#he may be smart but he is very stupid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alexiroflife · 3 months

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

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

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

satoru gojo: (sprained ankle!)

you're fucked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"babyyy!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"nah, I waited for you, toru."

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

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

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

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

fucking hell, damn those six eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yeah... why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"why do you want me to stand?"

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

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

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

"no."

"no?!"

"no, i don't want to."

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

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

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

"nothing."

"then stand up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"satoru, you're being dramatic."

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

"it's fine, relax."

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

you frown. "But-"

"Now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i get it, toru," you frown.

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

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

"there's that pretty smile."

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

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

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

"forget the mission."

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

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

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

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

"but you're you."

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

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

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

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

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

you pout slightly. "I love you too."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i wanted to get into bed!"

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

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

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

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

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

"toru-"

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

"satoru!"

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

suguru geto: (cold!)

shit.

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

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

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

how can you be sick of all things?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"hello?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"suguru? you there?" you finally say.

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

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

"(Y/n)."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

we miss you :(

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

you miss having a life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"suguru..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you slap his shoulder pathetically. "asshole."

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

kento nanami: (low iron!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

god, why can't you just be normal?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"oh shit," you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your heart drops. "kento..."

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

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

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

"i know," you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

choso kamo: (broken finger!)

it had fully been an accident.

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

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

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

but you hadn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"who told you about my fingers, love?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"cho, it'll be okay."

"that wasn't my question."

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

"right. sorry," he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i really hope so."

"now can you pass me those chips please?"

toji fushiguro: (knife cut!)

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

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

no touching. that is all he asks of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"why were you just standing there like that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"lookin' for whatever you're hiding."

"i'm not hiding anything, toji."

"uh huh."

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

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

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

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

"turn around f'me."

"huh?"

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

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

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

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

god dammit. you're so dead.

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

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

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

"open."

"can't we just-"

"open."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you're being a prick."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"look, i'm sorry."

"shut the hell up and come on."

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

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

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

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

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

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

you watch him screw open the bottle of liquid.

"go slowly," you plead.

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

"shut the fuck up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you perk up. "really?"

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

"don't be a smartass."

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

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

"don't fucking push it."

ryomen sukuna: (fever!)

you wake up in a cold sweat, shivering.

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

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

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

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

102.4. perfect.

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

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

shit! sukuna.

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

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

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

which of course, he does.

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

"yes?" you croak.

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

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

"who the hell else would it be?"

"sorry... i was asleep."

"at this hour?"

"...what'dy'mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuckkkk.

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

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

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

"what exactly do you take me for?"

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

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

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

"i'm not i-ill."

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

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

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

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

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

"that's impossible."

"try me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"why are we... what happened?"

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

your heart sinks. "how high?"

"when we got here, tipping past 105."

"...are you serious?"

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

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

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

"...i..."

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

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

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

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

"care?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"kuna," you mumble.

"what?"

"can you... take me home?"

sukuna raises a brow. "home?"

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

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

"then bring them with."

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

"ten?!" you exclaim.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what is it?"

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

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

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charliemwrites · 6 months

Text

There are men across the street.

The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.

But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.

You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.

You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.

Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.

She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.

It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.

The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.

You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.

You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.

The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.

“Excuse.”

You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.

What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.

“Hi,” you say, straightening.

He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.

“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.

You blink, surprised and confused.

He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.

But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.

“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”

The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.

Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.

“This is Guy.”

You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.

“Guy?” he asks.

“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”

You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.

“He is a little guy,” the man muses.

Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.

“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.

The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.

“What are their names?”

You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”

A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.

“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”

You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”

“Yes, the short one.”

You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.

“Does he know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t tell him.”

You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.

Someone’s at the door.

You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.

Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.

You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.

You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.

“Morning,” you chime.

“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.

“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”

He grunts. “Work.”

And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.

“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”

“No.”

You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”

You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.

You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”

He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”

Ah, so that’s his name. You never did get that introduction.

“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.

“So! The truck - when will it be here?”

“Noon.”

“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.

You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.

The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.

You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.

You blink and abandon the dishes for later.

The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.

You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.

You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?

“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.

You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.

You yawn. “Mhmm.”

He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.

“It is late.”

“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.

“The sun is up.”

“So what?”

He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.

“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”

You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”

Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”

Well shit.

Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.

Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.

Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.

You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.

At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.

It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.

“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”

His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.

“The cat comes too.”

Cat?

You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.

He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.

There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.

You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.

The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.

The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.

Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.

“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.

“Why?” he asks.

You shrug. “To be nice.”

He stares. You blink back.

“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”

Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.

To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.

“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”

The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.

“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.

That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”

He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.

“Nikto,” he rasps finally.

You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.

“You,” Krueger says.

You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”

“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.

“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.

“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.

“No problem,” you answer, smiling.

Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)

“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”

“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.

“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.

“We will handle it,” Krueger says.

“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”

You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.

“Huh,” you say, surprised.

Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”

You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”

That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.

“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.

Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.

“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.

Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.

Masterlist

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #konig #konig x you #konig x reader #nikto x reader #sebastian krueger #krueger x reader #cod nikto #konig cod #neighbor!reader

3K notes · View notes

klausysworld · 6 months

Note

Hey,I like your klaus mikaelson stories very much. Can you do one in which klaus and reader(yn) were in an arrange marriage and they cant stand each other?And they slowly fall in love and at the end he gets her pregnant? As in arranged marriage I mean,something like the marriage between hayley and Jackson. And if you can please add smut,fluff,jealousy and daddy kink. Thank you

An Alliance or a Marriage?

Y/n could not believe that she was doing this.

Y/n was Jacksons sister, they always had each others backs and protected the other. So when Hayley came into Jacksons life, had him falling in love while she had feelings for Elijah Mikaelson, Y/n knew they couldn't get married. The only reason they were actually getting married was to unite the werewolf clans and to share Hayley's hybrid abilities as part of the marriage ritual.

But it would come at the cost of Jackson's happiness and most likely his life. Y/n was not stupid. She knew the price of loving a Mikaelson and it was one that Jackson could not afford and one that Y/n would not let him pay.

So without thinking, she made a fast decision.

"What if Ione of the wolves married Klaus? That way Hayley gets to be with Elijah and Klaus doesn't have to be so wary of Jackson around Hope or whatever his worry is? Wouldn't it just be easier?" She questioned and she felt everyone's gaze turn to her, most genuinely considering the possibility while Klaus looked both pissed and amused.

"I wouldn't trust anyone with Hope and under no circumstances will I be marrying anyone." He answered before storming out without another word. Jackson was second to protest then some of the other wolves.

They all went back to the bayou and tried to forget about the day.

What the wolves were unaware of were the arguments in the Mikaelson compound. Mostly between Rebekah and Niklaus. Rebekah was telling Klaus that for once, he should think of Elijah's happiness instead of only being selfish yet again. She continued to go on about how it was for Hope, how he should be the one sacrificing for Hope, not Hayley as she had already given up so much. The fight went on for hours but by morning it was settled. Niklaus would marry a wolf of his choosing.

Y/n was his choice. She was quiet but smart. Small but strong. Which meant she would be the best of his options. He knew part of her feared him, unlike some of the wolves there. She may challenge him a little but she wasn't stupid enough to truly go against him. This was proven when she silently accepted his decision.

Jackson was entirely against the entire thing. His sister was getting married to the original hybrid, moving into the beasts den and becoming apart of his twisted family. But he too kept quiet after Y/n told him it was what needed to be done. It was the only chance for everyone to walk out somewhat alive.

That was why she was walking down the aisle, Jackson unwillingly giving her away to Klaus Mikaelson before Mary began the ceremony. As the words "you may kiss your bride" left her lips, their fates were sealed. Klaus stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his brides soft lips and watched as her and every other wolf in the rooms eyes lit up with golden flames, united as one.

The compound remained busy for the rest of the day, Klaus and Y/n stayed in opposite sides of the room at all times. Elijah urged his brother to at least be kind, Klaus however ignored any and all advice and instead drank the night away. Marriage was not in the cards for him. It was not what he wanted and he now knew that he was tied to this girl, a girl he harboured no feelings toward and a girl who only looked at him with distaste, for at least one lifetime. He knew the likelihood of them every liking each other was slim and he also knew that there were lots of rules in this werewolf marriage that he would have to follow in order to have the wolves protecting Hope. So he got off his face drunk, to the point where he couldn't get himself up the stairs at the end of the night.

It wasn't the best way for Y/n to find him on their first night 'together'. When she gave him that look of uncertainty and upset when she found him at the bottom of the stairs slurring his words, he just rolled his eyes and told her to piss off. But she didn't. Instead she fought against his sloppy attempts of pushing her away and instead managed to get him up the stairs and to bed. He fell asleep in seconds leaving Y/n distressed and alone on her wedding night. Instead of sleeping she went back downstairs and cleaned up the mess left over from the wedding.

Klaus had come down in the morning to find her scrubbing the corner of the room. He glanced around and noticed everywhere was spotless, his eyes travelled to the stairs and he was hit with the memory of leaning against her as she struggled to carry him up each one. Guilt bubbled in the pit of his stomach but he ignored it and made his way into the room and past her.

Y/n just stared at the nonexistent spot on the ground and tiredly rubbed the sponge against it.

Rebekah came downstairs after a little while and frowned when she saw Y/n, exhausted and leaning against the wall while her arm moved almost robotically to scratch away at the floor.

“Y/n? Darling we have maids for this” she whispered softly, supporting her new sister-in-law and guiding her to stand up and walk toward the stairs.

“I was just helping” Y/n mumbled, “wine was spilt” she stated as she glanced over to the area she thought was stained with alcohol but when Rebekah glanced it was completely clean. She lead Y/n toward Klaus’s room but paused when she noticed the mess it was in and began to realise why Y/n hadn’t been to sleep. With a soft sigh she brought the she-wolf to her bedroom and helped Y/n out of her wedding dress.

“I suppose this isn’t the way you had hoped to get out of your dress” she joked gently but Y/n didn’t look amused.

“I’d rather you than your brother” she murmured and Rebekah gave a small laugh.

“One day you won’t think that” she whispered as she grabbed some of her pyjamas and passed them to Y/n. “He’ll become kinder after some time, it’ll be a difficult ride but you’ll get there. Besides he must already like you to have chosen you out of all the wolves” she convinced but Y/n just scoffed as she crawled into Rebekah’s bed and let her head hit the pillow

“Lucky me.” She quipped and Bekah hummed.

“I’ll get him to let you rest for today” she told her as she exited the room and let the girl sleep in her room for the day.

Klaus claimed not to care what Y/n did with her time, where she went or who she was with but Rebekah reminded him that she was his wife. Whether he was happy about or not.

“You either need to set her up a nice room for her to have for herself or you need to actually be her husband and have her feel comfortable enough to share one with you. My god Niklaus, it’s not like there’s anything wrong with her. It won’t give you a disease if you smile at the poor girl.” She scowled and Klaus glared but kept his trap shut.

Klaus knew Y/n was beautiful. She was delicate little thing, from what he had seen she could be very sensitive for a werewolf at times. But he knew she had a certain fire in her. He wondered what he would have to do to light that flame and have her snap at him. He wondered if her fear would override that anger.

It was much later in the day when he went to check on his new wife. Part of him worried she had ran away but he knew that she would stay, for the survival of her pack.

He found her curled up in his sisters pyjamas and bed. Reluctantly he picked her up and brought her to his room, tucking her into his bed and leaving her to rest there instead. After all, his bed was where she belonged now.

When evening came around, he made his way back to his room. As soon as he started getting ready for bed, Y/n forced herself up despite her still clearly needing sleep. He sighed as she left the room, ignoring his presence and going downstairs for the rest of the night.

Some days she would stay downstairs and behave almost zombie like as she tried to keep her mind running and eyes open, other times she just went to sleep while she knew Klaus was busy.

It annoyed him to no end but at the same time he was relieved that he never had to really see or speak to her. Still, whether either of them liked it, she was his wife and the fact that she wouldn’t stand in the same room as him was not something he appreciated.

So he did what he assumed to be best.

Forced her to spend time with him.

Often it would be in a painful silence as he stared her down and made sure she wouldn’t get up and leave. However after some time, she would have little conversations with him so that he would be sated and leave her alone for a little while later.

When in front of the other wolves, Klaus would become a different person. He would make sure to kiss Y/n’s cheek or head, hold her waist or hand. One because he had to make it seem as though they were some what happy so that the wolves would not turn on him and two because he liked to piss Jackson off. He took amusement in how the wolf would growl and scrunch his face up in distaste.

Y/n knew what Klaus was doing but didn’t see the point in arguing or getting all stressed about it, besides it only happened every now and then so it didn’t matter much.

However when Klaus began accidentally doing the little gestures when others weren’t around, as though it were his second nature, Y/n felt confused. She didn’t understand his motifs or what he wanted from her.

Rebekah told Y/n that he didn’t want anything, that he was just warming to her but Y/n was still skeptical. Even when Rebekah came into her room grinning and held out a piece of paper with a beautifully sketched version of Y/n’s face.

“He must’ve been bored out of his mind” Y/n mumbled dismissively as she handed the drawing back to Rebekah who rolled her eyes.

“He likes you” she argued and Y/n scoffed.

“He does not. He just wants me to do whatever he says”she countered and the mikaelson sister sighed

“He isn’t all bad, you know?” Bekah questioned

“Sure he isn’t. He’s quite lovely towards his daughter” she agreed and Rebekah hummed as she watched Y/n pretend to have no clue about Niklaus’s thoughts or feelings.

Klaus wouldn’t admit that he had become accustomed to Y/n’s presence and began to want it more often. He wasn’t too sure why but he had taken a fancying to her, he just had.

And he most certainly didn’t like when other people took a fancying to her as well. Not at all.

Now he knew that she would never peruse anything with anyone else, that would break the magical marriage binding the wolves together but it didn’t mean he didn’t get angry. Especially when another wolf could make her smile or blush better than he could. His teeth would bring, jaw would clench and his eyes would flicker gold.

It fuelled something ugly and twisted inside him.

Jealousy.

“Jealousy is a weak man’s disease” Niklaus had told Elijah many times over the centuries. “A man who knows his worth and his strength never had to fear that his girl would stray. Jealously means they are nothing. I am not nothing, I never will be.”

And yet, as soon as Y/n’s attention was given to an attractive werewolf, Klaus would feel as though he was nothing. He would feel that weakness that he loathed so deeply.

The only way to diminish that jealousy was to eliminate the threat. To pick away at the weakness piece by piece until only strength was left.

But that didn’t go well.

When Klaus killed a werewolf, Y/n went ballistic. It was the first time she had actually yelled at him, expressed her anger and threatened his position.

“It’s like you’re actually a fool! You hurt my pack and they will not protect you nor your child, this marriage will be pointless and finished-“ she ranted and his anger bubbled.

“This marriage will not end just because our pack says so” he growled and she glared at him, her pointer finger jabbed at his chest aggressively and it took everything within him not to snap it in half.

“It is hardly a marriage and it had only happened for the benefit of my pack and for your daughter. It is you that has a hundred enemies banging down the door at night and it will be you that suffers if you do not have the protection that I offer you.” She snapped and he sneered in her face. He wanted to kill her in that moment however at the same time, for whatever reason, he had never been more attracted to her. His wolf wanted to force her into submission. To spank and pound her until she admitted that she was his and wouldn’t ever threaten to leave him again. But he was also beyond furious at the possibility of his daughter’s life being on the line and so stormed past her before he would harm her.

He ignored her mutterings of how pathetic he was and locked himself in his arm room which was utterly destroyed by the end of the hour due to his never ending rage.

The next morning he had expected a pack of wolves to be stood at his door, angry and threatening. However he found them all sat at their long table, Y/n was at the head informing them that they had ‘found’ the pack member already dead and had brought him here so that they may take care of his body accordingly.

She lied for Klaus.

She let her family believe that it was someone else who had killed the wolf. When they accused Klaus, she snapped back at them that he was with her all day and had helped her take care of the body.

Y/n gave Klaus a look that dared him to contradict her words but he didn’t utter a word. He just stood at her side and placed a hand on her shoulder as he listened to the others discuss the traditional funeral that the wolf deserved.

Once they left, Y/n walked straight past Klaus and to her bedroom. She was unwilling to speak with her for the next few days. The only time she would was regarding Hope.

The small toddler had taken a strong liking to Y/n and often asked for her. Nobody could not love Hope once they spent some time with her so Y/n was always happy to have the baby in her arms.

Klaus too, very much enjoyed the sight of his wife holding his child. His mind began to spin together images of Y/n pregnant with his child. His wolf craved the thought. He could imagine how beautifully round her stomach would be and how he would press his hands to the bump while nuzzling into her hair.

And then he would think of how he would get her pregnant. She would be so gorgeous sprawled out in his bed.

Since their wedding day she had been in her own room but now Klaus desperately wanted her in his.

He wanted to be inside her. To claim her. To love her.

Never did he think he would love her.

Then again, never did he think he would be getting married or having a baby.

But all of those things had happened and he wouldn’t take them back. Perhaps he might’ve gone about them a little differently but he would have still wanted them to happen.

He told her that once.

One night when they were having dinner.

Somehow he had managed to convince her to share a meal with him and him alone. She couldn’t be bothered to fight over it so complied.

Y/n hadn’t expected him to actually make such an effort. Or to have been so lovely the entire evening. It was clear he wanted to impress her and to engage her, and he had but she didn’t understand why.

Until he told her of how he wouldn’t have changed things,not fully. He had admitted to her that he was somewhat happy with the fact that they were married. He didn’t say he loved her, he knew that would through her off but he made it obvious that he liked her much more than he had initially expressed.

She wasn’t so sure how to respond to him.

Y/n had thought that he was only nicer to her lately because he too was avoiding arguments but she hadn’t truly believed it was because he was being genuine.

Klaus noticed the frown on her face and looked down at his plate. “It’s a little silly I suppose” he muttered to himself, he couldn’t help the deflated feeling that travelled through him as he placed his fork down. “Neither of us wanted this marriage” he mumbled while standing up from his seat making his chair scrape against the floor with a painful sound.

Y/n felt the guilt sink in and she quickly got up also and rounded the table as he started to walk away. “Klaus,” she called softly, reaching out for his hand.

His eyes fluttered when she held onto his hand, he hadn’t felt the softness of her touch since their first and only kiss of their relationship from their wedding day.

He glanced to her and reluctantly shrugged her off. “No it doesn’t matter, I was being a fool” he argued and kept walking.

Y/n sighed to herself and rubbed her hands down her face in frustration.

The next morning Klaus ignored her, barely looked at her even.

It was later that day that she finally caught his attention and pulled him off into another room.

“Klaus” she murmured in annoyance when he went to open the door she had just pushed shut. “You’re behaving like a child” she tutted and he growled. “Would you just stop?” She told him and he glared at her.

“What do you want?” He asked, not bothering to soften his tone which made her frown again.

“I want you to talk to me” she whispered and he narrowed his eyes.

“You never want to talk to me.” he snapped, “you only want to because I made a stupid mistake”

“It wasn’t a mistake” she told him, her tone much gentler than his. “I just wasn’t expecting it”

“Why? Because it’s so shocking that I could possibly feel something-“

“God, Klaus no. You know I dont think you’re a heartless monster-“

“That strongly contradicts things you’ve said in the past-“ he argued and she made a sound of frustration.

“Well I’ve changed my mind” she told him and his jaw tightened. “Klaus I’m serious. I know you now, I’ve seen you”

“Then what is it about me that you cannot love?” He whispered and her eyes softened further. They stared at each other until Y/n stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Her arms went around his midsection and his went over her shoulders.

“It isn’t that I can’t” she mumbled and he closed his eyes

“You just don’t want to” he whispered but she still shook her head.

“I just don’t know how to” she corrected and he hummed quietly.

“But I love you” he uttered and she nodded.

“I know that now” she agreed “and I’ll make sure that I take that into consideration but Klaus, you can’t just expect that I’ll suddenly be all over you and madly in love” she told him and he frowned.

“Why not?” He asked and she scoffed softly. For centuries woman had been falling at his feet but the one woman that he married wouldn’t?

“Because the world doesn’t revolve around you?” She whispered, a little laugh in her voice that made him a little annoyed at first but when he saw her face he couldn’t help but laugh a little bit with her. Eventually he sighed and looked down with a small smile and a nod.

“I’ll earn your affections” he promised, kissing her forehead before exiting the room.

And from that day, he tried his very best to do just that.

Though of course they still had their arguments and disagreements, now he would be the first to apologise or to admit his wrong doings.

And slowly, like he had hoped, Y/n began to love him too.

Rebekah, Elijah, Hayley, Jackson and all the other wolves began to notice the much softer side to them both when they touched to spoke to each together. Some were happier than others about the change in dynamics between the two.

Jackson for one, was very put off when Klaus kissed his sister in front of everyone. What was worse was that she kissed him back and asked him to grab her a drink. They behaved like a real married couple. The wolves didn’t like it.

Some of them went as far to verbalise their opinions but Klaus’s siblings were quick to shut them up before they could upset Y/n. They reminded them that it was in the best interests of everyone that the two got along rather than Y/n living a miserable life just for the benefit of the pack. Eventually the majority agreed and kept quiet.

Jackson was most concerned.

Especially when he came round to visit and found Y/n sprawled across Klaus’s lap while reading a book..

“Y/n” he called, his gaze hard as he watched her lift her head and smile before getting up and going out for lunch with her brother. He expressed his worries and she assured him that Klaus was much better now and that she felt that she could love him. Jackson knew that her using the word ‘could’ was solely for his benefit. She wanted to say that she did love him.

With a small sigh he nodded and told her to just be happy and thanked her once more for everything she had done for him and their family.

When Y/n came home Klaus had made her a bubble bath for her to relax in. She laid in the water for a while before getting changed into comfy clothes and wondering downstairs. Klaus was in the kitchen grating Parmesan cheese over two dishes of pasta.

She smiled and sat at the table quietly, smiling at him when he placed the bowl infront of her before sitting down opposite with his own dish.

Klaus twisted his fork in the spaghetti and asked how her day with Jackson was. They chatted while they ate before loading the dishwasher and heading upstairs.

Y/n had been sleeping in his room lately. Mostly because they would accidentally fall asleep beside each-other when watching a film before bed but then Klaus asked if she would feel comfortable sharing a room with him and she agreed.

So this time they naturally just went to Klaus’s room or rather their room.

His eyes watched as she disappeared into the bathroom, a soft hum left her and her hips swayed gently. The tap started running which meant she was brushing her teeth and he followed her in and grabbed his own toothbrush to do the same. He glanced at her in the mirror as she focused on her mouth. He cleared his throat and finished cleaning up before kissing her head and going into their room to get changed into his sleep pants which he had only been wearing because he wasn’t sure if she would be comfortable with him in only briefs.

Klaus was unaware of how Y/n would imagine his naked body against hers, pressing and sliding against hers while they panted beneath the sheets of their bed.

It was why she started wearing tinier pyjamas to bed, in hopes it would entice him that extra bit.

The little shorts would allow him a glimpse of her ass, as though it was teasing him. And the little matching vest top would wrap around her upper body perfectly.

Klaus sat down on the bed and watched as she walked back in. His eyes glanced to wear her taut nipples would press against the Cotten of her clothes down to her long bare legs that he desperately wanted to bury between.

She let out a yawn as she slid into bed beside him and beneath the covers. He pulled her closer so that their bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces and sighed quietly as though having her touch soothed something inside of him.

“Thanks for tonight” she whispered as she leaned up and kissed his lips before laying her head down on her pillow. Klaus hummed and laid down with her.

“Thank you for having dinner with me again�� he smiled and she returned it, her hand moved to caress his gently and he held onto hers tenderly.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, I love having dinner with you” she told him and his eyes flickered between hers as he took in her words because they both knew what she was actually saying.

“You do?” He whispered and she nodded.

“I do.”

Klaus kissed her again, for a few seconds longer this time. Just as he pulled his lips away from hers, she pushed them back together with a little more force. He groaned softly, his hand sliding down her back and over the curve of her ass to grip the back of her thigh and lift her leg up so her knee slide over his hip. His hand slid up under her shorts to feel the soft warmth of her pussy against his fingers.

Y/n moaned quietly against his mouth. Both her hands caressed his neck gently before one moved lower. Klaus grunted softly and pulled away from their kiss as he felt her hand cup his erection through his pants.

Their eyes locked as both their hands moved slowly, teasingly.

A small whimper left Y/n as Klaus’s fingers rubbed over her clit. She brought her hand under the waistband of his pants and wrapped her fingers around his cock. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip as she felt the length and thickness of him. Klaus’s mouth fell open slightly as he breathed shallowly.

Her hand pumped his cock slowly as he slipped a finger inside her. His thumb glided over her sensitive little bud, his eyes urging her to please move her hand faster. She complied and stroked him quicker, squeezing as she went.

His hips thrust against her hand while two fingers curled inside her to find her spot.

The whole room became hot and dark as the night deepened and the blankets were pulled over their heads to make them feel closer. Their breathing mixed together and little moans left them both as their hands moved faster.

Their mouths moved together sloppily as moans vibrated from both of them and their body moved in time to meet the other’s hand.

Y/n went first, her neck arched making Klaus move his lips down to suck along her throat while his hips thrust and his fingers fucked her fast. He panted as her cry of pleasure left her and he felt her pussy clamp down and release. It only took a few more squeezes of her hand around his cock for him to cum across her stomach.

They both lay, breathing heavily and looking at eachother. Y/n’s eyes squinted to see him in the dark, his hands were moving her onto her back so he could slot on top of her. Her thighs were nudged open and a gasp left her as the head of his cock started to push into her.

Klaus leaned down and kissed her again, deepening it in seconds so he could taste her while his cock finally felt the soft, wet warmth that he had longed for.

A strained cry of relief left her and her back arched off the bed as he filled her completely. His hands slid up her body and scrunched her shirt up above her breasts so that he could lean down and wrap his lips round one of her nipples.

“Klaus” she whimpered as his hips thrust slowly and his tongue flicked teasingly. He moaned softly around the bud before sucking it between his teeth. He released it with a pop before kissing up along her chest and throat until he took her lips to his. She kissed him back hungrily, accepting his tongue into her mouth without any resistance as his hips rolled faster into her.

He only pulled away from her lips when her pussy went unbearably tight on his cock, he let out a loud groan as he fucked into her as quickly as he could.

The harsh slap of his skin meeting hers repeated through the room alongside her moans for more. Klaus could feel himself getting closer to cumming and he was determined to fill her up. He wanted her to carry his next child.

His tongue traced the shell of her ear as she cried out and his fingers reached between her legs to rub at her clit until she was crying to cum.

“Shh sweetheart” he purred to her, “let me fill you” he whispered and the realisation of what he meant dawned on her.

“Klaus” she whimpered as she felt his cock release inside her. His hips slowed but didn’t stop as his cock softened momentarily before hardening again inside of her still.

He grunted softly as he glanced down at her, his fingers gently rolled over her clit while watching his cock slide in and out of her. He could see his cum spilling out of her and he desperately tried to fuck it back inside.

“I want you to be full of my child” he muttered to her and she moaned softly, her hand lifted to cup his cheek to draw his attention to her eyes.

"I love you" she whispered and he groaned quietly as he kissed her lips just briefly so she could speak again, "and I'll love our children" she told him making his hips buck roughly into her. She moaned in response and wrapped her arms around his neck while resting her head against his. "You''ll be such a good daddy to them" she murmured and a low growl rumbled through his chest as he took the praise and thrived off of it.

Y/n felt his pace quicken and her pleasure heighten making her kiss across his cheek to his ear slowly, "Please daddy?" she purred while her cunt clenched repeatedly and her lower stomach twisted into a series of knots. "Please give me your babies" she begged and he couldn't stop from snapping. His mind and body went haywire making her scream his name. Her body was practically vibrating as her body met his for the hundredth time and her head went back allowing his mouth to reattach onto her neck.

Her eyes rolled back when his teeth sunk into her throat.

Bliss rolled through both of them until their bodies were a heated, sweaty mess amongst the sheets.

His hand held the back of her head holding her face into his chest as they panted heavily. Her eyes closed as she felt him stroke her hair soothingly while he slid his cock out of her and caressed her swollen clit ever so gently with his thumb.

Y/n whimpered weakly and he smiled as he glanced down to watch her brows furrow together while her hips slowly rode the pad of his finger until one last cry left her alongside another orgasm.

Once he had ensured she was finished, he cleaned them both up and then their bed before dropping her down onto the fresh bedding and taking warmth in her giggle when she reached out and pulled him to lay beside her.

Klaus kept her snuggled up to him all night and into the next morning before reluctantly getting up and going downstairs to join the rest of the family.

He knew that everything was finally working out.

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seapomelo · 5 months

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Want to be a better woman? Follow these easy steps:

1. Learn your place

2. Get dumber

3. Be easy to use

4. Tend to your owner's needs

5. Degrade yourself for him

As usual the first on is the most important one. To understand what you need to do, you need to understand what your role is. To illustrate it best, I'll just say that a man can do almost everything you can, and better. What he needs you for are your holes, because women are the best thing when it comes to releasing sexual tension.

That's right! You are just something we can stick our dicks into. This may not seem like much but is a very important role!

As I have said, men are just better than you at everything. This includes thinking. Women body spend more energy on sustaining their tits and producing pussy juice than on thinking. This is why you should stop thinking and just let him take the lead. Any important decision needs to be made? Your man will know what to do.

This may seem strange at first, but it is only natural! Evolution gave you boobs so you can find a man that will do the thinking for you.

With that out of the way comes the third point - ease of use. As I've already established, you only have one role. When you stop thinking about silly things like work, you can focus on making yourself available. Wear skirts and no panties, since that way your holes are easily available. Don't wear bras - they make your tits hard to grab. If you have a free moment, edge yourself, so that your cunt will make decisions, not your stupid silly brain. Clean your ass, because if someone wants to use it, you have to be prepared.

If you think this isn't proper behavior, then, first of all, why are you still thinking? Second of all, how can this not be proper, if that helps you fulfill your role?

Next is caring about your owner. Make sure he has everything he needs. This is different for every Sir. At first it will be hard, but after a while you'll learn to anticipate most things he wants. There are some universal things though! You have to keep his balls empty. If his cock is hard, your role is to make him cum, however he needs. Sometimes it will mean sucking him off, sometimes offering you pussy or asshole. Listen to what he tells you, and you'll be a nice bimbo!

The last thing is connected to the first one. See how smart is it? A dumb woman like you would never figure it out! Remind your owner that you know your place. Show him that you understand yohr role, by degrading yourself often. You did something wrong? Say that you're such a stupid whore. Offer your body as a way of saying sorry! Ask him to punish you.

Remember that you are his, born to satisfy men. As long as you have in mind, even the most mundane chores and thorough usage of your holes will fill you with satisfaction!

If this seems counterintuitive, think about your man. He is better than you.

I hope it helps all the stupid whores here! If you have any questions or can't understand something, I can explain it again with examples. Just remember: you have a role!

#fr33use #corruption kink #degrading k1nk #dumb slvt #brainwashing #degradation k1nk #humiliation kink #stupid slvt #dumb wh0re #abuse k1nk #free use toy #dumbification #bimbo training #bimboification #dumbimbofication #patriarchy kink #serve the patriarchy #free use slvt

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celestetcetera · 10 months

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Wild Blue Yonder really emphasized the Doctor not knowing the answer, huh? He’s wrong about Donna 3/4 times, he doesn’t speak the alien language, he doesn’t know what the creatures are nor is he very familiar with the space they’ve landed in. Hell, he even has a line admitting he’s wrong often.

But you know what else this episode did? It emphasized Donna’s brilliance. She may think she’s stupid, but she’s sharp as hell. She’s the one who figures out the imposter after giving a Doctor-level tangential speech. She’s the one who’s able to clear her head. She asks the right questions— why are their doubles scaring them?

Her imposter thinks she’s dumb at first, but when no-thing Donna realizes the real one’s actually smart, that’s when she’s able to break through the salt spell. Unfortunately Donna being brilliant means her imposter must be too.

Anyway. Love the role reversal. But for it to come at a time when the Doctor is feeling lost and confused, when they’ve just discovered they don’t even know themselves— it probably stings. Because what are they if not the smart one? When you take away all they’ve learned of this universe, there’s nothing left.

#btw I think the timeless child plot is gonna be REAL important to the toymaker special #iirc the toymaker is from outside this universe like the doctor #so. imagine they have a few answers for the doc #but that’s just a theoryyyyyyy #doctor who #dw spoilers #wild blue yonder #the doctor #donna noble

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raguiras · 3 months

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POV: Deuce's very first kiss from his crush

(Click for better quality)

I'm finally officially introducing my Yuu/OC x canon/Yumeship here! (✿◕‿◕) Writing this post took me forever, but I'm super happy with it!

Reblogs are super appreciated hehehe

Please be kind & DO NOT take inspiration from this ship. ^^"

(While Allen isn't me, I'm calling them a Yumeship because he's based on my younger self/me when I first started playing TWST & because the ship gives me a ridiculous amount of comfort!)

Allen x Deuce (aka Spade of Storms) is my ultimate comfort ship and they mean a ton to me.

These two are best friends who become lovers and closely mirror each other. Deuce is the delinquent with rather bad self-control who tries to be a model student, while Allen is a former honor student who's now a very lowkey delinquent with stellar self-control and a mature attitude.

Due to the fact that Allen and Deuce are so similar and yet the opposite of each other, they're able to excellently understand and support the other, and they help each other accept themselves.

Their ship blog: @spade-of-storms (facts, drabbles & more est. May 2024)

Now why exactly are these two perfect for each other? Well...

LONG TEXT AHEAD!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Deuce:

Allen supports Deuce with all his heart. Instead of believing that someone "as stupid and temperamental" as Deuce could never become an honor student, Allen fully believes in him and encourages him. In comparison to when other people say it, these words actually have an incredibly strong impact on Deuce and are believable to him because he knows that Allen has similar experiences and speaks from them.

Allen doesn't think that Deuce is stupid in the slightest and views him as genuinely smart. To Allen, intelligence isn't determined by grades or academic abilities, but by morals, attitude, logic, and willingness — all of which Deuce has.

Allen doesn't try to change Deuce. Rather than turning Deuce into a full-on honor student and role model, which he isn't by nature, Allen prefers for Deuce to stay true to himself and work towards his goal while not suppressing any aspect of who he is — Allen knows exactly that forcefully becoming someone you naturally aren't would cause more issues than it would fix. In order to assist Deuce with staying true to himself while working towards his desired self, Allen does several things:

Allen lets Deuce be his 100% authentic self when they're together. Deuce tries extremely hard to always be polite and serious in order to maintain his reputation and not resort to old habits, but Allen, being very impulsive and easily angered himself, knows just too well that suppressing one's feelings and true nature isn't the way to go. When they're together, Deuce can openly rant about topics, use insults towards the people who angered him, and show his emotions without having to worry about how others perceive him or about how it might mess up his reputation — Allen would never judge Deuce nor share his secrets with others. This way, Deuce can be himself without restraints while also maintaining the way he wants others to perceive him.

Allen allows Deuce to be a delinquent in a safe, harmless way. If Deuce ever feels like doing something forbidden without breaking rules or staining his reputation, Allen (a very lowkey delinquent) has just the ideas for him. This provides a comfortable space for Deuce to live out his tendencies without falling back into bad habits.

Allen is able to introduce Deuce to a wide range of healthy coping mechanisms that work for him. Allen is a much angrier person than Deuce and is equally impulsive, but has stellar self-control due to the methods he uses, and passes them down to Deuce. As a result, Deuce doesn't feel the need to immediately lash out at others anymore and manages to become calmer and much more mature, taking steps into his desired direction.

Allen helps Deuce channel his "negative traits" into positive/helpful ones. With Allen's assistance, methods, reassuring words and unique view on things, Deuce learns how to use the qualities that he used to hate about himself to his advantage. Suddenly Deuce's anger is no longer a hindrance, but a source of energy and motivation.

Allen admires the things Deuce hates about himself. While Deuce wishes he wasn't as hot-headed, Allen views it as an amazing trait and sees the passion and longing for justice behind Deuce's fiery attitude. Additionally, Allen is able to help Deuce see the positive side of these traits, and aids him in channelling them into something good to use to his advantage (see above).

Allen is the only person to fully get through to Deuce. Due to them essentially having the same experiences, opinions, wishes and morals, Deuce felt comfortable trusting Allen with every last bit of his heart (in comparison to other friends) — not to mention that the way Allen was able to help Deuce so intensely and actually talked to him the way he needed it also played a role! Allen has his way with words and knew exactly how to talk to Deuce from the beginning.

Deuce can genuinely open up about his self-esteem to Allen. It's been heavily hinted at in the game several times that Deuce thinks incredibly lowly of himself, but this topic is usually cut short and he doesn't talk about it further with the canon Yuu. With Allen, however, Deuce can open up all he wants to. He knows that Allen has similar experiences and struggles with self-worth related issues himself, therefore not only not judging Deuce, but also fully understanding him.

Allen perfectly understands Deuce's past. Having been feared, avoided and known to be a delinquent/bad kid himself, Allen even understands the details extremely well. Neither of the two ever had a proper friend until they met each other on their first day at NRC.

Allen successfully helps Deuce with his studies despite hating school. Seeing how Deuce needs help, Allen (the "gifted kid") gladly volunteers, even though he's no longer interested in class and has sworn to drop the "honor student" facade himself. Due to Allen's easy explanations, methods, photographic memory and capability to catch on quickly, Deuce actually manages to improve his test results by 1-2 grades.

Allen's study methods are unique, which helps Deuce & is necessary for him. Being a slow learner (I also hc him to have some sort of intellectual disability), Deuce requires rather unique approaches to topics. As Allen is well-versed with both studying and psychology and also keeps Deuce's exact issues in mind, he's able to perfectly tailor methods and mnemonic bridges that actually work out for Deuce.

Allen makes sure that Deuce's desire to be a model student is & stays healthy. A fair part of Allen's trauma stems from being an honor student himself and having unrealistically high expectations regarding grades and attitude shoved down his throat by everyone at school (including himself), so he pays a lot of attention that the same doesn't happen to Deuce.

Allen respects Deuce a ton. Not only is Deuce determined, passionate, loyal, honest and eager, but he has the same core values as Allen, too. In Allen's opinion, finding someone with these traits is not only rare, but immediately makes them endearing to him.

Allen is patient with Deuce. He understands that Deuce occasionally has a difficult time processing and understanding things, and he isn't bothered by it in the slightest. This means even more when you consider that Allen is generally a very impatient person and is only able to be patient with those he truly loves and trusts.

Allen fills Deuce in when he doesn't understand something. Due to Allen being able to catch on extremely quickly, he can immediately explain things and situations to Deuce, helping him out and allowing him to get everything right from the beginning.

Allen indirectly protects Deuce. Known for being intimidating (in a good way), quick-witted, sly and a skilled schemer, most people — including those who enjoy picking on Deuce — shy away from Allen and avoid getting in trouble with his friends.

Allen stops Deuce from getting into fights. Whenever Deuce is about to get into a fight anyway, Allen gently but sternly reminds him of both his goal and the healthier coping mechanisms.

Allen understands that Deuce dislikes being picked on. Allen, being a sensitive person, hates it himself, and he actively tells off everyone who dares to make fun of Deuce or call him "Loosey Deucey". At times, Allen even gets snappy because of the inappropriate nicknames or insults directed at Deuce.

Allen inspires Deuce. Him being skilled at a variety of things and just logical in general gives Deuce the motivation to achieve the same. Deuce doesn't compare himself to Allen, either, and views him as an inspiration. If Allen can control himself and get positive things out of his negative traits, so can Deuce, right?! Not to mention that Allen is extremely tough and pulls through no matter what despite his mental and physical state...

Allen's maturity subconsciously wears off on Deuce. Even outside of the fact that Allen helps him grow and improve a lot through all the ways mentioned before, Deuce sometimes also subconsciously copies his boyfriend's mature attitude or asks himself what Allen would do in certain situations.

Allen is an advisor to Deuce. Deuce struggles with planning ahead, and Allen — a big-time overthinker who's extremely competent at scheming — is able to assist him. As a result, Deuce makes less bad decisions.

Allen loves blastcycles. Deuce can rant about them to Allen for hours, and the two often go on blastcycle dates together. Nothing is more fun than clinging onto your partner while driving at full speed!

Allen values Deuce's company like no other. Deuce regularly feels like a nobody, and Allen takes that feeling from him due to how much he connects with him and likes having him around.

BONUS: Allen is not only beautiful but also has an incredibly strong personality, drive, and determination and hasn't given up despite everything that happened to him. Deuce is a massive simp and his humongous crush on Allen has always been obvious due to how Deuce just can't shut up about him.

Allen:

Deuce loves and accepts Allen's body. As we have seen through his interactions with Azul and Epel, Deuce is very protective of people who don't fit the norm, and Allen is another such person — an intersex boy who was bullied for his unconventional body. Deuce has not only sworn to protect Allen from any possible discrimination, but also loves his body dearly and thinks he's super hot.

Deuce gives Allen a sense of stability. Allen's life was all about short-lived fake joys and prevailing negativity prior to coming to Twisted Wonderland, which made him feel disconnected from many things and people and gave him the feeling that everything is temporary anyway. However, Deuce's fierce loyalty and the strength of their relationship prove Allen wrong — yes, there can indeed be things in life that last forever.

Deuce's utter affection warms Allen's empty heart. Allen was never loved by anyone but his parents, who he thinks only love him because he's their son. Other than that, he never experienced love, affection, ... or even mere friendship. He was alone... until he met Deuce, who he somehow immediately connected with. It was as if their friendship was predestined by the universe... and with every day, Deuce's affection for Allen only grew.

Deuce genuinely admires Allen. Seeing how Allen always does his best, works hard, has ambitions and aims to improve impresses Deuce a ton. This is extremely healing for Allen, whose efforts were never properly recognized or rewarded before and who thinks that he needs to perfect at everything in order to be "someone".

Deuce makes Allen feel useful and resourceful. Allen often believes that he has no worth and could never make a change for the better no matter how much he tries, but seeing just how much he's able to help Deuce with a wide range of things proves Allen wrong — he's indeed capable of a lot of things. Not to mention that Deuce even passes some of Allen's tips down to Epel!

Deuce's honesty is refreshing to Allen. After being lied to and tricked by about anyone Allen ever knew before coming to Twisted Wonderland, Deuce's natural honesty and loyalty are an unfamiliar but utterly wonderful experience for Allen.

Deuce makes Allen feel understood. Allen often believes that others would view him as a monster if they were aware of his secret anger and opinions, but Deuce shares many of them. These two can openly talk about their values together and Allen feels extremely understood because of it — a feeling he barely ever experiences with other people.

Deuce helps Allen enjoy the moment. While he has some overthinking tendencies himself, Deuce is much more spontaneous than Allen and tends to act more on impulse. As a result, he can show his ways to Allen, allowing the overthinker to finally relax and think about his problems a little less.

Deuce doesn't hesitate to stand up for Allen. The fact that Allen was bullied for something he can't change in the past saddens and angers Deuce, and he has sworn to himself that he'll always protect his boyfriend. If there should ever be another situation where Allen gets bullied, Deuce won't hesitate to absolutely throw hands — this is not being a bad person and picking fights, it's standing up for an innocent person whose life was ruined by malice. Deuce wouldn't regret it in the slightest anymore, especially since Allen has helped him learn than anger isn't a bad thing.

Deuce helps Allen with becoming a proper mage. When Allen first gains magic during the final quarter of the school year, he has absolutely no control over it and is partially even avoided due to being a "walking health hazard". Deuce, however, sees this as the perfect time to pay Allen back for helping him study theory and decides to assist Allen with practical things. Through Deuce's determination and belief in him, Allen is able to improve much quicker than he would've without Deuce's help.

BONUS: Deuce is the warmth and honesty that Allen needs in his life. The boy's mere presence lights up Allen's day and Deuce's careful physical affection makes him feel like the most cherished person in the universe.

What else is there to them? (examples)

Both are extremely close with their families.

Due to being so similar and sharing many personality traits, loving each other so deeply allowed them to realize that they can easily love and accept themselves, too.

Deuce's previous incarnation had a crush on Allen's, who died way too early. In this life, the regrets of the past are being fixed.

Allen's the brain, Deuce is the brawn.

They're both extremely cuddly with each other.

LOTS OF COMPLIMENTS (from both sides).

Deuce often gifts Allen plushies.

Allen and Deuce are basically inseparable by now.

If you hang out with Deuce, you have to suffer through at least one tiny ramble about Allen.

...and much more that can be found on @spade-of-storms!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you like the art & ship and are looking forward to more of them! (✿◕‿◕)

EDIT: Please do not take inspiration from this ship. ;-;

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