#this isn't as good as my other fics Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[ravereina]

Hi, can you do a (fic?) scaramouche x camgirl!reader where they know eachother in art class (highschool AU)

Ily and your posts!!<33

(Its okay, if you're not comfortable with writing this)

WHORE!

I LOVED THIS OMG OMG IM SO SORRY IF IT SUCKS THO I RUSHED IT A LOT!!

Contents: Blackmail, Dubcon, Degrading, Shy reader, Mean scara as it goes on.

ALL CHARATERS IN THIS ARE 18+

The bell rang snapping you up from your daydreams you were having about one of your friends, Scaramouche. You've always been curious about him, sure you both were friends but you always felt that there wa so much more to him than you knew.

You rushed to your last period of class which was art. You almost instantly sprang up remembering that he was in your class and that you both sat next to eachother. You walked into your class spotting Scaramocuhe facing the window. His face resting in his hand.

"Hey Scara!" you said taking a seat next to him. "Hi." He replied with a cold tone. A slight tint of blush covering his face "Huh? are you ok Scaramouche? You seem really flustered." You said with a hint of concern in your tone. "I'm fine. Its just really warm." He muttered grabbing some art supplies and working on a drawing.

You simply ignored it working on the drawing that the teacher instructed you to work on. Suddenly you broke the tense silence.

"Did something happen scaramouche? You can always tell me if something happened." You put your hands on his arm trying to comfort him. His heart swelled at your words.

He smiled softly "Lets walk to my house. I'll tell you there ok?"

You eagerly nodded your head. Constantly checking the time till school ended. As soon as the bell rang you almost shoved everything in your bag and waited for him at the door. You guys walked seemingly to his house. He stopped to open his front door,

Wondering what could be so important that he had to tell you in secret.

“I’ve seen them, Your videos.” He walked closer towards you. Your face drained pale. Thoughts racing through your head.

"H-huh? What videos..?" You tried to play dumb, Although Scaramouche saw through the poor facade you put up.

"Dont play dumb, Doing filthy things for other people." He sneered pressing in front of you as your back hit the wall. “I won't show anyone if, you let me fuck you.” He smirked. Eyes piercing into yours.

"Hu-Wait W-Wha." You tripped over your words.

“You don’t really have a choice love, Unless you want the whole school to see some of your lewd videos.” His gaze made you feel trapped and bare to him. “I wonder how the college you wanna go too would react too this.” That statement made you freeze.

"Wait scaramouche no! don-" He cut you off.

“You should think twice princess." He said, His hands caressing your shoulders trailing down your body so soothingly it made you almost forget about the situation you were in. He slowly fondled your breast throughout your shirt, rolling your nipples through his fingers.

He removed his hands from your body whining at the los of touch. "Strip." He spat removing some of his clothes. You rushed to take some off. You tried to cover some parts of your body that your undergarments couldn't cover.

"Don't be shy love, you don't seem shy showing your body off to strangers now do you?"

He said against your neck. Slowly biting and sucking your neck. Trailing down towards your breast. “Bet people tell you all the time about how pretty your body is.”

He said looking up at you for a response.

“M-mhm.” you hummed. As he shoved his hands into your panties to remove them and softly rubbing your clit. "God, you're soaked" Slipping his fingers into your cunt.

"What a whore."

He spat, Your cunt clenched around his fingers. "Heh, someone liked that, didn't they?" He teased. You shook your head out of embarrassment, trying to deny the obvious. "Scara.. come on, please." You begged. "Please what love? Tell me." He cooed.

"Fuck me please scaramouche. Need you." You pleaded loudly.

He chuckled, leading you on the couch. "Go on your hands and knees love" He ordered you. You followed his command almost instantly.

He aligned himself to your hole and slowly pushed in. You winced at the pain when he finally bottomed out. "You can move now." You whispered under your breath but just enough for him to hear it.

He started thrusting fastly into you. The only sounds hard from the room was the intense sound of skin slapping and panting coming from both of you..

"You dont know how l-long I've wanted to fuck you." He groaned pulling your hair, forcing you to arch your back.

" 's too much S-Scara!" You squealed, tears welling up in your eyes from the mix of pleasure and pain "Quit your whining bitch. You can take it." He mumbled gripping at more of your hair to hold on as he harshly thrusted into you.

"It's s-such a shame that others have seen your body, but none of them will e-ever be able to feel your tight pussy around me. He said almost smugly. ,"N-No one else! Yours Scara!!" You spewed.

"Thats fuckin right. You're mine. M'gonna breed you and keep you as mine."

The statement made you clench around him. "F-Fill me up S-Scara!" you moaned. Choked sobs emerging from your throat from him rubbing your clit.

Feeling your orgasm reaching you squealed and shut your eyes. "C-Close please,please" You babbled incoherently till you felt your orgasm crashing down upon you. Feeling him release inside of you with a grunt.

[silverwhittlingknife]

The Bats Are Fighting (Distaff Edition)

some conflicts I enjoy:

Babs is pretty hostile/judgy toward Helena at first & is bitterly upset and hurt when Helena starts wearing a Bat costume - apparently a Batgirl costume - without asking her. Later on, Bruce chases Helena out of the costume, and Babs gives Cass the Batgirl costume with her explicit blessing. Helena and Cass never have a rivalry over this exactly, but I don't think they ever really get along, either

Babs and Helena eventually make up when Babs lets Helena join the Birds of Prey but it's rocky in the beginning - Babs dislikes Helena's methods and doesn't entirely trust her; Helena resents being kept on the outside

Steph is super-impressed by Cass and tries to get her to like her and they eventually get close, but Cass has a pretty low opinion of Steph-as-a-vigilante and doesn't hesitate to boss her around or knock her out, and she's super-hurt by Steph lying to her about what's going on during War Games (probably not unrelated: Cass is the only Bat to blame Steph instead of Bruce after Steph dies)

Babs and Cass get very close but also have tensions because Babs wants Cass to have the 'normal' life that Babs thinks she should've tried harder to have when she was younger, and Cass isn't entirely comfortable with this pressure, plus - this one I think is a bit more well-known - Babs spends a lot of time tutoring Cass and looking after her (awww), BUT ALSO in a tense moment she gets really nasty and harsh about Cass's reluctance to learn to read and calls her "stupid"

Dinah finds Steph REALLY annoying and wants her to stop tagging around after her... until she finds out about Steph's miserable home life, and then she appears like an avenging angel and kicks Steph's dad and his cronies out of the house

Babs decides to work with a guy who tortured Dinah because she thinks he's capable of redemption and Dinah is NOT HAPPY about it

Just generally, Steph and Helena are very much outsiders who don't get brought into the "core" Batfam and who aren't trusted with info like Bruce's secret identity. By contrast, Babs is an insider almost from Day 1 - she may have conflicts with Bruce, but she's also got his absolute trust - and Dinah is as insider as it gets, with a mom who was also Black Canary and a stint on the JLA

other general characterization notes that cause Conflict (TM):

Babs is pretty much a classic Bat - she's got a ton of control issues and she's an instinctively secretive workaholic

Helena is an adult who will kill people if she damn well feels it's necessary and she doesn't appreciate being lectured about it

Steph is a defensive teenage outsider with a bucketload of family problems - deadbeat evil dad! addict mom! - and when she's upset she's got a reckless self-destructive streak

Cass is very much like Bruce in that 1) she is wildly super mega good at fighting, 2) she's an instinctive loner who's comically bad at people AND YET she can nevertheless effortlessly manage to head off to a foreign country for a weekend and have a passionately-felt mutual love affair with some random criminal or something, and then that person dies & she goes home like nothing happened, 3) she cares about other people but completely sucks at communication & when in doubt will just go silent & take off or refuse to have conversations, 4) because she hates talking sometimes she'll just knock you out or hit you so that she won't have to do it, 5) she will spend an entire year planning to have a fight to the death with someone for Reasons and tell no one about it because why would she tell someone

anyway they're all terrible <3

[weirdfishy]

not-quite-yet 3

nqy 1 - 2

. my ko-fi 💛

ao3 link

~

it's a freeing thing, being spiderman. super strength, speed healing, enhanced awareness, taking your fears and shoving them out the window, downdowndown from up on high.

a mask.

give a man a mask, yk? spiderman's sarcasm and light, quick wit pours thoughtlessly from his lips, evasiveness n fight like a buried memory-- confidence in his bones; one second miles is stammering over his sketchbook (edge to edge with his muse, page after page) n the next spiderman's mask is pulled on n he's high in the sky, whoops and cheers alongside his muse's full, deep laughter, dancing through the air, around each other, to the top of the nearest high rise.

spiderman's muse (in other worlds, they're called lovers, but miles- spiderman- the gwen he knows is from another universe n he wasn't "supposed" to be bit at all, so he'll take muse, he'll take best friend) joins him at the top of a spire, base plate barely big enough to hold their shoes n the wind whipping around them, neither of them feeling the chill (it comes with the second skin, with the uniform and the abilities-- it's learning to make your suit warmer)

they've taken the arm closest and draped it over his shoulder like usual, miles wrapping his own across their back, hand squeezing them closer, settled at their hip, a mere look at each other before they're free falling backwards, still clinging to one another, other hand out, air between fingers and mouths pulled taut into wide, toothy smiles. then miles is nudging their shoulder, hand poised for rock-paper-scissors, which they return in kind (oh, miles can almost see the smirk beyond the mask, knowing full well none of those three options will be used by his opponent), miles making a rock with his fist, a peace sign made in response. "peace over war, love," then they're webbed to another building, swinging into the bottom of their curve in the direction of downtown, for whatever spot the other spider feels like eating at, and on and on the night will run, swinging up, down, around n around, across alleys and the sides of buildings, through crowds n noise but always focused on each other, leading then following, following and leading in turns, twisting, spinning, leaping, falling, catching and climbing, over n over until the duo is on the roof of miles' dorm at 5 am, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the edge, masks off- sipping from two different cups n switching every so often, calm n quiet; existing with each other, spider n spider, miles n hobie.

(miles doesn't need his mask when he's with hobie; freedom is easier to reach, with them)

[quirkle2]

who wants zombie au writing. don't answer that ur getting it anyway (1.6k words)

His shoes knock against the old flooring of the house, wood creaking under rubber soles that slide over the woodgrain. He drags them a bit, lifts his limbs up no more than he strictly has to, and they lead him to the nearest sittable surface.

The couch is old and dusty and has likely gone untouched for months, much like everything else nowadays, so he watches the thin cloud of dust billow off the cushions largely with disinterest. He collapses into the fabric heavily, feels the whole thing scoot back an inch and hit the wall behind him. The sound echoes, carried by lifeless rooms, while he unceremoniously drops his backpack to the floor by his feet.

The breath he lets out is slow and methodical and born of pent up muscles, aimed at the ceiling where he rests his neck against the back of the couch and relaxes every limb one by one. It’s a process he forces himself through, if only to rid the constant ache beneath his skin.

Slow, sweeping footsteps meander around the room in front of him, and Ritsu angles his gaze down from his craned back position to look at his brother. He wanders, like he so often does—seemingly aimless, but there’s something procedural about it that he’s convinced he just hasn’t figured out yet.

Shigeo’s empty eyes crawl along the hearth of the fireplace, explosions of ash sprayed out across the red brick. His head tilts up to trace his attention around the angular lines of the television, hung on the wall and screen grey with dust. He flits back and forth between the roundness of the bricked mantle and the sharp edges of the screen, like he’s taking notes.

Shigeo paws the television. Four lines of muck are cleared. The zombie blinks, paws at it again with dusty, curious fingers. Ritsu watches him make a mess of the television screen in silence, blinking tiredly.

He almost closes his eyes, but he fights against the urge and moves his fingers down his lap to reach for his bag. His middle hooks around the loop at the top and he lugs it up and into his lap, where he unzips it and peers into the shadowy contents.

Ritsu fishes out the water bottles. He finds the one with the messy R scribbled along the cap in sharpie and takes a big swig of it. It’s warm going down, constantly insulated in a bag of old, sweaty clothes. He feels like he can taste the odor in it, but it clears the grain in his throat from stomping all over dirt roads today, so he’s still grateful.

He holds out the one labeled S to Shigeo. “Thirsty?”

Shigeo looks at him from where he’s crouched down to the floor now, inspecting the soot along the hearth. Unfortunately, he sees handprints in the black already, and when his brother reaches a hand out to take it, his palm is covered in soot.

He lets him have his fun and settles his own bottle back in the mess of tangled clothes and rolls of bandages. Ritsu rakes his fingers through their stock with no real purpose—he knows exactly what’s in here, and none of it is useful.

They’d been searching all day; Ritsu doesn’t really know how far they’d walked, but it had to be a lot of miles. In and out of stores, up and down empty houses, weaving between warehouses—they didn’t really stop for a break. Not when Ritsu can hear Shigeo’s stomach from here and he himself has shaking hands. They can’t afford a break.

Nothing, though. Not a single goddamn thing worth taking. A settlement must have come through here long ago and swept the highway. They’re in the countryside, where houses are spaced out acres from each other and there’s entire cow pastures between properties. And yet every house they’d seen and entered provided nothing.

Ritsu stares into the negative space in his bag where there should be supplies. His stomach cramps and if he smells another whiff of that godawful sweaty, bloody sweatshirt he still carries, he’s going to throw up bile.

He leans away from the open pouch, eyes wandering to his brother who draws… something into the soot of the hearth. His water bottle sits on the floor, abandoned and still unscrewed. Ritsu leans forward with great effort and a grunt, leaning over his bag to grab at the top of it.

It takes him two tries to get Shigeo’s attention, and one more for an answer on where the cap is. It’s then placed in his palm, covered in soot and also saliva. Ritsu swallows down the nausea that rolls up his throat and wipes it off with his frankly already disgusting sleeve, and screws it back on.

He leans back again, succumbing to the urge to let his eyes rest, and he listens to the very subtle swipe of his brother’s hands across brick. There’s birds outside, chirping, and even though it’s still very much a common occurrence, Ritsu cannot help but feel nostalgic about it.

If he ignores the awful hum of silence, and the distinct lack of an electric thrum throughout the walls, and the fact that this is a stranger’s couch and not his, he can almost imagine normalcy. He can almost say this feels like those quiet moments after school, when he settles on the couch and scrolls through his phone in a house that only holds him and his brother because their parents simply aren’t home yet.

He can almost hear the creak of wood from Shigeo walking around his room upstairs. He can almost tap his fingers on the couch cushions to the pattern of his brother making his way down the steps. He can almost hear the fridge opening, and the sound of milk being poured into glass.

Almost. But Ritsu listens to sharp silence instead, and he tries not to think too hard.

He drifts for a while, feels himself truly sink into the couch and let the cushions claim him, and he thinks about nothings because if he doesn’t, then he’ll lose it. He carefully sifts through the nothingness of his mind, through the passing thoughts that have no bearing, and he focuses on that, on the lack of substance. His head is too full of things that have too much substance.

He misses boredom. He tells himself he misses boredom—the complete insubstantiality of it—because if he lets himself think of what he really misses, it’ll drive him insane.

The cushions move, and Ritsu peels his eyes open and lets himself get pulled from liminal mindspace. The cotton in his head recedes, and he blinks, and then he’s swiveling his head to look at his brother who sits in the cushion right next to him.

His hands and the cuffs of his hoodie are smothered in black. Shigeo sits hunched, gaze still wandering even when there’s not much decoration in this house to look at. He studies the off-white walls, the chips in the paint, the holes drilled in where there maybe used to be photos hung.

Ritsu gazes at him quietly, chest instinctively rising and falling to match his brother’s rhythm. He watches the expansion there, under his hoodie, in the subtlety of the folds and the way they warp over the movement. It’s slightly quicker than what he’s used to, but Ritsu knows his brother’s heart rate is much slower. He’s felt it before. He’s listened to it before, with his ear against a chest.

Ritsu’s attention moves to his eyes, and the heavy bags underneath them, and the paleness of his pupils and the ghostlight of him underneath that. He stares into them, looks for stray, familiar thoughts that might enter his head. Looks for old memories that might shine through in the form of recognition when he sees furniture layouts, and candy wrappers, and ads for soda.

Ritsu looks for it all the time, that glint of familiarity. And he finds it, sometimes. And really, he thinks that’s keeping him going more than food ever will.

Shigeo turns his head, and looks at him. Sometimes, when his brother looks at him, there’s not much there. No substance, no anything. And Ritsu finds it a bit evil that he craves silence in his own head, and yet noise in Shigeo’s, and often times it is the other way around.

His brother looks at him now, though, with that comforting recognition. That growth of the pupils, that softening of the hard edges of his face where unknown stressors have gotten to him. Ritsu wonders what zombies get stressed out. He figures it’s the same deal with humans, considering they’re largely alike.

Ritsu wonders if Shigeo knows he’s sick. He wishes he could ask him. He wishes for a lot of things. Silence in his own head is one of them.

Ritsu swivels his head away and stares at the ceiling, if only to force the thoughts to pause. He studies the popcorn ridges above them, traces the peaks with his gaze. It calms him, gives him something to focus on. He looks for patterns in the shadows they make.

Shigeo shifts next to him. And then he shimmies down, settles into the cushions, and plops his head right down on Ritsu’s shoulder.

Static roars in his mind and his heart stammers. Ritsu swallows the lump in his throat but that just makes it bigger, so he clamps his mouth shut and breathes carefully through his nose.

The tears cut through the grime on his face. He plops his own head down against his brother’s, and lives in the noise.

[wereh0gz]

Not feeling great abt some of my creative endeavors rn

[justworthlessreblogs]

Same Anon as Yesterday (Food pun anon) and I just wanna say something I personally think is missing from Rio’s arc, that I think is important.

So largely, I’m speaking from my own experience as a twin, where me and the twin were really codependent and I was definitely the more docile of the twins. What really helped me with my own personal inferiority complex was making the choice to step out of her shadow. Even though I wasn’t born talented at the things I chose to focus on, the fact that I had chosen to set out and do it on my own left me feeling proud and fulfilled.

To me, Rio makes this choice by becoming Julio, only to step back into her shadow (aka his comfort zone) after his redemption. His friends are her friends, his hobby is her hobby. In a way it’s like, regression rather than development.

I think Rio really should have found something that he’s passionate about that Ciel isn’t, and made some friends that care about that same passion. I don’t think he needs to stop being passionate about baking, but I think he should’ve tried to find something that makes him feel unique. He needs friends that care for him not because he’s Ciels twin, but because he’s Rio.

I’ve came up with various headcanons over the years to deal with this, from giving him a set of new friends, to him becoming more of a business kinda guy when they grow up. Like Ciel is the creative one who literally doesn’t understand the first thing about running a business and Rio is the manager who makes sure the patisserie they run doesn’t spontaneously explode or smth. If I recall, WV Rio likes sports as a hobby (might’ve hallucinated that, it’s been a minute) and I really wish canon had expanded on that, or his other talents. Because I think that would’ve been a much more satisfying way to end his arc.

food anon you're so right. my hottest take of all is that at the end of the series rio still isn't in a healthy mindset because he's put right back into the same situation that caused him to spiral in the first place except ciel compliments him sometimes and i don't think that's a great ending. when writing waffleverse i always ask myself "who is (pov character)?" and once i moved out of rio's julio era and his corporated mandated post-redemption angst i realized i had no fucking idea because postcoma rio just. Exists. he's ciel's brother and he's kinda grumpy and he feels bad about what he did as julio and that's about all you can say about him. he is unfortunately the hardest character for me to write because of that

[sketchy-scribs-n-doods]

the way i wish there could be more good faith analysis and fic about billy having adopted racial prejudice from his dad and then learning to properly recognize it and grow past it in order become a better person. i wish there was more posts and fics that tackle the bullshit lucas has had to deal with as a black kid in small town indiana because the duffers never even considered it. but the sheer puritan black and white thinking and performative activism or moral virtue signaling or whatever the fuck that is so pervasive in this fandom means that even the few posts and fics that dare to try and actually tackle racism tend turn it into either a punishment narrative, are depressingly shallow about it, make it about hating and liking the 'right characters', or miss the mark entirely

like i get it, homophobia/transphobia is easier to explore and talk about for most fans. it's complex and multi-layered just like other types of oppression, but so much of fandom is queer and dedicated to shipping and labels that yeah, i can see how talking about it is just. easier for a lot of ppl. also a lot of fandom is white. and lots of white gays get weird about discussing racism in their spaces. y'know the deal, but i digress. from what i can see, very few ppl want to explore how racism affects our favorite characters and the stories they live in. i know some ppl are probably afraid of getting it wrong, or they don't know anything about it and don't feel like they should. it's like, my blorbo is queer and so am i, so why wouldn't i talk all day about that? i get it. but it honestly just means a lot when someone tries earnestly. i have read beautiful fics about trans love through hardship by cis authors and such genuine fics about connection in the face of racism's poison by white authors.

there is just SO much untapped potential in exploring lucas and max and billy and patrick and argyle and all the other characters directly and indirectly affected by bigotry and racism within the narrative that never got the acknowledgement it deserved. plus it's super weird being used as a 'gotcha!' by white fans that hate billy (as if poc fans of billy aren't capable of seeing it for the bullshit it is) or seeing lucas' treatment in the show get brushed aside like it's nothing or how argyle gets sidelined an awful lot in the fandom (and don't even get me started on how messy the classism in this fandom can be, the borderline erasure of eddie's poverty and its effects on who he is as a person in fic is insane sometimes)

anyway. idk if any of this makes sense, but i can count like maybe 3 good fics and maybe a dozen good posts about billy that actually address this in good faith and only maybe a dozen more for every other character i mentioned. and i desperately want more. i am brown and queer and i want healing and love for all of these characters and i am going to have to start churning out more of it myself at this rate.

[zincbotted]

one of many problems i encounter trying to find undertale fanfiction is that, in my mind, talkingsoup's 'the scientist' series is 100% canon, so anything that contradicts that just don't feel right

[subjectsix]

I don't know I'm not done talking about it. It's insane that I can't just uninstall Edge or Copilot. That websites require my phone number to sign up. That people share their contacts to find their friends on social media.

I wouldn't use an adblocker if ads were just banners on the side funding a website I enjoy using and want to support. Ads pop up invasively and fill my whole screen, I misclick and get warped away to another page just for trying to read an article or get a recipe.

Every app shouldn't be like every other app. Instagram didn't need reels and a shop. TikTok doesn't need a store. Instagram doesn't need to be connected to Facebook. I don't want my apps to do everything, I want a hub for a specific thing, and I'll go to that place accordingly.

I love discord, but so much information gets lost to it. I don't want to join to view things. I want to lurk on forums. I want to be a user who can log in and join a conversation by replying to a thread, even if that conversation was two days ago. I know discord has threads, it's not the same. I don't want to have to verify my account with a phone number. I understand safety and digital concerns, but I'm concerned about information like that with leaks everywhere, even with password managers.

I shouldn't have to pay subscriptions to use services and get locked out of old versions. My old disk copy of photoshop should work. I should want to upgrade eventually because I like photoshop and supporting the business. Adobe is a whole other can of worms here.

Streaming is so splintered across everything. Shows release so fast. Things don't get physical releases. I can't stream a movie I own digitally to friends because the share-screen blocks it, even though I own two digital copies, even though I own a physical copy.

I have an iPod, and I had to install a third party OS to easily put my music on it without having to tangle with iTunes. Spotify bricked hardware I purchased because they were unwillingly to upkeep it. They don't pay their artists. iTunes isn't even iTunes anymore and Apple struggles to upkeep it.

My TV shows me ads on the home screen. My dad lost access to eBook he purchased because they were digital and got revoked by the company distributing them. Hitman 1-3 only runs online most of the time. Flash died and is staying alive because people love it and made efforts to keep it up.

I have to click "not now" and can't click "no". I don't just get emails, they want to text me to purchase things online too. My windows start search bar searches online, not just my computer. Everything is blindly called an app now. Everything wants me to upload to the cloud. These are good tools! But why am I forced to use them! Why am I not allowed to own or control them?

No more!!!!! I love my iPod with so much storage and FLAC files. I love having all my fics on my harddrive. I love having USBs and backups. I love running scripts to gut suck stuff out of my Windows computer I don't want that spies on me. I love having forums. I love sending letters. I love neocities and webpages and webrings. I will not be scanning QR codes. Please hand me a physical menu. If I didn't need a smartphone for work I'd get a "dumb" phone so fast. I want things to have buttons. I want to use a mouse. I want replaceable batteries. I want the right to repair. I grew up online and I won't forget how it was!

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[dashiellqvverty]

my thing w eddietommy is that its not even that i like tommy that much or "ship" it more than buc/ktom/my or b/ud/die. its just that i think it wouldve made so much more sense in context ESPECIALLY knowing that they apparently WERE going to go that direction initially. like idk if i'd feel this way if they hadn't revealed that but with that context it literally feels like they switched gears halfway through the episode. tommy was trying so hard to seduce eddie its crazy.

[teddybeartoji]

I'M SNIFFLING ALREADY WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ARII MY BABY

didn't think you'd escape my big ass rb now did you? hehehehe love u

NOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU MY BABYY:((((((((((((((((((( IS SICK:(((((((( i'm already hurting so bad:(((((((((((((((baby:((((((((((((

a little helpless, unable to even move properly, like a fish out of water.

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

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

MYYYYY LITTLE ANGEL ARIII:(((((((((((((((((((((( ican't do it. WDYMM AL THE LOVE YOU COULD EVER NEED MOLDED INTO A HUMAN SHAPEE WHAT THE FUCKK WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA stop ari this isn't funny i'm like two sentences into the fic................ i won't tell u what i'm doing rn.......................... i won't

give me an hour and i’ll be perfect for you. &lt;3

😭😭😭😭😭😭he's so annoying and so dramatic and so perfect and he's so stupid trying to act like nothing is wrong as if he isn't dying with fever already:((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( dummy

like he genuinely thought an hour, some painkillers and a dream would be enough to chase away a fever this severe. like he was so desperate to see you he was fully willing to take that risk.

PLEAAAAAAASEEEEEEEEEEEEEE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 HE WAS SO READY TO GO OUT HE'S SO IN LOVE IN LOVE DO YOU HEAR ME HE LIVES THERE!!!!!! shut the fuck up he's the sweetest boy in the world too bad he's a little stupid (and too bad i love him so much smh)

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

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭HE COULD NEVERR ari how many crying emojis will be in this one btw place ur bets rn

so used to denying kindness. 

ARI DON'T DO THIS TO ME😭😭😭😭BUT HE'S MY BABY AND HE DESERVES ALL OF THE KINDNESS IN THE WORLD HE DESERVES EVERYTHING. HE WILL ACCEPT IT I WILL TEACH HIM. my sweet sweet boy:((

even like this, he looks a bit like an angel, a painting come to life. like one wrong brushstroke could smudge him. 

he really is my angel. your words are always so perfect for him it's like you walk through a big library full of words and you just pick the most gentle ones for him.

wahhhh tracing hearts into his skin as you're trying to takes off his clothes.... and him just groaning all delirious and out of it:(((((((( WAIIIIT AND THEN U JUST SOFTLY PLAY WITH HIS HAIR UNTIL HE FALLS ASLEEP:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( ari what if i die i wanna play with his so badly i love touching hair so much and i just know his hair would be so fucking soft. idk if his hair is sweaty either ok you won't be able to pull me away from him no matter how hard you try

AND THE FOREHEAD KISSES GODDDDDDDDD I LOVE THE INTIMACY THEY'RE IN LOVE I AM IN LOVE THIS IS WHERE WE ALL LIVE

1000000% THAT HE DOESN'T LIKE TO BRING PEOPLE OVER OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT IT SO MUCH HE'S ALWAYS AT YOUR PLACE OR AT SUGU'S OR AT SHOKO'S HE'S NEVER AT HOME BC IT DOESN'T FEEL LIKE HOME DOES IT? IT'S JUST A HOUSE FILLED WITH FURNITURE THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS ARE THE PEOPLE HE LOVES AND THEY'RE NOT THERE SO HE JUST DESPISES THE PLACE i think only his own room is fully decorated with figurines and pictures and i feel like he even keeps his game console in his room too and then the rest of the house is super bland. like genuinely feels like it's about to be sold or whatever. he even likes to shower at your place or sugu's or shoko's and i think that nobody would really even say anything about it. yeah. brainrot. i love him so much ari. i'm so glad we have him. he's baby and he deserves all of the love in the world.

wait i rambled right after i read that "he doesn’t invite you over very often" so i'm only now getting to the next part and you're saying the same stuff.... WAIT ACTUALLY THOUGH YOU'RE SAYING THE SAME THINGS THAT IT LOOKS LIKE IT'S ABOUT TO BE SOLD WAIIITTT THIS SOUNDS WEIRD I PROMISE I DIDN'T READ THAT PART AH AND HIS BEDROOM TOO THE TRINKETS AND THE PICTURES AND THE CONSOLE ARI DO WE ACTUALLY SHARE A BRAIN WHAT THE FUCK

oh and he sleeps with the cat plushie you won for him:((((((((((((((((((((( + oh my god i know he smells so good he smells Comfortable idk what that means but he just smells sweet and you just wanna hug him

him and his takeout AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I CAN'T DO ITTTT he's a sad little meow who only knows how to give love and he's a little stupid and he doesn't know how to take care of himself and i'm gonna fucking cry you're terrible ari (i love you)

for someone who’s so often surrounded by people, cracking jokes and laughing louder than anyone else, he doesn’t seem to make any noise when he’s alone.

STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP I'M SO SAD

he's so lonely but he has so much love to give he has overall just so much to give AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HE'S A LOVERBOY TO HIS CORE HE'S YEARNING HE DESIRES HE NEEDS LOVE i can't i'm gonna spiral i'm gonna have a meltdown this is a fiction character and i would die for him i would kill for him

you somehow doubt he wants to part with it. 

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

you know it’s him by his touch alone, the weight of his arms, that particular scent that surrounds him. like memories of summer.

this is what love is and i'm crying

he's melting into your skin he's melting into a puddle of angel goo sigh and the way he's a bit surprised by the fact that you made soup. especially surprised by the fact that you made soup in his house. maybe this place could be a home afterall?

"TOO LONELY WITHOUT YOU" MICKEY FOUND DEAD IN A DITCH CAUSE OF DEATH? HEART EXPLOSION

but he's just a baby:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( he wants to be around you he wants to be with you:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

as if he needs you.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭HE NEEDS YOUUUU it's so hard to put it into words how your art makes me feel you know it's crazy you're so amazing i can't stop saying it

my sweet angel is getting his kisses!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! just like he deserves!!!!

SNUGGLEBUGTORU😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 his big eyes staring up at you waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa the goodest of boys

staring at you, as if in awe. to satoru, you appear almost as an angel, a somewhat blurry figure that he recognizes without looking. your very presence is soothing, like a lullaby in human form. with the hazy filter clouding his mind, he can’t even seem to form words correctly — all satoru can focus on is you.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAstoppppppp my sweetheart the reader n him are having an angel-off.......... dummies i love them

DOUBLE AAAAAAAAA FOR THE WAY HE INCHES CLOSER ASKING FOR A KISS BEGGING FOR IT SILENTLY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

me n gojo always burning our tongues when drinking tea (EVERY SINGLE TIME I DO IT EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.)(ohh hot tea is hot who could've guessed)(😐)

he wants to be good for you, though. + he can’t take his eyes off you, even now.

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

OMFG OMFG TUCKING A HAIR BEHIND HIS EAR!! TUCKING A HAIR BEHIND HIS EAR!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY FAVOURITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YAYYYY PATTING HIS HEAD are you in my head or am i in yours.....

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

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭BABYYY

or is it the honesty in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you like he’s trying to convey something he can’t put into words? 

ari stop making mickey cry challenge failed miserably he's so bad with words he only knows jokes and laughter (😐) but he's my baby

RIBCAGE MENTION RIBCAGE MENTION RIBCAGE MENTION

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

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

satoru’s fingers curl around yours, suddenly, where they lay on your lap. his movements are still a little groggy, disoriented, as he brings your hand up to his lips. they’re warm and soft, especially so in light of his fever. he closes his eyes, white lashes catching the light of the sun, flitting in through the haphazardly closed blinds. your heartbeat stutters. ”… love you,” he mutters. a soft little thing. your eyes don’t leave his face. and your lips part before your brain can instruct them to. ”i love you too,” you blurt out, instantaneous. like you couldn’t bear to keep him waiting, even for a second. ”… satoru.”

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I CAN'TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT PLEAAAAAAAASEEEE I'M RUNNING OUT OF TISSUES I AM NOT FINEEE HAND KISSING AND HIS PRETTY WHITE EYELASHES IN THE SUN AND THE HEARTBEAT AND THE SOFT I LOVE YOUS AND FUUUUUUUUUUCK

”thanks for coming, you didn’t have to.”

i am going to punch him in the face. BE SO SERIOUS RN

his guardian angel, carrying the scent of spring with you. a memory of a certain boy, of better times. 

ARI WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU I'M GONNA LEARN CODE JUST SO I CAN MAKE THE FUCKING FONT BIGGER WHAT IN THE FUCK NATION WAS THAT FOR HUHHH LIKE I NEED TO CRY EVEN MORE? HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT?? DAMN I'M FUCKING DROWNING HERE

diabolical mention...................... i don't even know what this feeling is you're on another level how does it feel being a god, hm? i'm so sad

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

AND THEN I'M BEING HIT BY THIS??????????????? HUHHH???????? i'm so surprised i'm still alive and kicking bc my heart can't fucking take it but then again maybe you're the reason i am alive??? yk how can i die when you're still alive and kicking? like what? i'd die and never get to experience your art anymore??????????? FUCK NO YOU CAN TRY KILLING ME I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE I AM NAILED THE FUCK DOWN OKAY

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

apparently i'm nailed down for some sort of love torture. i regret what i said (i do not i am a big liar) SATORU WDYMMMM😭😭😭😭😭

you think the love inside your chest might crawl out of your throat and eat him alive.

i'm taking this quote very personally whether you intended it like that or not

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

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

and you feel like you’re cradling the whole world in your arms. 

OUR WORLD HE'S OUR WORLD our baby our big baby:((((

”wakey-wakey, sunshine!”

SUNSHINE MENTIONSUNSHINEMENTION SUN SHINE MEN TION oh god is he better now is he back to being a little brat oh noooo how terrible (i am back on my lying bs)(i want him to be MORE annoying actually like i want him to NEVER shut up)

him waking u up just bc he can't live without seeing your smile:((((((((

NO STOPP HE'S BEING SO FUNNY ALREADY i missed his stupid jokes him worrying about the creeps outside yeah okay mr. love

wait wtf we're both total liars we really are the same hehehhe mickeygojo brains go brrrrr together

”unbelievable. i fought that fever off just for you, and here you are, laughing at me.”

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

this is how you love, the both of you, through words that never say it all and actions that say the words your mouths can’t fit.

what is this? some sort of a soul read? insanity.............

THE BANTER IS SOO GOOD AAAAAAAAA HAHAHHAHAH him trying to take out the stubborn from the list SMHHHHH WE SEE YOU DUMMY

satoru’s weight is still so comforting, like a big blanket, his arms enveloping you as he breathes in your scent. you’re so happy that he’s acting insufferable again.

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

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

HIM WANTING TO GO OUT HE'S A FUCKING IDIOT how has this man survived for this long.................. (as if i don't do the exact same thing whenever i'm Supposedly sick)

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

MY CHEEKS HURT FROM SMILING WHAT ARIIIIII PLSS LET'S HOLD HANDS he's so funny i hate it so much he'd get such an ego boost with me it's crazy but there's no way i'd be able to hold in my laughter with him no fucking way

”your baby.”

MYYYYYYYYYYYYYY BABYYYYYYY<3333

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

I- I CAN'T FUCKING BREATHE ANYMOOOOOREEE JUST WHEN I THINK I'M GAINING BACK SOME SENSE LIKE YEAH LET'S BE NORMAL NOT IT'S ALL KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT GODDDDDDD HE IS SUCH A LOVER I ALREADY SAID IT BUT I'M SAYING IT AGAIN HE WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND AND HE WANTS TO SEE YOU SMILE AND SEE YOUR EYES CRINKLE AND HEAR YOU HUM AND SEE YOUR NOSE GET RED FROM THE SPRING COLD AND HE WANTS TO STEAL A BITEEE FUUUUUUUCKK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NTO CRYING BY THE WAY I'M NOT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

”if you don’t love me anymore, you can just say that.”

he's ridiculous (😭😭😭😭😭i'm fine) WAIT U SAID THAT TOO HEHEHEHEHE

omfg him wagging his tail he really is the goodest of boys huh "like an excited puppy" YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

me 🤝 gojo HAVING A SWEET TOOTH I WANT ICE CREAM TOO WHAT DA HELL

”you couldn’t even taste it.” ”i could, i could!” he stubbornly whines. ”i tasted all your love. every single drop!” you give him a look. he only grins at you, a little teasing, a little giddy. you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed; averting your gaze with a sharp scoff, trying to appear unbothered. ”yeah? and how did my love taste?” satoru leans forward. it’s sudden, and you blink, instinctively leaning back in turn. he’s wearing a signature smirk when he stops moving, close enough that you feel his breath on your skin. hot. ”delicious,” he purrs, glancing down at your lips. blue eyes gleaming with mirth. ”best thing i’ve ever had.”

ARIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII PLEAAASEEE HE'S SO SO SO SWEET AND HE JUST WANTS TO FLUSTER HIS BELOVED A LITTLE IT'S HIS TREAT

”you’re the only person on planet earth who’d give a fuck about underwear brands."

AHSHGAGHSHASHAHSHGAHGSA THIS IS VERY FUNNY TO ME OKAY I CAN'T STAND RICH PEOPLE AND THEIR INSANE OBSESSIONS OKAY I WOULD TEASE THE LIVING FUCK OUT HIM FOR HAVING THESE HASHAHSHGAHGSHGAHGS wahh i love him

refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, you’re well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek.

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

HIM ASKING U TO CHECK HIS TEMPERATURE HE REALLY IS A BABY and i would do it every time too.... can't even make fun of him... fuck..................

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

this is so fucking soft and it means the world to me satoru and his collections him and his pictures him and his figurines him and his cozy sentimental room:(((((((((((((((

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

if i tell you that i might believe in soulmates would you make fun of me................

satoru’s love feels a little like the sun, when it spills out this fervently, like it could burn you into cinders — you think you’d be happy to lie in the ashes. he’s smiling at you, like sunshine, like little dusty specks of light.

HE'S MY SUN HE'S MY SUNSHINE I WOULD GLADLY LIE IN THE ASHES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ARI YOU'RE INSANEE I LOVE YOU SO BADDDDDD

”… you can. stay forever, i mean.”

THEM JUST STARING AT EACH OTHER WITH LOVING SMILES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA simply staring into each others eyes is a love language btw and satoru is very skilled at it yk his staring problem really comes in handy here he's just like me

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

SPRING IN YOUR POCKETS😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 you're so incredibly good with words that it's kind of making me sick actually love sickness i think it's called sighhh oh no i suppose it's my time to lay on my deathbed and wait for an angel will make me soup......

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

HIM JUST DROWNING YOU IN KISSES STOOOOOOOPPPPPPP he's my favourite puppy and then whining about u not saying it back in a second hashahgshaghshgahgsa my heart is so full

satoru giggling....................... I REPEAT SATORU GIGGLING yk the feeling when you first hear birds sing in the spring yeahhhh this is the same

you’re worth the emotional toll.

great news! mickey is actually alive and well! oh wait.... oh no they're fucking dead again euuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this is me being dead noise YOU'RE WORTH THE EMOTIONAL TOLL THIS IS WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT AAAAAAAAAAAA LOVE IS THE POINT crying again or whatever

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

getting to fall asleep with you every night, eat breakfast with you every morning, see more of your footprints in his life… satoru can’t think of anything he’d like more.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

pls he's sooooo so sweet:((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((i have so much love for him it really will eat him alive i think

and it's gonna eat you alive too don't think you can escape me ari..... LIKE HOW DO YOU KEEP DOING THISS?????? in awe i think is the right thing to say here that's where i live in awe in love in ribcage idk i'm feeling kind of delirious by now i think i actually have a fever ari i adore you so so so much you and your writing you and your art never fail to make me feel so warm and so full of love you're the real angel of this story btw no arguing

anyway i'll be teaching a philosophy class and we'll be pondering over the question of "what ever did we do to deserve ari?" yes it will be an in person class i have techonology get your asses over here we'll be using colorfol pencils to write down our love letters and in the end of the class we'll send them to them ARI MY SWEET SWEET ANGEL MY IRIS MY BELOVED SPOUSE I THANK YOU FOR THIS MEAL I LOVED IT SO FUCKING MUCH MY CHEEKS HURT MY EYES ARE RED BUT I LOVED IT THANK YOU<3333333333333333333333

+ crying emoji count: ..........................................................................197

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

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

word count; 10.8k

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

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

you’ve never seen satoru like this before.

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

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

he’s completely, undoubtedly sick.

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

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

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

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

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

but you’ve never seen him like this.

(and it makes you terribly anxious.)

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

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

he looks so small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

moron.

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

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

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

but he just won’t listen.

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

”satoru.”

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

and it makes him quiet down.

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

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

but most of all, you’re worried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it doesn’t feel like satoru at all. 

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

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

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

it only makes you worry more.

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

you just want to give some of it back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”… okay. think you can sit up, toru?”

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

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

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

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

he wants to be good for you, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

you blink. a moment passes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”it’s only four, satoru.”

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

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

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

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

it’s significantly less scalding, now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”hehe.”

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

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

you blink. once, then twice.

”… satoru.”

”yeah? what’s up?”

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

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

”huh? why not?”

”uh, because you’re sick, maybe?”

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

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

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

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

”but —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

”your baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru is silent, for a while.

”… okay,” he hums. ”that’s fine.”

”haah. okay, good —”

”however!” 

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

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

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

a tilt of your head. 

”… but you’re sick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”i’m not!”

”you couldn’t even taste it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so you opt to indulge him.

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

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

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

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

”you’re good.”

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

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

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

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

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

”you sure?”

”a hundred percent.”

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

”of course.”

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

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

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

”your room is very like you.”

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

”… oh? how so?”

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

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

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

he closes his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

”i wouldn’t mind staying there forever.”

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

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

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

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

”… you can.”

he blinks. still smiling.

”stay forever, i mean.”

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

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

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

you reach something. 

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

satoru doesn’t get sick often.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[page-matcha]

the deactivate button is looking amazing rn

[bykshre]

We Found Love

charles leclerc x female reader (smau) 1/2

summary: you and charles were meant to be together even if the media, society and his girlfriend criticized you.

trope: childhood friends to lovers, ferrari driver x head strategist , mean gf (no hate to any of charles' gf's, ex or current.)

a/n: i know i know im the worst updater and writer ever (I'm sorry okay 😭 I'm busy and I lose motivation lol)but im back slowly but surely, and this is so new! My first F1 fic aahh :D This is very small, I just needed to get this out (monza took my heart away!) hope y'all like it hehe xx.

Months before MONZA

ursernames

life lately - enjoying the break before it's Monza ❤️‍🔥🌷🌺🌠🪽🥨🍽️🪡⌨️👠💎

iked by charles_leclerc,mlnmarta, and 1M others

lewishamilton looks like someone had fun!

⤷ ursernames obviously mate 🧉!!

charles_leclerc wannabe artistic ass 😘😻🤡

⤷ ursernames shut up donkey 🐴🫏😊

kikagomez 💫💗

liked by author

@Ynniequeenn

I'm surprised Charles isn't spending the vacay with her. Sounds fishy but they still act close 😕. I don't know man.

⤷ @chrshls: people like you suck! get a life.

charles_leclerc

everything is good 🩵

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, ursername and 4M others

joristrouche amazing!

ursernames leooo awwww

liked by author

pierregasly simba and leo meetup soon? 😂

⤷ charles_leclerc soon!

alexandrasaintmleux amores <3

liked by author

ursernames

thank you for the wishes everyone, just took another lap around the earth 🌍 🌷🌺🩵

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz and 5M others.

formula_1 happy birthday to the best-ever strategist!

liked by author

scuderiaferrari buon compleanno stargirl!

⤷ ursernames grazie mille!

charles_leclerc joyeux anniversaire ma meilleure fille

liked by author

mlnmarta joyeux anniversaire ma soeur

⤷ usernames 💞💞

oscarpiastri have a great day old lady 🥳

⤷ ursername when i catch you oscar when i bloody catch you! 😵😵

f1wags&insiders

BREAKING 🚨 Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mluex were fighting at a party! Apparently, it was the same birthday party held for Y/N's 27th birthday. What are your thoughts 💭?

liked by 40K others

alexfp i just can't stand this anymore! It's clear that something's up with charles 😐

leclecice bro, alex is straight up toxic just admit it she is NOT a paddock queen neither the IT wag ughh 🥱🥱

lestappenfpp time for charles WDC lesgoo

ynstan will charles and yn ever date? they have that CHEMISTRY yk

malenalexx it's definitely something to do with charles

⤷ unknownchaaa smartest alex fan..

ynstrategyss literally how crazy can Alex even get until they fuck up yns birthday party?! seriously i lost my respect for her.

alexandrasaintmluex

🌺🌺 floral vibes 🌺🌺

liked by joristrouche and 100K others

alexfp omg our queen 👑!!

foralexa hi alexx i hope you're doing well ❤️‍🩹 you look gorgeous btw 🤩

liked by author

kikagomez 💫😵⭐

rebeccadonaldson literally so pretty 🌺🌺

⤷ alexandrasaintmluex says the prettiest!

charlesfanpage charles not in the likes? sus.

leclecicecreammm someone's tryna churn content asap b4 the breakup LOLL

⤷ alexandrasaintmluex you're hilarious. 🥱

ynstrategyss hope y'all okay...

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

2 weeks before Monza, at the Ferrari HQ

"Hey, can we talk, please?" Charles asked Yn as the meeting begun to wrap up.

"What do you want, Charles? Does making me look like a fool on my birthday not enough?!" You said very honestly.

"No,no, mon cher, listen to me."

"I'm sorry for whatever Alex caused during your birthday party. I wanted the party to be nice and surrounded by your close friend's and family. I'm regretful I chose to bring Alex as a tag along. She wanted to go and I can't say no anyways."

"What's your point, Charles? I'm tired of this drama. I am." You said,

"Yn, we've been friends since so young, we spent almost every day with eachother, basically inseparable. Maman practically consideres you her the daughter she never had and you're really close to my family and brothers. Even with my exes you had a close bond with them."

"Mhm, that's right I loved your exes." You said slightly smiling,

"Ever since I dated Alex, she.... she liked fame and attention. Even if she didn't show it much. And when she saw us being close and basically just friends, she got mad and jealous. I didn't realise much until you told me when she confronted you."

"She reads a lot of the news, tweets and those tiktok edits of us that is all over social media. She is influenced by them. And I honestly don't get how they consider our bond romantic but not platonic."

"Alex has been fighting a lot with me past few months. We are not close, anymore. Not liked we used to be. She's constantly screaming and I can't stand her anymore."

"Mon ange, whatever happens with you and her, please... just tell me. I saw the texts she sent you and it wasn't pleasant. Why have you been keeping this a secret. Please ange, don't do it anymore."

"I don't know how longer I can sustain this relationship if it continues to be as toxic as this." Charles said earning a pout from you.

" Charlie, I wanted to see you happy with Alex. I'm sorry about what's been happening at home. I'm sorry too.." you said,

" Are we good?"

"Yeah we are, Charlie" you said, earning a tight hug from you best friend.

It's undeniable that you've always liked Charles. He was handsome, he was everything a women could've dreamt of. And obviously you're one of them. You'd never had the chance to confess and you think you'd never will. It's better to blossom a good, sustainable friendship rather than risking it all for a relationship. Your a simple person, you're critical and realistic.

When Alex confronted you about your relationship with Charles, it hit you till the pit of your heart. You begun thinking if you were too clingy or romantic with Charles. You begun distancing yourself from him thinking you were at fault. You did not want to be a homewrecker,ever.

Although Charles confrontation settled a little of your thoughts, you cannot deny the growing feelings for Charles in that heart of yours.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

charles_leclerc

P4. Deluso ma abbiamo dato tutto. Grazie a tutti voi per esserci sempre. E domani, andiamoooooo 😍

liked by carlossainz,oscarpiastri, ursername and 3M others

ursername let's get it ✨✨

speedingcharles we counting on u buddy

anthoinetrouchet let's get it ittttttttt aaa

alexandrasaintmluex 💕

ursername

story, 1hr ago

feels great to back in monza! hoping to make tifosi's proud this weekend 🇮🇹 Let's see what we can do with a P4 and P5.

RACE DAY IN MONZA.

⭐⭐⭐

@F1LiveUpdates:

"Lights out at Monza! Charles Leclerc is in the fight for P1, but all eyes are on Ferrari’s strategy today. Y/N calling the shots 👀 #Monza #CharlesLeclerc #Ferrari"

@LeclercFans:

"Y/N on the pit wall, looking like a boss. Monza is hers to win 🔥 #YN #FerrariFam"

Your heart raced as you watched the battle unfold in front of your eyes. Charles was in second, fighting tooth and nail to close the gap on the leader. Your freshly manicured nails hovered over the radio button, ready to call the next move.

The crowd roared in the background, but your focus was razor-sharp. Charles trusted your instincts, and you wasn’t about to let him down.

Y/N (over radio):

"Box, box. Let’s go for the undercut."

Charles

"Copy. Trusting you on this."

The team jumped into action as Charles pitted. Y/N watched with bated breath, hoping the strategy would pay off.

As Charles emerged from the pits, your hands clenched into a fist. The timing was perfect. They had nailed it. It will take time to pass through lando but it'll be worth it. And you knew it.

Y/N (over radio):

"P1. 35 laps ahead. Now hold it. You’ve got this."

The crowd was deafening as the final lap approached. You stood with her arms crossed, staring at the screens, barely blinking. Charles had a three-second lead, but the pressure was immense. Your heart pounded in time with the roar of the engines.

Y/N (over radio):

"Last lap, Charles. Bring it home."

You held her breath as the checkered flag waved and the roar from the grandstands signaled what you'd hoped for.

Charles (over radio):

"We did it! P1! We won, Y/N!"

Bryan (over radio)

"AND P1!"

@F1Live:

"Leclerc takes P1 at Monza! What a race! Ferrari fans are going wild! #CharlesLeclerc #Monza"

@FerrariFans:

"Y/N’s strategy today was perfection. Absolute genius. 🔥 #TeamYN #Ferrari"

@LeclercNation:

"Y/N hugging Charles after that win? Yeah, there’s something there. No one can convince me otherwise. #CharlesAndYN"

charles_leclerc

Siete i numeri 1, Forza Ferrari ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

liked by ursername,alexandrasaintmluex, lewishamilton and 10M others

ursername congrats charliee <3

liked by author

⤷ charles_leclerc couldn't done it without you, yn 😘

formula_1 tifosi's pride and joy

lewishamilton enjoy the win mate! great job

oscarpiastri congrats charles!

pascale_leclerc my boy

liked by author

⤷charles_leclerc i didnt leave you at the gransdstands this time 😂

ursername

story, 2h ago

FEVER DREAM!! GRAZIE GRAZIE TUTTI MILLE!

@LeclercNation:

"Alexandra needs to chill. Y/N is just doing her job. She’s a strategist, not a homewrecker! #TeamYN"

formula_1

leo meets his papa who just won the italian grand prix! lovely family at sight 🐕🐶🐾

liked by mlnmarta,alexandrasaintmluex and 2M others

alexfp ahh the cutiess, though she wasn't here but mah queen is always here to shine

alexandrasaintmluex 😍

lecleccreamss since when did F1 turn into a wag thing. Seriously F1? This content is unnecessary!

alexandramyqueen omg our couple is back yayyy

mimosahater @F1Dramaa post. look at this post.

@F1Drama:

"Rumors are flying that Y/N and Alexandra had a heated argument in the Ferrari garage. How much longer can this triangle last? #CharlesLeclerc #YN"

@FerrariInsider:

"It’s getting messy. Y/N is too professional to get involved, but Alexandra seems to be on edge. #F1Gossip #FerrariDrama"

@LeclercNation:

"Y/N is just trying to do her job, but Alex is clearly feeling threatened. Charles needs to step up. #TeamYN"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

You were packing up in the garage, getting reading to back to the hotel, when Alexandra appeared at the doorway. She looked calm, but there was a fire in her eyes.

"We need to talk." Alex said

You set down your notes, bracing yourself. You replied, "About what?"

"About Charles. About you."

"I’m just doing my job, Alexandra. If you think I’m trying to come between you two, you’re wrong."

Alexandra crossed her arms, stepping closer. "I don’t know if I believe that. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. I’m not stupid!"

Your jaw clenched. "You’re right. You’re not stupid. But you’re also insecure. And that’s not my problem. I’m here because I’m good at what I do, and Charles knows that."

"Insecure?" Alexandra’s voice was laced with venom. "Do you have any idea what it’s like watching him put you before me over and over again?"

"He doesn’t put me before you, Alexandra. He’s just focused on his career. If you can’t handle that, maybe the problem isn’t me. Maybe it’s your relationship."

Alexandra stared at you, her expression hardening. "You think you’re so untouchable, don’t you? That because you’re the team strategist, you’re safe. But I see the way you want him."

You took a deep breath, stepping forward. "If you’re so sure about that, then maybe you should talk to Charles instead of blaming me."

"Look here, Charles just won the Italian grandprix. It's a big celebration for team. Let's be happy for the win, instead of bringing this up, now."

"Have a great day, Alexandra" you said and left the paddock without any hesitation.

ursername

thank you bryan, charles, carlos, fred and the team for making this strategy happen! to our biggest supporters, the tifosi ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 6M others

lewishamilton absolutely fantastic strategy yn, you made it happen 👑👑

⤷ ursername i absolutely cannot wait for you to get on this team any longer!! tysm lewis, really appreciate it 💕💕💫

charles_leclerc tu as réalisé mon plus grand rêve, merci ma belle stratège, ma meilleure amie bien-aimée 🥇🥇🥳🥳❤️❤️❤️

⤷ ursername you were behind the wheel, you make us all dream mon rêveur, mon soleil 🩷🩷

mlnmarta such a shame i wasn't able to witness this but again, ma petite sœur, tu nous fais tous rêver 🥹

⤷ ursername tu aimes me faire pleurer 🥹❤️

After the Azerbaijan Grand Prix

charles_leclerc

story, 2m ago

Part 2 when?

[criminalamnesia]

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

[pa-pa-plasma]

okay, because I haven't seen any posts mentioning specifically where/when to put readmores:

if your writing is longer than 300 words, put a readmore after the first paragraph. please. i am begging you. they are more likely to be reblogged when we aren't worried about inflicting a wall of text onto our unsuspecting followers. the readmore option looks like

or

start a new paragraph & then click that. it will then look like

if you are on mobile you start a new paragraph & then type :readmore:. it will look like

thank you for coming to my readmore tedtalk or whatever. happy writing