#like when i had the flu it made sense when i had a cold not too long ago sure that too

[cowardlycowboys]

ok is no longer funny WHY are my armpit lymph nodes always hurting

[snzluv3r]

being so incredibly sick and not being able to take time off work is actually the most draining thing i have so much guilt about getting other people sick and so much frustration because the entire reason IM sick is because nobody else is allowed to take off work either i’m so sick of this

[chuluoyi]

✎ sick days

- gojo satoru x reader

who holds the fort when you fall sick? of course, it's your lovesick husband and baby!

genre: fluff, fluff, fluffff. basically, your baby is adorable, gojo is your husband and not only is he lovesick with you, he humors your baby so much it’s making me— sighs

note: based on this post! hi hi chu is back from vacation and here’s another dad!gojo fluff indulgence and we stan domestic men okay🤭

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

It's plain sight that Gojo Satoru is a highly attractive individual, and now that he has a son, it's fair to say that he’s the hottest dilf on the block.

With one hand twirling a famous brand of flu medicine box and the other propping his baby son at his hip, he garnered curious eyes, even in drugstore near his home.

“Hmm, why is it so cheap? Suspicious…”

Satoru let out a light hum, studying the orange and pink boxes, as well as glancing at the other purple box with bold labels claiming its effectiveness in halting cold symptoms, and then looked at his son.

His baby's big, crystal blue eyes blinked in wonder at the vibrant colors, and he reached out with grubby hands towards them. “Bwah!”

Suddenly, he got an idea.

“Hey, kiddo. Which do you think is better for mama?” he asked the baby, gesturing at the all three medicine on the rack with his jaw. “You choose.”

As if on cue, the little ball of fluff that was his son immediately reached out for the purple box, the more expensive out of all three displayed before him. Without missing a beat, he also seized both the orange and pink boxes in quick succession, holding them close to his chest.

Satoru broke into a hearty laugh, a wide grin split his face, as he affectionately tousled the boy's head with pride.

“That's my boy! Splurging is allowed—after all, we're rich!”

When the first signs of cold manifested in you, Satoru was already worried. He had warned you to take more rest, but typical you, you brushed it off as a mere fatigue.

And when this morning, you woke up to sudden coughing fits and hot-and-cold spells, which ended up with kicking him out of your shared bedroom in fear of spreading the virus, like the doting husband he was, Satoru promptly headed to the pharmacy with your baby in tow to get you some help.

"Oh my, sir, your son is so adorable!" the female cashier gushed when he got over to pay, finally voicing what other customers thought in their heads. He could sense the discreet glances from those around him even now.

As the baby clung to his shirt, Satoru tightened his grip on him and responded with a self-assured grin, ensuring those nearby heard his words, "Of course he is! My wife is pretty as heck too, shame she's down with fever today."

"Aww! Such high praise, you must adore your wife!"

"Mm-hmm!"

Ah, so he still has a wife. The other customers went about their day, some disappointed that the dilf was still evidently devoted to his wife. They could only wonder just who could the lucky woman was.

Moving on— after the short trip to the drugstore, Satoru went back home. He promptly checked on you in your master bedroom, inquiring, "Hey, how are—"

But he immediately halted upon seeing you nestled so comfortably under the blankets, sleeping soundly. For a moment, he simply stood, blinking and observing your serene slumber.

Strange that something inside him both softened and lurched at the sight. You were just that precious in his eyes. Stupid as it was, he was quite miserable to go through the day without your nagging and nitpicking. And above all, he never liked seeing you in any kind of discomfort—it made his protective instincts soar.

Hence his thought— there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, even if it means sacrificing heaven itself.

“Myah!” A hard shove on his arm and his baby’s babbling snapped him out of his trance. Satoru shifted his baby to his other hand, let out a questioning hum, and affectionately pinched his mochi-like cheeks.

“Hmm? You can’t be hungry, I—oooh,” a sheepish expression of realization appeared on his face, his blue eyes widened slightly as his baby glared at him. Then, chuckling like the goofball he was, Satoru patted him on his head to appease his grudge, “I haven’t fed you since this morning, eh?”

“Fwah!”

“Pfft! There, there… Me is sorry~ Now let me whip something up for you and mama, yeah?”

Now, he wouldn't claim to be the best chef, but he could certainly cook to save himself. Rolling up his sleeve, he went to the kitchen after leaving and stuffing his baby boy with a pacifier on his high chair.

“Hmmm, baby food for the minion and… congee? Yeah, congee should be good.”

Next task was feeding his already seething baby after he mixed together his baby food. He was a fussy eater—mostly with him, but surprisingly not so much with you (apparently, that's just his way of showing who he favors between his parents, heh). But when he managed to get the food in, with every spoonful, his son’s smile gradually widened, and so did his happiness.

Satoru thought then that he was the cutest thing he had ever created. His son was clearly a mini-him, but his reactions were definitely so you.

“Is it tasty? It is, isn’t it?” he cooed with baby voice, earning a delightful giggle in response from his son. Pushing his luck, he added with a suggestive grin, “Papa is the best, isn’t he?”

“Bwah...” The joyful expression on his baby's face faded instantly, dissolving into an unamused pout, prompting Satoru to righteously click his tongue.

“Why are you so against me?!”

After he was done with his fill, Satoru picked your baby up to the master bedroom to bring you something to eat. Seated on the opposite edge of the bed, he silently adored your sleeping form once again.

Right at that moment, the baby in his arms wriggled, reaching out for you. Acting on a sudden impulse, he put him on the bed, facing you.

“Now, go to mama, would you?” he whispered gently, grinning and giving his bum a light pat. “Go!”

Your son was also Gojo Satoru’s son, therefore he was an adept crawler even at barely seven months old. With remarkable agility, the little soldier steadily moved towards you, his diapers jiggling with each motion. He stopped right in front of your face, clearly recognizing you as his mother.

And your husband swore that even his logic-driven heart melted at the sight of your cute baby suddenly leaned in and clumsily smooched your nose.

Simply just the two most treasured loves of his life.

“Mm?” you let out a soft grunt, feeling the dryness in your throat as you cracked your eyes open, surprised to find yourself face-to-face with your baby. “Oh… why are you here? Don’t get too close…”

“He’ll be fine.” Satoru picked your son up, placing him on his knee and steadying him with one arm. Having moved next to you on the bed, he brushed hair from your forehead. “What about you, hmm? Feeling better?”

Your eyebrows creased into a frown. “Yeah, I think, but more than that, Satoru, I’ve told you, don’t let him—”

“Yes, yes, sweetheart. He won’t get sick, look, he’s as healthy as he can be~” and to make a point, he turned his baby over and lightly smacked his bottom, prompting a whimper from the little one and a gasp from you.

“Don’t spank him!”

“Ehh? Then can I spank you instead?”

“Satoru, you’re a little piece of—!”

Just you and him, as well as the little treasure that was your son. This little family was enough reason to live. To win.

And Gojo Satoru once again thought, that being the strongest didn’t really mean that much anymore because with his world in his hands, nothing else matters.

Epilogue

“You’re so silly, why did you buy so many?” you grumbled at the sight of three different brands of cold medicine your husband displayed in front of you. “One is enough, do you want me to overdose?”

Satoru snickered. “Don’t blame me, blame your kid. He’s the one picking all of them.”

You totally didn’t get what he meant at all, but yeah, your husband was the silliest human ever and that’s that.

“Hey, don’t you think it’s a bit smelly here?” Satoru suddenly asked, wearing a quizzical expression.

You took a sniff of the air, glancing at your baby blinking innocently and sitting calmly on your husband, and a realization struck you. “Uh, Satoru...”

Following your gaze, as if sensing an omen, Satoru hastily scooped up his son, letting out a bewildered gasp as he felt a slight wetness where the baby had been sitting on him.

“Did he just poo on me?!”

[milkloafy]

STUCK WITH YOU — BLADE

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which you get sick and blade is wondering how the hell he got stuck having to take care of you. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: sickfic, fluff, swearing, gn!reader, stellaron hunter!reader, reader doesn’t like room temp water LMAO only ice cold, blade’s kinda mean but a softie trust me u.u ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.8k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: i haven’t written for blade in ages so i am very rusty but i hope u enjoy <3 this is a self-indulgent fic i wrote while sick and bed-ridden yesterday :c if any of y’all got the summer cold/flu too i hope u feel better !! :> 

You felt like shit and the last thing you needed was someone threatening you to get better. 

It would have been one thing if those threats worked in scaring your illness away. But you were certain that it did the opposite of help— It simply gave you an unwanted headache instead. 

“Can you stop glaring at me whenever I blow my nose?” you demanded with a sniffle, tossing your tissue into the trashcan Blade so graciously placed next to your head.

“Can you stop blowing your nose so loudly?”

You glared at him, responding by grabbing another tissue and blowing your nose even louder. You winced at the force, feeling a slight throb in your head from the overexertion.

With an ever-present scowl on his annoyingly handsome face, Blade shook his head at you. You could practically sense the disappointment and annoyance radiating from him. “Don’t make yourself feel worse.” 

“I’m not trying to,” you said, choosing to lay back down on your bed rather than arguing with him.

Your throat was sore, your nose was both runny and stuffy with no in-between, your muscles were achy, and your body was tired. There wasn’t much fighting spirit left for you to spare in your current state. Hence, the reason the Stellaron Hunters had Blade stay behind on the mission until you recovered enough to join everyone. Why they didn’t leave someone more personable and caring like Sam behind was beyond you. But you supposed you should be grateful Elio let anyone stay behind instead of having you recover alone. 

Coughing, you reached for a glass of water to moisten your throat only to find it already empty. You groaned to yourself, the thought of having to get up from your warm and cozy bed to fill up your water in the cold, cold kitchen made you shiver. 

With a sigh, Blade exited your room while muttering a quick, “Stay put.” 

You blinked blearily, eyes barely able to follow his quick-moving figure out the door. 

In a flash, Blade returned with two separate cups—one filled with clear water, and the other with warm tea. He set them both down on your nightshade, collecting your empty glass to clean in the sink. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, touched that he brought you drinks without you having to ask. You grabbed the glass of water first, letting out a giggle when you saw the single ice cube floating on the top. With a smile, you questioned, “One ice cube?”

Blade shrugged, a nonchalant look on his face that one could easily mistake as uncaring. “You don’t like room temperature water. If I brought warm water to you, you would rather die of dehydration than drink it.” 

A nodded sheepishly, unable to deny what came out of his mouth.

“Still, you need fluids to feel better. I figured one ice cube might be enough to satiate you.” 

Staring at the melting ice cube, you assumed it didn’t do much to help the temperature of the drink, but the thoughtfulness of your fellow Stellaron Hunter was enough to coax you into drinking it regardless. 

“That’s…surprisingly sweet of you,” you said, taking a sip of water. It was, in fact, not cold enough for you, but you still pushed onwards. “Thanks, Bladie.” 

The scowl on his face deepended. “Don’t call me that. And drink the tea. I put honey in it since its anti-inflammatory.” 

“Your frown lines are forming prematurely,” you jested, setting the glass of water aside to pick up the steaming cup of tea. The warm mug felt hot against your skin and you felt a droplet of sweat forming on the side of your head. In the blink of an eye, you threw the blankets off your body and fanned yourself dramatically with one hand. You shared a look with Blade. “It’s too hot for tea.” 

“It’s not too hot, you just have a fever,” he said with annoyance, walking over to the thermostat and turning down the temperature regardless of his words. “But you can wait for it to cool down then—” 

Before he finished his sentence, you had already taken a sip of the drink. Immediately, you felt a burning sensation on the tip of your tongue and jumped. “Ow!” you yelped, placing the mug down and glaring at it. “That’s hot!” 

Blade glared at you. “Tea is typically made from hot water. I just told you to wait for it to cool down.”

“But you said that after you told me to drink it!” you sniffed, nursing your tongue by dipping it into the lukewarm glass of water. “You can’t give a sick person mixed signals like that.”

“You’re sick, not incompetent.” He paused. “Not more than normal, at least.” 

“Hey!” you protested. At the sudden overuse of your voice, you felt your throat growing more irritated. You coughed and coughed, taking in deep breaths of air to stop yourself. 

He folded his arms as he scolded you, “Don’t overexert yourself. Get some rest.” 

With tears forming around your eyes from coughing, you matched his haughty expression. You croaked out, “You’re naggy. Did you know that?”

“Only to those who don’t listen.” 

“You tell me like a million different instructions! How can I listen?” you retorted, your headache coming back as your shoulders tensed in irritation. 

When he noticed your slight wince of pain, Blade sighed and relented. He walked over to the side of your bed and picked up the cup of hot tea. With a blank expression, he blew the surface of the drink, cooling it down until the steam went away. 

“Here,” he said as he held out the cup to you. “Now drink.” 

Your stared open-mouthed at the drink. You felt as if he was giving you whiplash with his crass words and caring actions. You didn’t quite know how to feel, but you knew you were at least a bit grateful.��

Carefully, you sipped the cup of tea Blade gently (and begrudgingly) placed in your hands. This time, you did not feel the scalding heat burn your tongue. 

“Thank you,” you said, chugging as much of the tea as you could. “It wasn’t hot that time.” 

He nodded in response, stepping away from the side of your bed once he confirmed you finished your drink. Blade studied you as you laid back in bed, closing your eyes to try to soothe all your ailments. It didn’t work, but you would certainly keep trying. 

Without the blankets covering you, you felt cold again despite the sweat you felt gathering on your forehead. You heard rustling and the clanging of glasses next to you.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Blade walking away with the dirty cups in hand, muttering something about how he wasn’t your maid. You smiled weakly, knowing he was doing his best to take care of you regardless of his bitching and moaning. 

Blade returned with a slightly damp washcloth in hand, folded perfectly into a compact rectangle. You sniffled through your stuffy nose, watching as he held out the washcloth to you, before taking it back last minute. Confused, you pulled your hand back as well. 

“I’ll just do it. Before you mess up somehow,” he said, leaning down by your side and placing the damp washcloth on your forehead. 

The instant he placed the towel on you, cool relief coursed through your body. You shivered at the sensation, letting out a noise of satisfaction. 

You peeked one eye open, looking at Blade with another sheepish expression. “Thank you. Again…” 

“You don’t need to keep thanking me.”

“I do!” you insisted, staying as still as a board despite the passion in your voice. “I know you would rather be out on a mission right now, following Elio’s script with the others. But instead you got stuck here taking care of me.” 

He folded his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s not your fault. Kafka forcibly volunteered me.” 

You chuckled lightly at that. It certainly seemed like something Kafka would do. Either to annoy Blade, tease you, or irritate the both of you just for fun. 

“You just need to get better soon,” he said as if it were that simple. “Then we can both get back on the field.”

“Is that why you’ve been such a good little nurse, Bladie?” you teased, touching your fingertips to the cool washcloth on your forehead. 

He glared at you, but there was no anger behind the expression. “Call me that one more time and you will see what happens.” 

“Will you bring me more hot tea to burn my tongue on?” you asked in mock horror. Despite his menacing-sounding threats, you knew Blade would never hurt you. 

“I’ll bring you room temperature water with no ice,” he promised blankly. 

Your mouth dropped in surprise and you shook your head fervently, the small towel falling off your face. “No, please! I won’t call you Bladie again.”

Blade rolled his eyes at your dramatics but immediately went to pick up the fallen washcloth. “Stop moving around like that. You’re going to make your headache worse.”

“Sorry, mother.” 

He scowled and plopped the washcloth back on your forehead, less gently this time than the first. You stuck your tongue out at him in response before feeling another fit of coughs come your way. 

Once you managed to soothe your throat and gather your breath, you sighed. “I hate being sick.” 

“Then drink more fluids and go to sleep.” Blade grabbed the glass of water from your nightstand and began to walk out with it. “I’ll get you some more before you try to rest.”

Closing your eyes shut, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself despite your discomfort. He had a rough exterior, but he surprised you with how much effort he put into helping your sick self out. 

His hidden thoughtfulness was enough to stir something in your stomach—butterflies, you hoped, and not an unwanted stomach bug to add to your list of ailments. It was unfamiliar to you, but certainly not unwelcome. 

Blade entered your room one last time for the night, bringing you a new glass of water with a single ice cube, and a fresh new washcloth folded to perfection. 

You giggled, noticing his attentiveness to detail. “Thank you, Bladie. I really appreciate all of this.” 

He sighed but didn’t argue when he heard that nickname. Thankfully, he did not take the ice cube out of your water and hand the glass to you lukewarm.

“You are so… You’re welcome,” he relented, replacing the damp towel on your forehead with a fresh and cold one. “Now, hurry up and recover.” 

“I’m trying,” you laughed, no longer annoyed by his impatience. “I’m sure I will, with you doting on me like this.”

“I don’t dote.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bladie,” you sang softly, your eyes finally feeling heavy after drinking more water and relaxing your muscles with the help of the cool washcloth. “I’m finally getting sleepy…”

He nodded. “That’s good.” 

“Mhm,” you murmured, your voice drifting into a sleepy mumble. “‘M tired. Goodnight… Blade.” 

There was a long pause before you heard Blade’s response while you drifted off into a deep slumber. “Get well soon, Y/N.”

[the-monkeies-girl]

Flame Kissed Skin. ( Caesar x Human!Reader, Planet of the Apes Oneshot. )

and then i said oh my god

Title: Flame Kissed Skin. Fandom: ( Dawn of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Implications of mating, sexual themes. ) Pairing: HEAVILY! Implied Caesar x Human!Reader. Words: 3.2K+ Summary: AU where Cornelia died after giving birth to Blue Eyes. What would the Ape King's reaction be to seeing you wearing a dress for the first time? CAESAR MASTERLIST. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

You scanned the Colony that was flickering with ambient lighting basing from the sweeping bonfire that was in front of you, the speckled torches that spotted along the inside of the Colony border that reminded you of how twinkling Holiday lights would be displayed during the Season. Blaze drenched all across the delicate but harshly torn nature of the wicker baskets that cased around the sides and down the minor cliffside, greeting with happiness at the celebration that took hold for such a successful Hunt. 

Captivating shadows along the fur of many Apes who were taking in their communal aspect of meals, greatly enjoyed and deeply imbued with a sense of respect they had to spend time together. You had not seen anything like it since arriving at the Colony; it was not done after every Hunt but done often enough, you gathered, to keep the spirits up and to keep everyone engaged in building and maintaining the lifestyle that they had enabled since the wiping of Humanity due to the Flu. 

Elk and smaller Game as usual that were freshly roasted and cooked coated the inside of the wicker bowls, free for grazing along with nuts, berries and roots that had been foraged that day by the Female Apes who did not participate in the hunting with their mates or the ones they were destined to be with. You smiled bashfully at Lake and Blue Eyes who were sitting next to you, knowing the truth of the unspoken that rested there and admired with a softened gaze how enthralled in conversation they had been before it turned more sarcastic and fun when Ash and River finally joined. 

You chattered with them, your hand signing rudimentary but you were still grateful that they were able to understand the small funny quips you were alluding to about their endeavors of the day. Sliding your boot-clad feet against the slick rock below your perched seat, you were suddenly flushed with a wall of anxiousness. 

Caesar had not made himself known to your wondering stare. You had lingered a few moments too long on Rocket who was speaking with Luca off a few meters to your left, grinning gratefully at them before turning to the right and seeing nothing of interest except for Koba who’s half a gawk always rode a chill up your spine, enough to cause you to legitimately feel cold despite the flames that were toasting the bare skin that was exposed to the ocean air brought in by the breeze.

Bringing your hand up, you slid the cap of your inch-wide sleeve upwards to the case around your shoulder and lingered your fingers there as you repositioned the strap to stop it from sliding down your arm. You were not one for dresses; they had no purpose in a world that was so harsh and cruel but… Tilting your head to the side, you ran your fingers downwards to play against your kneecaps. You wanted something different; something celebratory for yourself as you were unable to fully appreciate the Hunt that provided the Colony with such pride and abundant food. 

‘Father.’ Blue Eyes signed, flicking his gaze from his core group of friends who he had been raised with, to you for a brief moment and then beyond your smaller shoulder towards the Ape King himself who casted a minor and dancing shadow against the back of your body.

You stiffened, feeling the rounding of his large frame coming to grips next to yours, your ample eyes watching in acute fascination how his thigh muscles shifted, how his feet were able to dexterously hit the ground below to keep his balance as he returned a greeting gesture to Blue Eyes and then to the group of Apes. None of which seemed affected by his sudden appearance, none of them saw Caesar as anything more than their leader; strong and powerful, rightfully so you thought and tried to trail your peering irises towards something else as the Chimp came to sit next to you, slowly. 

Too slowly, you felt like screaming the moment that his fur capsized against the bare skin of your upper arm and you were suddenly cursing inside of your mind for not wearing actual functioning clothing. A dress, stupid decision you muttered, popping your mouth and looking at the fire.

It was red; the deeper shade that resembled more of a blood soak, captivated around the fibers were yellow and pink flowers that reminded you of the ones that grew in the meadow near the Colony. You wondered… Giving some attention to Caesar as he was engaged now with Blue Eyes about the Hunt. You had to wonder if Caesar would notice a detail like that, the small hairs that lined your body rising in anticipation as if you were seeking his validation in the first place.

You could have sworn between the gestures that Father and Son were sharing that Caesar did spot you a few glances. Sweeping his gold and green encrusted eyes against the bare nature of your legs, your feet shuffling inwards a bit out of embarrassment for not having proper shoes but you felt you’d slip and fall on rocks if you tried anything other than your worn-with-time boots.

The way your breathing picked up was noticed by Caesar, the rising and falling of the fabric against your chest pushing the small detailed and faux wooden buttons against the curve of your breasts so immaculately, like they would burst if he stared at them too intently, that he found it difficult to focus momentarily. 

There was a silent goodbye between them all, something you had not noticed in your crazed fit to ignore the way that your mind was racing with thoughts about the Ape next to you. Blue Eyes, Lake, River and Ash left you, your eyes watching their forms before you glanced over, trying to push down the lingering notion that you needed to say goodbye as well and trail to your grounded nest for the night as well. 

“Have not…” The tips of your ears pricked at the sound of a deeply rich and catapulting baritone and you twisted your body minutely, appreciating now the coldness of the rock you were sitting on against the heat on the back of your thighs. “Seen Human… Clothes… Like that… Long time.”

“Yeah, well.” You chuckled nervously and rolled your shoulders as soon as you felt Caesar’s ogle on them, the falling and shifting as your body subconsciously drifted towards his own, leaning inwards to get his utmost attention. It was like your own actions weren’t yours, there was nothing stopping you from gravitating towards Caesar as heat ran against your cheeks, against the bottoms of your eye sockets and ran all the way to the very tip of your ears.

“Wanted to wear something nice. Fo-For the Celebration! I’ve never seen the other Apes so… Celebratory.” That was stupid, why did I just say that? You looked at him from the corner of your eye and could see the huff of his broad chest. Was he… laughing? Swallowing hard, you drew your mouth into a jerked grin and muttered, “We don’t really get the weather here for these sorts of clothes, you know? I-I don’t have fur like you guys do so I stay pretty bundled up…---” Your voice tapered into nothingness as Caesar shifted once more beside you, bringing his form in the few inches it took until his bicep was kissing against yours fully, smothering at your softer skin was coarse fur that made you want to roll your eyes back in ecstasy. Yeah… You had to admit and leered down at the contact that was made. Yeah… You wanted his attention. The dress. Everything about it, you wanted to crawl into Caesar’s lap and let him feel your bare thighs around his muscular and thinner waist, holding onto him for dear life with your entire body.

“It is…” There was a moment of pause as he trudged through his limited dictionary that seemed to expand day in and day out the more time he spent with you. “Nice to see… Something different.”

A tiny shudder that was not caused by cold ran down your body and rested itself between your legs, and with the motion you made to bring your knees together to subdue that, Caesar was blessed with a shocking state of your scent. There was no mistaking it, the Ape King thought to himself and brought his eyes down to look at your face from his peripheral vision.

Downwards, dripping like slow moving honey against the bark of a tree, he was able to see the trudges of your sternum as your shoulders were brought together out of innate nerves from being so near to Caesar, there was no denying the waft of arousal that sat itself between you, coating the very tips of his fur that was caressing you in spots. Stiffening at the notion that he could see your bare breasts if he tried hard enough, Caesar drew his glance forward once more. 

“T-Thanks.” You muttered under your breath and drew air into your lungs that stayed stagnant for a split second as if you wanted to suffocate yourself. With the exaltation, the strap that refused to sit in its position against your shoulder fell down once more, reflex kicking in and you went to push it back upwards. Not before Caesar managed, his reaction time being much greater than that of a meager Human.

Hot… Your mouth parted as you looked down. Slow motion, Caesar drew your thin strap up, two thick fingers dancing lightly against the top of your willing skin. The curve of your shoulder cap was paid attention to as Caesar made the action his own, finally setting the strap down in its allotted position before his entire palm skimmed at your shoulder and held on in a ghosting whisper. There was the evident nature that his skin was calloused, but you wanted to hold every part of your body until your nerve endings were fried and you were able to feel nothing else. 

“Thank you…” That did not sound like your voice. It was wistful around the edges, almost desperate in the center. You hated it, eyes hooded as you tried to keep yourself in slacked control but there was nothing keeping you grounded anymore. Nothing anymore as you turned your head fully and felt your cheek brush against the knuckles of the Ape King, tickling at your pores were the less thick bristles of his fur that played along the flatter pieces on the outside of his fingers.

Quickened inhales paired with sharper exhales puffed air onto Caesar’s face, the fur that rode against his collarbones rose at the closeness that he never allowed himself in the first place after Cornelia passed. Something about this though, his eyes meeting yours in a moment of flurried and frenzied attraction, felt… right.

Maybe Caesar was drunk from the celebration; not from sustenance or substances, but from happiness that he never allowed himself to feel at the forefront of his pragmatic mind. Maybe it was the fact that his fellow Apes were indeed prospering beyond what he imagined was possible all those years ago, sitting in front of a rounded window and watching teenagers act as such. Maybe…--- 

Caesar looked down at your neck as you swallowed hard, the enthralling nature of which your jugular shifted all too intoxicating for the Ape King who brought the palm of his hand down to pet along your bicep, maybe he wanted to be those teenagers. Maybe, he wanted to just take you into his nest without reserve and make you his. Over and over and over. Lust was such a Human element in all of this, Caesar was never one to admit that. Caesar never really cared to admit that as he flickered his glance downwards to your thighs and how they bristled at the hem of the dress.

“You have… many… of these?” He gestured with his free hand to your entire shape and how it was filling out the fabric. In most situations, you’d have torn yourself away from the attention, away from the notions that you needed this interaction. But Caesar… Was nothing more than unwavering in how he assured you in your Human aspects that you wanted to cling to when living with other Apes. The Chimp next to you kept motivation strong that you did not lose yourself, that you remained as Human as you could because deep down… 

Drawing your bottom lip in, you shook your head and let a rattling breath escape your lips. Deep, deep down… Caesar liked everything about it. The wash of your hair in the flames, how it bounced the outline, the casts of playful silhouettes against the actual garment of the crimson dress, your fingers calling themselves in and out on your lap, relaxing into a palm before crimping into a fist; racking with nerves and fears that were not known consciously but always lingered in the back of your mind whenever the Ape King allotted himself the privilege of being so near to you.

“Thi---... This was the only one I was able to find after the Flu hit. At least, the only one that fits me.”

“Fits well.” The chortle that came from the depths of your throat was nothing more than a nightmare as you nodded, flushing your entire body with heat that rivaled even the Sun blisters. It took nearly all your will power to remind yourself that Caesar was like that; blunt and brash, oftentimes to the point of obliviousness at how his words would come across. 

But this, you came to a slow stopped giggle and allowed the delectation of staring at him once more, his side profile was just as stern and intimidating as it was the first time you admired it, but there was a softening around his browline that you figured was due to the light of the fire in front of you, why else would Caesar give you such a vulnerable look at him? You tried to argue but found fascination in it otherwise as your pointer fingers twitched out of desire to touch his brows to see if they would soften further. 

The drooling of the lightened brown that rode against the fur that lined the outside of his hardened features, the minute detailing of graying fur that was spotting through. The rise and fall of his flatter nose, calm and collected… You saw nothing that indicated that he meant the words as anything less than a compliment. Try to twist it as you may, Caesar’s stance said as he finally withdrew the hand that was near your bicep and replaced the contact with undiluted eye contact, his full face now painted in clear vision for you, I meant what I said with all the intentions it implies. 

Shuddering a bit, Caesar took note of that and muttered the smallest, “Not much… Fabric to keep you… shielded.” “Yeah… I uhm… I forgot to bring my… jacket…” You uttered in response, absolutely lost in the way that he was gawking into your stare. Dominant were his green irises, submissive were the golden flecks that were resting within that danced along with the oranges and yellows that cased against his glazed orbs from the fire. 

Stop, you wanted to say and parted your mouth, Caesar drinking up the taste of your air for you were no more than a few centimeters away from a forehead brisk, stop looking at me like that, Caesar… But your body had its change of heart, telling the truer intentions of your choice of apparel as you scooted inwards a bit more to captivate your senses against the heat of his body, Caesar relenting whatever self-control he had as he brought a hand up to rest against your bare shoulder once more. 

A near moan escaped your parted lips as he dragged his heated palm down and trenched the strap he had situated for you right along with it as you swallowed hard, to no avail and there was no lump resting in the back of your esophagus. “Cae-” “Can… Walk you back to… nest if you would… Like.  Get… warm there?”

There were heavy implications in his words that were now pairing with his actions as you nodded only wordlessly, watching with bated desire as Caesar stood in front of you, your eyes carding themselves down his frame and stiffening at the pure stance of power he had once he laid his entire weight on his proportionally shorter legs. Large hand out, you stared at it and let the other sleeve of your dress fall, beckoning to the Ape King your answer without having to say anything as you were now exposing the full scape of your collarbones for him, imagination running rampant at the prospect of laying bare bite marks against the delicate skin and snapping at the bones below. 

There was an answer to the flittering question that had yet to be asked as you dived your hand into his, feeling a shock down your fingers into your wrist as Caesar picked you up carefully, his own gaze falling down at your feet to make sure you were not going to slip. 

“W-Wish I had fur sometimes.” You joked and felt fleeting like a leaf as Caesar began helping you trail towards your smaller home, nestled on the ground rather than high up in suspended air as was the preferred way of the Apes of the Colony. Glancing over your shoulder, you were thankful it appeared that they all had returned to their own homes, the bonfire now being left to die as the night trailed into pitch blackness. 

How would you explain to any of them… That Caesar was whisking you away, his hand pressing against your hip as you hopped down a small step, nearly crunching yourself against his chest as a result. How would you explain this to anyone? Gasping quietly, you felt the bunching of your dress around your waist as Caesar grasped you even tighter and pulled you nearly flushed against his barrel chest.

“Alright? Humans… so unbalanced.” 

That was a joke, you recognized with an ample look of amusement swirling now with the future ideas of how Caesar was going to keep you warm once you arrived at your hut if you were feeling so bold to invite him in. But, the idea was already planted, it was Caesar who suggested to get you warm out of courtesy of your Humanness. You got cold, he knew that. You got cold, you tried to ignore that as you were quick to rationalize the attraction that was suddenly present but had been there since you first met. “I-I’m okay…” You swallowed hard, looking at his pectorals and lining the trace of his scar. Tucking your fingers into his furred forearms, you moved them inwards as if to give the silent permission that he was allowed to touch you, that the dress that laid against you as a second skin of sorts was nothing more than an obstacle at this point. “Y-You don’t need to walk me all the way back to my hut, you know. I-I’m pretty good seeing in the d---”

Caesar chuffed at that, the sound as encompassing as ever as you also felt it against your chest coming from deep inside of his diaphragm and the familiar wash of arousal cased between your legs and drenched Caesar's entire self, eyes dilating as he muttered, almost flirtatious around the edges as you had never heard before.

“Never said… I was taking you back… to your nest.”

[alexlwrites]

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7xReader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:   The one where, after living abroad for years, you move back to Korea and your old high school friend Namjoon offers you his place to stay while you get settled, casually forgetting to mention that: a) he still had a massive crush on you. b) he lived with six other guys.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, College AU, angst if you squint.

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

°•. ✿ .•°

Part 12 - What?

(<<< part 11)

Jin is sick.

Full on sick, bed-ridden, will-written (he left everything to his family dog, hoping to install chaos even in his after life), shivering in his near death state.

To sum up his pitiful state, Jin had the flu.

As the eldest, he was always thrown into the role of caregiver and he truly didn’t mind. Jin thrived knowing that his friends were well-fed and taken care of and the apartament wasn’t a pit of despair, dirty laundry, testosterone and food poisoning. Taking care of others filled him with prime and a beaming sense of purpose. He liked his loved ones happy and, furthermore, he liked being the one to provide said happiness, whether for his amazing cooking abilities or gentle, refined comedy.

But now, nearing the end of his life by the hands of a sneeze that just wouldn’t snooze, he regretted spoiling his dongsaengs rotten, because none of them had a single clue on how to help him or, at the very least, not worsen his state. 

Namjoon’s voice echoed from the kitchen, a place he had been previously banned from, but brought back to in those desperate times “How much sugar do I put in this?”.

Nevermind. Jin wasn’t that desperate. 

“None!” he coughed , feeling his soul leaving through his mouth as he hacked his lungs out “It’s a soup, you tall noodly buffoon.” 

“What’s going on?”

Jin turned his red, teary, tortured eyes towards the door, where you stood with your backpack, taking off your shoes.

Namjoon scurried from the kitchen, seemingly untormented by the cloud of smoke left behind him and the alarming wheezing sound that foreshadowed nothing good.

“Y/N!” he called sweetly and leaned in to kiss your cheek, a brazilian habit he picked up from you, but funnily enough only seemed to use with you “Jin is being mean to me!”

Ugh. As if Seokjin wasn’t sick enough, he was then forced to watch his back-stabbing, sugar and baking powder wielding, Big Bird of a friend drape himself over your much smaller and much less Sesame Street looking body.

Jin wasn’t in his clearest state of mind, so he didn’t stop to ponder on the implications of the ache in his chest and the twisting sensation in his stomach at the sight, chalking it off as one of the symptoms of his imminent doom and not at all a sign for something much bigger and catastrophic.

“Why are you being mean, Jinnie?” you asked as you removed the koala-like grip Namjoon had on you and put away your stuff.

“He’s trying to poison me” he croaked from his pitiful burrow in the L shaped couch “Putting sugar in the soup.”

“Joonie, please we have talked about this. More than once.” Jin couldn’t help but purr with satisfaction as you chastised his lanky friend. Finally, he thought, sweet vindication “Don’t worry, Jin, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Those last few words sounded as if they were whispered from a thousand miles away, barely background noise as Seokjin once more slipped in and out of consciousness.

When he woke up again, there was a cold towel against his forehead and a pleasant smell filled his senses. You stood by his side, holding a bowl of something that smelled absolutely divine and Jin had a short, intrusive thought that this is what heaven looked like.

“Good to see you awake.” you said as his eyes blinked open “Sit up, I made you soup. Sugarless. You should get something to eat.”

Jin stretched his tired body, feeling the dull ache in his muscles complain about the movement. HIs fever seemed to have gotten better, but there was still some uncomfortableness left by his sweaty, snotty state.

Even so, he betted he still looked great. Sexy even, in a plague-esque, victorian child sort of way, like Timothee Chalamet. Hotter, both in looks and temperature, than most men in his life.

“Where’s everyone?” he asked, noticing the empty and unusually silent and peaceful apartament. 

“They left a while ago. Joonie had classes.”

“Ungrateful bastards” he mumbled “I could’ve died since then!”

“From the flue?”

“From resentment!”

You laughed, placing the porcelain bowl carefully in his hands “Trust me, you don’t want any of them taking care of you.”

“Maybe Yoongi.”

“Yeah” you agreed “Maybe Yoongi.”

He ate in silence for a while, watching you make yourself busy around the room, unpacking your school bag and fixing yourself something to eat. “How are you feeling now?” you asked after sometime in quietude.

He coughed, folding over himself as his whole chest heaved in a violent fit. “Better”

Your arched a doubtful brow “You sure?”

Jin raised two thumbs, smile looking like a grimace. 

“Yeah, very convincing except for the snot and smoker’s cough you have” you said, pushing him to lie back on the couch, hands on his burning chest “Stay down, soldier, I’ll take care of you.”

Those words sparked something in Jin’s chest, a sudden rush of fondness and affection that heated his cheeks even more. He had proudly and happily taken the role of caretaker in their friend group and never resented, but there was no denying the warmth that sentence brought him. 

Your relationship with him had always been casual, at best, just exchanging crossed jokes and puns that made no one else laugh but the two of you. And although he liked to joke about your position as his future wife, there hadn’t been many attempts from either parties to deepen your friendship. You were just… Comfortable, Jin guessed. There was no strain to keep a conversation going, no awkward stepping around each other like there usually was in the beginning stages of getting to know someone.

Maybe it was your similarities that made you so at ease around each other, Jin pondered, weirdly contemplative in his pile of sickness by the couch. You were both the funniest people alive, great cooks, caring and exceedingly beautiful indivi- 

Woah, he paused. When did he start thinking you were beautiful - exceedingly so? You were cute, sure, but beautiful? His eyes followed you across the room as you cleaned up the slight mess scattered around the space, accessing your features: lit up eyes, easy smile, soft looking hair and skin that begged for him to reach out and touch…

Jin halted his dangerous line of thinking. Was this a side effect of the flu or an epiphany? Was the pounding of his heart just a sign of the decomposing of his body or just the feeling of unbound gratefulness at being taken care of? Or was it just…

You.

***

You. 

Jungkook thought about your existence within his life half wistfully and half infuriated. You were simultaneously the reason why he had a hard time leaving his room after waking up and paradoxically the current only reason he did. There was nothing new about early mornings with his hyungs hogging the coffee and sleeping on top of the dinner table, but seeing you by the kitchen sink or holding stupid Yoongi’s stupid hands always kickstarted his heart, even if painfully so. He had been living with you for quite a few weeks now and his body and soul had yet to get accustomed to your presence in his routine - still, you were everywhere, from your perfume invading his senses to his Marvels movies he could never watch the same way now that he knew how it felt to see them with your arms around him. 

Jungkook had to act. Not only because he couldn’t hold his feelings inside his surprisingly muscular chest, but also due to the movement he could see happening around the house hold. From Namjoon clinging onto you like a disease, to Hoseok’s threats and Yoongi’s silent plottings, Jungkook knew if he didn’t do something, someone else would.

And he was nothing if not a sore fucking loser. 

So Jungkook got to planning, cataloging everything he knew about you and your routine to come up with the perfect moment to ask you out. He had not gotten as far as considering what he would do if you said yes (start dancing? Yell? Fireworks? Punch Namjoon in celebration? Who fucking knew) but in order to not panic he had to take everything one step at a time and hope for the best, even if his previous relationship histories pointed in a different direction.

On the day he chose as The Perfect Day™, no one was supposed to be home, out having classes, at work or spreading havoc somewhere around campus ( mainly Taehyung and Jimin). No one, except you, enjoying one of your rare days off. 

He had armed himself with an arsenal of your favorite things, from pastries to flowers, one more tube of lipgloss to add to your insurmountable collection and crocheted trinkets he tried to make himself but turned out looking like unidentifiable blobs (he hoped he could charm you with his attempt, at least). He practiced his speech until the words left his mouth automatically, leaving no room for mistakes or blabbing. 

And he hoped, God did he hope, that you would give him the time of your day and spare him of the misery of having you so close and not being able to touch. 

But things started going south as soon as he reached the first step of the stairs up to their apartament and ran face first into Hoseok, carrying a bouquet of roses and a bag from the same bakery Jungkook had just visited.

They stared at each other in dumbfounded silence for a few seconds, seeing but not processing each other’s presence and what it meant until Hoseok said “What are you doing?”.

Jungkook spluttered indignantly, “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing what I said I was going to do!” 

“So am I!” 

A second passed and no one moved. One second later, Jungkook bolted up the stairs, followed by his cursing hyung as he hoped that his toned thighs would give him an advantage in the race for your heart.

“I should be the one to ask her out!” Hoseok yelled from five steps behind “I’ve known her the longest!”

“And did nothing!” the maknae replied, starting to break a sweat “It’s my turn! You lost, old man!” 

“Old man? I’m only a couple years older than you! I’m Y/N’s age! Are you calling her old?”

That made Jungkook trip up a step, slowing down his ascent “No! At least I can call her noona! What can you call her, huh?”

“I don’t know what I’m calling her, but I know what I’m calling you when I’m throwing you down the stairs: an ambulance!”

“Better make sure they know how to fix your broken heart when she says yes to me!”

“And if she says no?”

***

And if she says no?

Rejection was never something Jin gave much thought about and he wasn’t about to start now. 

It was less about the belief that no one could reject him (although the concept did seem foreign to most) and more about rejecting the idea of missing opportunities due to fear of rejection. He could move on from being denied something, but never from regretting not taking chances.

And maybe this was a chance worth taking. Maybe, he thought while still observing you from his death bed (the couch), he could allow a joke to grow into something bigger and get to know you a little better. You didn’t have to start dating and then get married right away, but he saw potential in your congruent personalities. 

And what more could he ask from a woman besides a sense of humor and the ability to feed him without poisoning him? The universe had already handed you to him in a platter.

“Y/N” he called softly.

You raised your head from across the room and smiled softly, further finalizing his decision with the way your eyes lit up “Yes?”

“Go out with me.”

Your eyes widened in shock “What?”

“What?”

They turned their heads to the door, where Jungkook was pressed against it with eyes as big as saucers, holding it close with his weight before it burst open to a panting Hoseok and, in the back, an appalled Yoongi stepping out from the elevator.

“WHAT?”

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐌𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝

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[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Jessica Wildfire

Our friends and family think they understand their immune system because George Carlin explained it to them in the 90s:

"Where did this sudden fear of germs come from? What do you think you have an immune system for? It's for killing germs. But it needs practice. It needs germs to practice on. If you kill all the germs around you, and lead a completely sterile life, then when germs do come along you're not going to be prepared. What are you gonna do? I'll tell you what, you're gonna get sick and you're gonna die and you're gonna deserve it because you're f-ing weak and you've got a f-ing weak immune system."

George Carlin was right about a lot of things, but he was wrong on this one.

(He got plastic wrong, too.)

Unfortunately, this part of his 11th HBO standup special became permanently lodged into the American cultural memory. I only saw it once as a kid, but it stayed with me for the rest of my life.

Not even AP Biology could dislodge it.

I, too, used to think you built your immune system up by exposing yourself to harmful germs. How could the great prophet George Carlin be mistaken on something that made so much intuitive sense, especially when you dropped a few f-bombs in there? I also thought it was a good thing to exercise your way through a cold. Then I opened myself up to the possibility that I was wrong.

In the words of Carl Sagan, I'd been bamboozled.

In early 2020, this Carlin bit inspired countless reaction videos that still litter the internet. Anti-science zealots have used George Carlin's monologue on disease thousands of times over the last four years to ridicule masks, vaccines, and clean air. Everywhere you look, that piece of standup looms in the background, and it's getting revived again for bird flu. But even George Carlin got the idea from somewhere else.

You can trace this misguided notion back to hygiene theory, proposed by David Strachan in 1989. Strachan argued that a whole range of health problems in the late 20th century had roots in "a lower incidence of infection in early childhood." Basically, our immune systems weren't getting enough exposure to bacteria and viruses. He was mainly talking about the rise in childhood allergies as the result, but the media began printing loose interpretations of his studies and jumping to conclusions that less exposure to disease was a bad thing in general. So the public developed the idea that somehow getting sick was good for you. So began the myth of the "bored immune system" that needed practice in order to stay healthy. Gurus and quacks latched onto this idea. So did talkshows.

And then comedians...

It wasn't until 2003 that Graham Rook offered a more accurate description of the situation. As he explained, "microbes have evolved into an essential role in regulating our immune system... the microbes involved are not infections, but friendly microbes which make up our human microbiome. These are acquired by exposure to other humans or animals and microbiota from our natural environment."

This became known as the "old friends hypothesis."

The old friends hypothesis now serves as the dominant model for how microbes work with our immune system. According to immunologists, kids need to be playing outside more and eating fresher, healthier foods. That's what helps their immune systems.

Getting sick all the time just hurts them.

Like many debunked ideas, hygiene theory and the myth of the bored immune system have become entrenched. A couple of years ago, hygiene theory got repackaged as "immunity debt." Now Americans, Canadians, and many Europeans think they need to get sick to stay healthy. The elites have absolutely no problem with that. It saves them countless billions to let everyone continue thinking they're better off letting diseases run around in their cells.

So:

Your immune system doesn't work like a muscle. It doesn't get stronger the more it's exposed to different harmful germs.

It doesn't need practice.

Phillipp Dettmer gives a vivid, accessible breakdown of the immune system in his 2021 book, Immune. You can show it to any internet troll who brags about their knowledge of the immune system. Dettmer destroys misinformation, explaining how your adaptive immune system actually works, as well as your gut microbiome.

As many articles and books explain, your body has an innate immune system that already knows how to fight off pathogens. You can help your immune system by feeding it the nutrients it needs. (That's an entirely different article.) You can protect your immune system from pollution, cigarette smoke, and other toxins. But genetics determines a lot of your immunological makeup. You can be born with an immune system that doesn't work the way it should, and it's not your fault.

You also have an adaptive immune system that stores chemical blueprints of pathogens in memory T and B cells. According to a 2024 article in Nature, these cells respond better to specific pathogens your body has seen before. Those blueprints last only as long as your memory cells. Sometimes those cells mature and stay around for years, even decades. If they don't, then your body won't remember the pathogen.

Your body doesn't need exposure to viruses.

Your immune system responds to harmful microbes and it can develop memories from previous infections. Most of the time, those memories apply specifically to that specific strain, variant, or clade of the virus. For example, immune memory to one type of adenovirus or rhinovirus doesn't confer automatic, guaranteed protection against all of them, and there are hundreds.

Sometimes, cross-protection can happen, but it's limited and hard to predict. When it does, like with the original smallpox vaccine, it's a big deal. If that were easy, we would already have a universal coronavirus vaccine and wouldn't have to update flu shots every year. Most of the time, getting sick with one virus doesn't train your body to respond any better to other viruses, especially when those viruses aren't related.

Victoria's state department of health puts it very plainly:

"The immune keeps a record of every microbe it has ever defeated, in types of white blood cells (B-lymphocytes and T-lymphocytes) known as memory cells. This means it can recognise and destroy the microbe quickly if it enters the body again, before it can multiply and make you feel sick. Some infections, like the flu and the common cold, have to be fought many times because so many different viruses or strains of the same type of virus can cause these illnesses. Catching a cold or flu from one virus does not give you immunity against the others."

You can add Covid to that list.

Some research has suggested that because catching one virus activates your innate immune system, your body's broad layers of defense offer brief protection against other pathogens. Viruses also compete with each other, meaning that infection from one virus can ward off others. That's called viral interference. Neither option means your immune system benefits from exposure to viruses.

We can't explain all of the human immune system in a single post, but here's the point. It's way more complicated than George Carlin explained. There's a lot more going on. It's not as simple as training your immune system by giving it practice.

That's not how it works.

It just sounds good.

No credible doctor or immunologist recommends building your immune system by welcoming viral and bacterial infections into your life. The costs far outweigh the benefits. Many viruses exact a price on your body and your immune system. Getting infected over and over again makes you weaker, not stronger. Vaccines don't work because they give your immune system practice. They work because they allow your body to develop a memory of a pathogen without all the risk.

Many viruses, like the flu, often leave lasting damage even when your immune system fights them off. Your immune system actually does some of that damage itself by attacking infected cells. In the wake of flu, your entire body including your immune system needs time to recover. During that stage, you're vulnerable to opportunistic infections. Other viruses, like measles and ebola, disable your immune system and even wipe out memory cells.

That's also what Covid does, among many other things.

You can't develop full immunity to viruses that evade, attack, and disable large parts of your immune system. Sometimes you can develop partial immunity, but the virus still invades and still does damage every time. Just because you can recover from these infections, that doesn't mean you're better off afterward.

Think of it like this:

Your body already knows how to heal its skin and bones. You don't have to teach it how to do that by cutting yourself or breaking your arm.

As it happens, many westerners also think bones grow back stronger after they're broken and scar tissue is tougher than normal skin.

That's also false.

Scar tissue remains functionally deficient in many ways compared to uninjured skin. Broken bones form a temporary calcium callus that's stronger than ordinary bone, but it's eventually replaced.

These misguided ideas fit in a culture obsessed with tough love, the idea that abusing someone somehow builds their character. And while it might make you interesting, it's certainly not "good" for you.

Sometimes I wonder what George Carlin would think about having one part of a standup special used to endorse bad science and eugenics. I'd like to think he would have a problem with it.

There's a lot you can do to boost your immune system.

Getting sick isn't one of them.

[jjkamochoso]

Lovesick… Emphasis on the “Sick”

Fluff

You have a really bad cold and Levi, of course, takes care of you :)

Levi Ackerman x sick!gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of mucus, runny noses, general cold/flu symptoms, cussing

A/N: hi everyone i am currently Sick as Shit so i really hope this fic flows okay and makes sense!! if it doesn't... yes it does

You had never felt so terrible in your entire life as you did that morning. Your whole body ached like you had gotten thrown into a tree by a titan and your head was throbbing with an intensity akin to thunder and lightning in your brain. Your stomach was getting sore from all the coughing you had been doing the previous night and your nose was completely plugged up in both nostrils. When you finally rolled out of bed, begrudgingly getting ready for work, you could barely stand up. You had no idea how you were going to complete your duties today in the state of exhaustion you were feeling. As a captain in the Survey Corps, you had lots of responsibility riding on your shoulders and you couldn’t let anyone down by taking a sick day. You bent over to pull up your pants which led you straight into a long lasting coughing fit, leaving you gasping for breath like you had sprinted a marathon. You let out an anguished groan as your jacket sleeves were yanked onto your arms to the best of your ability. Looking in the small mirror that sat on your bedroom dresser, your head fell forward in despair. If you thought you felt bad, you looked a million times worse. You were completely disheveled; your skin was taking on a sickly hue and your eyelids were barely staying open. You turned away from the grisly sight as quickly as possible without falling over or bringing on another bout of nausea, opting to pretend you noticed nothing different in the way you looked today if anyone dared ask. You grabbed a few stray papers from your desk that needed to be signed by the commander, choosing that as your first task to be finished this morning. As you closed the door to your room, you winced at the loud noise it made in the echoing hallways, doing absolutely nothing to help your headache. You soldiered on toward Erwin’s office, each step draining more and more energy from your frail body. You were one hallway away from where you needed to be when you felt a cough attack come out of nowhere, your body racking as spit and germs angrily shot out of your mouth and into the arm of your uniform.

“Who is making that disgusting racket?” a firm voice called from opposite of where you were standing. Captain Levi then entered your view, lips pressed firmly together and eyebrows furrowed in a state of repulsion.

“Captain Y/n. I’m not surprised those sounds were from you, you look like shit.”

“Always the charmer, aren’t you, Levi?” you said, sniffling and sneezing into your handkerchief.

“Tch. Why didn’t you take a sick day? I don’t want your nasty germs spreading around the Scouts,” he said, eyeing you from a safe distance.

Another coughing fit.

“Because,” you sputtered out, “I have work to do. I can’t slack off because of a little cold.”

“Looking like you’ve approached death’s door isn’t what I would call a little cold,” said Levi, now sporting a frown. Levi was no stranger to sickness—he’d been surrounded by it since his birth, and especially now while living in barracks with all these people, but it didn’t make seeing you come down with an illness any easier. You were one of his closest comrades and, as childish as it sounds, seeing people he cared for catch a sickness made anxiety bubble in his stomach as his thoughts roamed to the corpse of his beloved mother, staring at him with those lifeless eyes as disease slowly consumed her before she perished. He’d be damned if he let anyone else suffer that same fate so he certainly wasn’t going to let you run yourself ragged.

“I’m fine. I-”

“Go back to your room. That’s an order.”

“We’re the same rank, you can’t boss me around” you said, crossing your arms.

“Does it look like I care?”

Judging by his deadly serious expression, he truly did not.

“I have to get these to Erwin. It’s important,” you told him, waving around the papers you held. Levi crossed the gap between you in quick strides, the papers slipping from your grasp with ease into his own.

“Fine. I’ll take them. Go to bed, brat.”

You weren’t in the mood or right mental state to argue so you began to take your leave. Everything was going fine until you got superbly dizzy, your shoes barely able to grip the ground and keep you upright. You stumbled back toward your bedroom’s corridor but your boots could no longer make purchase on the slippery stone floor. Before you could fall to the ground, though, you felt two strong arms wrap around your middle, steadying you. You immediately knew it to be Levi and you were grateful as he helped you into your room, guiding you to your bed and setting you down as gently as could be.

“You have to be careful. I don’t want to clean up the remains of your cracked skull off the floor,” he reprimanded. You sighed, feeling a bit of guilt creeping up for distressing him. You knew this was his way of letting you know he was worried about you. Sure, he was gruff and used kind words sparingly, but his actions did all the necessary talking for him. And what he was saying right now, as he untied your boots and ODM straps, was that he was there to take care of you.

“Change out of your uniform and into something less presentable. I don’t want you getting any funny ideas of sneaking back to work after I leave.”

“Yes, Captain,” you joked, saluting him lamely and sending yourself into yet another coughing fit. Levi’s steel gaze softened as he observed you in your weakened state. It pained him to see you like this and he’d do everything in his power to nurse you back to health.

When Levi returned to your room a half hour later, signed papers in one hand and a piping hot cup of tea in the other, he wasn’t prepared for the absolute mess he was greeted with. There were used handkerchiefs littering the floor and you were preoccupied with hacking up mucous from your lungs. The sound of the wet cough made Levi cringe to the deepest extent, but he wasn’t deterred; in fact, it made him more determined to get you healthy again in no time. He never backed down from a challenge and this situation was no different to him that solving a problem within the Scouts—with a little bit of luck and a whole lot of strength and courage, he’d get you through this with as little hang-ups as possible. The raven haired man placed the papers from Erwin neatly on your desk, the tea finding a temporary spot next to them for a moment as he procured a mask from his pocket, covering his mouth with the fabric and tying the strings behind his head. He then picked the tea back up and walked to where you were coughing up a storm. He placed his free hand upon your back in an attempt to calm you. It seemed to work as you gained control over your breathing and stopped convulsing. He silently held out the teacup and you took it, a voice cracking “thanks” leaving your chapped lips. His eyes nervously scanned over your figure as you sipped on the warm drink he brought you, intensely looking for any sign of discomfort. As you swallowed down the delightful leaf water, you felt an extreme chill blast through your body. Levi noticed the goosebumps spreading across your skin and, without hesitation, rested the back of his hand against your forehead.

“You have a fever,” he stated plainly, trying to keep his racing thoughts at bay the best he could. Could he make you more comfortable in any way? Should you be under a blanket since you were cold or have a cold compress since you were also hot? How could he help you break the fever?

“Levi,” you whimpered, freeing him from the endless vast of questions he pondered on his mind, “can I h-have an extra blanket, pl-please? I’m f-freezing.”

“Of course.” He responded unnaturally fast, eager to fulfill any requests you gave him. The person taking care of you was still the awkward, almost socially inept, sarcastic man you knew, but the way he so lovingly tucked you in under the soft blanket he draped over your body had you wondering if you died, went to heaven, and were now under the care of an actual angel. When Levi put a cold washcloth to your hot-to-the-touch head, you let out a gasp of relief. Soon enough your eyes were closed and you were asleep, Levi keeping a close watch on how your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and making sure you weren’t having any difficulties breathing. He could hear that you were still stuffed up and had plenty of mucus build up in the way you were wheezing in your slumber, but he was happy you were at least able to get some good rest for now. He didn’t want to leave your side but he knew you needed medicine so he quickly departed, making a beeline for the infirmary.

"Captain!" the doctor saluted him, "how can I help today?"

"I need your strongest medicine for cold symptoms," requested Levi.

"I'll work on that right away," said the doctor, already preparing the ingredients. "Feeling under the weather?"

"It's not for me. Captain y/n is sick."

"I'm sorry to hear that, I hope they feel better soon. That's awfully kind of you to pick this up for them especially since I know how much you hate coming in here. They're lucky to have you around."

Levi just grunted in acknowledgement and hoped the doctor would end the torment of her making small talk with him. By some miracle, it was like she read the man's mind, making no indication of wanting to continue the conversation. The next few minutes in the infirmary were filled only with the sounds of glass clinking as your medicine was being made. The doctor eventually finished, handing Levi the elixir.

"Thank you," he told the doctor, wasting no time getting out of there. Like the doctor mentioned, he despised setting foot in the infirmary. All the germs and suffering that went on in there was nothing he wanted to willingly subject himself to unless it was a dire emergency. Getting you some medicine was absolutely worth every second in that repulsive place and he'd gladly go in as many times as needed if it meant he could see you well again. Moving through the hallways at top speed, he decided to grab you some snacks from the dining hall since he knew you hadn't eaten all day. Relief washed over him when he saw you were still soundly asleep as he opened the familiar wood door. Picking up the used handkerchiefs and placing them in the pile of used laundry in the corner, he was pleased with how quickly your room looked better. Now out of things to keep him busy, he left you alone one last time to retrieve a pile of his own work papers so he wouldn't fall too far behind. As he took a seat at your desk, he felt his attention roam to you once more. Seeing you lying there, finally so peaceful after experiencing such awful cold symptoms, stirred up an emotion in Levi he couldn't quite place. Sure, you two were close friends, on the same level of trust and respect that he held for his squad and even Hange, but had he ever gone this far out of his way to help them when they were sick like he was doing now for you? He couldn't recall. He disliked watching any of his friends fight sicknesses of any kind but when he witnessed the horrid display of your illness earlier that morning, it felt like his world was about to crumble if he didn't help you that instant. Never in his life had he felt the urge to abandon his duties in favor of doing something else--until today. He'd much rather forgo paperwork and meetings to help you back on your feet, or at least to make you realize you didn't have to struggle alone. He didn't know what was coming over him as he took notice of the strong desire to place a hand on your cheek and tell you everything was going to be okay when you woke up. Levi felt his face get hot with embarrassment at the mere thought of touching you so delicately like that. Was he getting sick too? What was with his heart pounding at the idea of getting close to you like that? He got ahold of himself quickly, deciding to sort through his frazzled thoughts later. Right now, he had more pressing matters to attend to: the work in front of him and keeping you as satisfied as possible. You were squared away for now so the only thing left for him to do was work. He glanced at you one last time, burying the lingering feeling of wanting to hold your hand in a comforting manner deep into the darkest corner of his mind where it could no longer torment him, then he turned away and began reading.

Levi's attention was pulled from his work when he heard you begin to cough and blow your nose a few hours later. He was next to you in a flash to help you sit up in bed, fluffing the pillows you had flattened in your slumber. He leaned over your side table to grab a small glass jar with oddly colored liquid sloshing inside.

"Medicine," he explained, taking the cap off and holding the jar out to you. You took it gratefully, chugging the contents. The bitter concoction was unpleasant on your tongue but you knew it would do you good so you didn't complain. You sat in silence for a bit after that, watching birds flit around outside your window, Levi having opened the curtains some to let in natural light. You tried to see what he was doing but his back was turned toward you. All of a sudden, the bright smell of citrus assaulted the one nostril of yours that had temporarily cleared up.

"Am I going crazy or do I smell an orange?" you asked. You were presented with a handkerchief filled with meticulously peeled orange segments, each looking as tantalizing as you'd ever seen.

"I never guessed fruit was going to be the tipping point of you questioning your sanity."

"Making fun of the sick isn't a good look," you grumbled, chewing up the juicy snack as Levi swallowed the chuckle about to escape his throat.

"Eat as much as you can tolerate. It helps your body fight the illness."

You hummed in agreement and the captain went back to filling out his never ending work papers.

"Hey, uh... Levi? Can I ask you something real quick?" You broke the comfortable silence but thankfully Levi didn't seem bothered.

"Sure."

"I'm beyond appreciative for all of your help today and I'm really grateful that you've been here with me... but... " You faltered.

He raised an unenthused eyebrow. "But what?"

"Why?"

When he didn't answer right away, you tried to do some damage control in between your sneezing and coughing.

"I just meant, I know you're always helping where you can and I've seen you bring tea and food to our comrades when they're sick, but I've never known you to be this attentive, or-or nice, as you've been to me and--"

"I like you the best."

His simple reply was astonishingly profound for such generic words. If anyone else had said it, you would still be happy, but for Levi to be as vulnerable as that, you knew you truly meant a lot to the man. You were aware that it certainly wasn't easy for him to admit anything about the matters of his heart and you were considering just how lucky of a person you were to hear any kind of confession from him, let alone such a personal one. However, as you looked at him, there wasn't a hint of stress or uncertainty present whatsoever like you thought there might've been. He spoke of his feelings for you as if they were plain, obvious facts like grass is green or the sky is blue.

"That's good to hear because you were always my favorite, too," you told him, a knowing smile blossoming as your hand slid over the blanket in his direction like you were the arrow in a compass and he was north. Levi understood the deeper intent of your words, the underlying meanings that matched his own. The unbreakable bond you two forged over countless years working and fighting together was something he had cherished for a long time and he was relieved to know you came to the same conclusion he had--you were going to be by each others' side for the rest of time. There was something about you that brought out his most loving, doting side, and though the softer facets of life were foreign to him, he wasn't necessarily against exploring them with you in the future, especially if he and the rest of the Scouts eradicated the titans and established a world free of that ever present danger. With you being as sick as you currently were, though, he didn't want to somehow take any sort of advantage of the situation since he knew some people latched onto their caretakers while in the throes of a fever, desperate for any sort of human contact to ground them. That's why he resisted the call of your warm skin, beckoning him to experience what it felt like to be under your touch, instead opting to rest his hand on the bed near your leg in an attempt to show that he was still there for you. He was content being with you in the same capacity as he previously was--except now, the promise of a care free life with you was another addition to the long list of reasons to fight so aggressively for a better tomorrow.

"I'll look after you until you're healthy. Someone has to make sure you're not infecting the rest of the soldiers with your piss poor cough covering technique."

"Can I request a different nurse? Your bedside manner is leaving much to be desired."

Levi handed you another snack, this time being a big chunk of bread.

"At least you didn't have the stomach flu. I wasn't in the mood to clean up your actual shit."

"Levi, please, I'm trying to eat."

He felt the slight tug of his mouth go upwards into an imperceptible grin. If this was a glimpse into what a future alongside you would be like, he'd do anything to keep you both alive long enough to see it, no matter if his foe was a titan or a viral infection.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie doesn’t exactly get high often, alright? He just indulges in his own supply when he’s feeling particularly stressed.

Okay, so he’s been a little fucking stressed lately. His supply is down to nothing.

And it wouldn’t be a problem, except he feels like he’s getting a cold, or a flu, or a fucking tumor. He’s been sneezing nonstop and he keeps getting hot flashes and it just doesn’t make any sense. He’s been holed up in his room for a week, not even coming out to see Wayne before he leaves for work. No way he caught something besides loneliness.

Wayne always has some Tylenol on hand, but what good does that do when he’s dying? There’s some allergy meds that Wayne always takes during the first bit of spring, but they could be expired for all Eddie knows.

So he’s dying. Alone. In his too-hot/too-cold room. No music to even soothe his soul on its way to its final resting place.

“Eds?”

Oh, now he’s hallucinating too? Great.

“Eddie!”

He turned towards his door but couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes, even when his hallucination spoke again.

“Jesus, Eddie. What the hell is going on?”

Steve was definitely not a hallucination. He was standing in Eddie’s bedroom doorway, hands on his hips, unfairly attractive scowl on his face, looking at Eddie like he was a lost cause.

He always looked at him like that when he was trying not to show he cared.

“If you don’t have drugs, leave me to die.”

Eddie turned back towards his wall and pulled the blanket over his head, regretting it the moment a drop of sweat made it’s way down his neck. He refused to let Steve see him like this. One near death experience was enough vulnerability for them.

“Wayne called and asked me to check on you. He said you were avoiding him. Any reason or you just felt the urge to see my pretty face?”

“Wayne shouldn’t have called you. I don’t know why he called you. Pretend he didn’t. Go back home. Say nice words about me at my funeral and try to mean them.”

He couldn’t see Steve, but he could feel his eye roll.

And Eddie knew he was being over dramatic. He was over dramatic more often than not. But he was having a rough week, his therapist would probably even say it was an isolation week, and now he was sick on top of it. Dramatics were his way of showing he’d survive.

“Are you sad or sick?”

“Yes.”

“Which one is worse right now?”

Eddie considered the question, considered his answer.

“Sick.”

“Stomach, head, or both?”

“Both. Everything.”

“Got a thermometer around or do I have to kiss your forehead to see if you have a fever?”

Eddie knew he was blushing. He’d never been so thankful for a comforter nearly suffocating him as he was in that moment.

“You’re not my mom no matter what the kids seem to think of you.”

“Thank god for that.”

Before Eddie could unpack whatever Steve meant by that, he felt the bed dip behind him and a hand touching his back.

“Let me check for a fever so I know what meds to get.”

Eddie hesitated. He hadn’t showered in at least three days. He was breaking out in a cold sweat. He was at his least attractive at this moment.

Letting Steve, the guy who he’d been in love with for almost a year now, see him like this? Hell no.

“Eds. Don’t make me call Wayne at work.”

Eddie sighed and pushed the blanket off of his head. He turned onto his back and glared at Steve. He ignored the fact that it took most of his energy to keep his eyes open long enough to do it.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, I got all dolled up just for you, sweetheart.”

If Eddie had felt better, he may have noticed how Steve blushed, but unfortunately, he had already closed his eyes again.

He felt a cool hand on his forehead and sighed, relaxing back into his pillow.

“Fuck, Eddie, you’re burning up! How long have you felt this bad?”

“I dunno. Last night.”

Eddie didn’t want the hand to leave, it felt too good against his burning skin. He shivered when he felt another cool hand on his cheek.

“I’m getting some Tylenol for the fever and I’m calling Wayne to get you flu meds on his way home. Were you just gonna dehydrate and suffer in here alone?”

“Probably.”

Eddie waited for Steve to argue, to tell him he didn’t need to hide away or pretend he was fine if he wasn’t. He’d heard it plenty from his therapist and Wayne and Dustin and even Max when she felt like being nice. But he was met with a drawn out silence that made him nervous.

He peeked an eye open to see Steve staring down at him.

“I wasn’t gonna like, let myself actually die.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Uhhh…”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t be here. You know I can handle it. Right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Do you not trust me to take care of you?”

Eddie opened both of his eyes to see Steve pouting. Actually pouting like a child not getting their way. Over taking care of him.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“You’re not my babysitter. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“But I could’ve taken care of you.”

Eddie’s brain short circuited. He lost every ability to form a coherent thought.

“Eddie?”

This was too much. Steve was too much.

“Can you get me that Tylenol please?”

Eddie felt the bed adjust to Steve standing up and heard him walk to the bathroom across the hall. He took the separation as a small blessing so he could get the very few thoughts running rampant through his brain in some semblance of order.

When Steve came back with the Tylenol and a glass of water in hand, Eddie sat up in his bed.

He took the pills and chugged most of the water, ignoring the angry look Steve was shooting him.

“Thanks. You can go if you want.”

Steve, stubborn idiot that he is, didn’t go. In fact, he pushed Eddie over in bed to make room for himself.

As Steve got comfortable next to him, Eddie lay his head on Steve’s chest and splayed his arm across his stomach.

Might as well go all in if this is a hallucination.

“Just get some rest, Eds.”

Eddie let his eyes flutter closed. The last thing he remembers before slipping into his illness and medication induced sleep was a light press of lips against the top of his head.

[dira333]

One day after the other - Shoji Mezo x Reader

Not me needing a sick day to get back into writing. As usual I find myself writing for someone I didn't plan on writing for.

Tagging: @fuzztacular and @ur-local-simp because they love Shoji

The bed dips under his weight and a pair of warm, muscular feet press against yours.

“You need to get up in a minute,” Mezo mumbles just seconds before his arms envelop you and pull you into his chest. He’s warm, safe, and smells like the apple-and-cinnamon shower gel Aoyama convinced you to buy on your last shopping trip.

“Don’t wanna,” you argue, words slurred from sleep. 

He doesn’t argue against it, instead nuzzles his face into your hair. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, slow and steady, slow and steady.

Your alarm goes off, but you're quick to snooze it, to shuffle even closer into Mezo’s hug.

It takes you three tries to get out of bed and by the time you rush out of the door - not after demanding one last kiss for the road - you’ve got nothing in your stomach but the mouthful of toothpaste you swallowed on accident when you checked the time.

You buy a pack of fruit juices at the vending machine down the street, send a cheeky snap to Mezo - he’s always on your back about having more fruit and veggies in your diet - and rush the last few steps to the train station, arriving out of breath as always.

-

It’s only when you get out of the train that you feel the first cramp.

For a moment you curse the fact that you don’t have any pads with you until you realize that you had your period just last week. 

Probably the cold orange juice on an empty stomach you tell yourself, pour yourself a cup of tea instead of the coffee you’re desperately craving.

But two hours later you’re drenched in cold sweat and the smell of freshly brewed coffee has you running to the bathroom.

-

“Oh dear,” Yasuda-san from Accounting blinks back at from when you emerge, pale and shaky. She must have heard every awful sound you just made.

“Sorry about that,” you tell her. 

“Do you want to go home?” She asks and you nod. Yeah, you want to go home. 

But there’s nothing she can do about it, so you smile at her, rinse your mouth, and stalk out of there, down the hallway and back to your desk. 

If you keep breathing slowly it might go away.

But thirty minutes later you feel yet another cramp and the document in front of you has lost all sense. 

You get up, grab your bag, and walk down the hallway to your supervisor.

You can’t remember the last time you needed to take a sick day, not since Mezo took over cooking. 

Was it that one time you fell down the stairs - because you were in a rush to meet him at the door- and broke your toe? Or that one time you insisted on dancing with him in the rain and promptly got the flu?

“Oh dear,” Cold dark eyes blink back at you, “I already heard. I know pregnancies are difficult, but-”

“I’m not pregnant!” You argue, but she clicks her tongue impatiently.

“I know you don’t have to tell me yet, but we can be honest here.”

“I’m not pregnant. I have a stomach bug, most likely. I’d like to go home.”

“Very well,” she pointedly taps her fingernails against the mountain of paperwork on her desk. “But you know the company’s rules. I need written proof of sickness from your doctor.”

“That will be no problem. I’ve already made an appointment,” you lie.

-

Lunchtime is over by the time you wobble out of the train.

There was a nice lady at the doctor who let you skip ahead when you emptied your stomach in the trashcan next to her, but the multiple train rides have left an impact on you.

You open the door of your apartment and slip inside, fighting back another wave of nausea as you take the time to put your shoes and jacket away properly - if you’re not doing it, Mezo will just do it himself later and he’s had more than enough work this week already. 

He’s still in bed like you expected him to, muscle shirt riding up to expose a soft stomach you want to cuddle against like a cat.

You slip into the spot he’s left for you. His right eye opens.

“Got a sick-day,” you tell him, unable to keep the miserable out of your voice. You know you’re whining, but you’ve had an awful day. Well, except for the morning, waking up next to him was great.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks, voice gravely from sleep. 

You shake your head. 

Mezo nods and pulls you close, presses a kiss against the top of your head. 

“Sleep then,” his arms are warm and safe around you, “Everything will be better when you wake up.”

So you do.

-

The bed dips under his weight. 

You blink, surprised to find yourself sleeping on your stomach, alone.

“I made dinner,” Mezo tells you from your side and you turn to see him sitting on the edge, a tray filled with dishes in his arms. 

“You didn’t have to,” you tell him as he slips under the blanket with you, presses his legs against yours.

“I know. I wanted to. I made congee and chicken noodle soup and tea. Your mom’s recipe.”

“You’re the best!” You tell him, press a kiss on his cheek.

“You make me want to be.”

It’s over dinner that you fill him in. He shakes his head at your supervisor's antics, one of his warm hands rubbing soft circles onto your upset belly. 

In turn, he tells you about work. The new sidekicks at the agency or the kids that are going to be interning next week.

Much too early he has to slip out of bed again, prepare for another night of patrols and paperwork.

“About your stomach bug,” Mezo’s half-dressed, chuckling at the way you ogle his body, “Could it be that you’re pregnant?”

“I just had my period last week.”

“Yeah, but I’ve heard that it happens sometimes, you know? Didn’t one of your secretaries think she wasn’t pregnant because she got the period and it was something else?”

You stop. He’s right. As always.

“Yeah, but… that’s her. This is me.”

He nods calmly but you can tell he’s not done with the topic.

“Do you want me to be pregnant?” You ask.

“I wouldn’t mind either way,” he says simply, but you can tell there’s more to the topic he’s letting on.

“I’ll buy a pregnancy test tomorrow, okay?” You promise. Something like relief washes over his face.

“I could get it for you,” he offers but you shake your head.

“No way. The media is only waiting for a headline like that. Tentacole seen purchasing pregnancy test. Hero-offspring on the way… Wait, what are Baby Octopus called?”

He laughs, picks you up from bed like you weigh nothing to him, and kisses you. 

There’s much in that kiss that he’s not saying.

Insecurity, doubt, trust, love.

You’re smiling when he pulls back, still holding you close. Your hands are cradling his face, thumbs tracing scars that will never completely fade.

“One day after the other,” you promise.

“One day after the other,” he repeats. 

Today hasn’t been the best day. Today hasn’t been the worst day either.

But with him by your side even okay days turn magical somehow. 

You don’t doubt that also applies to the rest of your life.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[daceydeath]

Hiii 👋 I was wondering if you could write a Chan imagine where yn is the ninth member and her and Chan are secretly dating. Yn gets really sick and has to stay in bed and when Chan is filming a Channies room he hears he call for him weakly. Sorry if that doesn’t make any sense 😭

Hi! I'm sorry this took so long to write but actually it was much harder to write a 9th member imagine than I thought it would be. I do hope you like it though darling. Dacey xx

I didn't know you were filming (a 9th member imagine)

Pairing: Chan x reader Word Count: Genre: 9th Member, Fluff, Comedy (stupidity) Warnings: swearing

Being the only female member of Stray Kids wasn't difficult. Keeping your relationship with Chan secret from Stay however was much harder.

You had caught a cold on the way home from the last Japanese promotions at first you thought it was going to be a minor inconvenience but after a few days it turned out to be a full blown flu. Management had made an announcement that you would be missing the next week or so of promotions as you recovered but you were miserable and felt wretched so each of your members had been taking care of you much to Stay's delight and posting photos of you bundled up in blankets and pouting on Bubble. It was Saturday and all morning Hyunjin and Han had been fussing over you much to your annoyance.

"Chan! I'll be fine" you mumbled pouting as Minho and Felix sat on the other couch smirking.

"You say that but this flu has really knocked you around" he smoothed down your bed hair slightly while Han and Changbin flat out laughed at you.

"I know but I'll just sleep and drink water and stuff. I am fine I am not going to die from it" you continued whinging until you sneezed loudly and proved his point.

"Minho and Felix will stay with you" Chan raised his eyebrows waiting for you to argue "please take you medicine when they tell you to and also eat when they tell you to". You pouted again as Chan chuckled and patted your head.

"See you later then" you sulked groaning and you got up and shuffled to your room.

"See you tonight" Chan chuckled as he left with the others.

Being member of the same group you tried to keep as much of your relationship out of the other members faces so cute nicknames, cuddle sessions and kisses were off the table unless you were alone. It meant you were both much less likely to accidently do something that could cause a scandal, plus everyone loved to tease and joke about each ship that Stay came up with regarding you.

"Oi noona you have to take your medicine" Felix called after you following you with a glass of water.

"Yes Felix" you grumbled pouting as you took the glass from him and took your tablets.

"I'm going to order you some soup and stuff why don't you just rest?" Minho added as you flopped back onto your bed, if you hadn't be so sick you would have curled up in Chan's bed his scent always made you feel better but the best you could manage was the hoodie he had given you earlier in the morning. You drifted off into a miserable sleep hoping that when you woke up you would feel better.

"Wakey wakey" Minho whispered softly shaking your blanket cocoon as you blinked slowly groggy from the sickness and the medicine. "You need to eat something it will make you recover faster".

"Alright" you snuffled slowly sitting up before Minho helped you to stand.

"After you eat something you need some more medicine" Felix smiled as you sank into the couch cushions, taking a bowl of soup from Minho's hands you sat and ate slowly the warm liquid helping to soothe your sore throat, the boys put on a movie and sat with you for a few hours making sure you kept hydrated and trying to lift your mood. But with the medicine making you drowsy again you couldn't help that you ended up falling asleep in Felix's lap as he played with your hair.

"Aw she looks so cute when she's sleeping" Han cooed making you blink and look around.

"Didn't I just say not to wake her?" Chan sighed looking between Han and you as you rubbed your eyes "How are you feeling?".

"Like I have been run over by a bus" you yawned sitting up from Felix's lap "Is there anymore soup?"

"Already heating in up for you" Minho called from the kitchen making you smile they had been taking care of you so well and you knew you were lucky, had you been left with Han and Hyunjin the dorm might have caught fire.

"Thank you" you croaked while Felix propped you up on some pillows and Chan got you a glass of water. They all continued to fuss over you while you ate making sure you were warm enough and comfortable.

"Changbin and I are going to the gym later you in Chan?" Han asked while he played around on his phone.

"Nah, I going to do to a live later so I'll make sure shes got her medicine and stuff too" Chan shrugged casually sitting on your left with his arm around your shoulders.

"Oooh looking at doing a bit of team building?" Han teased taking your empty bowl again.

"Fuck off she's sick one of us has to take care of her and since Minho and Felix were here all day it's time for someone else to have a turn tonight" Chan groaned at how stupid Han was being while Minho and Felix made kissing noises that made you laugh, and then cough a lot.

"Stop trying to kill me" you whined burrowing yourself into Chan's chest so that they couldn't see your face any longer.

"Alright I think you need another nap now" Chan sighed as your breathing returned to normal, you simply nodded knowing that arguing was pointless as Chan helped you to stand and you shuffled off without complaint to your room to get some more rest.

When you woke up again it was late, checking your phone you realized there was a glass of water and medicines sitting next on your bedside table with a note Chan had left you saying to take them as soon as you woke up and call for him if you needed anything. Smiling you took your medicine and sat up in your bed a little thinking that you should probably get up and get something warm to drink to help you fall back asleep. Picking up your phone you messaged Chan saying you had woken up and taken your medicine, he answered that he hoped you were feeling better and that if you needed anything he would get it for you. You felt your eyelids growing heavy again but after ten minutes you still couldn't fall asleep you could hear Chan talking but not who he was talking to, so you decided to call to him.

"Channie? Are you there baby?" you called your voice croaky, you head him pause but then he started talking again.

"Channie, I need cuddles to sleep" you called again whinging as you again heard him pause and your phone lit up with a message from Chan that only said the words on live. Frowning you sat for a few moments before you heard Changbin's voice from somewhere in the hallway.

"Chaaaannnnnie" he called in his most annoying high pitched voice before ducking into your room.

"Changbin what are you doing?" you chuckled as he sat on the end of your bed trying to hold in his laugh.

"He's doing an episode of Chan's Room all of Stay just heard you call him baby and ask for cuddles" he explained as he shook with laughter as your face paled further.

"Shit" you groaned flopping down on your mattress.

"Channie I love you" Han shouted from the opposite end of the hall.

"Channie marry me?" Changbin yelled louder this time as you opened the live up on your phone to see what was happening. Chan was sitting on his bed head in his hands, flushed pink and trying not to laugh as the comments of how chaotic you all were, whether this confirmed you were together or if this was a prank you were all playing on him.

You continued pouting even after Changbin left your room to go back to the lounge room where he and Han had been eating after their workout. You continued watching the live as Chan explained how you had all decided to tease him once again and that he was going to have to move to the other dorm for some peace and quiet eventually he signed off with his signature hug and finished the live, then you heard him shuffling around and you knew he was going to come and scold you. As he opened the door you gave him your best puppy eyes.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't know you were doing a live" you kept the misery act up until he sighed deeply walking across your room and sliding in behind you.

"I better cuddle you to sleep then, since Stay thinks we are so cute together" he teased softly holding you tightly against his chest.

a/n: Thank you for reading you beautiful human! Any likes, reblogs and comments are loved and adored xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @armystay89, @damnyouficc, @roamingpolar, @tara-skyhold, @bakedlilgoonie, @krishastumblernow, @mrsseals16, @fawnpeaks, @leeknowinggg, @uno7,

[wonijinjin]

warm covers, sick cuddles

synopsis: you managed to get sick in the summer, what would be better than your dear boyfriend comforting you?

word count: 0.7k | genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship | pairing: wonwoo x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of symptoms of a common cold, wonwoo calls reader ‘sweetheart’

it was early in the morning when wonwoo woke up in your shared bed, the rain from a few hours ago still present on the sidewalks and trees. after sitting up he checked the time on his phone - 6:34 AM - then projected his attention in the direction of the other side of the bed; towards your sleeping form. the crisp morning evident on your skin in the form of goosebumps alarmed him to pull the blanket further above your body, as it had slipped away during the night. he was getting ready to leave the bed to make a surprise breakfast for you, but not without kissing your forehead. his lips touched your skin, and he halted his movements, furrowing his brows. your skin was too warm despite the chilly morning. he brushed away the hair which stuck to your face during your slumber, then placed his hand on your forehead properly, to his dismay sensing the same warmth he hoped was a fluke of his imagination.

when you awoke the sun was already up and shining, the emptiness of the bed next to you making wonwoo’s absence settle into your sleepy brain. you felt shivers run up your spine despite being under multiple layers of covers. just when you thought of getting up a tall figure appeared in the doorway. it was wonwoo, in his hands a fuzzy blanket; the one you bought together and loved the most, holding so many memories of cuddling while watching a movie, or draping it over each other when you waited patiently late into the night to welcome the other home, falling asleep on the couch in the process.

”good morning baby” you said, noticing how your voice sounded hoarse and strained. he left you without an answer, instead walking up to the bed and spreading the fuzzy material on the already existing layers of covers, crouching beside your tired form. “how do you feel sweetheart? you were cold weren’t you?” he asked in a gentle tone.

“how did you know?” you whispered, surprised.

“oh sweetie” he placed the back of his palm on your burning skin again “you are still quite warm, i think you are coming down with something, perhaps a flu. you were shivering when i checked on you, but i thought it was because of how early it was. guess it wasn’t the case judging by your voice and fever.” he stroked your hair gently, the way your face relaxed not going unnoticed by him.

“i don’t feel well wonwoo.” you said with a frown on your face. his eyes softened; he hated seeing you be so unwell. “my poor, sweet sweet baby.” he pouted, worry and care written all over his features. “i will bring you some medicine to help okay?”

“i should’ve expected it, i mean my immune system is not really resistant to the amount of ice cream i eat nowadays.” you joked, the pain in your throat getting stronger.

“i already set up some tea, it is still boiling hot, but when it cools down a bit i will bring it to you. what would you like for breakfast? i didn’t know if you would be up for it, but i made scrambled eggs and toast. i can make something different if that is what you would like.” he smiled, kissing your hairline. you grinned at this; he was so considerate, always taking such good care of you. “it sounds good, thank you.” it could’ve been anything he made for you, you still would’ve said yes. “then just wait here sweetheart, i will bring it to you with the medicine in a moment.” he was getting ready to leave when you grabbed him by the hand. “please, can you stay with me in bed for a bit before that? it can wait.” he kissed your hand and got under the covers, opening his arms, motioning for you to get closer. you landed in his arms, getting sleepier already, the sickness wearing your body out after being awake for such short amount of time. it didn’t take 5 minutes and you were already asleep, being protected by him and the blankets. he looked at your face, kissing your warm cheek, smiling to himself.

“i guess breakfast will be for lunch then.”

[writingoddess1125]

Hi, I was wondering if I could request Buggy taking care of reader while they’re sick? Thank you! I’m currently rereading your “find out they have a kid” and I can’t wait for pt3!

Can do! I hope you like this and also thanks for the support! ❤️

Not all Treasure is Silver and Gold

BuggyxGNReader FLUFF

When you woke up that morning, you felt awful... you felt achy and fatigued before the day had even started. However today was a big day, there was a treasure the crew had found a large chunk of Captian John's treasure which would lead to the biggest treasure from the deceased pirate. You were critical for this mission and needed to be on your best. You knew this treasure was important for your partner Buggy- He hadn't even been in bed these last few nights in order to plan for this event.

So some tiredness wouldn't stop you- Forcing yourself up you dressed and went out to the main deck-

You saw your crew practically vibrating in excitement, you saw the island close by that would hold the treasure that your crew was looking for- leaning against the railing you closed your eyes trying to wave away the pain that riddled your body, lightheaded and exhausted.

After a few moments hard footsteps sounded behind you making you turn to see Buggy, dresses in his flashiest best and talking to several crew mates. A wide smile on his lips as he was just as excited as everyone else at this- however you saw his eyes scanning around most likely looking for you.

Once he spotted you his eyes narrowed, your nerves picking up as you knew he could sense something was wrong. Quickly looking away you stare back at the target at hand, feeling Buggy walk right behind you.

"(Y/N)? Are you okay?.. you look a little off" Buggy asked calmly, but you can still feel his narrowed gaze on you. Shrugging quickly you wave it off-

"I'm fine I'm fine-" You try to say but some coughs rattled your lungs, Buggy turned you around quickly as he stares at your face. Him spinning made you feel nauseous and your head starting to thump- not even noticing Buggy was speaking at first.

You stared at Buggy confused as his words seemed to become mumbled like your head was underwater. He stepped closer to you and peeled one of his gloves off with his teeth as he went to press it to your forehead, but before he could you felt the world spin and darkness consume you. Only the feeling of rough hands grabbing you was the last you felt before falling into a deep sleep.

When you woke up you groaned, feeling cold?- opening an eye you see you were in Buggy's room laying in his bed. In thin pajamas and a single blanket over you- Buggy was seated next to you pouring some things into different cups, he was dressed in much simpler clothes not in his flashy attire. You shiver and reach for the heavy blankets at the foot of the bed but Buggy gently grabbed your hand to stop from doing so.

"Don't want you to overheat- Your fever is already really high" Buggy said calmly, adding another thin blanket to help you feel a bit warmer and comforble but not enough to have you overheat. He gently began to give you water, making sure you drank a full cup before he gave you anything else. Downing the water which felt like gold to your sore throat you, and Buggy had to help pace you. Once done he added another pillow behind you you leaned back on happily.

"How long have I've been out?" You grumbled, sinking more into the bed with a tired sigh.

"Few hours" Buggy said calmly, Grabbing a thermometer and holding it to your lips carefully as you did as he commanded. Waiting for the temp to read, which took a few moments showing you had a hell of a high fever.

"You are very sick.. probably a form of flu" He grumbled, careful as he put away the thermometer to be cleaned later. Taking the near by teapot that was on a heater he added in the several premeasured ingredients and stirred them in the white teapot with a spoon. It made you think of a parent making soup for their sick child.

"Man of many talents I see" You try to jest but a series of weezing coughs rattled your lungs. He tried to smile but winced at the hard coughs.

"I suppose, But I learned a lot of skills and sorta became a jack of all trades- But a master of non" He admitted, pouring whatever was in the teapot into a large cup.

"Hot toddy" He said calmly, helping you sit up so you could take the teacup, Raising a brow at it as it smelt heavenly. Drinking it down quickly as your eyebrows raised.

"Is that whiskey?" Buggy nodded pouring you another cup.

"Yep, Whiskey, tea, honey and lemon. Helps with a cough, sore throat and will knock your little ass out so you can sleep" He smiled at you, earning a chuckle from you as you drank another cup. He gave you another drink of water to make sure you were well hydrated before taking your tea cup and laying you back down.

You laid there as you felt Buggy tuck you in on all sides with the blankets, making sure you were good and packed in so you couldn't move and hurt yourself. He grabbed the damp rag and gingerly placed it on your forehead.

"I'm sorry... I blew the mission for today.." You whisper softly, closing your eyes at the feeling of the cool rag on your forehead. Buggy smoothed your sticky hair, his free hand finding yours under the blanket and rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

"(Y/N) it will be there when you're better... besides you are more valuable to me then any Silver and Gold that exist" He said sincerely as he looked at you with only love. You smiled at his sweet words.

"Even Diamons and devil fruits?" You croak out, earning a chuckle from Buggy as he nodded.

"Even diamonds, Rubies and every devil fruit that exist.. Now get some sleep okay?" He said softly. You nodded and drifted off into a dreamless sleep, swearing you heard soft humming of a lullaby as you drifted into rest.

[zapreportsblog]

Hello 🙋🏼 Can you, pleease write about The Lost Boys taking care of the sick reader? Allergy, flu, cold, rhinitis and ✨ such ✨ 😅 She goes crazy telling them to stay away because she's ugly and disgusting, but they take care of her anyway 😔 🥺

Sooo relatable

↱ taking care of our baby ↰

➘ summary : the lost boys take care of their sick girlfriend

➘ Marko x David x reader x Dwayne x Paul , the lost boys x reader

➘ a/n : I’m sure we all can relate to this

The cavernous darkness of the underground lair was disrupted by the flickering light of a few scattered candles. Marko, Paul, Dwayne, and David, the tight-knit group known as the Lost Boys, exchanged glances as they gathered around the worn wooden table. Unease threaded through the air like a shadow, driven by the unsettling absence of someone who was an integral part of their lives.

"Has anyone seen (Y/N)?" Marko's voice broke the silence, his brows furrowed with concern. He leaned against the rough stone wall, his dark eyes scanning the faces of his comrades.

Paul shook his head, the dread building within him. "I haven't. She's always here waiting for us when we wake up. It's not like her to be late or to miss a gathering like this."

David's gaze flickered towards the cave entrance, his lips set in a thoughtful line. "It's not like her to just disappear without a word. We need to find out where she is."

Dwayne, the usually quiet one, chimed in with a heavy note of worry in his voice. "Maybe something happened to her. We should start searching."

With a shared sense of urgency, the Lost Boys scattered, fanning out to cover the area surrounding the cave. Their footsteps echoed off the walls as they called out her name, searching every nook and cranny for any sign of their missing girlfriend.

As minutes turned into what felt like hours, a gnawing sense of anxiety settled in their chests. The bond they shared with (Y/N) was strong, an unbreakable connection that had formed through shared experiences and mutual trust. Her absence left a void that was impossible to ignore.

Just as doubt began to creep in, Marko's voice rang out, sharp and urgent. "Over here!"

The others hurried to his side, their hearts pounding in their chests as they saw (Y/N) lying on the ground, unconscious but seemingly unharmed. David was the first to reach her, his fingers brushing against her cheek as he tried to rouse her.

"(Y/N), wake up," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and relief.

Slowly, (Y/N)'s eyelids fluttered open, revealing her (e/c) eyes that were slightly dazed. She blinked up at the worried faces of her friends, confusion knitting her brows together.

"What... what happened?" Her voice was soft, a whisper that carried a hint of vulnerability.

"You tell us," Paul said gently, kneeling down beside her. "We were worried sick when you didn't show up. Are you okay?"

(Y/N) tried to sit up, her movements slightly shaky. She ran a hand through her hair, looking around as if trying to piece together what had happened. "I... I don't remember. Everything's a blur."

David helped her to her feet, his touch gentle yet reassuring. "You scared us, (Y/N). We thought something happened to you."

A mixture of emotions washed over her—embarrassment, gratitude, and a tinge of fear. She leaned on them for support, feeling their presence like an anchor in the midst of her confusion.

As they made their way back to the cave, the sense of unity among the Lost Boys was stronger than ever. Whatever had transpired, (Y/N) was back with them, and that was all that mattered. The bond they shared was unbreakable, and as they returned to the warmth of the candles' glow, they knew that they could face anything as long as they faced it together.

The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow across the cavern as the Lost Boys gathered around the table, their concern for (Y/N) palpable. She sat with them, her gaze distant as she tried to recall the events that had led to her sudden collapse.

"It's all starting to come back to me," (Y/N) murmured, her voice soft but determined. "I was waiting for you all, like I usually do, and then... I started feeling really lightheaded and dizzy. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground and everything was blurry."

The expressions of worry on the faces of the Lost Boys deepened. Marko reached out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "That doesn't sound good. Are you sure you're okay?"

(Y/N) nodded, a small smile touching her lips. "I think I know what happened. I've been feeling under the weather for the past few days. I got the flu, and I must have overexerted myself. The heat from the candles in here probably didn't help either."

Paul's brows furrowed as he looked at her critically. "Are you sure you're feeling better now?"

She nodded again, her gaze locking onto his. "I promise, I'm feeling much better. It was just a combination of things that made me pass out."

David's concern was evident as he leaned closer, his fingers pressing lightly against her forehead. "(Y/N), you still feel warm. Let's check your temperature to make sure you're not running a fever."

With unanimous agreement, the Lost Boys swung into action. They fetched a thermometer and ensured (Y/N) was comfortable as they took her temperature. As they waited for the result, her eyes met each of theirs, gratitude shimmering in her gaze.

When the thermometer beeped, Paul read the display with a frown. "You're still hot, (Y/N). This doesn't sound like you're completely better."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I appreciate your concern, but it's not that bad. I've been feeling much worse."

David's lips curved into a reassuring smile. "We're not ones to take chances. We're a family, and we look out for each other."

Marko nodded in agreement, his gaze steady. "We're not going to let you tough it out on your own. We'll take care of you until you're back to your normal self."

Touched by their unwavering support, (Y/N) felt a surge of warmth in her chest. She had found something precious with the Lost Boys—a bond that transcended blood ties. And as they continued to look out for her, she knew that no matter the challenges they faced, they would overcome them together.

The night air carried a refreshing coolness that brushed against (Y/N)'s overheated skin as she lay near the entrance of the cavern. The Lost Boys had been taking shifts, staying by her side to make sure she was comfortable as she battled her illness. But even as the night breeze provided some relief, the fever still lingered, causing her body to break into intermittent sweats.

She let out a weak sigh, her (e/c) eyes fixed on the starlit sky above. Despite the discomfort, she appreciated the tranquility of the night, a stark contrast to the feverish haze that had consumed her for the past day. She felt weak and vulnerable, her body protesting against the sickness that had taken hold.

Dwayne sat nearby, his presence offering a sense of comfort. He glanced at her, concern etched on his features. "How are you feeling, (Y/N)?"

She managed a weak smile, her voice slightly hoarse. "Better than earlier, I think. The night air helps."

He nodded, his gaze gentle. "Just hang in there. We're here for you."

The others had retreated deeper into the cave, giving her some space. The faint glow of candles illuminated the interior, casting a warm light against the stone walls. Despite their absence, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel self-conscious about her appearance—her flushed skin, damp hair, and the general disarray she was in due to her fever.

"Don't look at me," she mumbled, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. "I must look awful right now."

Dwayne's chuckle was soft and reassuring. "You're not exactly at your best, but that doesn't matter. We care about you, no matter how you look."

As her fingers played with the edge of her shirt, she couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. Their acceptance of her, even in her vulnerable state, touched her heart. It was a reminder of the bond they shared—a bond that went beyond appearances.

"You don't have to worry about being 'ugly,'" he said gently, as if reading her thoughts. "We're all in this together, sickness and all."

Her lips curved into a faint smile as she met his gaze. "Thank you, Dwayne."

His smile in return was warm and genuine. "Anytime, (Y/N). We're a family, remember?"

As the night stretched on, (Y/N) closed her eyes, allowing the cool breeze to wash over her. The Lost Boys had shown her that true acceptance wasn't based on appearances, but on the connections they shared. And in the midst of her sickness, that was a lesson worth holding onto.

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Fourteen - A Merry Little Christmas

W/C: 7.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

(Cover) Phoebe Bridgers

Warnings: mentions of bad childhood, mentions of parent’s death, issues with mental health, allusion to a suicide attempt, self harm but not, just appears to be, blood, let me know if I missed anything. In all fairness this is a heavy chapter in the beginning. Oh and also, smut 👀

A/N: this took literally forever to write…only because I couldn’t write for like months lmao. But I spent all day basically fleshing most of this all out and there’s a lot of emotion put into it and not too much editing cause I already overthought everything I wrote as I wrote it, dare I say I put my whole fuckin pussy into this chapter. Next chapter will be the final one in the series 😭

Masterlist

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Christmas Eve was supposed to be different this year.  

A senseless daydream.  

It was dad’s last kick to his gut, he knows it.  Eddie finally had a good thing going for him but alas the Munson’s were cursed and he could never escape.  This was some kind of final revenge for not hanging around like a lost puppy though it wasn’t even his choice to leave Hawkins in the first place.  It didn’t matter, life never spared Eddie a precious moment.  

So he sat there, salty tears still somehow leaking out of him despite how tired he was, despite how wrong it felt.  Last week his dad was the most hated man in his life.  And last week he was suddenly dead.  It didn’t make sense, the devastation that consumed Eddie.  All he knew was that sunlight began leaking through the blinds and dotting the floor.  Birds were chirping annoyingly outside and his skin started to feel like cold cuts and despite how uncomfortable it made him, he couldn’t find it in himself to get off his ass and at least put a sweatshirt on.  

He had promised you breakfast, down the road at that little diner called Reggie’s.  Promised to get you the biggest stack of pancakes covered in whipped cream and all kinds of sprinkles along with the best, artery clogging bacon you would ever taste.  Maybe some scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.  

Whatever you wanted. 

He hadn’t seen you in days, not since the recent news broke.  His excuse of harboring the flu was not how he wanted to start daily phone calls with you.  He knew you would then mistake the stuffiness in his voice for phlegm and not his inner sorrows burrowing their way out of him.  He refused your offer to bring him homemade soup and hot tea, rejected the kindness he hadn’t deserved in the first place.  Told you that he just wanted to get healthy quickly and it wouldn’t do either of you any good to both be sick.  He left you in charge of the bar, much to Jett’s disdain, Eddie didn’t need you to confirm that for him he just knew.

Now just standing up seemed impossible.  Shifting his position on the couch to at least relieve the pressure against his tail bone wasn’t plausible.  And for what?  For a man that never gave an inch when Eddie gave him miles upon miles, practically handed over his life on several occasions.  Pathetic, he knew.  But the pain didn’t cease and he couldn’t even find it in himself to turn his head to check the time.

This was it.  

This was how you were going to come face to face with the fact that Eddie was no man.  Not a real one anyway, a facade if anything.  He could just picture it: you would await his knock at the door and it wouldn't come.  A giddy smile would spread across your face as you thought about your plans of going sledding together–he sees it so vividly in his mind.  And then you would be massively disappointed when he couldn’t deliver.  The creases at your eyes when you got overly excited would cease to exist at the mere idea of him.  He had it coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Eddie told you he was feeling better.  It was a lie.  He never had the flu.  He didn’t feel better.  He wanted to die.  And the man responsible for it wouldn’t even give a shit had he still been alive.  Now he was dead and Eddie was the one suffering.

And so his neglected stomach grumbled, his incoming stubble itched though he couldn’t find a fuck to give even in his discomfort, and the whiskey bottle ran dry far too soon.  His brain had been clogged with wishes and what he could’ve done, then declarations of it never being enough, a constant tug-of-war that migraines were made of.

He never stood a chance, his DNA had always been coded like a mutant, at least that’s how it felt deep in his bones.  There was always something off, he never resonated with life in general how everyone else did.  A flaw in the system.  And he built his entire being off of it, afterall he never had any control over the way he was perceived so what option did he have?  

Several.

He thought to himself.  

You could have gone to school, shown up.  

Could have stayed out of detention.

Gotten arrested less.

Not get arrested at all.

Could have said no.  So.  Many.  Times.

In all honesty he wanted to blame his old man but he couldn’t stop taking the hits for him even in death.  He couldn’t stop making excuses.  Any normal person would feel relief but he felt nothing but remorse.  For what, he couldn’t exactly piece it together.  Maybe it was a hidden desire to fix him, a glimmer of hope that he could make him turn his life around like Eddie had.  It would never happen, he was well aware, but a certain childish hope clung onto him, tugging on his sleeve, begging himself for reasons.

Until familiar curls similar to his own and an aura of the gentlest kind clouded his vision.  He could nearly hear her voice, smooth as butter and warm as the summer sun when he was a freckled kid.  Rosy cheeks and beautiful chocolatey brown button eyes to match his.

What’s the matter darlin’?

And he just sobbed.  And remembered.

Morning pancakes and the blues.  Muddy clothes and bubble baths laced with melodies.  Kitchen table haircuts, the softest voice humming in his ears, half inch curls littering the linoleum.  Dancing in the living room.  Refusing to eat his broccoli until she told him they were tiny trees.  Walking hand in hand to the corner store for milk and eggs, the promise of a sucker waiting for him at the cash register widening his innocent grin.  Late night cereal bowls when sleep wasn’t an option and nothing did the trick except some off brand Lucky Charms and tales of dragons and fantasy lands he wished they could run away to.

Then he remembered.

Him.

Stumbling into the kitchen on those nights more often than not, spewing nonsense.  Breaking the refrigerator door as he tripped while seeking another beer.  That door forever being duct taped and never properly fixed as promised.  Mama coaxing dad to bed before she slipped into Eddie’s tiny twin bed for the night, most nights.  Dad waking up just to shut the music off in the morning so he could sleep in.  Disappearing for days.

Mama unexpectedly passing and Eddie being so devastated that he didn’t eat for days and willingly waited at the door every day for pops to get home.  Only he rarely did.  Wayne checking in each and every day only to be on the receiving end of a temper tantrum each time.  Years and years of push back.  A clueless kid defending Indiana’s worst dad in the name of seeking some kind of normalcy.  

“My dad has a ton of jobs.”  He would beam, bright eyes and missing teeth.  

The kids would snicker.  Their mocking smiles would be mistaken for a token of friendliness.  And Eddie would once again be disappointed come the end of the day.  Because he’d realized it wasn’t normal to crawl under fences where dad couldn’t fit, to steal expensive things from “higher class pricks” as dad deemed them.  Take your kid to work day had a very different definition in his book.

So Eddie steered away from telling everyone about his dad’s work antics, opted to tell them about how he got to go to the bar with his old man every Wednesday, thinking he’d surely get praise for being considered so mature.  At least that’s how dad described it.  It wasn’t any better and the reactions were only worse.  They called his dad a drunk.  They weren’t wrong but that didn’t make him feel any less enraged.  “Spawn of Satan”, they called Eddie.  Because in truth that’s what his dad was, he just couldn’t comprehend it at the time.  Then came the christening of his formal title, a word so small but so…derogatory with the way it was spat at him.

Freak.

Spawn of Satan sounded so much worse on paper but Freak made his insides hurt.  And as he recounts the events of his life up until now, he tallies everything up.  Closure in some kind of fucked up way.  Childish thoughts of “he was still my dad” try to take over but are quickly replaced by images of their burning house, the records going up and flames and ash coating everything he had left, everything she had left.

Suddenly there’s broken glass scattered across the floor and warm blood trickling down his arm, not by any fault of his own, just pure rage and unknown strength annihilating the poor glass he attempted to drink water with.  Heartbeat in his ear, he swallows thickly and resumes his position against the kitchen cabinet–they’re going to send me back to the asylum.

All over again, even in the afterlife, dad plays his sick jokes.  Gets Eddie into trouble he never sought out–he was just getting water, it was just water and now he looks like the picture perfect case for mental instability.  No one’s seen him for days and–there’s knocking at the door.  He swears it’s not like last time- it can’t be like last time, he didn’t mean it.  This isn’t like back in Hawkins, when he was healing and the courts were making their decisions.  He thought he was a goner, decided to pull the plug to save everyone the trouble, Wayne was at work, Steve was getting him groceries, everyone else was dealing with the end of the world.  They shouldn’t have to worry about me.  With a bottle of prescribed pills in hand.

The knocking turning urgent, conclusions are drawn up in a scattered, tormented mind–surely they’d rip up his contract, the agreement in which he had been assured a promising life anywhere but Indiana.  A life he’d always longed for anyway.  

Be careful what you wish for.  

That goddamn voice taunts him.

The door shakes, manhandled from the other side and he’s forced to confront the final moments before he’s permanently put away.  “One slip up…”  They had said.  It didn’t matter if he told them it was an accident, nothing mattered if it was anyone else’s word against him.  Literally anyone.  As long as it appeared that he was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. They were probably waiting for this moment: lock up the problem child and throw away the key.  

Cause he was nothing if not a problem.  First and foremost.

Heart beating out of his chest, breath caught in his throat, he could practically hear the sirens whether they be from an ambulance or police car or both, they were coming–

“Eddie?”

It all stopped.  

“Eddie?!”  

There was no accurate way to describe the sob that clawed its way out of his throat, a tortured cry.  The scene before you had been pulled straight out of a horror movie: your beloved Eddie covered in blood, palms pressed into his eyes, stuttered breathing in between sobs.

Upon approaching him he attempted to scoot himself away, glass shards sinking into his hands, a gasp filling the room and you were certain you needed to find someone else to–

“Please don’t make me go back!”

You couldn’t form words.

“I-it was an accident, I-I promise.”  His eyes brimmed with a fear you never could have imagined coming close to witnessing in this lifetime.  “Just–I just got some water-I didn’t mean to break it, I s-swear.  Please d-don’t let them take me.”

Glass crunched under your boots, a slow approach as you crouch in front of the shattered man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen.  With a shaky breath and careful movements, a silent request to assess his arm and hands is made.  You’re sure your wide eyes can’t be comforting in the slightest though the shock still pulses through you.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“Shh.”  You soothe. 

Forehead pressed to his in a moment of solace, you offer a nudge, nose to nose.  A wordless commitment.  Softness he didn’t know he needed, tender touches of your fingertips to his wet cheek as if to promise a remedy for his aching heart, that you weren’t planning on going anywhere.  You weren’t leaving him like he convinced himself you would or god forbid turn him over to the authorities like he feared.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Glass has been carefully swept three times over, though you were considering a fourth for good measure.  Shards had been plucked from Eddie’s poor hands, your tweezers doing the job just fine after being doused in some cheap vodka he had.  Gauze from a first aid kit you thankfully had in the car had been wrapped around the largest gash in his forearm, not large enough for stitches but large enough to wince at.  He sat there the whole time, staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but your face.  

The silence was heavy, a dense fog that hung low throughout his house.  Someone had to break it but both parties were finding difficulties in voicing the reality of what just occurred.  If either spoke it would make it real.  Right now it was hazy, a question of “are we dreaming or did I just walk in on a suicide attempt?” hung in the air.

He said it was an accident, and you believed him.  There was just so much unanswered and it’s the only thing that came to mind.  Anxious fingers tapped against his own thigh, occasionally twisting his rings round and round while gnawing on his lower lip.  It then dawned on you that he was the most human out of anyone you’d ever met.  

He felt on a deeper level than most.

At the touch of your gentle hand against his, his surprised eyes, parted lips, and hesitance to reciprocate hint that he hadn’t anticipated you sticking around this long after you’d found him.  In the standard of fight or flight, he froze.  Realistically he may have been sitting on his tattered couch while you tended to his wounds, both physical and emotional whether he cares to admit or not, but mentally he checked out the second he found himself surrounded by glass and tears.

“Bambi–”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

You were trying to keep it together.  His croaking voice made that hard.  But in all seriousness it wasn’t fair to throw yourself a pity party in light of Eddie’s current stability.  And you’d reject the idea of throwing him a pity party, wouldn’t even touch the idea, but you would offer him all the empathy your soul had collected in a lifetime.  Even not knowing the culprit of his now dried up tears and stinging hands, you’d go to war for him.  Maybe that was dare you even think it, love.  But that’s a crisis for another time.

“Dad died.”

Somehow the silence became even greater, a gigantic void of confusing thoughts and complicated quick conclusions.  Conclusions you backtracked on immediately.  It wasn’t your decision to declare how he should feel about a man who in your eyes and through his words put him through hell no matter how strong your sense of justice grew.      

“Oh, Eddie, I’m so–”  A soft beginning to a sympathetic apology short lived.

“It’s fucked.”  His voice cracked, stoic face crumbling no matter how hard he tried to rebuild the tough exterior.  “I shouldn’t–”  There’s a pause, an intake of shaky breath.  “I shouldn’t feel bad.”

“You’re allowed to.”

“No, no he ruined fucking–everything.”

“And you’re still allowed to mourn.  Even for as shitty of a person as he was, you were still his son and that meant something to you.”

You wished you could erase the flash of pain that glazed over his eyes; something that tells you he knew every word you spoke to be true but couldn’t quite bring himself to be at peace with it yet.  Dust collected on the coffee table in his eternity of reflection, a melancholy aura blanketing the dark cabin as wind whistled through the chimney like spirits demanding attention.  

“How’d you know?”  He finally asked, timid.

“Hm?”

“I left everyone hanging, they all think I’m out with the flu, how did you pick the exact moment I…”

“Needed someone?”

Eddie nodded, hesitantly, like those weren’t the exact words he would pick himself but they seemed to convey what was necessary.  

“Wayne called me.”  You sigh.  “Said he got my number from Steve.  Everyone wanted to jump on the first plane over y’know?”  At this a trace of a fraction of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he did his best to contain it.  “But it’s Christmas, flights are booked, and even then there’s a storm coming in.  Wayne said he couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“So you knew?”

“No.”  You assure, taking care to relax your features.  “Just sounded really worried, didn’t want to air everything out.  He wanted me to check in.  I guess he has some kind of godly intuition.”  You chuckle.

Eddie retracts his hand, and you know you’ve lost him to his inner battle again.  You can only imagine the bloodshed happening within, after all, you were no stranger to deconstructing your own self worth brick by brick.  The traumas he had been faced with were not anything therapy could simply remove like a tumor.  There were no treatments afterward to ensure everything would get better.  You knew this first hand, that you could try and try to get to the root but there was never any way to truly remove it to keep it from ever festering again.  It would appear, it would be when you least expected, at your worst, and it would look you in the eye and test you.

“I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.  When the host convinces themselves but could never actually believe it to be true in their lifetime.

“But right now you’re not.”

Sabotage.  In his eyes.

“But I will be.  Don’t let me ruin your holiday just because–”

Excuses.  Deterring from the targeted enemy: grief, in the name of saving others the trouble.  A tactic you’d perfected in your years of people pleasing and feeding your tendencies to deflect your sorrows with the intent to appear invisible and self destruct.

“Stop it.”  You demand.

“No, Bambi.  Go to Donnie’s, I’m sure they’ll understand you coming early–”

“Stop.”

Rational thoughts were shoved into a neat little box somewhere else in his mind and you only hoped you could aid in retrieving it before he threw away the key.  Before he decided not even he was worthy of hearing them from himself.  And as he crossed his arms, a stubborn gesture, you braced for impact against his defenses.  His cruel inner monologue and haunted house of a brain.

Big eyes adorned with every brown hue under the sun dissipated into pure darkness.  Cold and black, lacking any of the warmth you’d previously basked in.  He was lost in an underworld he’d been promised to since birth.

“Would you listen to me?!”  Eddie’s jaw clenched in utter frustration and you swear a bead of sweat trickles into his eyebrow.  “I’m not–I don’t wanna be the guy to drag you down.  I’m not gonna be that guy, I won’t do it.  My shit is my shit.”

You weren’t going to become complicit in the reality he’d settled for, the reality in which he felt he deserved scraps and just enough attention to deter himself from going insane.

“And I’m not gonna be the one to leave you while you’re hurting.”  Finally catching his avoidant eye contact, you offer his forearm a squeeze.  A plea.  “Throw me out in the snow, I don’t care but I’m still gonna sit on your porch until you let me in.  I don’t care what holiday it is.”

“Go.”

You try not to take it personal.  It’s not personal.

“Fine.”

The last thing he hears is a slam of the door, refusing to even glance at where you previously sat adjacent to him.  The room turned colder, more vacant.  Even your energy had left with you, none spared for him of course, because why would he be spared anything from your healthy heart?  His was black and blue, barely pumping, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you perform CPR on what he considered an already lost cause.

Do not resuscitate.

As quickly as he’d accepted the death of a budding relationship, the door swung open with aggression to interrupt his mourning, smacking the wall and no doubt breaking through some drywall.  The least of his problems as he watched your determination in setting some stacked boxes on his kitchen counter before exiting again, this time leaving the door wide open.  

It was eerie, the way your second exit was so open ended.  Snow flurries entered and gusts of wind toyed with his curls, his cheeks already hurting a tad with the coldness.  Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, you’d dropped off a box of what appeared to be Christmas decorations and what?  Stormed off?  Somehow that hurt even more than the first time, though he’d anticipated the day you would figure out how fucked up he was and retreat.  He could prepare all he wanted but nothing stung more than the actual—

In you came, a box of ornaments under one arm and a small Christmas tree under the other.  And you got to work, setting up the three foot tree right on his coffee table, plugging it in to the nearest outlet and initiating a soft glow of white lights, instantly engulfing the room in a newfound safeness.  The tree needed fluffed and appeared to have bed head, though it still served its cheerful purpose regardless.

Eddie sat with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, on the edge of the couch, eyes shut.  An uphill battle.

“Bambi, what did I tell you–”

“You told me to go.”  You nod confidently, a frown betraying you, pulling at the corners of your mouth.   “And I did.  You didn’t say how long or—or where to go.  But I gave you time to cool off and now you’re gonna either sit and pretend Christmas isn’t a thing or you’re gonna watch the stupid little clay people on TV while I cook dinner and bake.  Either one is good with me but I’m gonna be here whether you like it or not and—“

Before you can look up amidst your rambling, a ringed finger hooks itself in one of your belt loops, tugging you into a warm chest.  

There he is.

Warmth restored in his irises and a semblance of a smirk threatened his lips.  Pale skin rosy in all the right places and endearing eyelashes framing his shy gaze down at you.  Your boy.  

Lips grazed lips, noses nudged into each other, and it all just…made sense.  Bambi and Eddie.  There is not one without the other, not anymore.  Not since you sauntered into his life, demanded a job, puked on him, made him go absolutely insane—

“I love you.”  

It just fell from his tongue.  A promise.

“I-are—are you s—“

“Am I serious?  Is that what you’re gonna ask?”  He nearly mocks your mouthful of syllables.

You nod, gulping.  Not because you’re afraid, no, never.  You’d just never seen such assurance in a single man.

“Bambi…” He tuts.  “You don’t see how bad I’ve got it for you?”

All you can manage is to dumbly bat your eyelashes up at him, mouth hung open like a fish and fists clutching the front of his shirt unknowingly, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest if you stretch out his collar.  

“Bad.”  He reiterates.  “So bad, that even if you don’t feel the same, even if you only like me out of pity—“

���I don’t—“

“I’m not finished.”  Your attempted interruption has him thumbing at your bottom lip.  “Even if you only like me out of pity, I’ll take it.  And I’ll run with it.  Far.  Because I’m pathetic—“

“You are not.” 

“I’m a pathetic man.  Who is deeply in love with you, Bambi.”  

“Stop saying you’re pathetic.”  You challenge quietly, a delicate hand tracing the stubble of his jaw.

“Oh, but I am.”  He breathes, leaving no room for argument when he presses his lips against yours as if it were his last chance.  

Did he believe it was his last chance?

And without thinking, tongues collided, teeth clashed, he had backed you into the wall and there was no telling how you found yourself palming him over rough denim, a whine escaping his throat before you’d barely touched him.

A pathetic whine dare you say.

“Sorry, sorry.”  You gasp, string of saliva connecting you like the invisible string you believed tied you to him all along.

“Don’t—ow!  Jesus fuck.”  Eddie winced, shaking his hand in the air after attempting to cup your blushing cheek.  “Forgot I had fucking…glass in my hand earlier.”

You giggle, a saccharine sound, a melody in his ears that he yearned to make more of.  Embarrassment traces your features, brows pulled into a worrisome look while you hold your hands close against your chest, afraid of further touch much to his dismay.  

“Can you…can you do that again?”  He whispers.  Terrified of the consequences but brave enough to face the rejection.

Nodding, your slow hand reaches for his cheek, thumb grazing over it before trailing down his neck.  His breath hitches, your hand traveling lower and lower, over his chest and down his stomach, exploring all that you’ve so desired only in your wildest  wet dreams.  

Lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly, just enough to let your fingers graze his soft skin, your main goal is to tug at that delicious happy trail.  And when you do, he can’t admit to you that he nearly cums in his jeans but you’re certain you’re on the same page when you see his eyes roll back into his skull.

 He can’t control himself when he ruts into you the second your palm meets him once again, beautiful, breathy sighs escaping his pouty, plump lips.  

“Like that, baby?”  You ask, trailing hot kisses down his throat.

“Please.”  A whisper that tells you everything.  “I-I never—no one’s ever—“  He tries to warn you.

“What?”  You encourage, tongue tracing his earlobe.  “No one’s ever taken care of you, huh?”  

“Just my hand.”  Eddie jokes, voice strained.

Guiding him to sit back on the couch, it protests beneath the weight of you both as you crawl into his lap.  Careful fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, patient lips hovering over his.  Doe eyes look up at you, half in admiration, half in hesitation.  

“We can stop.”  You assure him, sweet kisses pressed to each corner of his lips.

“No, no.”  His voice shakes, chest heaving.  “I just—I don’t know exactly…what I’m doing.”  

There’s an undertone of humiliation, the opposite effect you wanted to have on him.  But you were confident that you could make him feel comfortable.  Feel sexy and wanted.

“Let me do the work.”  You whisper against his lips, slowly rolling your hips into him.  “Let me take care of you.”  

He nods, frantically moving to undo his zipper, only to be met with your delicate hands wrapping around his knuckles.  You’re so patient with him, so gentle, so unlike what he’s ever been faced with.

“I said, let me take care of you.”

Feather light kisses pressed to his knuckles, you continue rotating your hips against his, feeling his bulge in between your legs, the friction tightening the knot within you.  His eyebrows knit together, head falling back against the couch’s when you graze your fingertips just below his shirt again.  

Nails gently drag down his torso, eliciting the loudest moan you’ve pulled from him so far.  His injured hands only allow him to take their place in your belt loops again, assisting in setting the pace as you grind against him.

“Eddie.”  You whimper.

“M’ gonna cum.”  He halts your movements, only letting you hover above what was about to be sweet euphoria.  “Wanna be inside of you.”

You can only gaze at him with the utmost love, entranced by his flushed appearance and his damp curls framing his face.  

“Please, baby.  Please, I’ve got condoms—“

You have to stop his babbling by shoving your tongue in his mouth, nodding against him with a grin.  

“You bought condoms?  Boy, are you prepared—“

A playful pillow is tossed into your face, a deep groan coming from your boy.  

“Yes, I’m cautious, baby, please if you don’t sit on my dick right now, if I have to go one more minute not knowing what it’s like…”

“Shhh, okay, okay!!”  You squeal when he attempts to get up only to fail with you pushing back.  You knew damn well he was strong enough to fling you off of his lap should he choose, which only made your underwear more of a mess.

“You wanna go to the bedroom?”  You tease, nuzzling into his cheek.  

Without a second of hesitation, he launches you both off of the couch, palms against your ass only making you wonder how much his hands must hurt and how much adrenaline he must have not to care.  Playfully, Eddie tosses you onto his bed, a pile of unkempt sheets that only seemed that much more comfortable than your own bed.  You could die happily in the smell that engulfed you.  Purely Eddie.  Woodsy and minty.  A tad smoky.  And some hints of apple.

Just when you think he’s about to jump your bones, in every literal sense, you open your eyes to find him carefully adjusting the needle of his record player in the corner of the room.  And then it plays.  A rendition of Can’t Help Falling in Love.  A folkier version, a woman singing with a twang to her voice.  

“Well alright, cowboy.”  You joke, an over seductive brow raising at him.  

“Shut up.”  He grins, crossing his arms to take his shirt off and toss it behind him.  

“C’mere.”  You reach over, tugging at his belt until he hovers over you.  “Wanna see you.” 

“You are seeing me, been here the whole time.”

Quickly, he gathers what you mean as you reverse positions, pushing him back on the bed to trail your lips along his stomach.  Perfectly pretty lips follow along the scars he’d been left with years ago.  The rough texture doesn’t deter you, doesn’t scare you off like he imagined.  While your lips explore his scarred side, your hand delicately traces the dragon tattooed along his ribs on the opposite side.  Inked skin that arose with goosebumps after each touch.

As if he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven, you stop your torment on his body to discard your own shirt, leaving you in only your bra before him.  Careful to grab his hand, you drag his fingers down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, down, down, down until you let him dip into your pants.  Beneath your damp panties, collecting slick before he catches on your clit, a moan falling so desperately from your lips.  

“F-feel what you do to me?”

It aches.

His finger sits pressed against your throbbing clit, teasing in a way he has no idea about yet.  But he will and you’re not quite ready to relinquish that power to him…yet.  

You can’t handle the confines of clothing any longer, releasing your breasts as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side.  His eyes grow, lips parted in awe.  And when you go to shimmy your jeans off, the friction against his hand pulls a mewl from you, something so pretty and real.  

You’re completely bare, prey for him to claim although he doesn’t, he lets you have control.  And then you remove his hand, only to drag yourself over his denim covered thigh, slick coating the material without much effort.  

Catching his eyes, you watch as he brings his finger up to his lips, tongue wrapping around the digit with a moan of approval.  That’s when you decided you couldn’t drag it on any longer.

His belt buckle clinked against itself as you worked to yank his jeans down, practically drooling for his cock, drunk on the mere idea of even seeing it.  Plaid boxers ignored, you pay attention to the way it slaps against his stomach, already leaking and red.  Painfully aroused.

He barely survives when you decide to lower yourself and lick a long stripe up the underside, twitching against your tongue.

“B-baby, please.”  While grinding into nothing, poor boy.  “Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad.”

He’s been taunted enough, breaking a sweat as he lays there, fisting the sheets in his hands.  You’ve nearly brought him to tears and you’ve barely touched him.

Leaving open mouthed kisses along his reddening chest, you finally offer some relief, ripping open a condom he’d somehow grasped in his hand the entire time, rolling it onto him, and sinking down, swallowing him into your warmth.  Eddie makes the prettiest sounds, small almost hiccups and gasps.  Slowly, you work your hips against him, clit rolling just right against his pubic hair. 

He’s big, stretches you out and hits just the right spot.  Hips stuttering, he places his hands on your waist, cut hands be damned.  Eddie’s close, has been this entire time, but he can’t contain himself the second you lick up a bead of sweat from his chest to his collarbone.  The site is simply too pornoraphic for his inexperienced dick, hot cum filling the condom.  The moan he lets out as he finishes only encourages you, gets you going faster in the limited time you now have before he softens.  

Automatically you reach down to play with your clit, knowing it’ll push you over the edge though he realizes and beats you to it, a rough finger circling you in a pleasant rhythm.  Overstimulated whines fall from him but he doesn’t quit giving you what you need, what you so desperately desire.  

Then all at once, pleasure crashes down around you, pulsing around him, leaving you twitching and panting.  The record stopped playing however long ago, the silence pulling you back into the realm of Eddie’s bedroom.

 Nothing needs to be said, words aren’t on your minds.  Excuses for what just occurred are nonexistent because if you’re being honest, it was sewn into the timeline no matter what.  Forever embedded into the universe in every lifetime.  Heavy breaths carried a symphony during the cool down, sweaty chests pressed together, sticky and salty.

Absentmindedly your foot grazed against his hairy shin, fingers dancing along his chest and arm.  His bicep was toned, something you were never able to appreciate up close before but would now take all the time you wanted.  You wanted to memorize every detail of his body, every freckle, hair, and birthmark.  All of him.

His lazy hand let his fingers trail up and down your spine, writing letters unknown to you but etched into his brain for as long as he knew you.  He held a new appreciation for intimacy, something he sourly wrote off early on but now would cherish deeply.  

Girls never liked him but if he could go back in time and show younger Eddie the one girl who would ever matter to him, well he imagines younger Eddie would still be a naive dipshit about it but he could try nonetheless.  Supposes he would hit him with a “it gets better, kid” and all that sappy shit.  Something like “you’re gonna marry this girl”.  That would be okay to jump the gun on, right?

–

Cinnamon and chocolatey aromas couldn’t completely wash away the somber haze although it was fairly close.  Post sex air somewhat helped as well, though you weren’t banking on it, it wasn’t a solution, more like a deterrent that hadn’t been planned on either part.  

The little plastic tree on the coffee table decorated with years old ornaments wasn’t going to heal the bruising on an ever healing heart.  Christmas classics played on the TV but you knew Rudolph wasn’t going to erase a lifetime's worth of childhood trauma.  

It could help though.  And that’s all that mattered.  If watching Christmas classics only aided in healing a millionth of the wounds, then it was worth doing.  If decorating his once dark and depressing house with twinkling lights and garland only brought out a smidge of the inner child that needed help healing, then it was worth it.  

While Eddie slept in, you played Santa even if just with one gift, leaving it next to the coffee table, too large to fit under the small tree.  Though it didn’t start out perfect, Christmas was starting to look very familiar.  Baked goods sat out on top of the stove, cinnamon rolls, croissants, the works.  Eddie’s shitty little kitchen radio played Christmas tunes which you found yourself humming along to.  

You’d thrown together some maple bacon, drizzling actual maple syrup on the strips in hopes that they’d candy in the oven, which they did.  Hash browns sat in the skillet, slightly burned but at least there was ketchup in the fridge to cover up the burnt taste.  Snow blanketed the streets outside, snowing you in although you didn’t mind one bit.  

You’d called Donnie, heard the commotion over the line at her house, family members causing a ruckus in the background as she made pancakes.  While you were supposed to be with everyone this morning, she assured you all was well and you could hear the smirk in her voice.

Emerging from his room, Eddie’s bed head is the first thing you greet.  Curls sticking out every which way, bangs defying gravity.  Lines ran down his face, imprints from the sheets and his boxers hung low on his hips.  A dream.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”  You giggle at the way he squints in the early morning sunlight peeking through the window.  

Stretching his arms over his head, you’re forced to witness the way every muscle flexes, drool nearly falling from the corner of your mouth.  It doesn’t go unnoticed but he decides it can be addressed later.  

“Merry Christmas, did you get me some fucking curtains so I can actually see?”  He laughs, voice husky with sleep.  

“No but I can do you one better—“

“I was joking Bambi, I wasn’t actually expecting any—“

“Next to the table.”  

Your grin makes him want to run directly to you and spin you around, kiss you a few dozen times, and never leave this bubble you two have created.  Instead he hesitantly steps toward the previously mentioned gift, a large gift at that, wrapped thoughtfully in reindeer paper and complete with a large red bow.  He felt like an asshole.

“I—no I can’t—“

“Open it.”  

Eddie just stared. 

“Eddie, it’s Christmas, first thing you do is open gifts!”  You smile, approaching behind him.

Then he disappeared back into his room, the sound of him rummaging the only thing letting you know he hasn’t retreated just to hide from you.  When he walks back out, he’s hiding something behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at his face.  

“I swear—I was going to wrap it, I just—I don’t have an excuse.  I just didn’t.  I’m sorry.”  His large brown eyes plead with you, begging for forgiveness that he didn’t need to beg for in the first place.

As if defeated, he hands you a stack of records, several that probably cost a good paycheck.  And you can tell he feels it’s not even enough with the way he avoids your gaze.

“Um, it’s probably stupid, it’s just, they’re records that made me think of you.  I dunno, it’s dumb, music is just—“

“I love you.”  You interrupt.

Without another word you grab the records from him to momentarily set them on the table.  Before he knows it you're smashing your lips against his, passion being poured into every breath he takes against you.  Your hands cup his cheeks, still slightly stubbly but cute.  He wraps his large hands around your wrists, hissing at the slight sting but continuing. 

“You’re not just saying that—“

“I.  Love.  You.”  You enunciate each word with a peck.  “Point blank.  No exceptions.  You’re stuck with me old man.”

“Old man?  We’re like the same age—“

You’ll never forget the amusement on his face but what attracts your attention next are the records.  A huge stack of them.  All genres.  Some Elvis, ones that hadn’t made it in your collection yet, a few that seemed more his taste, metal.  It was a universal language and it was his preferred way of feeling.  That much you could gather.

“Um, yeah, if you don’t like them I can just…”

“Don’t like them?”  You scoff.  “I love them.”

You hold them close to your chest, as if they were books and you were in high school.  You suppose you could be what with the way butterflies erupted in your stomach.  He made you feel like you were in high school, gave you a sense of youth that had been skipped over previously.  

And he was blushing. 

“Well, uh, I just thought you know…music does a lot for me.  I picked some out that I knew you’d like.  Also put some that I like in there, I dunno why, you don’t have to listen to them.”

“Oh, we are listening to them.  Right after you open your gift.”

More blushing.

Eddie takes a few glances at the gift, as if it were there to test him.  Like Pandora’s box or something.  Then he crouches down beside it, hesitantly reaching out to peel back the paper.  A giddy grin rests on your face, records still clutched in your hold.  His face says it all once he’s torn through enough paper.  It’s a guitar case, that much he can tell, eyes nearly popping out of his head.  Then he opens the case, revealing a cherry red electric something that you couldn’t memorize the name of but all you knew was that he had his eyes on it for months before you even entered the picture.  At least that’s what the guy at the thrift shop said. 

“No fucking way.”  He smiles, half laughs.  Then repeats himself.  Over and over.

“Do you like it?”

Instead of receiving verbal confirmation, you’re nearly tackled, strong arms wrapping around you and swinging you around.  Laughter erupts from deep within you, Eddie setting you down just to kiss you deeply and with so much care you figure you’ll faint.  

“I love it, I love you.”

Later that morning, frosting coats his lips then transfers to yours in a quick kiss across his tiny dining table.  The bacon is devoured, mostly on his account, and those claymation Christmas classics elicit laughter like no other.  Deep belly laughs from the man whose legs you sit in between.  His shirt rests comfortably on your torso.

He calls Wayne, puts it on speaker, and effortless banter occurs between you three.  Wayne tells his boy to behave, wishes him a Merry Christmas, apologizes that times have been so shitty and that his flight had been canceled.  Thanks you for being there to ground his boy, tells you how much Eddie’s friends have gone on and on about you two, that he can’t wait to meet you.

Then you call up your family back home, more than likely all crammed in the same house, doing puzzles, arguing over stupid things, throwing wrapping paper everywhere.  You miss it.  But you wouldn’t trade your place right now for anything.  Eddie timidly and adorably chimes in, says hi.  Makes small talk with mom and grandma.  Grandma begs him to take a look at her station wagon when he makes his way over with you for a visit some day.  No question about it, he’s going and that’s final, according to her.  He doesn’t seem to mind though, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

Lastly you call up the gang.  Nancy answers, says everyone’s at their house as usual.  Shouting between Dustin, Steve, and Mike is heard in the background.  Something about a broken sled.  Robin takes the call hostage, telling you both about the juicy gossip amongst the group.

“And then Max—you haven’t met Max yet, Bambi, but Max left Lucas a—shit you haven’t met Lucas yet either.  This would all make so much more sense then.”

There’s talk of a summer trip, something fun everyone can join in on.  Kind of like summer camp except Nancy would of course be the ring leader by default.  She would more than likely assign the adults as camp counselors unofficially.  Eddie’s face lights up, tells her about the perfect campsite not far from his house.  Beautiful in the summertime.  Then looks at you, shares a dimpled grin and runs his thumb over your knee.

Loved ones called and bellies full, Eddie plays around with his new guitar, and softly in the background, Muddy Waters plays.  One of the records he’d gifted you.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

[christinebloodwrittings]

Hi, I'm not sure if you requests are open but I'd like to ask for a Lucifer Morningstar x oblivious! fem! reader. He met her when he visited the hotel and was immediately intrigued when Charlie told him that she was a a fallen angel. Later on he decides to court her but she is oblivious to his advances. Fluff! Have a good day/night!

Pairing: Lucifer x Fem!reader Summary: Believing she's underserving of love, every intent of the king to make his affections clear go unseen, until he had enough. Warnings: Blood, child marriage, a bit of angst. Diabetes quality fluff.

Note: I kinda forgot it was a fallen angel thing and already got up to 4k of words when I realized...Sorry, but I threw in the redeemed sinner thing that choses to be in hell, does that count?

Fireworks

To be put in simple words, love was a foreign term. You had seen it, but felt it? Your marriage in life was an arranged one, made by your father who forcefully had you marry one of his wealthy friends. Sure you lived with all the money in the world, but love? No, the man that was your husband lusted you a few times a week and then he was off to see the world. Leaving you behind locked doors to do the cleaning duties while he was gone.

After years of that routine, you felt disconnected, separated from your body, as if you couldn’t feel anything but coldness and loneliness. The era you were alive in wasn’t great in medical advances, so an unusual flu took over your health violently. You thanked to life and whoever who listened that your husband wasn’t there to mock your state, but from the bleeding cough to your last breath, at least four hours of suffering passed until you finally gave up.

Maybe it was the money you took from your husband without him knowing, or the times you tried to kill him in his sleep, but something sent you to hell.  

After meeting Angel, by accident in a bar, where he barely managed to escape some guy wanting to harm him, he used you as an excuse, “client” or so he said as he pushed you down the street.

After thanking you for playing along, he told you about the Hotel and invited you to spend some time with him until you could stand on your own, in an economic and literal sense, the fall was not kind to your legs, the which had adopted a reverse position, like that of a dog.

“Hey, are ya aware you look like a husky?” you opened your eyes to his comment, looking your reflection in a turned off tv screen. Your ears were pitch black on the reverse, while white and fluffy on the inside.

The signs of when you wanted to tear out your throat with your nails were printed as gray scratch marks at the level of your larynx. And speaking of colors, your hands up to the wrists were black, up to where your forearm began, from there everything was a creamy white color, with a soft layer of fuzz, just like that of a peach.

You no longer had feet, but rather paws and claws like a dog's, with everything and pads. Your hands had light blue endings, with retractable claws. Your teeth were sharp and menacing, and just to top your silly appearance, just above your lower back, a long fluffy tail occasionally wagged.

“You look so cute toots” the spider supported your weight in two of his arms as if you were a feather, while with another hand he ruffled the hair in between your ears.

Once at the hotel, comments poured in about your stuffed dog appearance. Some made you laugh, others no so much. However, the barista and the smiling demon were not very comfortable with your presence. One being a cat and the other despising dogs.

“Your tail is so soft” Pentious hissed while softly caressing your tail on the couch. Compliments, how exactly you could receive one? But was it? He was stating a fact, so you just simply agreed with him in a matter-of-fact manner.

“Alright fellas, I’m taking ‘er upstairs, her leg needs work” Angel scooped you up again, taking you into his fever pink room. After discovering you could growl and whine like a dog you and Angel laughed, you leg now bandaged and secured with two pieces of metal to keep it straight.

In the privacy of the bathroom, you were able to let out a couple of tears given the abrupt change in realities. You died, you're in hell, and you couldn't even say goodbye to anyone. Furthermore, without even knowing you, a stranger gave you more support than any person in your life. You didn't know how yet, but you were going to pay him.

Angel had to go work while you stayed with his pig, idle sat by the window, observing and reflecting. Will your husband be in mourning? Have they buried you or thrown you into the river? They probably burned your remains and scattered them in the lake near the house.

You shook your head, then made your way to the door, decided to go look around a bit, even if you had to limp all the way to the hallway. Which you did, and wasn’t the brightest decision, given that in the middle of the stairs you tripped.

Mid-air you couldn’t grab onto the railing, so you accepted your fate and closed your eyes waiting for the impact, but all you saw were white and red feathers flapping not so far up the floor. “That could’ve been a nasty fall, you okay dear?” he laughed as a prideful smile took over his face, he looked just like Charlie, could they be related?

“Uhm, I think so, thank you sir” he flew upstairs, gently lowering you so you could get on your feet, “Is your leg okay?” he pointed to the bandages, soon showing spots of blood, “A bit bruised, I’m…new” your ears pulled back, while something pulled you away from him, like a voice from within telling you to run.

“Oh! Welcome to Hell then, my name is Lucifer” he outstretched his hand, a bright and warm smile adorning his face. “Y/n” you took his hand, calloused yet soft. “Nice to meet you, Y/n” he said your name like it was the title of a song.

“That, looks a bit nasty, mind if I take a crack at it?” he pointed to your now dripping back knee, “I think I should head back, I’ll take care of it” a step back made you almost fall again, seemingly failing to remember for a second how much it hurt to step on the ground, “Yeah no, I insist” he scooped you up his arms again, one of his hands pressing your legs into him and the other rubbing circles with his thumb on your back.

His room was considerably bigger than Angel’s. There was circus and apple décor everywhere, even on his bed, but covering corners and scattered on the floor there were roughly a hundred rubber ducks or more. “I love ducks so much, it has become a hobby” he noticed your staring, very much so, that when you turned to see him, he had a bashful expression and a golden blush on his cheek.

“It’s cute” he laughed at your comment, softly seating you on his bed, “I’ll undo the bandage, we can stop whenever you like, okay?” you watched him kneel down, taking in his hands the broken and tender flesh, “Mmh, long fall, huh? What did you do?” was he trying to make a joke? You didn’t know.

“I’m not sure, I just remember an intense amount of hot air against my body and then nothing” your answer was so straight to the point it made him nervous, so after swallowing a lump of saliva, he tried again, “I’m sorry, but uhm-I mean, anything exciting?” you furrowed your brows, “Like what?” he shrugged, finally discarding the stained bandages on the floor. “There’s a lot of reasons one can wind up down here, I mean… take me as an example” you weren’t the most religious woman, so you couldn’t judge something you didn’t knew much about.

“I didn’t do church, so I can’t really judge you” could atheism be a reason why you’re in hell? That would be fucked up. “Can’t or won’t?” he eyed you up, summoning new bandages, “Both? Considering you saved me and you’re patching my leg” his touch went away for a second, but it was enough to feel cold, nonetheless, when he accidentally made a bit of pressure in your wound an animalistic whine came out your throat, and, painfully so, your body pulled back, a few inches away from him.

Realizing what had happened, you couldn’t dare to see his face, “I don’t know why- I’m sorry” you stammered, “Hey, it’s not your fault, it takes time to get used to all of this” he searched in your expression something, anything that told him he could continue, since he didn’t saw much, he tried once again.

“I used to have feet, like you, now I’m stuck with hoof cleaning at least twice a week, otherwise I’ll be shorter than I already am” he opened his hand again, just waiting. He was inviting, calm, warm, nothing like you thought the devil would be like. So you pushed yourself back to the edge of the bed, and allowed him to touch you again.

“And done! How about I make you some crutches, mmh? That way you can limp around safely” he winked, snapping his fingers to make a little glitter sparkle while doing so. “Even if you say that I shouldn’t bother I’m going to either way” he stopped you before any word could leave your mouth, so all that was left to say was, “Thank you, sir” you smiled.

He was made aware of a rhythmically fast thumping on the sheets, when he looked over to your tail his heart fluttered, he decided he wouldn’t tease you about it, but he was going to make one thing clear. “Lucifer” he said his own name as if he was making himself acknowledged, seen.

“First names basis?” he nodded with a hum, “Thank you, Lucifer” it may have been just his interpretation, but his name rolling off your lips, he felt as if you were naming a painting. It sent a shiver from the tip of his tail to the tip of his horns.

He didn’t know how long has he been staring at you, but as soon as his mind started ticking again, he cleared his throat, taking seat by your side. “It itches my mind, what were you doing on the stairs if you’re injured?” say anything, literally anything, “Wandering, I…don’t enjoy feeling useless” ‘stupid’ you scolded yourself.

He knew the feeling, that’s the same one that made him start with the ducks. “You like books?” you nodded, “Let’s see here” he whisked his hand in the air, making a golden line of light shine brightly, “I have most of everything, is there something you’re particularly interested?” he turned to see you, his eyes ever so warm and gentle.

“Uhm, what do you recommend?” you didn’t know, in the living world you just read Anne Frank, which was sad and not very hopeful. “Oh I have just the thing” he put his hands inside the light and pulled three books, leaving two on the nightstand, and the other in your lap.

“It’s about a princess, dragons and an idiot you could call a sad excuse of a knight” he chuckled, eying you pass your fingers along the ridges on the hard cover, “As soon as you finish reading that one, let’s chat about it” you nodded, your tail going up and down against the silky bed.

“Oh and here” he snaped his fingers, a pair of ducky crutches fell on his hands, “Alakazam!” he smiled, “Thank you, Lucifer”.

Maybe it was how you got along with his daughter, or your care for her and everyone at the Hotel, including grumpy old Alastor, who still kept you at an arm's length because of his dislike of dogs.

Although of course, Lucifer was doing him the favor of reminding him that you are a lady, so the poor guy had no choice but to accept your peace offerings with a kind gesture. The fact that his pride burned because of it, made the king laugh until his stomach ached.

Over time, he started to notice the little things you did for him. Like when he came down to breakfast, you already had his place on the table next to Charlie, with his plate served accompanied by a small sweet or pastry and his duck cup of coffee.

Nevertheless, ever since that afternoon in his room, he started seeking for you more often.

“That dress is looking pretty good on you” he would say, to which your first response was, “Vaggie chose it, she has great taste” immediately dismissing his compliment, and that wasn’t his first intent.

“Hey, Y/n, how about we go out today?” he was quickly drowned under the sound of a thunder, followed by acid rain, “It’s raining” you walked away, silently tethered into the book he lent you.

Lucifer didn't fully grasp the concept of frustration, until the afternoon he tried to drown himself in sweet cocktails, poor Husk falling victim to his whining and the incessant sound of the wedding ring rolling across the table.

"She's kind of dense, isn't she?" Angel tried to make conversation with the defeated king, "I don't know what I'm doing wrong? I tell her that she looks good, she tells me that's how she looks every day" Angel let out a comprehensive hum, “Like in a ‘I don’t look different, what do you mean’ way?” Lucifer nodded, “Maybe she just has a hard time taking a compliment?” “It’s not just that, I ask her to go out, she asks me what for! Or that she just wants to finish up the book” Angel took a side look to Husk as if asking ‘has he been like this for a while?’, the only answer was a silent nod as the king continued his rant.

“And pickup lines, you youngsters still use them right? My best material just disregarded!” his best lines and your responses were something like this:

#1

L:“I’d like to take you to the movies, but they don’t let you bring your own snacks”

Y/n: “Oh bummer, but we can buy them there right?”

#2

L: “Hey, how was heaven like when you left it?”

Y/n: I don’t remember being there, sorry. But Charlie recently went up, maybe she can tell you about it!”

#3

L: “When I text you good morning tomorrow, what number should I text to?”

Y/n: “We live under the same roof… why do you need to text me?”

#4

L: I’m not an electrician, but I can light up your day”

Y/n: You sure do Luci, and so everyone else’s…well, maybe not Alastor’s day, but Charlie lights up every time she sees you happy, and around.

#5

L: “Want a raisin? No, perhaps I could interest you with…a date?”

Y/n: I’m sorry, I’m not a big fan of dates, the texture is just not my thing”

#6

L: “Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten-I-see”

Y/n: Nope, from California. I think I haven’t traveled to Tennessee, have you?”

And though Angel could make himself an idea of his efforts, and wanted to laugh at how sappy he could be, he needed to focus. “Look, she had told me few things about herself” Lucifer was ready to do anything for a single crumb of information, “Look, maybe she is oblivious about your advances, or she just doesn’t know what you’re doing”.

Angel was wishing you weren’t listening, because you made him promise not to tell. When he helped you into another set of clothes, while playing some sort of dress up, he could see a lot of the damage your husband did on your skin, and he could imagine the emotional damage he inflicted, seeing your eyes adapt a dead-like look while you tried to summarize years of pain into five minutes.

“How can I- how can she not know?” Angel took a deep breath, feeling guilty already, “She was married off to a fucked up man, at a VERY young age” a stab, in a metaphorical way, was placed into the king’s gut, “How young?” nine years old, you were placed in his care, then he granted you the mercy to wait until you were fifteen, then your dad signed the consent for your marriage.

“Illegal young” Lucifer felt a knot forming on his stomach, followed by nausea. To think you were alone living that sort of situation made him sick, angry and feel very much hopeless. “Maybe, you need to be more direct, say ‘hey I’d like very much to know more about you, to hold you, kiss you’ an’ shit like that” his fluffy friend was right, he needed a more direct approach, no more pick up lines.

“And ya’ definitely need to think about getting rid of that” Angel pointed to the ring Lucifer was obsessively fidgeting win between his fingers. “To be honest, it did cross my mind, let her go… it’s time don’t you think?” Angel opened his hand, asking for the ring, seeing that it was a painful process as it is and he clearly needed a hand. Lucifer took a deep breath before he slid the cold metal off his finger and leave it in the spider’s hand.

He made his way upstairs, decided he needed to be honest and forward with you, but also he was drunk out of his mind, so instead of his room he stumbled into the library he made for you to enjoy your reading.

"Y/n?" he slurred out your name, missing a few letters, still peaking your attention from the second book of the saga he lent you. "Everything okay Luci? You look a little...off" you put the book on the coffee table, looking at him with a worried face.

"I need to confess-s-s something" he did a sort of hiss while 'tripping' with his own forked tongue, and with that he also made a miss step on the carpet and proceeded to fall. Though you were quick to brace his fall, his face landing in between your neck and your chest.

"Uhm. You okay?" he looked up, breathing had been hard for him lately, it was as if a thick fog was all he had in his lungs. Around you, the fog clears up, a refreshing feeling washed over him as soon as your perfume attached itself to his clothes.

He took a second to process your voice, being that he was into a sort of drunk-trance, deeply wrapped into your warmth, better than he had ever imagined. "I-I am, better than ever" he softly sighed, taking your waist into a tight embrace, the lack of self-awareness that the alcohol provoked, gave the king enough courage to fix his posture and nuzzle into your neck, never once letting you go.

"I adore you, in more than one way. I'd like to have more than the warmth of your presence in the room. I want the freedom to have you like this every day, to caress you, to kiss you" his eyes turn red, his horns sprouted out his forehead as his wings from his back, slightly ripping his suit, "If you let me, of course, what do you say?" he made an internal prayer, not only for you to say yes, but also choose him in every way. For you to see the depth of his emotions, wearing one of his realities: the scaring that the fall printed on his body.

"If I choose you, and she comes back... will you still choose me?" you pulled him off, slowly, softly. From your jacket you took out a halo, shining bright with your full name printed. You had earned your place in heaven; redemption had worked on you.

"Holy fuck! You made it, congratulations! Now you can go enjoy paradise, dearest" he gave you a reassurance smile and a caress on your cheek, though his heart felt as if someone threatened to squeeze it out of his chest as your eyes scanned the light of the halo.

He struggled to get to a better position in the couch and to keep his tears at bay, seeing that you have an option to leave him forever. But he wasn't going to trap you in hell out of greed, you had the choice and he was going to honor whatever you went with.

"But what about you?" you took your eyes off the angelic light, to look into his sad looking eyes, "What about me? I can't go to heaven" he laughed off a bit of the pain and the urge to rip the halo to shreds.

"You look sad, what if I don't go?" he shook his head, "Oh pff, I will miss you terribly, but it will warm my heart to know that you're in a better place" he patted in between your fluffy ears, "Wait, you like-like me?" he found reason in what Angel said, you were merely a child married off to an old man who tried to corrupt you, that's why your lingo was so child-like and your mannerisms were so gentle and soft.

"I do, and more than that too, if you'd let me, I could make you happy" he took your other hand, "And if you choose Heaven, that's alright too, even better, you'll be in a place where everyone is kind to one another, the clouds are soft and fluffy and it's always warm and sunny" he recalled heaven form memory, might been an outdated version of the same, but it didn't mattered.

You spotted one of his wings that was at arm's reach. He watched your fingers slowly making contact with his feathers, your eyes scanning his for any sign of discomfort. At that he moved a little closer so you could have a better access, fully extending his wing to you.

"I am needy" you broke the silence, repeating the words from your ex-husband, "And cannot understand a lot of things" he turn his eyes off of yours, not out of negativity, but of safety, if he looked at you right now, you would see him cry his heart out.

"I'm needy too, and even being as timeless as I am, there's still things I don't comprehend" you tried to look at his face, but he hid himself in his feathers, "Like what?" you whispered, searching in between until you saw his face, "You will laugh" in response you shook your head, he took a second then answered with the brightest golden blush on his cheeks.

"What are fireworks made of? And what makes them colorful?" you took a second to think, then he watched you jump off the couch towards a shelf, took a book and then you came back to him.

"Here it is, gunpowder, potassium nitrate, sulfur, and charcoal, that is what makes it explode. It's also combined with Barium, which produces bright greens; strontium yields deep reds; copper produces blues; and sodium yields yellow" you read from the pages, "Now we both know now" your tail wagged at the sight of his smile.

"So, what are you going to do with that?" he pointed to the disregarded halo on the couch, "What should I do?" he eyed your troubled stare, then shoved his own mind aside, "Whatever your heart desires" to comfort you, still the devil on his shoulder advising him to be selfish and beg you to stay.

"I don't want to leave" you put the halo on his lap, “Is there a way to give this to someone else?" he slowly shook his head, "Want to do the honors?" almost in command he threw the angelic halo into hellfire. "I guess you're stuck with me now" his own tail wrapped around yours. He was excited and happy for your decision, even if it meant that you would remain in hell.

Now a little more sober, he got up from the couch, with his heart in his hand, metaphorically. He took the liberty of taking your hands in his, and guiding them over his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders, chest and wings. "I'm not much, but if you were to give me the title of "Yours", happily I would stop being the king of hell".

"Just to clarify, those sappy phrases were...romantically intended?" you were suddenly hit with a flash of realization, "YES!" he exhaled a breath he had stuck in his throat for a while. You laughed, "Then why didn't you said so?" good thing you were almost his same stature, he could watch you unravel with giggles without hurting his neck.

"I should have, huh?" he pulled you into his arms again, his hand caressed the back of your head before pulling in for a kiss. Taking your lips into his with a stored up passion he hadn't used in more than seven years.

Happy, how long has it been since you felt genuinely happy? especially in the arms of another, who was nothing more and nothing less than the devil himself. Who showed you more affection and affection than any other man alive. "I think I chose well" You soon noticed that his blonde hair was silky and knotless, it just slid through your fingers as you combed it. Something that ruffled Lucifer's feathers as soon as your fingers made contact with his head.

"Please do that forever" he melted in your embrace and ministrations, "I promise" he purred in response.