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silkscream · 3 months

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CHAPTER 12: LOOKING FOR THE NEW WORLD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He was like a child despite being a man, one much bigger and stronger than you. Infinitely powerful, yet he could reduce himself into a creature of need so intensely that he’s convinced you that your touch is the only remedy.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, dubcon, oral sex, mentions of depression, angst, character death

ੈ✩ wc: 5k

ੈ✩ a/n: who else is sick of these two. i sure am

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

January, 2011

There’s a black cat that likes to hang out around your apartment. It’s small, a bit on the thinner side, with striking amber eyes. It reminds you of someone.

It nuzzles against your legs now as you sit on the stoop, nursing your third cigarette of the night. Tobacco for dinner and some leftover hot and sour soup from the last time Shoko forced you to get takeout with her.

“You gotta stop with those,” she had muttered when you had finished eating, excusing yourself for a cigarette despite the snow. “You’re gonna fuck up your lungs at this rate.”

“How extremely hypocritical of you.”

“The nicotine makes you more anxious than before,” she laughed. “And I want you alive in this lifetime.”

You’d smiled weakly in response. Allowed yourself one cigarette before bed and another that was shared with her before she left for Tokyo again.

Your stomach rumbles again at the thought of real dinner. The cat sniffing you meows.

“You’re hungry, too, huh?”

As if it understands you, it mewls.

You ash your cigarette and scoop it up in your arms as you walk to the konbini for cat food and multiple cups of ramen. Despite the odd looks you get around the store, no one bothers you or reprimands you for having a little fur ball attached to your shoulder.

The cat takes a liking to your apartment, immediately splaying itself on your carpet. You’d have to vacuum later if you were going to house it. Get a litter box, too. It was probably all against your lease, but it had been a long time since you had taken care of anyone other than yourself, and you were still lacking in that department ever since the previous autumn.

“Sorry about this,” you mutter as you pick up the cat, lifting it to the light. “Ah. A boy.”

The cat meows, as if agreeing. You decide to call him Jiji after the black cat in Kiki’s Delivery Service. A fitting resemblance. There’s an annoying, familiar voice in your head that tells you it’s a bit cliche.

The poor thing walks with a limp you don’t remember him having. There’s a deep cut on one of his back legs, probably left over from a stray dog that bit too hard. The flesh heals quickly with the slight of your hand.

He treats the place like a personal jungle, which is saying something considering how bare it is. You make yourself some subpar ramen, attempting to turn it into stir-fry with the puny vegetables in your fridge. It was something warm, at least. It goes nicely with the Asahi you bought. You’re allowing yourself maybe half of the six-pack tonight. Any more and you’d be inviting yourself to wade in a pool of pity.

You stare at the mini calendar on your fridge. The third of February is circled, taunting you. It wasn’t like you’d ever forget, but you marked it anyway as if to punish yourself.

You jump when the doorbell rings. It can’t be Shoko. She’d left for Tokyo days before, and there was no reason for her to be back so soon. Utahime wasn’t the type to show up unannounced.

For fuck’s sake, it couldn’t be.

You didn’t even tell him where your new place was. The knocks on the door turn to a rhythmic pounding you recognize immediately and it makes you want to start digging your own hole. Begrudgingly, you open the door.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, the curl of a lip hinting at a teasing smile. There’s barely enough time for you to process a response back because of how quickly he walks in.

“How did you know where I lived?”

Satoru grins, teeth and all. Annoyingly bright and shark-spiked, hair covered in light snow.

“I have my ways, baby.”

“You need to leave.”

Jiji cowers curiously by the foot of the couch, blinking at the new stranger. Satoru looks at you quizzically.

“Replaced me already?”

“Yes.”

He ignores you and plops down the paper bags he was carrying on the kitchen counter, like he’s done it a million times before. A bottle of rose, packaged daifuku. A carton of strawberries. For some reason, nearly everything in the grocery bag is pink.

“Got you your favorites.”

“Satoru, these are your favorites.”

“Ours, then,” he huffs childishly, pouting. “I was in town for a mission. Thought you would want to, uh, do something for his birthday.”

His last sentence is rushed like it’s an afterthought, but it’s the most damning one. You can’t help the rage in your veins when he says it. As if Suguru is dead or missing instead of flourishing on his own path. Rot turned to bloom.

While you glare at him, his expression is neutral, bordering on sheepish.

“You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts, so.”

“Because I didn’t want to talk to you,” you say bluntly.

He sighs. “You can’t ignore me, forever, y’know.”

Something bitter crawls up the cavern of your chest at the same time something heats up. It wasn’t fair, the way he looked at you all pouty. It made you feel like you did when you were merely the maid’s daughter, wanting to appease him in any way you could. You feel slightly nauseous despite your stomach feeling terribly empty.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Have you talked to him?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs.

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a bit before you clear your throat.

“Thanks for the groceries, but you can take them back to your hotel or whatever. You can’t stay here.”

“I’m not trying to crash at your apartment, anyway.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Satoru?”

“Seduce you, I suppose,” he mutters. “I’m sure the hotel mattress I have would be better for your back. You can—”

“No.”

“Fine. Have dessert with me. A glass of wine. I just want to be with you.”

You curse yourself. Satoru is always tempting just by being himself, but you did really like the brand of wine he brought. Right now, you need a drink more than anything else.

Watching reality TV with Satoru is not how you expect to spend your night. The silence is uncomfortable, nearly suffocating. It’s not difficult to notice how much he wants to touch you, his fingers twitching on the fabric of your couch.

“Where’d this fucker come from?” He nods his head towards Jiji, who has jumped onto your left shoulder. You can sense jealousy in his tone, funnily enough.

“Don’t call him that,” you scold, rolling your eyes. “He was a stray. Got bitten by something so I healed him up.”

“How lucky.”

“Uh huh.”

Satoru clears his throat and thumbs around the rim of his wine glass. Fidgety. He leans closer to you, petting Jiji as an excuse.

“How’s the… independent study? Or whatever.”

“It’s good. I work at the greenhouse every other day.”

He nods slowly and pours you both another glass. It doesn’t take long for you both to finish the bottle. His cheeks are as pink as the daifuku, half-eaten and abandoned on a plate in front of him. You’ve graduated to playful quips despite your mostly guarded demeanor, feet hoisted on his lap as he rubs them absentmindedly.

“You should probably get back to your hotel.”

“Huh?”

You look at him. Satoru’s gaze flickers in between mischief and reverence. He’s also clearly not paying attention to what you’re saying considering his eyes are fixed on your bare shoulder.

“It’s late,” you sigh.

“Not that late,” he scoffs. “S’not even ten.”

“I have a lab early tomorrow,” you lie.

“...Alright. Wanna finish this for me, then?” He holds out the last half of the mochi and feeds it to you. He blushes slightly. You still open your mouth for him without having him to ask.

“It’s good.”

He nods. Leans over to wipe a bit of red bean paste off the corner of your mouth with his thumb. His eyes lower onto your lips as he sighs, right before he kisses you.

You let him.

He feels the same as he always does. It’s been almost two months since you’d touched him — the last time being inside a karaoke bar bathroom an hour after Shoko had convinced you to come out for Satoru’s birthday.

You had done so, unwillingingly, still not over the wound of being left and still angry with Satoru. Even so, it was still easy for him to make your knees weak, leading you into a random stall in the men’s bathroom while Shoko and Utahime forced Nanami to sing an 80s ballad.

It was your first time properly spending time with the underclassman, so it embarrassed you immensely to walk out with your lipstick smudged. You remember overhearing Nanami ask Utahime about you and Satoru, to which she simply laughed in pity.

They’re on and off?

Divorced right now, Shoko had quipped.

Gojo was married to her?!

Fuck no. He wishes.

“Sato—” you mumble into his mouth.

He shuts you up with his tongue against yours, his hand cupping your chin. You knew he would get you a little tipsy and probably make a move, and you knew full well that you would let him. He chased you easily even when he could have anyone he wanted.

His movements are sloppy and languid. Drunk, perhaps — he was a lightweight through and through. He groans lightly at the taste of you, how sweet you are like always. His other hand moves to your nape, clutching the back of your head to rest on the couch cushion with him hovering over you. Already, he was slotting his knee in between your legs.

Satoru could already feel his insides stir at the thought of being inside you again. It had been too fucking long. He was sure that his dick would probably melt once you let him in.

When you feel his hand underneath your sweater, you break the kiss. He sees it as an interruption rather than an end as he chases you, face leaning in again. He was pretty when he was drunk on you, eyes half-lidded like that. It was infuriating.

It takes you a slight push and a turning of the head for him to realize that you don’t want him.

“Why are you—”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I– I don’t want to.”

His face falls. You can’t stand it, how he looks like a kicked puppy. You refuse to fall for it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?” he tries. “To the hotel?”

You’d slap him if you could. Your hands don’t move an inch. They only tremble.

“I said no. I’m sorry—” Why are you apologizing? “I have to get to bed.”

He blinks at you, dejected. For once, he doesn’t beg. Doesn’t give you a smartass reply. He stands and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” he sighs. He wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t. “Sweet dreams, Twigs.”

June, 2010

There’s a funeral before you leave for Kyoto. It’s the first time you deal with the corpse of a classmate.

You’d watched Shoko work in the morgue meticulously, wrapping the body in plastic. You knew she was probably used to the smell of death by now. At that moment, you were both numb to it.

“You don’t have to stay here, Nanami-kun,” you told your junior softly. He’d been sitting next to you in a plastic folding chair with a warm towel over his eyes for nearly half an hour, saying nothing.

“It’s fine. Not like they’d dare to assign me another mission right away.”

You glance at Nanami now, dressed in all black, and his face looks even more tired than it was under the morgue fluorescents. Sallow and pale, his complexion matching Suguru’s.

You were all much too young to go to so many funerals.

The smell of death still lingers at the ceremony, too. It must be psychosomatic, the way the suffocating temple air makes your gut twist into itself. Yu Haibara’s smiling portrait stares back at you.

You’d never experienced anything like this before. You knew the cost of being a jujutsu sorcerer, the horror of nearly losing Satoru the subject of your nightmares. It was different for it to be real, to pick up the bones of a boy whose light shone so brightly with chopsticks.

Suguru looks older than he is. You noticed lately that the circles under his eyes have gotten worse, sometimes like a bruised purple in the shadows of his room. He didn’t leave it often, never opened his blinds despite it being summer. Morose as he is, he still looks beautiful.

You sit in between him and Satoru during the service. You shed no tears. No one does—the grief is all-consuming, wrangling everyone by the throat. You’re sure your fellow classmates are feeling numbness more than anything.

You crawl into Suguru’s bed that night. He almost doesn’t acknowledge you, save for the movement of his arm over your middle when you nestle into his chest. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower he took. He hadn’t bothered to put his clothes back on.

“You okay?” you whisper. “We missed you at dinner.”

“Migraines,” he mumbles. He’s been getting a lot of them lately. That or nausea. Another thing that was psychosomatic—Suguru could barely eat lately because of the nausea. Even when he eats enough, it’s there, as if the curses he swallows are making a cesspool of his gut.

He blames it all on heat fatigue, but you know better. Even with his model-like cheekbones, his face is starting to look a little thinner.

“Did you take anything for it?”

“Yeah,” he lies. He might’ve taken some gas station gummy just so he could pass out and maybe not wake up for twelve hours before you came in.

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair. It’s too wet for him to be resting on his pillow. You want to comb it for him, dry him with the towel like a beloved pet. He breathes shallowly as he revels in the feeling of your fingers across his scalp.

“Have you been drinking enough water?”

“Christ. Yes.”

Suguru immediately regrets his sharp tone the minute he sees your eyes flicker with meekness. He sighs, cradling you closer.

“Sorry. I’m just… fucking tired.”

“Yeah, me too.” There’s an awkward silence.

“God,” you mumble, almost to yourself. “What happened was horrible.”

“Ha. That’s reality. Could be any of us tomorrow, or the next day.”

It’s an awful thing to say, but you know he’s right. He doesn’t say it to be spiteful or insensitive, but his words sting nonetheless. It’s the air of bitterness you can sense from the lilt of his tongue. You know it isn’t directed at you, but it still feels uncomfortable when you’re trying to be affectionate with him.

He looks at the sadness in your eyes and makes an attempt to change the subject. “Do you wanna… watch a movie or something?”

“I should probably go to bed soon. I have an early mission tomorrow.”

“Seriously? After what just happened?”

“I don’t really have a say in what gets assigned to me,” you say sheepishly.

“We all keep throwing ourselves back into work. The very work that gets our friends killed,” Suguru scoffs. “And for what? For a bunch of weaklings? Fuck.”

You pinch your brows together. “Suguru–”

“They’re the ones making the curses, anyway,” he mutters. “It’s fucking ironic that we have to protect the weak but we’re the ones who are never protected. Always martyred, instead.”

“The weak?”

“Non-sorcerers. Us sorcerers exist to protect the weak—it’s bullshit, sometimes.”

“You sound like Satoru.”

He lets out a bitter laugh at that. “So I’ve really gone off the deep end, huh?”

“No,” you sigh, caressing his jaw. “We’re all just grieving. I’ve been feeling a little crazy, too.”

He looks at you earnestly, licks his lips. “Kyoto will be nice.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I suppose it will be nice.”

“Don’t you get sick of it all?”

“Of being a sorcerer?”

Everything, he wants to scream.

“I don’t know. It’s the first thing I’ve done for myself. I mean, for others, too—that’s the whole thing—but it means more. Like I’m… worth something.”

“You’re worth a lot more than that. You always have been.”

There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, as if he’s also telling himself the same thing. You’re not exactly sure what he means. You like being useful, you’ve learned to like having to perfect your technique. You know you will never be as strong as Satoru or Suguru. You don’t know that Suguru is metamorphosing into something beyond his control, ever since he saw a bullet go through a girl’s skull.

His words stick with you as you fall asleep in his bed.

You’re worth more.

September, 2010

You feel like you’re about to vomit. Blood trickles down Satoru’s palm, the sharp pin of the button in his hand still in his unfurling fist.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Yaga-Sensei grimaces. “Suguru fled after killing everyone in the village.”

You can’t look anyone in the eye. You only stare at the blood on Satoru’s palm, thinking of his hands, of Suguru’s. Hands that were soft around your neck, rough on your waist and down the planes of your thighs. Hands that killed 112 people in a small village.

When you couldn’t call him, you took the bullet train to Tokyo immediately. You thought he’d gone missing, ran away, anything but the reality of the situation. Suguru could be sharp-tongued, had rigid edges, but he was always kind. He believed in fairness above all—it was what you admired most about him. Even when he could be cruel, he could be kind.

You didn’t think he could be cruel enough to commit a mass murder in cold blood. You feel the hallway spinning, nausea crawling up your sternum and up to your head. Suguru had killed a village, and he’s left you and Satoru, and he didn’t even say goodbye.

You really need to lay down before you throw up.

Yaga cancels your missions, so you have nothing to distract you. Nothing to do with your hands except curl your fingers around the cool bed sheet beneath you. For the next day, you stay like this — twisted inside yourself, knees tucked to your chest. Satoru is there, too, and for the first time in his life, he has nothing to say. This is a kind of grief that neither of you knows how to deal with.

“Satoru,” you whisper. “We should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said you haven’t eaten since this morning,” you frown.

He shrugs. He was fine with laying in bed with you, suspended in the thick tension of unspoken words. Satoru was often explosive when he was angry, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about Suguru’s betrayal. Not unless he could find him on his own, but at this rate, Suguru could be out of the city already.

He’s slightly watery-eyed. Something is dormant inside of him and you’re waiting for it to snap, show its teeth. You are ready to be the thing in between his canines.

He takes you eventually. Wakes you in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, prompted by nightmares of fire and bloodshed and Suguru’s glare. Satoru claws at you in his sleep until you’re holding his face and shaking him, telling him to breathe slowly.

His breathing only gets faster. The hole that Suguru leaves inside of him needs to be filled.

And then, your hair is in between his fists, your flesh in between his teeth. He has to take you apart so you’re like him, but you know that you had fallen apart the moment Suguru’s phone number failed when you tried to call him.

“Satoru,” you whine. “Slow down.”

“Can’t,” he mutters, his voice rough as he gropes you in the dark. “Fuck, sorry. Need you. Missed you.”

With the way he manhandles you, you might think he’s sleepwalking. His eyes are wide open, midnight blue in the darkness. He whines when you turn away from him.

“Please,” he chokes out. “Need it.”

You’d seen him like this before. Desperate, begging, frantic—usually because he was upset or angry. He would never tell you the details of what was in his head, only that he absolutely needed you, needed your body to satiate him. Your body was a temple for him to confess and repent in, yet it hollowed you out as if you were the one sinning.

“Shhh,” you coo, nervous. “It’s alright.”

You wrap your arms around him and he intertwines your legs together. You can feel his cock against your stomach. His face is buried in your neck, teeth nipping your collarbone. You always let him take all of you when he’s like this, never minding the feeling of being stretched thin, a taut sinew inside a predator’s mouth. You would be the balm to his chaos, always.

He lets out a heavy breath when he moves your panties to the side and his tip catches on your entrance. It’s a sound of relief, of quenched thirst. You gasp when he fits himself all the way inside you. Your body feels like a geyser ready to erupt.

He’s done this before after nightmares, after tough missions. Sometimes you would be asleep —you told him you didn’t care, and usually, you don’t. To be wanted by Satoru felt like a blessing even when it hurt like a curse.

You were sick on each other.

His movements are hurried, kissing your neck sloppily as he ruts against you. He pushes inside and begins with quick thrusts. A full nest inside of you, your walls melting. He squeezes you tightly, his arms almost painfully clutching your waist as if he needed you tethered to him, skin sticking to skin.

You aren’t wet enough for you to cum just yet. It was aching in you a little bit, the deepness of his cock inside you.

“S-Satoru,” you whine. “Hurts.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up — fuck — make it up to you.”

He pulls out of you and throws you against the bed, holding your legs down and parted for his mouth. He eats you like a meal, his mouth sucking on your clit brutally enough for you to become overwhelmed. He sighs as he feels you gush around his fingers.

“Close,” you gasp. “Fuck me.”

He turns you over and humps in between your legs, slipping in and holding you down. His weight on you is almost comforting. Your head feels like it’s underwater.

“You can take it,” he hums. He kisses your nape, bites at your shoulder. If he wasn’t so delirious about it, needing you as much as he does, he would take his time. Write his name into your skin with love bruises.

His cock had to be stirring your insides together, your cunt like whipped butter. He groans when you clench around him. He knows how close you are, despite being half-asleep, half-feral. He’s had you memorized.

It was too hot for him to be on you like this, his body too heavy. You come at the same time, both of your voices blending together into a choked whimper. Your hair sticks to your neck with sweat.

“Y’feel so good,” Satoru mutters. “All the time.”

He gets up to piss eventually, otherwise he probably would’ve fallen asleep inside you. You hadn’t noticed the small tears at the corner of your eyes. You come back to yourself, feeling a flurry of emotions come out of your pores—sweat and tears, Satoru’s warmth spilling out of you like dripping candle wax.

He holds you again and strokes your hair in silent apology. You fall asleep. You don’t dream.

He’d fucked you into the next afternoon, apparently, because you don’t wake up until 1 pm. The sheets are warm with his presence, but there isn’t a warm body next to you.

When he comes back, his eyes are bloodshot.

“Satoru?”

“He… he left,” he says.

“What do you mean he left?”

“Shoko found him and called me. He thinks he can create a world without non-sorcerers, he’s fucking—“

“Satoru!” you snap.

He shuts up, looks at you with big eyes, wet and dark.

“You— you saw him?”

“Yeah, just now—”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you demand.

He blinks at you, at a loss for words. He was half-asleep when Shoko called, scrambled to put on pants before he basically warped to the middle of Shinjuku. Seeing Suguru again was whiplash.

“I didn’t want to—you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping, y’know,” he stammers, running a hand through his haphazard white locks. Lingering bedhead. “And I didn’t want Suguru to think we were, you know, ganging up on him—”

“I wouldn’t care about being woken up if I got to see him!” you scoff.

“You’re upset.”

“Of course I’m upset he’s my… he’s my friend, too!”

I loved him, too.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone.”

You must be red in the face. Your face stings with a wash of irritation, your nose twitching as if you’re about to cry.

“What did you say to him?”

“He’s turned his back on Jujutsu society. That’s all there is to it. He thinks it’s justice.”

“You didn’t try to stop him? You just let him go?”

“I couldn’t kill him. You know that,” he says, his expression hard.

Your throat catches on a lump, a ball of malignant rage threatening to choke you. The red string that connects you and Suguru has frayed limp. Between you and Satoru, it only tightens around your neck.

“I could’ve talked to him,” you start babbling. “I could’ve–”

“Don’t be stupid. You know how stubborn he is. You really think that you would’ve made a difference?”

You narrow your eyes, wiping them before tears start to fall. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just… I just know him–”

“And I don’t?” you snap.

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s what you’re implying.”

Satoru scoffs. “You don’t get it. He’s set on this idea of his. You wouldn’t have changed his mind, I promise you.”

You shut your eyes, feeling the dagger of his gaze twist itself into your chest. There was that feeling again—knowing that you would never be like either Satoru or Suguru. You knew that perhaps Satoru would have more power over him, and despite that, he still left.

You weren’t there for the past two months, didn’t see the dead look in his eyes. You would never understand him. You think that maybe no one would. You hate how desperately you wanted to know him, how intensely you would claw your way for love in a way that mattered. Years of being with Satoru proved that—you still felt beneath him. Beneath both of them.

“Hey. Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t shut down. You always do that when you get upset,” Satoru grimaces.

You chew on the skin under your lip nervously. Your hands shake. You hate that Suguru has probably only shown a certain percentage of himself to you. There was no room for you to be entitled to the intricacies of his brain.

The space between you and Satoru is a chasm. You don’t know what to do with your frustration. The only options in your head right now are to take it out on him or let it fester within yourself until you explode. Neither will do much in terms of closure.

Satoru stares at you with jealousy stirring underneath his skin. It’s the earnestness in your hurt expression. It’s making the guilt inside him multiply like a virus.

“Are you in love with him?” Satoru asks, his voice hoarse.

You blink at him. “I don’t know,” you whisper.

“Do you love him more than you love me?”

“What? What does that have to do with–”

“Just answer.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you mutter.

Satoru winces, your words a sharp sting to his face. He hadn’t preferred either of you over the other, but he was protective of you in a way that he didn’t feel for Suguru. It ran deep enough to make him crazy—Suguru knew that. For some reason, it wasn’t anything that Satoru could admit out loud.

He sighs heavily. “I love both of you. You know that.”

“Why are you asking this, Satoru?”

“Because… fuck. Because it doesn’t matter how much you and I loved him! It doesn’t fucking matter. He’s gone, okay?”

He’s too consumed with the thought of you beside him on that sidewalk, surrounded by a crowd. Tunnel vision set on a beautiful boy with sharp eyes, casually ready to leave the both of you in the dust. Part of him hates how much you love Suguru, how much Suguru seemed to love you back. He hates how much you’re fussing over his best friend when all he’s ever done since he met you was fuss over you.

He hates how much he loves Suguru. So much so that out of his own selfishness, he wanted to face him alone when Shoko called. He didn’t want you beside him when he confronted Suguru, didn’t want to see the inevitable tears on your face once Suguru walked away.

Satoru is convinced that you were made from him, and if he’s lost one soulmate, he refuses to lose another.

And yet, you look at him coldly, like you’re going to leave, and his heart jumps out of his chest.

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #geto suguru x you #geto x you

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amara-scott · 11 months

Text

One more step.

pairing: mattheo riddle x slytherin/reader themes: angsttt, fluff summary: Mattheo Riddle was known to be impulsive, doing everything he wanted and not caring about the outcome of his shenanigans. But what if he actually took it a little too far?

𓆙𓆙𓆙

How can it be that I've never, until now, noticed the beauty of a silent autumn evening? I know being a Slytherin comes with loads of bias. Not all Slytherins are ready to party at all times, and not every one of us seeks trouble.

Well, except that one group of boys, maybe. And even more precisely, Mattheo Riddle.

I sigh, shaking my head to myself and re-read the paragraph of my history of magic chapter. My once steaming hot cup of green tea is nearly empty and my fingers get tired of scribbling down notes as I try to remember all that I read. I really don't mind tests and exams- it's just that I would rather go out with Pansy and Cassandra. The only reason I am not is that I actually care about every grade I receive. Maybe a little too ambitious for my own good.

I shut the book with a mark in place and collect my belongings while taking a look around. The library is rather empty. Some gather around the fireplace, having their eyes glued to their books. I know, a fireplace in a library? Doesn't seem too smart. But good god, we're not muggles.

I stop in my tracks, on my way to the exit, as I made out a certain head of brown curls close by a nearing bookshelf. He disappears behind it, his eyes searching intensely for a specific book.

I took that as a sign to quickly make my way past the isles. I hurry, my robe flowing behind me and my hair bouncing with every step.

"(Y/N)?"

I freeze in place, inhaling for the first time since I walked. I carefully turn to the side, Mattheo smirking at me from head to toe.

"Mattheo." I get out and want to keep moving, but he steps outside the isle and right in front of me. My eyes glued to him, not daring to miss what could be a meaningful move.

"You know, it's quite early to be studying for the test on monday." He tilts his head slightly to the side glancing down at the book I am holding onto. He is wearing a smug expression, obviously aware of how intimidating he can be. And that really bothers me. A lot, actually. Maybe also the fact that he's using that to constantly bully my friends, Harry and Hermione. She is the smartest witch in Hogwarts, besides me. If not beyond.

"Move aside, Mattheo, I want to get dinner before it's too late." I got out, harsher than I thought. Good.

I step to the side and want to walk around him, but he blocks my way once more. I glance up at him and frown, pressing my teeth together. "What is it?" I ask rudely.

Mattheo steps forward, making me take a step back to not bump into him. "What's gotten you in such a sour mood, huh? You should be glad you're in Slytherin - otherwise I would -"

"- you would what? Constantly pick on me because I'm only a half-blood? Make me feel uncomfortable or embarrass me any chance given? Well, news flash, Riddle, you do that to many friends of mine and I despise you for that." I spit out and am surprised at my sudden burst. I quickly regain composure and push his frame slightly to the side to get around him.

His eyes were wider than usual and his mouth unusually closed. I don't hear any comebacks, so I don't bother turning around and briefly hurry out, to get to dinner.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

The pumpkin soup filled my nostrils long before turning into the Great Hall. I spot Pansy, Draco and a few others sitting at the Slytherin table. I hurry over, setting my books below the bench before sitting down next to Cassandra. She sends me a smile and I return it.

"Hey."

"- She was so stunned, quite like stone."

"Did she leave you alone then?" Draco asks Pansy and she continues a story I didn‘t bother to get into. Besides, Draco wants her all for himself anyway.

More people join the table now and I feel someone sit right next to me on my right. I glance up and see Theodore taking a seat, winking at me. I roll my eyes and turn back to my bowl, filling it with soup from the cauldron in the middle.

"Would you mind?" Theodore holds up his bowl and I take it, filling his too. "Thanks, love." I nod and begin eating. I stop before I can take a bite of toast when Mattheo joins, sitting opposite of Theodore.

I sigh internally, placing my spoon down in my bowl as our eyes meet briefly. The awkward tension in his eyes made me feel a little bad for my words earlier. But I don't regret them. He looks away and focuses on Pansy and her story, throwing in a few sarcastic remarks here and there. Acting like nothing happened.

"Hey, are you good?" Cassandra asks me, a little hushed. I stop stirring the soup, glancing up and noticing more eyes on me that have caught onto Cassandras question.

"Yeah, you look a little pale?" Pansy adds, her observation sounding more like a question.

Draco chuckles, "Nothing new there" earning a kick to the leg from Pansy, followed by a glare. The rest of the boys looking at me now too, trying to figure out if it's true.

"Uh- nothing? I think I'm just tired, it was a long week." I grab my book from below me and stand up. Not able to hold their stares as I feel judged.

"- where are you going? You haven't even finished the soup?" Theodore tries and I wave him off.

"I'm just exhausted, I'll see you later." I quickly turn around, ignoring Pansy calling my name and only stop walking once I'm outside the big doors and around the corner.

I really couldn't stand sitting there across from him, while he is who he is. I've finally had enough. I tried to ignore him being absolutely rude to countless people. But I can't pretend anymore.

The others weren't innocent either, don't get me wrong. But he was far from that.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking. Actually thinking about nothing. More so just staring.

"Can you tell me what's with you?" I hear Pansy as she sits down on my bed and looks down at me, frowning. I haven't even heard her come into our room. "Is it Riddle? What did he do this time?"

My eyes dart to her and I come up, leaning on my elbow. "No, that's not it-"

"- if it's not Riddle, then why have you bolted as soon as he sat down at dinner?" She raises an eyebrow at me and I fall back onto my pillow, holding back a groan. "I'm not stupid."

"He is ridiculous, truly infuriating." I tell her and she smirks at me.

"What?"

"Well, you sound like you think about him quite a lot."

*It's not like that Pansy, I swear." She sighs, standing up and shrugging her shoulders.

"If you don't trust me enough to tell me, so be it. Just don't come running to me when he breaks your heart." She's out the room before I can reply. I sit up in bed and look at the door.

Breaking my heart? I wouldn't let him get that close to me. Never.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

"(Y/N)!" I look behind me to see Hermione running up to me, falling into my step.

"Hey, how are you?" I ask and she shakes her head, giving me a worried look.

"How bad?" I ask and she stops, I copy her and turn around to look at her.

"He's in the Hospital Wing. They were already done once I saw them." I shake my head in disbelieve, not sure how to respond. I just had that talk with Mattheo and he still goes around, fighting and bullying others.

We both make our way to Harry. He sits on a bed, Madam Pomfrey smiling at us as we enter. "Hello there, you two." I smile at her and leave Hermione to talk to her while I check on Harry.

"Hey you." I say, sitting next to him as he rubs his bandaged arm. As he looks up at me, I see a deep purple bruise forming on his right cheek bone. Dried blood still sticking to the skin below his nose and upper lip.

"Don't look at me like that." I take his arm and look back up at him.

"How, Harry?"

"Like I lost the fight." I raise a brow and he tries to smile but hisses, touching his cheek bone. "He looks worse, I promise."

That oddly doesn't make me happy and I look down, letting go of his arm as Hermione joins us, sitting next to Harry's other side.

"You're an idiot, trying to win against him in a fight!" She taunts and I agree with her, Harry only rolling his eyes.

"What, you want me to run away? Tell him to please stop? Whatever I do or say doesn't matter. Our parents did that for us. We're only fighting their fight now." He mutters the last bit, his eyes fixed on the tiled ground.

"That's enough." I stand up with one goal only. Making this stop. This has to stop.

"(Y/N), don't-"

"- I have to."

𓆙𓆙𓆙

Walking down the cold stone stairs, I spot them around the corner in the open common room area by the fireplace. Talking and laughing. Pansy smiling, Blaise shaking his head with a smirk and Mattheo- grinning. He hasn't even bothered to change his shirt or clean his face, which is still bloody. Wearing it like a trophy.

"Hey!" I shout, all their eyes on me now as I storm up to the group. My eyes boring daggers into his brown ones.

"Who the actual fuck do you think you are!" I stop behind the couch where Pansy, Draco and Blaise sit on. My eyes not once missing him.

"What?"

"You heard me, jerk. How dare you-"

"Whoa, whoa, (Y/N)-" Theodore stands up from the floor with raised hands and Mattheo follows suit, his stare could kill me.

"Theo, don't." I warn him and step around the couch, walking up to Mattheo, not afraid of him. His breathing quick and his eyes dark.

"Answer my fucking question, Riddle. Who do you think you are?" I stab my finger into his chest a couple of times, feeling my cheeks warming up and eyes glossing over.

"I am his worst fucking nightmare. And don't you ever make the mistake of believing you could stop me from being just that." My mouth is agape as I feel a warm tear running down my cheek, stunned at his cold heart.

"But -"

"- No! You don't get to come in here and question me about something that doesn't concern you in any fucking way!" He yells, throwing his arms up and huffing, almost smiling at me with a crazy glint in his eyes.

"Harry is my concern, he is my friend - and so is Hermione! I can't believe that you can't see past that."

"Then why don't you go, leave! Run to your precious Gryffindor friends if you love them so much! No one will fucking miss you here. Not a single minute."

"Guys, maybe we shouldn't talk about that here." Theodore says, coming closer to us both, holding Mattheo's shoulder now.

Mattheo pushes his hand from him, his cold stare now turned onto him, allowing me to take a breath.

"Pathetic half-blood." Riddle mutters, only for me to hear.

Pansy now pulling at my hand quickly from behind me, "come on" and I slowly take a few steps backward, glancing at Theo and Riddle one last time.

"- you think I would hurt her?" I hear before Pansy takes me to our chambers. I don't remember how long I've been sitting here on my bed, tears running down my cheeks. Her hand runs up and down my back.

"What happened?"

I look at her and I feel my head throbbing now. "He went too far with Harry. I can't just sit back and watch."

"You know, if that sorting hat had asked me, I would have placed you in Gryffindor anyway. How bravely you protect your friends." She smiles at me and I huff, chuckling.

"You're forgetting how stubborn I am, I wouldn't survive a day there. Plus, green is more my color." It's her turn to laugh and she nods, agreeing with me. Her smile leaves her lips and I know what's coming next.

"Jokes aside. This can't keep going on. You both have quite a lot to say to each other, despite claiming to hate each other. What happened to two years ago? You both were on such a good way to becoming wonderful friends."

Honestly? I don't know myself. After the winter break, when we came back to Hogwarts two years ago, something had changed. I noticed it right away but didn't want to talk to Mattheo.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

Mattheo POV:

"Really now, what's gotten into you? I know Harry isn't the greatest but why pick a fight with him so often, especially while knowing it will get a rise out of her?"

I shrug, picking at the dried crimson blood on my knuckles. It's turning brown now.

He sighs as he scratches at his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at me once more. "Matt, please tell me you're not doing anything stupid anytime soon, yeah? Give us all a break."

Theo stands up, walking out and I stay on my bed, biting at my split lip, chewing my skin. She is all I can think about. Good or bad- but those teary eyes were torture. I wanted her attention, yes. But not like this. Not if her heart is already with someone else anyway.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

(Y/N)‘s POV:

I skipped classes for the whole next day and only ate what Pansy brought me. I don't know what I'm more afraid to face. Mattheo's angry gaze or Harry's disappointed one, once he figures out I failed to stop the bullying.

I crumble up the tissue and toss it across the bed, it lands with some others near my feet. With closed eyes, I can't make out who entered the room but I'm guessing it's Pansy by the way she sits on my bed and sighs.

"I'm not hungry -"

"- you haven't eaten all day."

"Yes, I have -"

"- the dry toast I brought you eight hours ago surprisingly doesn't count." I open my eyes and glance at her sideways. She frowns, her brows being pulled together and she seems to wince at my sight.

"Seriously, come with me and get some dinner, you can go right back to bed, okay?" I shake my head and look back up at the ceiling.

"Alright, that was the last time I asked nicely." She stands up and pulls me by the leg.

"Hey!" I try to hold myself on the bed but she janks once, hard enough for me to fall off the bed.

"Get up now and let's go!" She helps me stand up and I hiss, holding my bum.

"That was mean." I mumble and she shrugs, not seeming fazed in the slightest.

"I don't care, now come on." She throws me one of my sweaters and pulls my hand. I sigh, giving up, not ready for another fight.

I decide then I would sit at the Gryffindor table, not daring to sit close to him. I couldn't face him now. Not with what happend and what was said.

"I'll see you later Pans-" I walk right to Harry and Ron as I spot them, leaving Pansy by the entrance. Walking down the isle of benches I take a seat next to Ron, facing Harry.

"Hey." I greet them and they share a worried glance.

"You look worse than Harry- no offence." Ron states and makes a face, pushing his mug of tea over. "Here."

I take it and gulp it down, thanking him.

"What happened?" Harry asks, his broken glasses fixed once more probably by Hermione. Who isn't here yet, I notice.

"Nothing really, just trying to keep him off your back." I try sending a weak smile but it's probably more a grimace.

"(Y/N), don't. That's a thing between me and him- I don't want you to get hurt-"

I tune out his speech and glance toward the Great Hall doors as he enters. An unreadable expression on his face. His eyes go toward the Slytherin table but he frowns, his eyes trailing along until they meet mine.

In the gloomy light the shadows dance across his face. His lips slightly ajar as I try to peel my gaze from him, unsuccessfully.

"(Y/N) -" A waving hand forces me to blink. I glance over to their owner, Harry. Hermione sitting now next to him.

"Have you heard a single thing I just said?" I shake my head, not in the mood to lie. She sighs and glances behind her at the Slytherin table where Mattheo sits down next to Theo. Him patting his back. His eyes finding mine once more. I can't help the tears coming back and quickly stand up, running toward the big doors.

"(Y/N)!" I block out Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's calls, just running out.

I don't stop in the hallway and follow the path to the courtyard. The cold air slowing down my movement and I take a few deep breaths. I sit down on a bench near the tree and pull my knees up. No one's around. Even if- I don't care anymore. I start sobbing, my face hidden.

I fully realize the impact his words have on me now, the strength he has over me. The feelings he hurt. My heart he broke.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

Pansy lies with me now. The covers warming me up from the cold air. She found me outside, not knowing she would find me where she did. But she did. She really is the greatest friend I have.

"You know, he probably feels terrible having hurt you so bad." I wipe away the dry path of my past tears and shake my head.

"He doesn't have feelings. He is a shell of nothingness." I mumble and feel my eyes getting heavier.

The knock on our door pulls me back out of my soon overtaking sleep and I sit up with Pansy, sharing a quick glance. It's nearly midnight.

"Can I come in?" Theo asks and carefully pulls open the door, his right eye blinking through the crack.

"What are you doing here?" Pansy asks, getting out of bed and opening the door. Theodore seems uneasy, stepping left and right, scratching the back of his head. Stumbling along his words.

"Well, I know it might not be a good idea, but we didn't know if -"

"- get to it, Nott." Pansy says, sighing with a hand on her hip.

"It's Mattheo -"

"- no, not a chance." She wants to push the door in his face but he holds it open, placing a foot in the door.

"Wait, listen, please."

She sighs and I stand up now, walking forward and stopping next to Pansy. Theo's eyes on me now. He gulps and stutters.

"He- he's down the hall in the dungeons, picking a fight with Harry -"

I don't need to hear anymore, grabbing my wand and pushing past them, running up the stairs in the common room to get out. I hear them hot on my tail but don't turn around.

"- you shouldn't pick a fight with someone like me, Potter!" I make out Mattheo's voice and pick up my speed even more.

"- And you shouldn't even be alive, Riddle!" I intake a sharp breath of air as those words leave Harry's lips, neither of them noticing me and start casting spells at each other.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

"Stupefy!"

I step up and hold my wand out, pointing it at Mattheo. A hand on my shoulder stops me from talking. "(Y/N), don't-"

"Accio!" I yell and a wand flies through the air and straight into my palm. I look up and Mattheo's eyes find mine as he tucks away his own wand before walking over to a wandless Harry.

"No, Mattheo-" I run over as they start throwing fists, pushing each other to the ground. I look back at Theo, who comes to my aid, trying to get ahold of Harry's shoulder who sits atop of Mattheo, throwing a fist in his face. I hold my hands in front of my opened mouth, gasping.

Theo pulls Harry from him as he struggles to get out of his grip.

Mattheo quickly gets to his feet but another arm holds him back. Draco. "It's not worth it, trust me."

"You're just like your father!" Harry yells and I watch as Mattheo's eyes loose all light, his hands hanging by his sides. He stopped struggling against Draco's restrain.

My feet carry me quicker than my brain can register and soon I place my arms around his shoulders, holding him, hugging his frame. His chin laying on my shoulder.

"Get lost, Potter, before we call for Snape." I hear Theo say but don't turn to look. My heart swells with anger and regret. Mattheo's arms soon find their way around me, pulling me even closer, clawing at me shirt. I feel my neck soaking with his - tears.

I glance over his shoulder, the others gone, leaving us two.

"He's wrong, you know?" I whisper, scared of him leaving this position. He doesn't answer at first but his silent crying turns into sniffling.

He pulls away a bit, looking at me. "You don't have to pretend to feel bad for me." He gets out.

"I don't, Matt. I just know the whole truth now." He frowns, his pretty brown eyes sparkling with the remaining tears.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know why you pick so many fights. And I know why you hated Harry particularly much." His eyes leave mine and glue themselves to the floor between us. He pulls away from the embrace. My hands falling to my sides.

"I don't know what you-"

"-Matt, you don't have to pretend to be a big, bad boy all the time. I'm sorry I made you feel invalid."

"What happened to calling me Riddle, huh?" I sigh, shaking my head to myself. Of course that didn't make it any better.

"I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm the one who's supposed to be sorry. I was the biggest dickhead to you, even when I rather should have just asked you to Hogsmeade."

"Matt, I-" I stop myself once I understood the whole sentence. "-Hogsmeade?"

"Yes, since two years actually."

Two years. Two goddamn years in which I tried to figure out what went wrong between us. Nothing.

"You idiot." I say.

"I know. I know, I am. And I won't blame you if you say no-"

"-You, Mattheo Thomas Riddle, are the absolute worst dickhead to ever have walked these halls." I stab my finger into his chest and look up at him, his lips curling into a small smirk, showing his teeth. One of his hands takes my finger down and holds my hand there.

"Nothing new, love." He states, raising his brows and biting the inside of his cheek.

"First- you terrorize my friends. Then you actually fist fight one of them- until you're both ready for the Hospital Wing. Just for me to end your duell in the dungeons before one gets the other killed. And now you're asking me to Hogsmeade?" I can't help but my stunned expression is probably quite visible on my face.

"Uh- is that a yes?"

"Well, of course I'm going with you! But only if you, for the love of Merlin, stop fighting with Harry. That's not getting you anywhere except maybe Azkaban once you finally killed each other."

He stops for a moment, coming even closer and I freeze in place, not knowing if what's about to happen is really the start of something good. But right now, right here, it feels truly amazing.

„You‘re cute when you’re angry.“

#imagine #imagines #harry potter #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #harry potter imagine

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peachdues · 5 months

Text

THE GREAT WAR — PART II TEASER

A/N: ok, this one is just pure fun. Enjoy our two lovebirds being idiots.

His fingers brushed delicately against the curve of her cheek. “You’re ashen,” his frown deepened and his hand smoothed worryingly over her hair. “My treasure, are you unwell?”

She closed her eyes against the comfort of his touch. “I suppose I haven’t been sleeping as well as I could,” she admitted shyly.

A shadow passed over Giyuu’s face. “And I am to blame.”

“No!” Y/N’s hand covered his where it rest against the side of her head, and she wound their fingers together. “I’ve also felt rather nauseous — I haven’t had the stomach for much, lately.”

But Giyuu did not look convinced, and his hand slid to her forehead, testing her temperature.

“Perhaps I am only feeling hungry,” the Miko offered with a faint smile. It wasn’t true; she hadn’t been able to muster an appetite in days, but she wanted nothing more than to soothe his nerves.

“You haven’t eaten?” Giyuu’s hand dropped from her forehead and he rose. “Then I shall prepare something for you.”

“Giyuu, please don’t trouble yourself —“

“I won’t,” he said plainly, as he began rooting through his cupboards. “It won’t take me long.”

—

“Here,” Giyuu slid a steaming bowl in front of her with a soft smile.

Y/N looked gratefully up at her raven-haired lover, and she reached to cup his cheek. “Thank you.”

Giyuu almost blushed under the stroke of her thumb, but he nudged the bowl toward her. “Eat up.”

Her eyes dropped down to the meal her beloved had so carefully prepared for her and her stomach dropped.

Somehow, the broth looked both thick and thin, and it had taken on an unsettling muddy-gray hue. Large chunks of something white floated just above the surface, mixed in with what looked like brown seaweed.

She looked back up to him. But at the first glimpse of the quiet pride brimming in his eyes, the shrine maiden balked.

Y/N brought the bowl to her lips and took a long sip.

Her eyes flew open.

For one, dreadful moment, the Miko agonized over whether to spit out the rancid, sour broth or whether she should fight it down, Giyuu’s soup festering on her tongue all the while.

After another torturous beat, Y/ N chose the latter and with a hard gulp, she swallowed. The liquid and whatever chunks Giyuu had thrown in to create the abominable concoction were slimy as they slid down her throat.

The shrine maiden forced her mouth into a smile as she fought to conceal her shudder. “It’s wonderful,” she managed through clenched teeth. “Truly, I — hand me that bucket now.”

Her fiance had barely managed to shove the wooden basin under her chin before Y/N wretched, her body convulsing.

She’d been wrong, she decided between the few quick, gasping breaths she managed before her stomach revolted against her once more. However bad the soup had tasted going down, it was infinitely worse coming back up.

Finally, her heaving subsided though her nausea remained. Slowly, Y/N managed to lift her head up, in search of Giyuu, but when she found him, she was met with an expression that she could only describe as tortured devastation.

Guilt bubbled up hot in her throat alongside the bile she desperately fought to keep down. “It wasn’t you, I promise!” It was. “I’ve not been able to keep much of anything down lately — your soup was wonderful.”

A half-truth, but Giyuu looked so crestfallen and she couldn’t bear it.

hmmm I wonder why she’s feeling nauseous??? Also Giyuu is indeed a horrible cook lmao

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #giyuu tomioka #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny tomioka #kny giyuu #demon slayer giyuu #giyuu x reader #giyuu #giyuu x y/n

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levi-supreme · 8 months

Text

Levi taking care of you when you're sick

Characters: Levi x fem!reader

Genre: Modern!au

Warnings: SFW, fluff. Established relationship. Levi is the best lover anyone can ever ask for. A little self-indulgent. Use of nicknames (princess, baby, babe, love).

A/N: I'm down with a fever and all I want is to have Levi take care of me so, please enjoy this little drabble of Levi taking care of you <3 tbh this can also be for a gender neutral reader, but I decided to tag it as fem!reader because of the nicknames, so read it at your own discretion!!

You woke up feeling like you got run over by a truck, your body unusually sore and aching. Your head was pounding and your throat felt as dry as sand. Weird, you thought. You felt okay last night before you slept.

"L-Levi?" you croaked, your voice cracking and your throat hurting. "Levi? Babe?" you called out, feeling hotter than usual under your layers. Your boyfriend stirred in his sleep and opened his eyes.

"Yes, baby? You're up early," Levi scooted closer to you, but his expression turned sour.

"You're sweating a lot." Levi jumped up and grabbed a thermometer. Touching your forehead, he realised you felt warmer than usual. As the thermometer beeped, he took it out and saw the reading on the screen.

37.8°C. You were having a fever.

"Get up, princess. Wash up. We're going to see Hange." Levi supported you up and carried you to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet seat and helping you remove your sweaty clothing.

"W-wait, it's only 8am, love... Hange's clinic doesn't open until 10—"

"I'm calling them in a while. Don't worry. Are you able to stand?" You nodded and stepped into the shower, assuring Levi you're fine. Levi quickly went to give Hange a call, and they said they would wait for you two at their clinic.

Once the both of you were done washing up, Levi blew dry your hair and forced you into a thick sweater and comfy track pants. The heat was unbearable and you could already feel yourself getting sweaty, yet Levi said it was better to sweat it all out. Putting on a surgical mask on you and himself, Levi quickly escorted you into his car and began driving to Hange's clinic.

"Oi, four-eyes," Levi pushed the door of Hange's clinic and the loud chime of the bell signalled his arrival. Hange was already at the counter.

"Friendly way to greet your friend who opened up their clinic an hour earlier for you," Hange replied without looking up from their computer, taking a sip of steaming hot coffee from their mug.

"I'm sorry Hange," you let out a few coughs, feeling the swell in your throat, "I know you only start work at 10 and—"

"I'm kidding! Don't be sorry. I was just teasing Levi." Hange laughed and waved their hand before opening the door to one of the consultation rooms, telling Levi to bring you inside. Hange then put on a pair of gloves and a surgical mask and took your temperature. Your temperature was now 38.0°C.

Taking a stethoscope, Hange began asking you questions about your symptoms and you recounted them to the best of your ability. Levi had an arm on your shoulder, giving you reassuring squeezes and rubbing your back whenever you coughed. Hange wrote the prescriptions on a small card before handing it to the pharmacist through a small sliding window. Opening the door, Hange told you and Levi to wait outside.

"Remember to take your medicine on time and you'll recover within the next few days, okay?" Hange smiled as Levi collected the medicine from the pharmacist. You nodded while suppressing your cough and Hange frowned.

"Don't do that, it's bad for your throat. Also, no cold drinks or food, no snacking, and no physical activities even after you've recovered." Levi grunted a word of thanks as you waved goodbye before walking you out of Hange's clinic, making a beeline straight home.

"Go take a shower, princess. I'll cook you some soup." Levi told you as he unlocked the door, helping you remove your shoes. You felt really lethargic all over and badly needed to nap, yet you knew you had to get a rinse to cool down your temperature. You slowly made your way to the bathroom and took a well needed cold shower, hissing in pain whenever the cold water hit your skin. When you were done, you made your way to the dining table. Levi was still in the kitchen, and you could catch a whiff of fragrant soup.

"I know you don't have much of an appetite, but you need to eat, okay? Drink some soup first. I cooled it already." Your boyfriend gave you a soft kiss on your forehead and pushed the bowl of vegetable soup in front of you. You took a good look and realised it wasn't the bowl you usually used for meals, but a smaller-sized one. You gave him an appreciative smile before taking a sip while Levi sat beside you.

"Mm... It's good," you took slow sips, coughing sometimes as Levi rubbed your back.

"Want more? I'll get you another bowl." Levi stood up and went to the kitchen with your half-empty bowl, coming back with a new piping hot bowl of soup. You took your time and finished your soup, feeling your throat less scratchy and dry compared to how it was in the morning.

"Come on, let's get your hair dried and you need to take a nap." Your boyfriend held you up and walked you back to the bedroom. You could feel your head spinning and the aches all over your joints, you couldn't wait to fall asleep. Levi helped you sit and began blow drying your hair for you, making sure he wasn't accidentally pulling your hair or scratching your scalp too hard. The soft pressure from Levi's fingers combing through your hair was so comforting that you nearly dozed off without realising. Once Levi was done, he quickly got you your medication and made sure you took all of them before tugging you into bed, making sure you were comfortable.

With your head on your pillow and your blanket covering your entire body, Levi was closing the curtains when you softly said "b-babe," after a small coughing fit, cringing after hearing how hoarse your throat was. Levi hummed in response.

"... can you nap with me?"

Levi turned around and gave you a grin, "yeah, of course, princess. Give me a sec, okay?" and he left the bedroom for a short moment before coming back with a huge flask of water and your water bottle, setting it on top of the bedside drawer. Levi got under the covers and gently pulled you closer, letting your back rest against his sturdy chest as he loosely draped an arm around you.

"Y-you don't—cough—you don't have to be s-so close," you shivered, "I'm really w-warm, and I don't want to pass my f-fever—cough—to you—"

"Shhh, it's fine," he pressed a fleeting kiss on your crown, "you're toasty." Levi let out a long breath before pulling you closer to him. "go to sleep, love. Before I knock you out." you bit your lower lip and tried to hide your laughter, instead you broke into a coughing fit. You briefly turned to look at your boyfriend.

"Don't be mean babe, I'm sick."

"And I'll take care of you until you recover," Levi gave you another small smile and pressed a kiss to your cheek, "go to sleep. I'll wake you up before dinner." you nodded and closed your eyes, listening to your boyfriend's slow breathing behind your back. Levi kept his eyes on you, watching you until the crease between your brows disappeared before joining you in dreamland.

A/N: This is also a reminder to drink more water and eat your fruits and veggies, and take care of yourself!!! <3

Tagging: @levi-lover @ack3rlady @cinnamonlevi @roralore @imkumichan @kristinecharmm @notgoodforlife @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein @sweet-assh0le @hannie2kay @ack3rlevi @levislovingwife @galactict3a @hauntedhousecat @suukee @thesimpsstuff @ackermendick @greenfurret @evas-leslas @levisbrat25 @chaotic-nick @lilshades @svftackerman @youre-ackermine @ladycheesington

Levi imagines, scenarios, drabbles master list | Levi main master list

#levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #snk scenarios #aot scenarios #levi x fem!reader #levi ackerman x fem!reader #snk x you #aot x you #levi fluff #levi ackerman fluff #levi.supreme

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naffeclipse · 9 months

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I'm honored to reveal that I'm @darthsuki's secret Santa for the DCASS2023 event! When I saw that Howl's Moving Castle was one of the movies you love, I was immediately possessed by this AU for the DCA! I had so much fun crafting this fic along with Eclipse, Sun, and Moon reimagined in such a setting, and, of course, the reader! There is so much fluff and romance; I hope that's alright! Please enjoy!

Eclipse's Moving Daycare

Eclipse & Sun & Moon x Reader (SFW)

You can also read this fic on AO3!

Word Count: ~5,500 Warnings: N/A

In the heart of the castle-like structure, smoothly crawling over the snowy mountain peak with bending, robotic appendages that sink claws into the fresh, cold powder, is a room alight by a fire demon. The creaking and grumbling of the house have long since faded into a familiar drone in the background of your senses. A few candles burn and flicker, dripping hot, white wax. The main source of light, in the late hour on a blistering cold night, emits from Sun in golden radiance.

You stand over the fireplace. It holds a small cauldron upon its embers. Water bubbles and pops with gentle wisps of steam rising, rising up into the chimney. Behind you, the great light of the room begins to shift, shadows leaning away from the approaching presence.

“What is my darling brewing tonight?” The fire demon saunters close behind you. Sun’s voice brushes against your ear, flickering with life so powerful, it only leaves ash in its wake. The heat sinks into your back—a soothing reprise from the chill circling the moving daycare. “Could I be of assistance to your crafting?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind, Sunny,” you say softly.

You turn around to face him, almost squinting your eyes against his brilliance. The fire demon flickers with flames, set soft and low in a gentle yellow light. The energy burns over a body of deep, dark charcoal and embers. Red pulses in between the burnt aspects. His head, large and flat like a disk, flickers with a great grin. The very pale center of his eyes holds a blue tint not unlike the very tips of great flames. A crown of red fire circles his face, and you marvel how he has never once burned you—part of his magic, of course. He decides when and who shall be scorched.

“Oh, you haven’t answered me yet.” He looms over you, the fey-being easily entering your space in the way smoke fills the air. “Is it a special potion? Perhaps a liquid that would set itself on fire should someone sing a sour note? Or a drink for trees that allow them to become ready fuel, set to torch the mountainside for a bit of warmth on this dreary winter day?”

You smile. When does he not suggest you concoct some sort of fiery potion? You certainly don’t recall. The fire demon is what he is.

“Neither,” you answer and strip a thorny branch of herb, dried and well preserved, of its flat fronds. You turn away to toss them into the cauldron. “It’s soup.”

The light of the room dims in the briefest moment before flaring with fresh vigor. Dancing heat becomes almost sweltering at your back before a hot hand slips around your waist, wrapping you up in a cozy embrace. Your eyes flutter when Sun’s mouth presses to your shoulder, sharp teeth grazing your skin exposed by the stretched neckline of your tunic.

“We’ll save the pyromania for later, but soup! Yes, that would warm you and Moon and Eclipse.”

“And you.” You hold up the thin dry branch, as he likes it, to the fire demon’s mouth. “I’ll make it for all of us.”

“Oh, I don’t do well with soup. Too watery for my taste,” he says mournfully.

You watch a lick of flame wrap around the branch and pull it into his mouth, leaving your hand empty. His jaw bumps slightly against your shoulder as he chews, fire splitting and cracking the fuel over his tongue. He swallows and the light grows brighter around you. For a moment, you swear you understand what a candle wick feels like sitting in all that great light. He holds you tighter.

“I will make it so you can consume it, too,” you say, and pat his arm as it hugs your waist. The flames flatten underneath your palm, whipping and flaring at your presence, but never biting. A bit of soot smears across your hand. “Now let me get the rest of the ingredients. You’re holding me captive, love!”

He laughs with the boisterous gale of a bonfire. “How else am I supposed to keep you safe on a freezing night such as this!”

“I’m plenty safe with you here, and I’m in need of soup.” You turn your head to catch his twin flame eyes.

When he lets you go, he does so with a smoking sigh as if you intend to leave the moving daycare rather than simply his embrace. You keep your smile to yourself at his theatrics. He remains before the cauldron as you search a few cupboards, gathering several spices, herbs, and a few bits to toss into the soup. You turn to the kitchen counter, the wood rich brown and well worn with your work.

In a few moments, the great cold of the night has taken hold and your shoulders shiver. Setting the glass jars down, you breathe in a rattling breath. It’s getting worse outside. Over the quiet motions of the building shuffling along is the great howl of wind.

You must hurry with the soup. Eclipse will be home soon.

Taking a few ingredients, you turn back around only to be greeted with a fire in your face. Sun grins, the blue in his eyes dancing brightly. You almost drop the spices in your startle.

“Poor thing, you’re shivering! Allow me to warm you up.” The fire demon coos impishly before taking you by the hand. His warmth laces between your fingers. Your other arm is crooked, cradling the glass jars as Sun lays his hand on your waist, and in the fashion of a waltz, spins you the short distance back to the cauldron.

You gasp, pressed tight to his body with little but spice containers between your heart and the deep red pulsing in the fire demon’s chest. The small clinks of glass echo like notes to the movement of the song Sun carries you along to with his swift steps. His crown of flames waver in excitement, snapping and flickering. He sets you down for a moment.

“Oh, you’re already so pink!” He touches your cheek with hot fingertips before slipping away the spices with a small flick of his hand, magically tugging the jars from your grasp and setting them on the edge of the fireplace. You sputter, head spinning in his fiery whirlwind. “There! Aren’t you toasty?”

“Sun!” you laugh. You lay your hands on his chest as he gathers you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. His heat seeps deep into your body, chasing away the awful chill. “I am making us soup! Let me go, you fiery fiend!”

“Ah, but how can I? You’ve bewitched me.” He twists you around—much to your amusement and surprise, dipping you low as you cling to his shoulders. “My darling, I simply can’t let you grow cold for even a breath.”

You melt like mountaintop snow in spring, his pale, lovely gaze burning with intent so promising. You become warm—not of body, but of soul. Slowly, softly, you find his mouth hungrily reaching. You answer with a soft, chaste press of your lips upon his fire, closing your eyes. The light glows through your thin eyelids, sparking blue at the edges in the center of deep, passionate gold. He has never burned you. He never will.

The light increases until it becomes as bright as noon in summer—as bright as his name.

He brings you back to your feet in a careful rise though his hands have yet to unlock from your waist. The distant boiling of the cauldron sends you back to your senses before you lift your head. You gaze adoringly at the fire demon, tasting cedar-turned-ash on your tongue. Reaching with one hand, you run a few fingers through the brightness of his head flames, now tinged with blue at the very tips.

Oh, he’s satisfied.

“I am making soup, and you can’t seduce me away,” you say firmly, before pecking his fiery mouth once more. His teeth almost catch your bottom lip but you manage to slip away.

“But I’m already starving!” He half cries, placing one arm across his forehead in a swoon-worthy of the theater. “If you leave, I will vanish into smoke and soot!”

You reach up into a cupboard dusted with black powder and snatch up one lump of coal, small enough to eat in one bite, and turn around. You promptly set it into Sun’s mouth. His wail is muffled by the press of your fingertips until he begins chewing with a rather disgruntled look. The blue in his eyes pales slightly.

“I’m glad to see you have an appetite.” You smile. “Save the rest for soup.”

The heat lingering in your fingers is warm and tingly. You quickly snatch up a small wicker basket from the counter. The yellow light of the fire demon follows at your back as you make your way across the large living space, the cold quickly returning. Then, you enter a long hallway.

“Stay here,” you call over your shoulder, “I need to fetch a few things from Moon’s room and he doesn’t like you in there.”

A protest around a mouthful follows but you’ve already knocked and quietly opened the door, the room thick with darkness, before shutting it behind you. The fire demon is left in the heat of the living space.

You stand in Moon’s room. The clotting blackness hangs like a mist around your shoulders. You squint into the dark collection of shelves and small comforts, such as loveseats and chaise lounges and of course, several beds shoved up against the wall. You’re not certain if he sleeps in any one of the furnishings—if he sleeps at all.

“Moon?” you call out softly.

The nightly shade shifts in the slightest. Tendrils of shadow creep around you, waving like the petals of a flower before you feel a hand slip over your hip from behind and another hook under your jaw to take your chin.

“Hello, jewel,” he rasps low in your ear. A cool but pleasant shudder falls down your spine.

“Hello, scarecrow.” You allow him to tug you around to face his shadowy visage, his hand caressing your cheek as you gaze up at the fey-being. “Might I get into the food storage? I need beef and potatoes along with a few other vegetables.

His eyes, round as moons and pale red, drink you in. Underneath the brim of an old, sun-bleach straw hat that he stole from a scarecrow, the shadow demon tilts his head to an unnatural degree. A curve of silver light flashes across half of his face, like a coin winking under midnight light.

“Of course.” His body stretches slightly, thin and elongated, like darkness at sunset. A few inky colors of red flare out around his neck and waist, the cold energy wavering about him, before his hands hook into your hips. You gasp once when he effortlessly lifts you off your feet and carries you to a chaise lounge dyed a deep ocean blue.

Your eyes slowly adjust to the stark dimness when he sets you down. He kneels to sweep your ankles up and lay your legs across the couch.

“Moon, I need to get a few things,” you remind gently.

“I’m aware.” He, in a blink of darkness, has your basket in his hand where it swings slightly from side to side. His smile flashes with teeth reflecting a bony color. “Stay here.”

“If you insist,” you give with a chuckle. You lean back until you’re reclined on the cushy backrest, feeling much too elegant for someone who still has potion stains on their apron. “It’s dark now. You can come out. Sun is in the living space with me, helping me cook.”

“ Helping ,” the shadow demon echoes incredulously.

You snicker.

“Yes, he is, and I need your help as well.”

Moon slips into the darker corner that your weak human eyes can’t decipher. Soft rummaging echoes. The storage space is under a hatch in this room, and seeing as it was already so dark behind, Eclipse allows Moon to claim it as his own—provided that Moon allows you access to whatever ingredients you require when you are in need.

You can’t think about Sun’s room without wincing at the amount of ash, gold relics, half-burnt walls, and little fires no doubt still running rampant in there. Eclipse placed a clever spell to keep it from spreading to the rest of the rooms and daycare.

The darkness moves as if ripples in water. You try to peer at a few dolls nestled onto a top shelf above one of the beds, their visage adorned with bows and curls but the strange distortion carries across the room. They must be for when there are children in the daycare again. Moon does love to give gifts to the little ones.

Then, a quiet sound of a wicker basket touching the floor. You jump before registering the slow blink of pale red eyes before you. At the end of the chaise lounge, Moon begins to creep forward. One hand follows the other, sliding along your legs and up your hips before one grabs onto the top of the backrest and the other reaches for your face. He hovers above you like a vulture in the sky.

The shadow demon brushes his thumb over your lips. The cool caress causes you to shiver but not from the cold.

You stay motionless. He hums a low sound; the beginning of a lullaby. He lays a soft touch of a cool knuckle over your cheek.

“Did you get what I ask?” you murmur, distracted by how he strokes the shell of your ear with soothing motions.

“Yes,” he grumbles. You’re glad he can see much better in the dark than you.

“Thank you.” You grin up at him. “Help me make soup, won’t you?”

You slide out from under his shadow. Back onto your feet, you hook the handle of the basket, now heavy with ingredients. You straighten only to find Moon’s sharp teeth curved into a wicked smile before you. In a split second, he pecks your mouth with a rush of midnight cool air and syrup-sweet darkness. You blink.

“You’re welcome.”

You stop him before his form can melt into the darkness. Snatching his wrist as he attempts to slip between your fingers, you step closer. The shadow demon makes a low sound of surprise. You grin as you press forward on your tippy toes into the darkness to find what you hope is his mouth—it often disappears in his face when he’s not actively showing his teeth. You kiss a smooth, satin-soft cheek.

“There, a proper kiss,” you murmur, falling back onto the fall of your feet.

A low, husky breath disagrees. Shadowy coils slip over your arms and your waist, creeping higher and higher until one hangs around your throat like an onyx necklace. The familiar and comforting weight of his embrace encircles you completely.

“No,” the entire darkness seems to whisper in Moon’s rasp, “Let me show you a proper kiss.”

A dark finger tilts your chin up. You find his eyes as ghostly as red moons hanging above you, bathing you in unholy light. Moon hums softly. He lowers his mouth, teeth sharp but yearning, onto yours.

Cool and gentle, the shadow demon tastes your mouth. He presses to your lips in a silent declaration of fondness so sweet, it stains your tongue. His shadowy tendrils softly tightens around you in a tender crush of affection. A little nibble along your bottom lip teases his dangerous jaws, but you only gasp softly, pleased.

He releases you, unwinding from around you to slip behind your back. You, in a near daze, press towards the door and push it open. A soft hiss at the candlelight aggravates Moon for a moment before he adjusts and slithers into the living space. You catch your breath. Sun stands before the cauldron, feeding it logs but leaving it scorched with marks in the shape of his hands.

“Oh, Moon!” Sun turns around with a sharp clap of his hands. Moon hisses when his golden flames spread their light, eating away at the heavy pools of shadow at Moon’s feet. “You have been held up in that dreary room all day! Some company will do your shadows some good.”

“Ease your light,” Moon growls then slinks to a corner near the dark window overlooking the mountain peak. Pale red eyes glare before Sun inclines his head with a mischievous glint, but draws down his flames to a deep orange simmer over his charcoal body.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Sun asks with a much gentler tone.

“Yes,” Moon mutters but eases, the coils of shadows at his feet twisting with a relaxed aspect. “Are you going to sit with us while we dine?”

“Sit? I’m going to dine with you—I’m afraid I haven’t been given a choice!” Sun drops against your shoulder—a feat that would otherwise push you to the ground if he wasn’t holding himself back while maintaining the illusion of slumping over you. His hand immediately takes your own and squeezes it. “Our darling potion maker insists the only options are to starve or eat soup!”

“How can you eat soup?” Moon asks in a curious rasp. His straw hat swivels slightly to focus on you. Playfully, you roll your eyes and reach out to take a small stack of bowls from the cupboard.

There’s so little difference between cooking and the science of potion making, you’ve found.

“Are these doubts for my craft I hear?” you question.

Two sharp objections follow one loud and crackling, the other low and gravelly, causing you to laugh and break away from what was supposed to be a stern facade.

“Good. I won’t hear any more complaints then.” You pat Sun’s cheek though you weren’t certain what part of him you’d end up touching. He’s still hanging onto you with the clinginess of a burr. You fish within the basket to snatch up a paper-wrapped and chilled pound of beef.

“Sun?” You hold up the meat, “If you don’t mind?”

“It would be my pleasure, darling!” He snatches it up, his flames immediately eating away the paper concealing it. He cradles the meat in his palms. You feel his heat shift, concentrating to a steady and low red crackle in the black coals of his hands.

“Please remember to not burn it.” You turn away to search for a sharp knife in the drawers and withdraw one. Sun’s light sheds much-needed aid over the drawers.

“I would never! Well, maybe a little, to make sure it’s cooked and blackened as it crumbles to ash—”

“Sunny.”

“Yes. Not burnt. As you wish.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The light flares for a moment, brighter and brighter, before calming down for poor Moon’s sake. He hisses once. Sun flashes a cheeky grin.

You smile as you turn around, only to jump slightly when Moon is already standing before you, reaching out to take the knife. His half-silver face, reflecting even sharper in Sun’s light, winks. His pale red eyes stare into your own. You shiver in his presence, caught between a revolving world of hot and cold.

“Potatoes, celery, and carrots, Moon, if you don’t mind,” you ask softly.

“Of course,” he answers in a murmur and takes the basket away to work on the opposite end of the counter. You study the kitchen for a moment, pleased.

Moon and Sun both hum a low song they both seem to know. A lullaby of fey beings, you suppose.

Now, you’re missing someone.

A soft woosh sounds outside, right on time. You jump slightly when a metal clank follows as if you haven’t heard his arrival a hundred times.

“Please continue what you’re doing,” you say while dusting your hands on your apron. You rush for the stairs. “Eclipse and I will help when we return.”

“I hope the buzzard isn’t freezing to death,” Sun exclaims, “It’s a brutal night in the cold.”

“He shouldn’t have left,” Moon mutters in an ominous but concerned tone.

You don’t stop to answer them both as you take two steps at a time. He was gone all day. Your heart has been wrung like wet laundry before being hung out to dry. The fool—the wonderful fool.

The howl of the wind grows as you near the outside of the moving daycare. The top of the stairs leads into a long hallway, doors branching off to yours, Eclipse’s, and Sun’s rooms, but you continue forward until you reach the end. There, you push open two frosty glass doors to see who stands on the balcony but Eclipse himself.

The wizard of the moving daycare. The balcony is dusted in snow and the metal gate separating you and him from a severe drop down the mountain face is dark and wrought. You sweep your gaze over him from head to toe and wingtip to wingtip until you’re satisfied. He’s back in one piece.

His wings are intricate mechanisms of bronze and black iron that click softly as gears whirl within the joints and settle at his back. Deep and dark feathers cover the internal workings of the frame, but sometimes, you can catch a metallic glint when he shifts just slightly. A deep red hat, pointy and rumbled, sits upon his disk-like head with bursts of yellow in the fabric. His expression is carved into two—one bright and sunny, the other lunar and dark. His eyes flash, two-toned with yellow and red, upturn in relief. Tall, even taller than Moon and Sun, he bears a willowy aspect in his white shirt and dark trousers. Robotic arms softly click with his movement.

“Eclipse, you’re back,” you say softly. Your breath mists the cruel wind and fierce cold of the mountaintop. You immediately hug yourself, the thin sleeves of your tunic doing little against the blizzard.

“Hello, dearest. I’m terribly sorry for being away all day.” He opens his arms wide. His wings flutter, clicking and clunking with thick sweeps of dark feathers. The electric glow of his eyes softens. “I missed you.”

You run into his arms. Catching you as if you were falling, Eclipse spins you around once before spreading his wings. His plumage falls over you with a gentle breeze and all at once, the wind howls and the bitter cold dies. It is you and him, again.

“Did you find any children in need?” you ask against his chest. He’s terribly cold but you don’t mind as you rest your cheek on his wind-tugged shirt.

“I did. We should make it to the village in two days.” His fingertips stroke the back of your hair, softly scratching against your scalp in a way that lulls you into forgetting every dangerous and terrible thing that could take your loved ones away.

“That’s wonderful.” You press your smile against the metallic plates of his chest. “I’m so glad you came back safe and sound.”

“As I am. Oh! How’s our family?” he asks.

“Sun has missed playing with the children and Moon has more dolls to give away. They were worried about you. Both are helping me make soup.”

“ Helping ? Oh, I’m afraid to see what they’ve done!”

“All three of you are the same,” you snicker, “believing you can’t help me when that’s what all three of you do!”

“Hm, dearest, I don’t believe you understand.” Eclipse’s feathers ruffle when he leans low to press his forehead against your own—the frigid metal sends a great shiver down your back. His eyes glow as soft as starlight. “You are the one who keeps our heads on our shoulders. Without you, Sun would still be running away from angry villagers, Moon would still be trapped to that scarecrow pole, and I… well, I shouldn’t have to tell you how lost I’d be without you.”

His hand takes your own and gently lays it over his chest. Underneath your palm through the fabric of his shirt, a great thrum of a machine pulsates with timed clicks as quiet as a clock. His bronze and geared heart. You did put it back in his chest.

“Both can be true,” you whisper. You close your eyes. “You and Sun and Moon mean so much to me.”

The alternative is desolate. The vision behind your eyelids is sad and abandoned, a little rundown shack in the middle of dirt and rocks, and you, all alone, believing that’s what you deserved for so long. None of your potions would cure you of this wretched existence. You sunk into the numbness.

Until one day a wizard with wings swept by in his moving daycare, cruel and cursed until you found his bronze heart. Then along his adventures, you discovered a fire demon in need of fuel and comfort from running, and a poor shadow demon cursed to be blistered by the sun in his stationary pose, begging for aid and a kind hand.

You found your family, and you found you deserve their love, too.

“We know.” He draws back slightly. Squeezing your hand tenderly, Eclipse holds your gaze with the softness of a gentle night and the hope of rest. “We might not believe it, but we know.”

Despite the freezing temperatures, your heart melts inside your chest. A deep flush heats your cheeks. You wrap your arm around his waist and duck slightly to hide your face.

“Come in before your joints freeze,” you gently insist. Eclipse allows you to drag him inside before he flicks a metallic finger. The door shuts away the brutal winds and the screaming rush. You, at last, sigh, much more content to linger in the slightly warmer hallway and feel his feathers and arms become less frigid, easing your concern.

“Ah, that is immensely better,” Eclipse hums.

He shifts, allowing his wings to lift and tuck behind his back. The beautiful feathers catch on the bit of firelight cast up the stairs, no doubt from Sun’s determined will to cook the meat without burning it. Distant chops of a knife against wood echo in rhythmic knocks, sounding of Moon tending to the vegetables.

“Next time, wait until after the storm, won’t you?” You fix his shirt so that it doesn’t fall so low down his chest—not that you don’t mind the intricate design of his bronze and steel frame, but you do intend to feed him a civilized meal. “I had worried I would have to send Moon to fetch you then thaw you out in Sun’s fire.”

“I apologize again, my dearest heart.” He bends low to cup your cheeks in his cold hands. You shiver once, eyelids trembling. In gentle regret, he strokes your cheekbones. “You worry too much, but I do adore how much you think of me.”

You glance away, frowning. Of course, you think of him and Moon and Sun too much for your own sanity, but how could you not? They’ve captivated you wholly.

He leans closer, drawing your eyes back to his mournful expression. The brim of his deep red hat almost touches your hair.

“Forgive me?” he breathes.

You slowly reach up to cover his hands, rubbing your thumb over the delicate yet strong design of his metallic wrists. The sleeves of his loose shirt are beginning to warm, too.

“I forgive you, always.” You press under the intimate shade of his wizard hat, and Eclipse stills at your smile. “I missed you, too.”

Before he can answer in relief, you lay your lips upon his face plate, over the grin that mystically shifts about his expression as if he were human and not a machine. A taste of the sweet crispiness of apples and the chilly darkness of twilight slips into your mouth. The large hands that cradle your face softly spasm once. Eclipse then captures you, pulling you deeper against him as the teeth of gears and the tangy metal of his mouth give into your affections entirely. Feathers flap softly, and you are concealed in the eclipse of his wings.

He allows you to break briefly away to breathe—he once took your kiss for so long that you fainted in his arms (for which he never stopped apologizing)—and the living hum in his body harmonizes with the great pulse in your chest.

“There,” you murmur. You look up into the wizard’s gaze and how much he’s softened in your embrace. “Come downstairs and let’s eat.”

Eclipse taps your bottom lip once before straightening. A black feather slips from his back but you catch it beside his shoulder before it can slip to the ground. You carefully tuck it into your apron pocket. His eyes upturn into crescents.

“Lead the way, dearest.”

You take him down and into the warm, bright living space, cast in comfortable shadows. The scent of cooking meat causes your mouth to salivate. Eclipse’s wings relax when he views the sight. Moon and Sun lift their heads from their tasks and greet Eclipse with gladness and relief. Their family member is back safe.

“Did you find any children?” Moon rasps low but his eyes wink with piqued interest.

“Yes, several. They’ll need our help once the daycare arrives in a village in two day’s time,” Eclipse nods.

Moon and Sun exchange wide looks of excitement. The shadows below the dark demon stir and flicker. In contrast, the fire demon’s body burns brighter.

“Eclipse, won’t you gather my tiger’s chaudron jar?” you ask with a soft squeeze of your hand around his, “Be very careful. It’s temperament and might fizz and overflow if it's upset.”

“He’s helping with the food?” Sun mocks a great gasp of incredulousness. “I was under the impression you wanted to eat tonight!”

“Oh, stop it, you,” you chastise before leaning over the table to press a kiss to his hot cheek. Straightening, you release Eclipse’s hand to stand close behind Moon and slide your hand over his arm to gather a few chunks of potato he’s cut for you. “Thank you, dollface. Here, let me take these to the cauldron.”

“I will do my best,” Eclipse promises in amusement before flitting back upstairs with a soft breeze under his wings.

“Oh, he’s far too cold. I can feel how much heat he’s lacking,” Sun chitters in that rapid-fire concern of his. You silently direct him to add the meat to the cauldron.

“You’ll sit beside him while we eat, won’t you?” you plead softly. Nabbing a wooden spoon, you begin to stir the contents. Sun wraps an arm around your waist and presses his blissful warmth against your side.

“If he won’t mention anything about me setting his wings on fire—which was once, mind you!”

Moon snickers. You press a hand over your mouth to stop a chuckle.

“Yes, I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” you nod. “Moon, can you bring the rest of the vegetables?”

He slips behind you silently. When you turn your head to find him, you jump slightly at how little distance is between you and his dark form. Smiling wide, he reaches a hand over your shoulder and plops the remaining carrots and celery in.

“Oh. Thank you.” You quickly catch his chin and plant a kiss against his cool, smoky jawline. Moon becomes still as night. His eyes gleam with quiet delight before he slips his hand under your elbow and begins softly caressing his long, inky fingers along the sensitive underside of your arm while you stir.

A gentle ruffle of feathers glides in behind you. Before you can turn your hand and break away from the two demons, metallic arms slide over your shoulders and gingerly uncap one of your potion jars. A green clump of flowers falls into the cauldron. The concoction briefly throws small emerald flames about the surface—the key ingredient to allow Sun to consume it, as well as providing a slight spice to the dish. It will feed you all.

Eclipse’s hand withdraws only for a moment before reappearing to gently slide underneath your jaw and trace the bone tenderly. The familiar presence of the wizard with his chin resting on the crown of your head warms you, and you sigh softly.

Surrounded by fey beings and their great powers, they attach to your presence as if you were a great sorcerer and not a humble potion maker. Their hands warm and cool you. Their bodies softly press against your ribs and spine. They don’t mind sharing.

You have your family, and they have you.

You take out the spoon with one satisfied tap against the rim of the cauldron.

“Soup’s ready, my sweethearts.”

#DCASS23 #darthsuki #eclipse x reader #moon x reader #sun x reader #eclipse's moving daycare #Merry Christmas from an automaton angel #a scarecrow demon #and a fiery pyromaniac!#ao3 link

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bumblinv · 2 years

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Hi! Are your requests open? If they are I'm just gonna leave this here, Neteyam, Ao'nung, Lo'ak (sperate) x OmaticayaGnReader who is sick, like flu for the na'vi or something like that, they have a fever and the chills and everything could it also be fluffy and absolutely adorable

--- personal doctors ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

neteyam, ao'nung, rotxo (seperated) x gn!metkayina!reader

you catch a cold, its time for your lover to take care of you

a/n ; im not good at writing lo’ak, so i bring you rotxo instead! i hope you dont mind<3

: ̗̀➛ neteyam

realizes your sickness even before you did

when you first sneeze or cough, his mind goes straight to the day before, recalling any peculiar food you've had

neteyam would notices too, when you pause between chores to massage your forehead

he will take over cleaning. making sure every corner is clean so you won't sneeze from the dust. he also makes sure you stay hydrated and even whips you up nutritious meals until your condition got better. usually, the fever never got up to you

but when it does, he goes in full momma mode

this man grows with 3 younger siblings, caring for someone is natural for him. he would stay by your side, whispering your name every few hours to wake you up, so he could feed and help you drink

neteyam might not be the best healer, like her sister, but he can make certain herb drinks

makes you ginger tea regularly to warm up your shivering body

you tend to get all sort of nightmares from your sickness, but dont worry, you’re waking up to neteyam since he’s cuddling you all night long. he will run his slender fingers through your hair, whispering comforting words to your ear

“everything’s okay, dear. i’m here”

we all need neteyam in our lives:(

: ̗̀➛ ao'ung

acts like he doesn’t care, but the moment your temperature starts to rise, he brings his mother straight to you

the tsahik would probably do nothing. she tell him to go ask kiri for some herb tea, and to make sure you drink and eat well, since fevers could heal by itself

but mans stressed

would refuse to let you lift a single muscle. he will be the one helping you change, wipe your face to keep you fresh, feeding you

since he’s not the best cook, he would ask tsireya to make you soups, wich she happily does. she makes great food, but your tongue tastes sour and your appetite is no where to be found

so ao'nung scolds you

“quit acting like a baby and please, just eat”

you know ao’nung. none of his scolding are anger, he’s just extremely worried.

watching you go to sleep after being scolded makes him feel like a villain. he would join you in bed and whispers an apology. gently bringing you closer to his chest as the both of you fall asleep

remember he's a worrier? it makes him act too much like a mom. he will insist on taking care of you, even when you're feeling better. will only stop until he's sure you're 100% healthy

ao'nung is a big softie

: ̗̀➛ rotxo

most clueless compared to the other 2

pls dont be mad, its not his fault

something tells me he’s an only child, a one that rarely got sick too, so he doesn’t know anything about caring for ill people

rotxo might be confused, but he’s not an idiot

the moment he touches your forehead and realizes you're scorching hot, rotxo instinctively wraps a fluffy blanket around you. the man will make you drink a lot of water, and went off running to the sullys

“what the fuck?”

“sorry lo'ak! its an emergency!”

he got home with omaticayan food wraps in hand. you’re too sick to say anything, so when he lifts your head to feed you, you don’t protest

the one thing that scares you the most is that his jokes completely disappears

all his stupid jokes, gone.

not in a bad way, this man is just so dedicated on you that he stops joking around. he cannot stand that you're feeling all sick and uncomfortable and wants you back to your healthy self

this man is so serious, even when he tried feeding you raw cloves of garlic

one time, he heard kiri saying that garlics are ‘good for boosting the immune system’

he’s not wrong😭😭😭

but kiri hits him on the head once she founds out

instead of feeding you raw garlic, she gives you a mix of aged garlic and honey as medicine such an asian mom move

he feels bad afterwards, would kiss your entire face despite your protest

the next day, you wake up feeling fresh. but your lover boys voice got so hoarse from sore throat and complains about his sore limbs

yes, he got your fever and yes, he never regret kissing you, even when you're sick

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam x reader #aonung #aonung x reader #rotxo #rotxo x reader #sick reader

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palmselsewherepalace · 8 months

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Hearing/learning about them getting sick (Genshin Impact GN!Reader x Furina, Yoimiya, Faruzan)

I'm kinda rusty on my writing but i thought doing little bits like these would help me get better. Some of them might sound cheesy or out of character like i said i'm rusty and i haven't written anything since my old embarrassing Sonamy fanfics. If anyone wants to request anything with GN!Reader X Genshin, i'll try my best to write for every adult character as long as it's sfw. Sorry for any grammar errors it's like 5AM right now and i wanted to finish this in one go. Hope ya'll have fun reading this!

FARUZAN

You've been working on your projects in Akademiya and haven't saw Faruzan since the early morning, that in itself is a weird sign that something was going on and you decided to visit your lovers house. As you knock on the door you hear shuffling noises, when door opens you see Faruzan wrapped herself in a blanket, barely able to walk, her nose is running, her skin looks pale, her eyes looks puffy and she's trying her hardest to look confident in front of you. "Oh Y/N! I didn't expect you to visit me tod- ACHO!" She sneezes and sniffles her nose. As she was about to speak you stop her and let yourself in. "Alright Madam you're going back to your bed and i'm making you a hot soup and some tea." "H-hey you don't have to i was stuck in a pyramid surely i can take care of myself!" You looked at Faruzan and put your palm onto her forehead to see if she has a high fever or not. Faruzan blushes but doesn't let it get to her head. You give a relived sigh as it doesn't feel that warm. "It's not that bad alright you really don't have to i can make myself some warm soup, take my medicines and rest." You looked at her with a concerned look in your face. "I know you can but with all respect Madam Faruzan i'm refusing and taking care of you, now come on go back to your bed." Faruzan protests but let's you help her get back to bed. When you arrive at her room you gently help her lie back down. While she was about to lie down you can hear her struggle with a headache and a little back pain. "Looks like old age getting to you." You make a snarky comment. Faruzan smiles faintly hits you with one of her small pillows. "Don't disrespect your elders or your partner." You hold her hand and rub the back of her hand with your thumb. This makes Faruzan blush and looks down at tangled hands. "You're going to get sick if you stay close to me." "I don't care, i can take some days off from my projects" "HEY DON'T YOU DARE TO TAKE YOUR WORK LIGHTLY!" Faruzan pulled your hand, even with the state she's in, she still has the power of a angry grandma. You laugh and cal m her down. "Okay okay now madam what would you like as your soup?" You get up from her side and walk towards her bedroom door. "Something with lots of vegetables and sour." Faruzan smiles and lies back down on her bed with a smile on her face feeling safe and loved.

FURINA

It's noon and you decided to visit a small cafe right in front of your house. As you we're drinking your coffee you noticed a familiar armored crab heading towards your house door. It was Mademoiselle Crabaletta, she noticed you sitting in the cafe and basically rushed towards you. Crabaletta looked like she was in a panic and trying to get you to follow her. You decided to pay for your coffee and follow Crabaletta. After you walking and Crabaletta running, you arrive'd at Furina's home. Crabaletta walked towards the door and with some handy moves of her claws she opened the door and pointed you to enter. While entering you heard a faint voice coming towards Furina's bedroom. "Crabaletta? Did you comeback with my medicines?" You heard, your lover Furina's voice and hear her cough really roughly. You heard Crabaletta make some sounds that you couldn't understand and heard a loud Furina from her room. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU BOUGHT Y/N AS WELL!?!" Crabaletta unbothered, pulled out a small bag out of her shell and pulled you with one of her claws towards Furina's room. When you enter the room you see your lover hiding under the covers while her other hydro summons look confused, her sea horse summon Surintendante Chevalmarin was holding a tray with some water and hot tea and Gentilhomme Usher was holding some tissues for Furina's runny nose. You walk towards Furina's bed and sit next to her, she's still under her covers but you can see her shape. You decided to talk out loud. "Oh wow my lover is sick what should i do to take care of her?" The way you spoke made Furina chuckle under the covers and you decided to continue and be more dramatic. "Can she even eat when she's suffering? What kinda see's do i need to cross to find her a proper medicine?!?" Furina pulls her head out of the covers while laughing and looks at you. "Look at you being a drama queen" As she talked you heard her sickly voice, you gently rub her cheeks with your hand. "Learned it from the best. Now chicken soup?" Furina coughs while nodding. "Please"

YOIMIYA

It was a rainy day in Inazuma and you're going through your daily routine, talking with your friends, helping elderly. While going through the villages you see Itto and some kids running towards you under the rain. "HEY Y/N YOU NEED TO HELP YOIMIYA!" Itto picks you up by your shoulders and shakes you like a toy. When Itto puts you back on the ground you rub your head. "Calm down tell me what happened." Itto still panicking. "Look kids told me that Yoimiya haven't been out of her house and her parents told them that she was so sick that she couldn't get out of her bed." After that looked at you in the eyes, breaking your personal space. "YOU HEAR THAT YOIMIYA NOT GETTING OUT OF HER BED!?! THAT'S LIKE SEEING FISHES FLY!" You pat Itto's shoulders and push him a little bit while calming him down. "Dude Itto, chill out, she probably caught cold and resting. But thanks for telling me i'll visit her right away." Itto gives you a thumbs up while still look like he's about to cry. "CURE THESE KIDS BIG SISTER THEY TRUST YOU!" You smile and give him a thumbs up back, and head towards Yoimiya's home. When you arrive you knock on the door, Yoimiya's father Ryuunosuke opens the door and smiles at you. "Oh i was expecting you to show up, i guess you heard about my little girl?" Ryuunosuke smiled and let you in. You walked towards Yoimiya's room and knocked on her door. You hear a faint cough. "Come in!" You open the door and gently wave at Yoimiya, who's been sitting on her bed. When Yoimiya see's you, her eyes lit up and she gives you a big smile. "Y/N! I've missed you my firecracker!" You sat next to Yoimiya and she gave you a hug but then immediately pulled back. "Oh i should keep my distance i don't want you to get sick as well." You smile and hug her back. "Hey if you're gonna take care of me while i'm sick i'm okay with it." Yoimiya burried her head into your chest and wrapped her arms around you and looked up to you. "Alway-ACHO!" She sneezes towards your face and both of you laugh as you two clean your faces with some towels.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #yoimiya x reader #furina x reader #faruzan x you #yoimiya x you #faruzan x reader #furina #yoimiya #faruzan #genshin x y/n #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader #furina x y/n #faruzan x y/n #yoimiya x y/n #furina x you

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