasn't trying to make you mad. i just don't like it when you're stressed out."

"i'm always stressed out," he says flatly, and you raise your brows with a halfhearted smile.

"yeah, i know. so why stress you even more?"

"i'd rather be stressed about you if i'm stressing about anything," he says, looking over your face as the hardness in his gaze washes away. "you know you're everything to me."

"i know, baby," you push out your bottom lip, pressing your free hand to the side of his cheek and leaning in to kiss him. his ears burn when you pull away, and he sighs heavily.

"don't offend me by trying to hide stuff like this. it won't work."

"i'm sorryyyy," you giggle and choso grumbles incoherently under his breath.

his gaze goes back to your fingers and his brows curl. "how the hell do you slam a door on someone's hand?" he hisses.

"it was an accident, cho, he didn't mean it."

"i know, and i shouldn't really be angry at him but i can't help but be irritated because you're hurt..." his fingers graze the tape. "how bad does it hurt?"

"cho, it'll be okay."

"that wasn't my question."

you roll your eyes at his attitude with a soft smile. "it hurts as much as a broken finger would."

"right. sorry," he murmurs.

"you're okay, love, you don't need to apologize."

"i still wish i- nevermind," he refrains himself from discussing how he wanted to be there to protect you from such an unpredictable occurence. "is there anything i can do to help you feel better while we wait? do you need anything?"

"ummm," you try to think. "actually, could you grab a new pack of ice from the freezer? and... the snacks you got me earlier."

the brunette's face brightens slightly with the thought that he can do something to help ease your pain as you wait for shoko to return to the school.

he nods in determination, carefully sliding your hand into your lap and kissing your cheek before hopping up to run to the kitchen. he returns with the items you requested, placing the snacks down beside him and lifting the bag of ice over your hand.

"like this?" he eases the bag down and you wince, nodding.

"mhm. yeah," you strain out. choso watches your face sadly, hating the fact that you're hurting.

"i'm sorry for getting upset," he mumbles. you turn to look at him curiously. "i just love you a lot."

"i love you more, cho," you smile gently, leaning your head against his shoulder. he sighs, resting his chin atop your head as he ices your hand. "and don't worry, i get it. i won't try to hide injuries from you anymore."

"i really hope so."

"now can you pass me those chips please?"

toji fushiguro: (knife cut!)

toji is going to absolutely kill you, and you are dreading the moment he does.

he has always told you not to touch his weapons. even if you see any of them lying around his place because he never bothers to clean up in between jobs. his one rule when you're over is to leave them alone and to let him handle them when he gets back. he doesn't care how much you protest, he doesn't care that you want to help him pick up after himself.

no touching. that is all he asks of you.

and of course... one afternoon when he's out sorting out some finances with shiu and one of his knives is glaring at you from where it lay on the kitchen table, you can't help yourself.

you don't really think anything is going to happen. after all, you're not a baby, nor are you an idiot. you know how to handle a freaking knife and you know where to put it, and yet, somehow, you allow your arrogance with the task to distract you. you're not handling it as carefully as you should be, and the second you hear the keys jingling outside the front door, you panic.

the blade, naturally, fumbles in your grasp, and swipes through the air, over your palm, and to the carpet. you jump, stepping away as quickly as it falls. you feel a sting in your hand and look down to see the fresh gash stretching over your skin. you gape as blood slowly simmers from the wound, befuddled as to how something like this even happened so quickly.

you have no time to clean it when you hear the key inside the lock. you hurriedly pick up the knife with your unwounded hand, place it back on the table where you first saw it, rip a napkin from said table to press to your bleeding palm, and clench it into a fist just as the door opens.

toji immediately greets you with a raised brow, jade eyes eying you oddly as he steps in. "the hell are you gettin' into?" he asks, confused by the way you are standing against the wall when he enters.

you're quick to move into his space to distract him from the vision of his knife and from looking any further downward from your face. you lean up on your tiptoes, normal hand on his forearm as you kiss his scarred lips. "what do you mean?"

"why were you just standing there like that?"

"can't I wait by the door for you to come back?" you bat your eyelashes, and toji grunts, gazing down at you with lidded eyes as his hand comes around the small of your back. "i'm just happy to see you."

"you take a pill or somethin', doll?"

you glare at him. "now why would you ask me that?"

"you're just acting a little too nice, that's all."

you scoff. "i don't know what you're talking about, i'm literally always happy to see you."

"yeah, but i was gone for thirty minutes and you never make a show of it like this."

"why are you making it sound like i don't show you love? you're the one who's mean all the time," you retort sassily.

a smirk captures toji's lips as he ducks down to kiss you again. "that's more like it," he murmurs against you. "still ain't answer my question though."

"i literally did. i told you i was waiting for you."

"sure," he says, unconvinced. his eyes drag down your body and momentarily go to your fist when you swiftly wrap both arms around his neck, pulling him down to crash your lips into him once more.

his brows narrow and as you kiss him, and you can feel the blood on your hand seeping through your napkin. you curse internally, lowering your hand back down behind him as he pulls away.

"not that i'm against this," toji starts, voice dangerously low against your mouth. "but it feels like you're tryin' to distract me from something."

"why would i be doing that?" you ask gently, looking up into his piercing eyes. he hums, dragging himself away from you. he grabs your chin softly and tilts your head left and right, looking over your face. "what are you doing?" you ask.

"lookin' for whatever you're hiding."

"i'm not hiding anything, toji."

"uh huh."

shit. it's never a good sign when toji doesn't even try to pretend to believe anything you're saying, and the way he's looking over your face let's you know that he at least suspects you've done something to yourself that he should know about.

you keep your fist to his back as he looks over the rest of your body with a rather relaxed expression, which only means that he doesn't suspect you touching any of his weapons. yet.

you have to keep his attention away from the knife on the table so that he doesn't figure it out.

"can you stop messing around already? i wanna go take a shower," you try to say, but toji doesn't listen.

"turn around f'me."

"huh?"

"huh?" he mimics you, looking at you unimpressed. "turn."

you suck your teeth. "i hate when you get like this."

"and i hate when you lie, now turn."

you grimance. you can't turn around with him looking down at your hand, and you're sure by now that the napkin you hold is coated red. your eye twitches in that moment when you feel a line of blood drip down your wrist.

god dammit. you're so dead.

nonetheless, you try to keep your palm facing inward as you slip it from his back and turn over your left shoulder, which connects to the uninjured hand. the second your back is to him, you bring your bloody hand in front of you.

"yeah, no," you hear toji gruffly say. your heart hammers in your throat and you know what's coming next. he moves around you to wrap his hand around your wrist and tug at it.

you cringe, allowing yourself to accept your fate when he pulls forward your balled up hand.

"open."

"can't we just-"

"open."

you sigh heavily, slowly peeling open your palm to reveal the red-stained napkin balled in it, the line of blood rushing down your inner arm, and the slice that stretches across your hand.

toji's eyes blow wide, and before he asks you anything, he throws his head over his shoulder to locate the knife that sits on the table. "are you fucking kidding me, (y/n)?" he growls, turning back to face you angrily.

"okay, let's not act like this is so crazy!" you immediately defend, throwing your other arm up. "you leave your shit lying around all the time!"

"and every single time, i tell you that i'll take care of it. what the fuck, do i have to go child-proofing the house now because of you?"

"if you would just be more mindful of how you leave your space, you wouldn't even have to worry about shit like this! you shouldn't even have knives lying around in the first place."

"i'm a grown man, (y/n), i know how to avoid cutting myself with the weapons i use daily."

"you're being a prick."

"oh baby, you must not know me because i'm about to be worse," he grunts, eyes heated with fury, and you frown.

"toji, come onnn, it was an accident."

"what do i always say about my weapons, (y/n)?"

"i just wanted to help you put it away, is that so crazy?"

"what. do i say. about my weapons."

you deflate slightly, uneased by the rate at which toji is growing angry with you. "...not to touch them."

"so why the fuck did you touch them?" he growls, picking up the napkin in your palm and tossing it over his shoulder. he looks over your wound and clenches his jaw. "fucking hell, (y/n)."

"look, i'm sorry."

"shut the hell up and come on."

despite his rage, he leads you to the bathoom with surprising care.

when you arrive, he flicks on the light with his free hand and swipes up a cloth from under the sink. he turns to you, pressing it down to your wound to stop the bleeding. once it seems like it's done, he puts the cloth down and turns on the faucet. "put your hand under," he orders, guiding it to the cool water nonetheless.

the water hits your open wound bitterly and you jump, watching the blood run through the drain as toji washes your arm as well.

"sit," he nods over to the bathtub, shutting off the faucet.

you oblige mutely, shuffling over and holding out your hand. you sit slowly on the ledge of the tub and watch as toji shuffles through his cupboards for a bottle of peroxide, some bandages, and ointment. you dread what is coming, for you know your hand is gonna sting like a bitch.

toji thuds over to sit hunched on the closed toilet lid, leaning over to grab your hand again. you stretch your fingers out and he sighs, shaking his head. "so fucking hard-headed," he murmurs.

you watch him screw open the bottle of liquid.

"go slowly," you plead.

"it's gonna hurt all the same, doll," he tells you, and you pout. "you should listen next time, then maybe you wouldn't have to go through this."

"shut the fuck up."

toji clicks his tongue, glancing at you momentarily before leaning down and holding the bottle over you, grasping your wrist loosely with your hand above his knee. "keep still."

the peroxide comes flooding out of the bottle and onto your hand, bubbling instantly over your gash. you whimper, tensing your body and scrunching your eyes at the sting.

"i know," toji mumbles, smoothing his thumb gently over your wrist. "you're alright."

your fingers dig into your thigh as it continues to burn. toji leans over to put down the bottle and continues to caress your arm, lowering your hand to his lap. he blows over your palm slightly as the peroxide dries, and you eventually open your eyes.

"not so bad," he tells you. he leans himself back to reach for a new cloth then pats it around the gash, drying your hand and your arm. he reaches back again for the tube of almost empty ointment he found and twists it open, squeezing it over your wound. "shit, hold on," he stops. he lets you lift your hand as he rushes to wash his own before coming to sit back down at hold yours on his leg again, now with bandages in hand.

you watch him gently as he works the bandage over you with such attentiveness, a dip in his brow proving his focus. you suddenly feel guilty for making him worry.

"i'm sorry," you finally say again, this time with more meaning.

toji's green eyes snap up at you amidst his wrapping. "yeah?"

"i really was just trying to help you. didn't mean to stress you out."

toji sighs, pausing his movements to look you in the eye. "you need to be more careful. i tell you not to touch my stuff because it's not your responsibility. obviously i know you can yourself, but some of my shit's really dangerous and i don't want you gettin' hurt," he gestures to your hand. "it could've been a lot worse, but still."

"if you don't want me touching your weapons, toji, you should probably clean them up more," you quirk a brow and he exhales loudly.

"i'm seeing that now, yeah," he says. "i'll be more careful if you are. don't need my doll getting a bunch of scars 'cause of me, now."

you smile softly. "yeah. i won't touch your stuff anymore, i promise."

"...how about instead i just... teach you how to handle 'em the right way?"

you perk up. "really?"

"i don't see why not. i'd rather you know how to use some of it than see you scrape yourself up because you don't know how to hold a knife."

"don't be a smartass."

toji smirks, continuing with his wrapping of your hand. "i mean it. i'll sit down with you sometime to show you."

"...how about after we're done here?"

"don't fucking push it."

ryomen sukuna: (fever!)

you wake up in a cold sweat, shivering.

you groan in displeasure, rolling over, slightly discombobulated. it can't be any later than 7 am, but you are boiling hot. you press your hand to your forehead and curse. you're sweating profusely and you feel incredibly lightheaded.

you don't even have the energy to get up, but you know that you need to take your temperature. you shudder, carefully shuffling out of bed and wincing as every brush against your skin feels like the stab of a thousand pins and needles.

you lethargically make your way to your bathroom, the cool air hitting your neck and sending you into a fit of shivers. you cling to yourself, teeth chattering, and reach into your cabinet for a thermometer. with half-open eyes, you pop it under your tongue and make your way back to your bed, bundling up in your blankets and curling into a ball.

it feels like hours before the beep resounds, and you slowly lift it from your mouth to read the little digital numbers.

102.4. perfect.

you shudder in pain, tossing the thermometer to the side and nestling your face in your pillows. you feel like absolute shit, but you can't bring yourself to do much else. you need medicine, water, a cool compress, but none of those things you have access to currently.

you close your eyes as your mind swarms, body throbbing and shuddering with chills though the last thing you need is to be cuddled under the covers. you think maybe it will go away if you get some rest. maybe you just need to relax, to take some time in bed. you'll let sukuna know when-

shit! sukuna.

there's no way in hell or on earth that sukuna will allow you to go untreated if you tell him, but god, you don't feel like letting him know. despite his likely haste to make sure you have everything you need, you can only imagine the snarky comments about your fragility, your strange body, your vulnerability that he''ll spout.

you don't want to hear it. you don't want to hear any of it, because you're sure that if you do, you'll start crying. you're already worn down, clearly, and the last thing you need on top of a fever is your boyfriend joking about your weak state.

you elect to stay in bed and tell sukuna you'll see him another time if he pesters you today.

which of course, he does.

a whirlwind of alarming dreams that you almost thought were hallucinations are disrupted by the persistent buzzing of your phone on your dress. you groan, reaching out a shaky hand to blindly grab the device and answer the call, pressing it to your ear with no knowledge of who you're speaking to.

"yes?" you croak.

"can't answer a telephone call the first time it rings?" sukuna's voice thunders through the mic, and you lift your brows.

"kuna?" you try to say his name normally, despite the constant chatter of your teeth.

"who the hell else would it be?"

"sorry... i was asleep."

"at this hour?"

"...what'dy'mean?"

"jesus, woman, it's 2 in the afternoon. why the hell are you still in bed?"

you reel momentarily at his words. 2 pm? it was just 7 in the morning! have you really been sleeping all this time?

"oh..." is all you can manage to say before a chill wracks your body again. you cringe, curling into yourself and holding the phone away from you.

"oh?" the king of curses repeats. "what is the matter with you?"

"n-nothing," you respond quickly. "i guess i was up late last night. i was c-completely knocked out..." you tremble.

"last night you told me you were going to sleep early because you were tired, you brat."

fuckkkk.

how could you have forgotten about that? you hadn't been feeling well last night, which is likely the reason why you feel so much worse today, so you turned in early. "i- couldn't fall asleep until later, though," you mumble.

"you are attempting to deceive me," sukuna grunts. "care to explain why?"

"m'not, kuna," you sigh halfheartedly.

"what exactly do you take me for?"

you're really not in the mood for this. you're aching at this point, and you can tell your body temperature has only risen. you're so weak. you can barely even process the fact that you're on the phone, and you can't handle sukuna's attitude. not if he's not going to help, which you automatically assume that he won't.

"i'm going back to bed," you say softly.

"what do you mean back to bed?!" sukuna fumes. "seriously, what the hell is the matter with you. you sound ill."

"i'm not i-ill."

"then why do you keep stumbling over your words, woman?" he questions, his voice mellowing out into a steady intensity. "what is it now? your monthly plague? whatever you people call allergies?"

this is exactly why you don't want him to know. he handles these things too crudely, as if it's a burden upon his existence. "y-you ask too many damn questions."

"i wouldn't have to if you answered them. now talk."

"i'm fine, sukuna. i'm just gonna go back to sleep."

"you hang up this phone, i'm at your door in two seconds."

"that's impossible."

"try me."

you know he's serious, but you don't have the energy. you can't stay on the phone with him any longer, trying to speak like nothing's wrong. it's cold. so cold, but you're so hot. you're probably drenched in a pool of your own sweat, but you can't feel it. you want to sleep. you just want him to let you sleep.

your vision grows dizzy as you stare ahead, brows arching in discomfort. you think you press the end call button, but you can still hear his voice picking up in urgency... is he shouting? are you even on the phone anymore? you aren't sure.

your vision suddenly drifts into inky blackness as the phone rests beside you on your pillow. the last thing you are aware of before you slip into unconsciousness again is banging at your front door.

sukuna bursts into your apartment mere minutes after you stopped answering him on the phone. he looks about ready to kill, crimson eyes wide and pupils shrunken as he breathes heavily, looking all over your apartment.

he's stomping to your room and throwing the door open when he sees you laying in the bed. "(y/n)!" he barks, searching for some response from you, but all he recieves or nonsensical murmurs.

he moves quickly to the side of your bed and grabs at your shoulder, turning you over to find your sheets drenched and your face tight with discomfort. he falters, heart jerking at the sight. "...the fuck?"

he presses a hand to your sweat-drenched face and furrows his brows in concern. you're hot. too hot for the temperature of a human being, and you're sweating like crazy, mumbling things under your breath in your sleep he can't even hear.

"the fuck did you do?" he grumbles, starting to internally panic. he scrambles to remember what this could be. he knows of plague, of pestilence, so maybe you're suffering some form of that?

hell, he can't tell. not from a glance. he's not even sure if he knows how to help you. you're entirely too hot for him to brush this off like it's nothing, and you passed out in the middle of speaking to him.

he looks over and sees the thermometer on your sheets and leans over to pick it up. the screen reads a high number, which he assumes is the temperature of your body. curious himself, he prods open your jaw and tucks it into your mouth, pressing the button the way you had shown him when you had the flu to reset the time.

"come the fuck on," he growls as seconds tick by before it beeps, and he pulls it from your lips to read 104.7.

he doesn't know how far it is from your usual temp, but he knows it's high. too high.

he's quick to dial uraume for some more information, and the second he hears that you need immediate medical help, he's picking you up and making a run for it without even thinking that uraume can likely help you.

when you wake, you're blinded by nauseating lights blaring down overhead. "ugh," you groan, feeling light and disoriented. you turn your head to the side and blink, to find sukuna's face staring directly at you rather harshly.

you jump slightly, startled. "what-?" you start, scrunching your eyes to adjust to the sight before you. "sukuna? what are you..." you trail off when you realize that you aren't in your house, nor are you at sukuna's estate. instead, you're in a hospital bed hooked up to a series of fluids.

your eyes go wide as you sit up suddenly, only to be hit with a sudden dizzy spell that sends you leaning back into the bed.

"don't move," he orders, and you turn to him in confusion. never would you have expected to see the day that sukuna sits in a chair beside you in a hospital.

"why are we... what happened?"

"apparently you had a high fever," he answers harshly, fist-propping his chin up over his leg. "too high for you to be seen in my care, and too high for you to be lying in bed as though nothing was wrong."

your heart sinks. "how high?"

"when we got here, tipping past 105."

"...are you serious?"

"i had to come bust down your door to make sure you were alive. i put you on an empty roller downstairs because these fucking dumbass doctors can't see me and i had to get their attention so they could notice you. yes, i am serious."

he sounds pissed. and you hardly want to think of what he means by ‘getting their attention.’

"what do you have to say for yourself? for daring to lie to me? for pretending like you weren't on the brink of a much worse fate?"

"...i..."

"you're so lucky you're unwell, girl, because you don't even want to imagine the things i would do to you as punishment for putting yourself in such a ridiculous situation," he growls. "all you had to do was tell me and i would have taken care of it before it got worse."

you blink, almost dumbfounded. you still aren't all there, but you can tell that your fever has gone down significantly. you're no longer sweating and fewer chills wrack your body. "...huh?"

"did that fucking fever scramble your brain or what?" he fumes, eyeing you sharply. "you should have told me."

you part your lips slightly as you look at him. "honestly, sukuna, i didn't think you'd really... i don't know-"

"care?"

"no, not care. i just didn't think you'd handle it well. i didn't even handle it well myself."

"you believe me to be incapable of tending to sickness?"

"no, i just thought you'd like... not take it seriously."

sukuna's eyes darken, and you realize that you may have said the wrong thing. "in what reality would i fail to take any threat to your health seriously, whether you are frail or not?"

"see, that's what i mean. you always have to slip in something about me being frail."

"because you are. as a member of your species. look at where you lay currently," sukuna grimaces. "that is not an insult to you, it's an observation. it's an insult, however, to everyone else who isn't you."

you relax slightly. "then you were actually worried?"

sukuna scoffs. "why the hell do you think i'm sitting in a human hospital with your sick ass right now? i thought we were past you believing i do not concern myself over you."

you suddenly feel foolish, having forced yourself to suffer in your isolation and simultaneously made sukuna, of all people, worry over you.

"hm. feeling foolish, are you?" he says, reading your mind.

"shut up,," you whine, only to clutch your stomach suddenly with a groan. sukuna sighs as he gently eases your head back onto the pillow.

"i told you not to exert yourself. you give me a headache."

"kuna," you mumble.

"what?"

"can you... take me home?"

sukuna raises a brow. "home?"

"to your place," you clarify. "i don't wanna be here. i just want to be with you. want you to hold me."

"you're such a needy thing," he exhales, toying with a strand of your hair as he leans over and gazes gently at you. "you have medications you need to take."

"then bring them with."

"and if you get sick again? you've only been here ten hours."

"ten?!" you exclaim.

"you were very ill, (y/n)."

you groan. "ten is long enough. i hate hospitals. take me home. i feel better anyway, and if i get worse, i’ll just go to uraume."

sukuna sighs, standing slowly. "after i get these tubes out of you without further damaging you, i will take you home," he says, looking over the IVs that you're hooked up to.

you close your eyes tiredly and nod in acceptance. "okay," you murmur.

he grunts. "let me find some damn instructions.”

"kuna," your hand weakly reaches out to catch his wrist and he stops, turning to look down at you.

"what is it?"

you open your eyes to look up at him fondly, exhaustion welling in your gaze. "thank you."

the king of curses clenches his jaw. he smoothes ahead over your now warm forehead and leans over you. "don't do some shit like this again."

[royalninja]

listening to Gravity Falls episode commentaries is great. Alex Hirsch nearly worked himself to death constantly. Grunkle Stan was nearly voiced by Matt Chapman of Homestar Runner. Literally nothing aside from the twist about Stan having a twin was planned more than a few episodes in advance. The zodiac wheel meant nothing and consisted of random symbols from the first 7 episodes because the intro was animated after those were done. Alex came up with the term “search for the blind eye” to be an extra bit for the between-season shorts before deciding to actually have a payoff for that setup and writing Society of the Blind Eye. Bill was meant to be a joke character and when Alex suggested that he be a real villain Michael Rianda responded “You, my friend, have lost the plot.” Bill getting one episode in the spotlight was basically chance and he only became the main villain of season 2 because he was so popular with the fans. The reveal of the portal at the end of season 1 was suggested by Mike without thinking it through and he left before the next season and the other writers were SO ANNOYED after that went through because they somehow had to keep that plot going for the 10 episodes it’d take to actually pay off. I am genuinely astonished that this show came together as well as it did at all.

[sunderwight]

Modern AU where Shen Yuan accidentally sugar-daddies everyone.

So for the purposes of this, Shen Yuan's family is basically $10 Bananas levels of cluelessly rich. Shen Yuan has almost never had to look at the prices of anything he wants. He and his siblings all get an allowance from the family's main account, which increases when they reach adulthood, and in the interest of fairness his parents made it all the same size. So Shen Yuan gets the same amount of money for his daily living expenses as his older brothers with their penthouse apartments and vacation homes and private jets, at least from the family account (since he doesn't work, he doesn't actually make as much as them in total because they earn more on top of their allowances).

And the thing is, Shen Yuan genuinely just lives a lot more humbly. He likes people but what would he do with a vacation house? Anything really nice would probably require him to fly to get out there, and he gets sick as hell on planes. Living in the central city is also not great for him, because the air pollution is so bad. Having a whole house to himself would also be ridiculous. So he has a reasonable apartment, in a reasonable area, and he splurges every so often on purchases that make him happy and take-out food that he likes, and of course he pays a cleaning service to come in twice a week. Most people assume he's comfortably middle class and has some tech job he does from home, but he's been getting a lot more than he's been spending in his monthly allowances for years now, and the figures are big.

Enter into this environment author Airplane and his trash novels. Novels, multiple, because in this AU there's no PIDW, and instead after some alternate PIDW prototype got popular in the harem genre, Airplane decided to churn out a series of copy-paste shorter stories rather than recycling the same subplots in one massively long epic.

Shen Yuan of course discovers Airplane's writing and becomes as obsessed with it as ever, except this time he notices that if there are delays between new stories, they seem to clear up faster whenever he throws some cash at the problem. And also that the drops in Airplane's writing quality coincide with times when Shen Yuan was having health issues and not keeping up with his VIP purchases. So, he works out that Airplane's probably doing the writing for the money, and that when Peerless Cucumber isn't paying the most for it, Airplane starts listening to the other buffoons in the comment section more to try and entice them to pay his bills instead.

Peerless Cucumber leaves a comment on one of Airplane's latest stories that kicks off the two of them actually chatting, and Shen Yuan eventually gets to the point of offering to fund all Airplane's writing, in exchange for Airplane not doing his crap sellout stuff to appeal to other readers anymore. Airplane thinks he's joking or maybe mocking him. Shen Yuan asks how much it would cost. Airplane fires off a ridiculous number. Shen Yuan doesn't even blink and wires him the first payment. Then he gets annoyed because Airplane leaves him on read for a while, but that's because Airplane is staring at his account balance in shock.

Of course, it's Airplane who starts referring to Peerless Cucumber as his sugar daddy. Shen Yuan is just like "based on your sex scenes I don't think anyone would pay you for that" and Airplane's all "but you WOULD pay for my sex scenes ^_~" and Shen Yuan's like "technically I am actually paying you not to write that shit" and so on. Usual banter. The quality of Airplane's writing improves dramatically, a lot of his readership drops off but he does get new readers and gradually builds up an even bigger fanbase than before, and so on, it all goes pretty well. He eventually writes a few things that take off to the point of getting physical publications and international translations. Technically Airplane no longer needs Shen Yuan to pay all of his bills by that point but he's not going to tell Shen Yuan that! The contract's still good as long as he keeps writing!

Then one of Airplane's online acquaintances runs into some financial trouble and asks for help.

Liu Mingyan used to beta read for Airplane back when he wrote fanfiction (she was like thirteen, Airplane was unaware because internet and hey free beta), and it seems her family has hit a rough patch. She wants tips on how to go pro, but Airplane explains that it was extremely difficult and he mostly lucked out by finding a single wealthy backer. Mingyan wonders if the same guy would be interested in her writing, Airplane sadly thinks not because Mingyan exclusively writes kinky danmei erotica and Peerless Cucumber seems pretty firmly in the closet still and also generally prefers plotty and world-building heavy stuff.

But like, Airplane has definitely gotten a vibe off of Cucumber-bro, and Mingyan's gorgeous older brother does video streams of himself doing cool martial arts and swordsmanship stuff. So he asks her permission and when she gives it, he recommends Liu Qingge's videos to Shen Yuan, being sure to mention that the guy in question can't really afford to keep up with his hobbies and oh what a shame it would be if he had to stop making art like that.

Haha, Airplane, you're not subtle.

Even so, Shen Yuan watches the videos and immediately agrees that Liu Qingge is beauty in motion, and that it would be criminal to deprive the world of more videos of his sword. Swordsmanship! That is the, the art of, martial arts! Definitely. He clicks the donate button, reasoning out that he'll just send a donation about the size of his usual monthly payments to Airplane and call it his good deed for the day.

Liu Qingge is very confused by this new follower from nowhere who suddenly dumped a little over a month's rent into his account. One thing leads to another, with Mingyan and Airplane conspiring to try and get Shen Yuan as a permanent patron, and then Liu Qingge being let in on it. Except that Airplane keeps referring to Shen Yuan as his sugar daddy, and well... it's not like Liu Qingge doesn't ever get 'those' kinds of comments on his videos. At first he's embarrassed, then offended, then mortified that his own younger sister is apparently setting him up to make premium private videos for what he assumes is some old pervert who is going to want him to do untoward things.

However, their options are pretty bleak at the moment, and Liu Qingge worries that if he doesn't do this then Mingyan might. She even mentions something to the effect of having planned to offer herself, and only didn't because she wasn't this "sugar daddy" guy's type!

Teeth clenched, Liu Qingge asks Airplane stiltedly for advice on how to... appeal, to this wealthy benefactor.

In the end though it's not nearly as bad as Liu Qingge feared. He winds up doing more videos in costumes and cosplay, which ought to have been an untenable expense, but Peerless Cucumber always ends up covering the cost of whatever he invests in plus extra. Sometimes he sends Liu Qingge stuff with a request to wear it, but so far it's just been like, badass warrior-themed or historical costumes. Nothing overtly pervy. He does some LARPing, he makes enough to start doing horseback archery again, convinces some of his good-looking peers from various clubs to spar with him, and ultimately the most risque videos he ends up doing are the ones where he demonstrates how to put on certain kinds of gear. He still locks those ones behind paid subscribers only, mostly because he feels like he's doing something illicit now, even if he used to show more skin on his older videos any time he took his shirt off.

Peerless Cucumber doesn't leave creepy comments, either. In fact he seems genuinely nice and supportive, it's hard not to like him, and so even once his situation levels out Liu Qingge decides there's not really much need to stop making videos for him. (He maybe even gets a little giddy thrill over... well, sometimes he finds it all a bit... just when he thinks about Peerless Cucumber watching him demonstrate his physical prowess and finding that alone worth... ANYWAY--)

So that goes on for a while, before Yue Qi enters the scene.

Yue Qi is the childhood friend of one of Shen Yuan's older brothers (Shen bros!) and Shen Jiu owes him a big favor for something that he won't talk about. At least he won't talk to Shen Yuan about it. But Yue Qi is also not the type to ask for help, and Shen Jiu is very bad at offering it, so when Shen Jiu gets word that Yue Qi is having some difficulties making ends meet, he tells Shen Yuan to act as the middle man. Go offer Qi-ge money, he knows you're nice he'll just accept it, and then Shen Jiu will pay the actual bill.

Well it turns out that Yue Qi doesn't just accept it, of course he sees right through it, and gently but firmly tells Shen Yuan that he's not interested in burdening Shen Jiu further than he already has. Etc, etc, stoic stiff upper lips and no proper communication all around. Shen Yuan panics because it's not working and he's also genuinely worried about Yue Qi by now, so he tries to figure out how to make it compelling and basically blurts that, well, see, the thing is that sometimes he pays men to entertain him. You know. To like. Do things, for him. So. He could also pay Yue Qi? To do something for him?

Yue Qi gets the wrong idea entirely, and at first is like, oh, no, A'Yuan, you shouldn't be paying people for that! These things should just happen organically! But Shen Yuan is very adamant that he believes in compensating people for what they do for him, it's not like he can't afford to, and it gets awkward but Yue Qi is like well he does have health problems. It's perhaps difficult for him to meet people. So then he starts worrying about Shen Yuan and all these strange men he's apparently paying for "entertainment". Does his brother know about this?

No of course Shen Jiu doesn't know! He'd hate it, and Shen Yuan doesn't want to hear about how he's doing everything wrong with his life again!

Then Shen Yuan mentions that his prior house cleaning service up and quit on him (they didn't), and if Yue Qi would like to earn fair compensation he could just come over sometimes to help instead, and Shen Yuan would pay him just to tidy up and hang out for a few hours! Which Yue Qi thinks is a fantastic idea, actually, even if Shen Yuan is only doing this because of his brother, this will give Yue Qi a chance to keep an eye on him and his so-called entertainers. Even if he sort of... ends up also being one?

Shen Yuan keeps everything above board, though his apartment always seems perfectly clean and he overpays way too much (Shen Jiu is still footing this bill after all), and Yue Qi starts to think maybe he actually is being paid for intimacy. Of a sort that they're maybe still working up to? Shen Yuan usually has a very thin face after all. He's kind of got two minds about this prospect. On the one hand, he's got his situationship with Shen Jiu, so dating his brother would be absurd. But on the other hand, it's not actually dating, and he does like Shen Yuan, and maybe if they can be good company for each other then Yue Qi won't feel so depressed and Shen Yuan won't need to hire strange men so often.

Meanwhile it's come to Shen Yuan's attention, perhaps through an offhand comment he read online somewhere, that people who are struggling financially often also struggle to "treat themselves". Because even when they have enough money to be comfortable there's often the looming specter of deprivation, and etc, so he figures he should start buying some of his dependents more treats and things. Since they might not buy them for themselves? And also he's enjoying doing this but shhh no he isn't, it's a huge hassle, he's only doing it out of basic moral decency, etc.

So like, Airplane starts getting little things that he'd put on some public wish lists, clearly sent by Peerless Cucumber. And he tells Mingyan to make a list for Liu Qingge too, and sure enough, Liu Qingge (bewildered, slightly flustered) tries to figure out what he's supposed to do with an album from a band he likes and some high-end leather polish. Ultimately settles on playing the music and wearing his nicest leather in his next video. Yue Qi starts arriving at Shen Yuan's place to be plied with his favorite coffees and to have scented candles awkwardly foisted onto him (Shen Yuan does not know what Yue Qi likes in gifts) (he buys these presents himself they're not out of Shen Jiu's pocket).

So finally Shen Yuan's parents start to notice that he's been spending a lot more than usual, and start to worry that he's either been taken in by a scam artist or is secretly dating a gold digger or has developed a drug addiction or something. But asking things directly like normal people is basically illegal in the Shen family, so they decide to hire a private investigator.

Enter Luo Binghe, a young man of humble background who is struggling to make ends meet after the untimely death of his adoptive mother, and is using his P.I. job and his online cooking videos to help pay his way through school (scholarship student). Usually his cases are more like, cyberstalking someone to find out if they're cheating on their spouse, or helping someone planning a lawsuit accumulate evidence on their corrupt employer, or other things like that. When he gets the Shen Yuan case, the idea that the Shen family's son is paying for "company" is well within his list of probable answers.

Though this one is a little... peculiar?

Mostly because Binghe can't find evidence of Shen Yuan actually getting what he would, presumably, be paying for. At first Luo Binghe just goes through the online paper trails, using the info that the Shen parents give him to figure out that Shen Yuan is paying Airplane and Swordmaster Liu (*cough*) what seem to be exorbitant prices just for trashy fiction and cosplay videos. He assumes this is a cover, that someone's actually delivering drugs or going over for "private meetings" or at least actually sending dirty videos as well, but even when he pays for Liu Qingge's VIP access it's just tutorials and such. Neither of these guys are even on any of the sites that are more lenient towards hosting explicit content. Luo Binghe's aware that kinks aren't always obviously sexual, but people don't usually pay through the nose for the kind of content they can easily find for free all over the place, either.

He digs a little more but keeps coming up empty on evidence to clarify which of the many vices the Shen family's son is actually indulging in. Which is a problem because that's the information they're paying him to find out. Plus his curiosity kind of piques as he reads Shen Yuan's seemingly quite invested comments on Airplane's writing and Liu Qingge's videos, looking to see if there's any kind of clandestine code or pattern. But near as he can tell, whatever else Shen Yuan might be getting out of these arrangements, he does genuinely like the stories and videos too? Well. Sometimes. Sometimes he's actually scathingly vitriolic towards Airplane's writing.

Luo Binghe decides that surveilling Shen Yuan himself is probably the way to go. That gets more complicated in court cases, but since the Shen parents just wants to know what's going on and aren't planning on prosecuting their son for anything, it doesn't matter as much if Luo Binghe gets information in sneaky or underhanded ways.

So, Binghe uses the account he created to access Liu Qingge's videos to chat with Shen Yuan a few times, and then recommends his own cooking channel. Shen Yuan doesn't seem too interested in cooking, so Luo Binghe makes sure to include a video that has an image of himself in his recommendation, and then films a few new videos of himself cooking with his shirtsleeves rolled up to three quarters and a few more buttons than usual unbuttoned, adopting a more flirty persona than he typically does for his shows. He takes his cues from some of Liu Qingge's more popular videos for how to be enticing bait.

It takes a few videos, but eventually Shen Yuan comments. Luo Binghe latches onto the chance to start talking to him, playing up a persona of a vulnerable young man with little means who is trying hard to make it through school, etc, and sure enough Shen Yuan seems interested. Well, most predatory people like vulnerable targets, don't they?

However... Shen Yuan just sends him a chunk of money.

Luo Binghe is confused.

Isn't he supposed to ask for something or create some kind of expectation of repayment first? But, maybe this is his approach to handling new targets. Maybe he's just trying to lull Binghe into a false sense of complacency, before he starts indicating what he wants from all of this. Luo Binghe makes sure to move the money Shen Yuan sends him into a separate account, so that if the Shen parents get angry about it then he can return it as a gesture of good faith.

But Shen Yuan just keeps sending supportive comments and donations. Eventually he leaves a comment that alludes to how badly he'd like to taste Binghe's cooking, and Binghe is like finally, but when he implies that they could perhaps meet in person and Luo Binghe could thank him for his support by making him something, Shen Yuan backs off.

Things eventually progress to the point where Luo Binghe, who is a totally normal person treating this like a totally normal job still thank you very much, is basically camping out in the bushes in front of Shen Yuan's apartment building. At some point he conscripts the aid of his weird cousin (finding his birth family was how he got into this business initially), and then almost immediately regrets it because Shen Yuan helps get Zhuzhi Lang a job doing landscaping for his building.

Why would he want Zhuzhi Lang close but not Binghe? Binghe is much handsomer! He'd make an excellent target for seduction! >:(

Anyway eventually Yue Qi catches Luo Binghe lurking around like a creeper and is like, finally, I have caught one of these suspicious men, whilst Binghe is like oh so he does have a lover, well this guy sucks and is clearly not good enough for him, and they both try and chase one another off and Shen Yuan comes home to a heated passive-aggressive-politeness war being waged in front of his apartment. Eventually he realizes the misunderstanding and calls everyone together (zoom conference? in-person meet-up?) to clarify that he is not paying any of them for "special favors", that was just Airplane being deranged about his sense of humor, and then he has no idea what to do when the prevailing response seems to be disappointment.