#so I'm up and down and up and down and getting tissues and bringing drinks

[natjennie]

someone get me out of hereeeee

[multi-fandom-imagine]

If your requests are still open may I request Adam, Alastor or Lucifer doesn't matter which taking care of sick reader? I'm sick rn, like can't breath though my nose and sore throat all that jazz

A/n: I AM SOERY FOR MISSING THIS! Tumblr never lets me know! I hope you feel better!

Adam:

"Shouldn't you be resting? Didn't I order you get someone else to do this shit?!" Adam didn't mean to snap but you were sick and yet here you were working.

Wrinkling his nose, he took a step towards you then lifted you onto his shoulders. A small squeak left your lips as the angel carried you off towards his room.

"Adam" you let out a small cough, too weak to struggle. "Put me down! I have to work"

Nearly tossing you on the bed, you let a groan burying your face into his pillow as he slipped into next to the spot next to you.

"Didn't you hear me? Someone else can do it." He muttered into your neck. "Now get some sleep, when you wake up I'll get someone to bring you some shit to make you feel better."

Alastor:

Stopping his show, Alastor slowly made his way towards the sound of the constant coughing. Gripping his cane tightly the demon opened his mouth until he saw who it was. It was a pathetic sight really.

You curled up into a small ball coughing away, tissues all around you. He could see shivers wracking your body.

'Idiot, he told you not to stay out, he told you this would happen.'

Part of him wanted to brag about it, to gloat to you but how could he really gloat to someone he...cared about. { that was something he was still getting used too }

Now hovering about you, Alastor let out a dramatic sigh he lifted you up in his arms. "Let's go so you can be back in tiptop shape."

Groaning, you nuzzled into his chest as you let out another cough. "T...thank you." Your voice raspy as your eyes slipped closed.

"Oh dear, you do not have to thank me."

Lucifer

The moment you mentioned to Lucifer that you weren't feeling well the man whisked you away to the bedroom. He did his best to make you as comfortable as possible, he couldn't have the one he loved being sick.

Sitting on the bed, he pouted fixing the cold press on your head. You were still feeling warm, he hated that, he hated seeing you sick.

Flinching from your cough, he sat down on the edge of the bed holding your hand gently. "Do you need anything to eat? Drink?....how about another blanket?"

Letting out a weak laugh, you did your best to give him a smile as you squeezed his hand gently. "Can you cuddle me?"

Lucifer's eyes went wide for a moment though his gaze softened as he nodded his head. "Anything for you."

[triptuckers]

drunk in love - remy lebeau

Request: nope Pairing: remy lebeau x reader Summary: remy is comes home drunk, so you take care of him Warnings: mentions of alcohol, language, mentions of sexual themes/making out but not actually the real thing dont worry, remy being a whiny lovesick puppy, one mention of throwing up but no actual throwing up Word count: 1.7K A/N: currently binge watching x men 97 PLEASE give me more gambit content pls marvel I'm willing to beg you on my knees. based on a screenshot I saw of a comic page. enjoy!

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you're sitting on the couch, reading your book. it's dark outside, and the clock on the wall tells you it's way too late for you to be awake. you weren't a night owl, but this book was just too good. every time you want to put it away, a chapter ends in a cliffhanger. you couldn't bring yourself to close it without finding out what happened next.

the story is so good and you're so focused on it, you nearly jump out of your skin when you hear the door knob rattle.

it was late and remy wasn't home. he went out drinking with some of the other x-men. it wasn't often they were all free and in the same city, so you knew if it did happen, remy would usually stay out til late. not coming home til long after you'd gone to bed already.

you weren't expecting him to come home this early, so you're immediately on guard. slowly, you put your book down and creep closer to the front door. you grab the closest thing you can find to use as a weapon. you don't know how much damage a tissue box could do, but at the very least you could throw it at the intruder and run away.

remy had tried to teach you some self defence tricks in case something happened and he wasn't home, but he was nearly always right there with you, so you never really learned it.

you wish you had paid him more attention now.

as you get closer to the front door, you see a shadow silhouetted against the glass. and then you hear a voice, cursing while trying to open the door.

'merde... why won't this fucking key fit... fuck off...'

you unlock the door and open it. maybe a little too quickly, because remy all but stumbles into you. you barely manage to catch him.

when he looks up at you, he gives you a dazzling smile with his eyes half closed. 'hello, mon amour.' he says.

you laugh softly and roll your eyes as you shake your head. of course he'd stumble home drunk. you already know your evening is far from over when he's like this.

'come on.' you say. 'let's get you inside.'

remy does a spectacularly bad job at getting up. and he's heavy.

'remy.' you say, holding on to him. 'work with me here.'

you manage to get him inside and lock the door again. remy is looking at you with a smile on his face.

'I hadn't expected you back yet.' you say, walking into the kitchen.

remy follows you and grabs one of your hands with both of his.

'I missed you, chéri.' he says, pulling you close and nuzzling his face in your neck.

'we live together, remy. I saw you this afternoon.' you say.

you feel his lips press against the side of your neck. you briefly close your eyes and allow yourself to revel in the feeling. then you gently push him away.

you hear remy whine and turn to see him pout at you.

'you don't love me anymore?' he says.

'of course I do, my love.' you say. 'but you're drunk. you need to drink some water and go to bed.'

you grab a clean glass and walk over to the sink. as you're filling it up with water, you can sense remy's presence behind you. seconds later, you feel his hands on your hips and his chin on your shoulder.

you mange to turn around in his arms and hand him the glass of water.

'drink up.'

'can I get a kiss afterwards?'

you roll your eyes. you don't want to admit you think it's adorable when he's this handsy and affectionate. you would only encourage him and you really meant it: you wouldn't do anything when he's drunk. he'd do the same if the roles were reversed.

'sure, love, you can get a kiss afterwards.'

you have to hold back your laughter as remy's eyes light up and he downs the glass in one go. you smirk and blow him a kiss before he can lean in.

'hey, what the fuck! no fair!' he exclaims, frowning.

'come on.' you say, holding out your hand to him. 'let's go to bed.'

he all but stumbles over his feet in his haste to grab your hand and follow you.

'yeah, let's go to bed.' you hear remy say behind you. you can tell by the tone in his voice you two have different ideas about 'going to bed'.

'to sleep, remy.' you clarify.

he sighs so loudly you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. you smile to yourself, amused at how fast his moods change when he's drunk. and about the fact he's such a love sick puppy when he's had a few. that is, more of a love sick puppy than he normally is. god, he really loves you.

when you get to your bedroom, you motion for remy to sit down on the bed. you kneel down to untie his boots.

'loving this view, mon amour.' comes remy's voice from above you. 'you know I love it when you get on your knees for me.'

'I'm just taking off your boots.'

'sure you are.'

'I am, remy.'

'are you sure?'

'yes, I am sure.'

remy sighs dramatically and lets himself fall back onto the bed. you glance up at him and see how tight his pants are. of course he'd not only be overly affectionate, but also turned on.

you tug off his boots and socks, raising to your feet.

'stand up for me, please.' you say.

remy opens his eyes and smirks at you from his position on the bed.

'now this view, I like.'

'it's literally so late remy, come on, I want to go to bed.'

he takes a hold of the hand you offer him and lets you pull him to his feet. you reach out to undo his belt.

'wow, chéri, buy me dinner first.' remy mumbles above you. you can tell by his quiet voice he's ready to go to sleep but fighting to stay awake. you wonder how much of this he'll remember tomorrow.

after undoing his belt and helping him out of his pants, you tell him to put his arms up so you can pull his shirt over his head. he does what you ask and doesn't even make a flirty comment about it. that tells you his tiredness is really kicking in.

you briefly step away to get a pair of sweatpants and a shirt out of the closet. as you hand them to him, you allow remy to rest his hand on your shoulder as he puts on the pants you've given him. you let your eyes linger on his muscular chest as he puts on the shirt. you really did get lucky with him, even if he can't keep his hands off of you when he's drunk.

you gently guide him to the bed and help him lay down. you get into the bed next to him and feel how remy pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck.

'you will kiss me tomorrow, right?' he mumbles against your skin.

you run your hands lazily through his hair. 'if you aren't hungover as fuck, which I think you will be, then yes, I'll kiss you, my love.' you say.

'oh fuck yes.' he says, making you chuckle softly.

'goodnight, remy.' you say.

'sweet dreams, mon amour.' he says.

just as you expected, remy falls asleep within seconds. you lay there for a while, absently running your fingers through his hair and thinking about how much you love him, before you eventually fall asleep as well.

when you wake up in the morning, your chest feels heavy. you open your eyes to see remy has somehow put his entire body on yours during the night.

you stay like that for a while, until you can no longer deny you really want breakfast.

with some effort, you push remy off of you so you can get up. he's still asleep as you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

as you make breakfast, you're softly humming to yourself while you're in the kitchen.

your morning is quiet. you decide to let remy sleep for as long as he wants, maybe it would make his hangover less extreme.

just as you're making your lunch, you hear remy coming down the stairs. he stumbles into the kitchen, grumbling something in thick accented cajun you can't understand.

then he all but leans his entire body weight on you as he's standing behind you.

'why does the world hate me?' he says.

you laugh. 'good afternoon to you too, my love.'

'morning.' he mumbles. 'your voice is so loud, chéri.'

'this is the thanks I get for taking care of your drunk ass last night?'

'sorry. was I being an asshole?'

'no, just the usual. you couldn't keep your hands off of me.'

'you're used to that.'

'I am.'

you turn around. remy wraps his arms around you and drops his forehead to your shoulder.

'is this what dying feels like?' he mumbles.

'no, my love, this is what being extremely hungover feels like.' you say. 'you want coffee?'

'dear god no, the thought of it makes me want to throw up. I'll just lay on the couch.'

'you're so dramatic.' you say, gently taking a hold of his face and holding it in front of you.

remy closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 'this is making me feel better already.'

you lean in and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. when you pull back, he opens his eyes and smiles briefly at you. then he sways a bit on his feet and sucks in a sharp breath.

'still want to kiss me like you said yesterday?'

'oh, mon amour, I think if I stand really still and you don't move, the world stops spinning.'

you laugh at him as he groans, pressing one hand to his forehead. you decide to take it easy for the rest of the day. the two of you alternate between taking naps and you reading your book out loud to him. as the day passes, you can't help but to think that maybe a hungover remy isn't so bad. you secretly love how he refuses to leave your side when he's hungover.

A/N:If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost, steal or translate my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[secretaccountlol]

Tell me i’m good while im weak.

GENDER-NETURAL READER X MARK GRAYSON.

This is a smuttyyy Drabble 18+ no minor plz!

Warnings? : Dom!Reader x Sub! Mark. Reader does call mark some names and teases him a lot. Mark is..a pervert in this lol and soooo pathetic. Also degradation and praise galore. He also like.. lies bout bein sick lol.

Synopsis: Mark has a kink. Praise and degradation, and once you find out you're happy to help him out with it.

I got a beta reader in this hoe! Shout out to lovely, wonderful, stunning @sobbingscripter

Thank her ! Now you won't be subjected to my horrible dyslexia lmao

—-

Author note; Now,, all I kinda went lil crazy with the dialogue, it's like filthy?? Srry if he's a lil OOC, I just wanted to write a down right pitiful mark.. and I think I succeeded!

This is my first ever invincible Drabble! I don't tend to do them very often, so enjoy. Hey btw .: I like comments and reblogs tell me what you think okay?

Mark has a praise kink. You didn’t realize it at first,of course.

Who just randomly daydreams about their good friend’s kinks, not you, at least not intentionally.

It started simple, you had tutored Mark. With all the new hero shit he’s been thrown through, getting his grades up in college was the most difficult thing for him.

That’s when you graciously helped; late night study sessions with him after missions, early morning calls to go over answers before exams.

An unexpected call at 8:30 am in the morning wakes you, and it's Mark screaming about the 80 he just got on the test, worth 60% of his grade.

Your sleepy grin is all you remember as you promise to bring celebratory drinks later, “Good job, Mark! I knew you could do it!”

He pauses before you yawn, letting him know you’re going back to sleep now.

You don’t notice the breathy, stuttered goodbye he says as the phone clicks off.

Next time you're at Comic Con; he’s dressed as Séance Dog, you didn’t tell Mark what you were gonna be dressed as, with you adamant of it being a surprise for him.

His breath falters when he sees you, your legs out and oiled in a “sexy” invincible leotard.

“Surprise~”

Thank god, he was sitting and he had a cape because the boner he popped was massive.

“You look great!”

Your giggle pinpoints his cock, “You look even better, what a good boy you are!” You ruffle his hair, his eyes widen.

“Wha— good boy?”

“Oh, pfft sorry—, cus you're Seance Dog! He’s a dog, dogs are always good boys!”

“Right right right,” Mark’s ears burned, think cold thoughts, think cold thoughts.

“Speakin’ of, the panel of authors and animators is about to start. We need to get there like now, cus I already know people are fightin’ over seats.”

You skip off, not bothering to look behind you, and thank god because if you did, your eyes would be glued to the fucking snake in his pants.

‘ they said I'm a good boy, i'm a good boy, ’ kept chanting in his mind.

His cock did not know a moment of peace that night, with your words echoing through his mind.

His bedsheets dripped with sweat and cum as his cock softened for the 12th time.

Used tissues littered his room as he milked the last bit of cum.

Your phone call shakes him out of his sex haze, it’s a daily ritual of y’alls. You talk about your day and he does the same, trying to keep a sense of normalcy, with him being a hero, it’s hard to see each other every time.

You again, don’t notice his wavering voice as his hands pick up the pace again. His poor cock is beaten to hell, as the sloppy noises fill his room, his mouth press in a thin line.

“Mark, you okay?”

“Yea— yesyesyes, I’m okay…”

Your brow furrows, “Okay, we don’t have to keep talkin’ y’know? I can hang up if your bus—“

“Nonononono, please don’t hang up!” His words rush out in a whimper before he can stop himself.

“Okay! Jesus! ‘M sorry I won’t hang up. You're a needy lil thing today, aren’t ya?”

Mark whines, an honest to god whine. Silence insues, he fucked up.

“Mark, are you sick or somethin’?”

“I— I.. yes!” Mark does a terrible fake cough, “Mmhn, ‘m catchin’ a cold”

“Aww poor baby..”

A whimper slips through his lips, “yes, yeah yeah… mhn… poor me.”

“Wan’ me come over and take care of you, ya big baby?”

“Yesyesyes please,” another muffled plea from Mark as his fingers brush the tip of his head..

“Okay, I’m on my way with chicken soup!”

*Click*

Mark blinks, a dopey smile plays on his lips.

Oh shit.

Oh god, he wasn’t thinking straight, he’s not even sick! His bed creaks from the sudden upright movement.

His eyes darted around his room, oh shitshitshit.

His body zips around his room as he picks up his tissues and throws his soiled sheets in the washer, putting fresh linens on in the span of a second.

The next second, you were already knocking at the door.

“Maaarkkk, you in there buddy?”

His hands move in frenzy, rubbing his nose as hard as he can to make it a rosy red, jogging side to side to give himself a sweaty appearance, and finally a wet, cold folded cloth placed over his forehead before unlocking the door and hastily making his way back to his bed.

Clearing his throat before he speaks, mustering up his best “sick” voice, “Doooorss opppewwennn!!”

The door whines as you enter, Mark’s ears twitch as he hears you set down the homemade soup.

Clashing dishes in the kitchen before your feet shuffle into his room.

Your eyes ooze sympathy when you see his face.

“Awe, my poor baby.”

Mark throws out a helpless whine as he motions grabby hands for you to come to him.

“‘M sooo siick.., think I got somethin’ from space travelin’ too much.”

You back up slightly, “you’re not— like contagious are you?”

Mark shakes his head rapidly, shit. ‘Think, think, make up a lie, make up a lie.’

“Noooo, uh—“ he coughs, “Robot says it isn’t..annd who am I to argue with a super genius!” He coughs another time, for good measure.

“Uh okay!” You slink back over to him, flopping down next to him. “Here, big baby open your mouth up for soup.”

Mark’s mouth opens with a pop, light pink adores his cheek, god he’s pathetic.

“God, you’re shameless, aren’t ya?”

“Immm sickkk—!” He’s definitely milking it, but can you blame him, hearing you pity him like this, it gets him going.

”It’s kinda cute,” you spoon more liquid into his mouth. “I like takin’ care of your needy ass.”

“You do?” His eyes flutter, if he wasn’t ‘sick’, you’d mistake his tinted cheeks as a blush.

“Mm, yeah I like taking care of my friends and family. Plus, you take care of the whole galaxy, Mark. The least I can do is look after you when you need it.”

Mark blinks, then blinks again.

“Sorry layin’ it on too thick? My bad.” You pull back the spoon trembling slightly, the soup swishing around.

His hand hastily grabbed your wrist, “No no not at all, please praise me more.”

“What?”

“Praise me ..more, please”

Your heart burns, bubbling with desire. Shit, should you feel this way about your best friend especially when he’s sick? Is he even in the right headspace?

“You’re.. such a good hero, Mark. I feel so safe when you're around.”

Mark’s breath caught, “‘more?” His fingers squeeze your wrist softly, then release.

“Mark, you’re not — you’re not in the right headspace you aren’t.. you don’t know what you’re sayin’...” your hand caresses over his as you lick your lips.

“If— if I was in the right headspace, would you?”

You bite your lip, sighing “ Yes.. yes—“

“I’m not sick.”

“What?”

“I’m not sick, I lied. Please praise me now.”

Your arms snatch away from him, “You little liar!”

He pouts, sitting up, removing the cold towel. “I wanted you to take care offf meeee!”

“You could’ve just asked, I’d come over regardless!”

Your arms cross against your chest, “you don’t even deserve my homemade soup!”

Mark whines again, “nooo I like your souuup!”

“Why’d you lie! If you like my soup you, again. Could’ve just asked!“

“I—..it’s cus I don’t know! I just thought.. I just couldn’t think of anything else..to get you here.”

“Mark..” your eyes rake over his face. A cute pout plays on his lips and his brows furrowed like a puppy being scolded.

“I just .. mm, thought if I played sick you’d praise me more..”

“Oh..? Oh!” You kiss your teeth, as you stare at your best friend.

“Mark, lift your bed covers for me real quick.”

“Why..” his eyes narrow.

“I think you know why—“

“Noooope.”

“Dude, you totally have a boner right, don’t you?”

“No— I- don’t know what you’re talkin’ about!”

You shift your eyes to the rising spot in the covers, point a finger, “Right.. uh-huh..” your face deadpans.

His legs shoot to his chest nearly knocking the wind outta of him.

“Shit.”

“You’re a fuckin’ pervert dude! Wait wait! Is that why you sounded like that over the phone? Oh my god were you—?”

Mark's eyes dart away from yours, bury his face in his hands after.

“Oh my god, you were! You were jerkin’ off to my voice!” The shrill of your voice carried through his apartment.

“I— SHHH! Keep your voice down!” Mark grabs your collar, the jerky movement causes you to bend over him awkwardly, your chest over his lap.

“Augh- sorry! Shit sorry. I — just— “

Your hand brushes against his cock as you sit up, a strangled groan graces your ears as he grabs your hand again.

“Sorry again— uh don’t touch ther—uh!”

Your other hand grips his covered cock running your fingers over it.

“Tsk no, Mark, isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I— “

Devious grin splits your face as you rip the covers off him, a rush of cold air cools his body, your eyes stare at his boner.

“Ha, got a third leg here, huh?”

“Dude— this is so embarrassing, please don’t tease me..” his hands tug across his face as he speaks.

“Nahh, you said you wanted to be praised, right?”

Another whimper slips past his lip.

“Mark, be a good boy for me, use your words.” God, you were having too much fun mocking him.

“Fuckkk! Don—don’t talk like that!”

Your hand inches into his thin boxer, a hiccup in his breath as you cup his cock.

“You sound so pretty right, you know that?”

“Mmhn no— I “

“No, you’re right, you sound so deliciously pathetic right, I never thought I’d hear you this way.” Your lips ghost the side of his face as you start to pump, a soft sob bubbles from him.

“Imagine everyone knowing the mighty Invincible is such a whiny bitch in bed, hm?”

“Stooopp being meaaan!” Mark’s pitiful wails heighten as his cock twitches in your hands.

“Oh, so you like bein’ degraded and praise? Tsk, what a combooo..!”

“I don’t—! I- just your voice and I’m- I’m over—whelmed! Right now, okay!”

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re throbbing like you’re about to blow, are you? Hm?” Your tongue drags against his ear as your lazy tugs cloud his mind.

“ ‘m nooot! “

“Okay, can you be a good puppy for me and only cum when I tell you to?”

“Uh-huh, yesyes,” his throat bobs, “I can— I can be a good boy, please.”

“Aw okay, I believe you,” your lips slip down his neck, earning another groan, your teeth nip his skin.

“Let’s see how long you can hang on.”

oh, he was fucked.

You realize, he doesn’t just have a praise kink, he has a degradation kink too.

—

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Part 7 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy, fluff, kissing, very slight sexual stuff

❥ A/N: thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy!

"You're glowing, Y/N!"

"Really?" you ask, patting your cheek. "What makes you say that?"

"Have you seen yourself lately?" your coworker asks, calling out a name before placing a finished drink at the end of the counter. "Like, have you looked in a mirror? You're just so happy and bubbly lately; I love it!"

"Awww, thank you!" you reply, smiling genuinely. "I mean, things have been nice lately. A lot of good things have been happening to me."

"Or maybe it's because of a certain someone?"

The bell above the door rings as Guy walks into the cafe, holding a gift bag.

"Oh, there he is! Right on cue!" your coworker cheers, walking to the register. "Here to visit your girlfriend?" He nods and your coworker smiles, gesturing towards you.

"You have ten minutes to chat, but then she's gotta get back to work." You touch her shoulder.

"Thank you, Liz."

"Any time, hun." She leans in close. "Ask him if he has a brother," she whispers. You laugh, patting her back before exiting the work station, meeting Guy by a free table. He holds up the gift bag and you smile shyly.

"For me?"

"Of course."

You hum, taking the bag and pulling out the tissue paper. You gasp, pulling out a small red stuffed bear.

"It's so cute!" you squeal. "It looks like a gummy bear!" You hug the bear to your chest, swinging it back and forth. You smile up at him. "Thank you, Guy."

"You're welcome." He leans forward then stops, clearing his throat. "May I—"

You pull him down by his shirt, lips crashing into his. He inhales sharply, surprised, but smiles into the kiss. You stay there for a moment before pulling away, still smiling.

"You're a tease," he says, laughing when you gently slap his chest.

"Don't act like you aren't thrilled to kiss me."

"I am. I really, really am." You sway to and fro for a moment before leaning into his chest, snuggling into him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight, kissing the crown of your head.

"Get a room," your coworker somewhat shouts, making you laugh. You try to pull away, but he's still holding you close.

"I don't want to let you go," he admits, pressing his forehead to yours.

"You have to." You boop your nose against his. "I gotta work."

"You could quit. I can take care of you financially."

"Nope!" You free yourself from his grasp by ducking down and stepping back. "I refuse to be financially dependent on you. Gotta keep some kind of independence."

He sighs but nods, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out this weekend? We could go see a movie and get dinner after?"

"Hmm, I was thinking of doing something else this weekend." He looks a tad bit disappointed.

"Like what?"

"Well..." you trail off, glancing around the room, "what if you come over and I cook you dinner?" His eyes widen, lips curling, positively lighting up.

"Really? You want me to come over?"

"Yes!" You curl into yourself, giving him doe eyes. "If you want to, of course."

"Yes," he says quickly, unashamedly. "Yes, I would love to. Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. I'll get all the ingredients and whatnot and we can watch a movie on the couch or something."

"That sounds amazing." He sounds like he's in awe.

"Do you like curry? I have this really good chickpea curry recipe."

"I would love anything you make."

"But do you like curry?" He scoffs.

"Yes, I do. I'm sure it will be delicious."

"I think you'll like it." You put the bear down on the table, opening your arms up for him. He joins you for a hug, squeezing you tight. You're squished against his chest, reveling in his warmth before he pulls back to look at you.

"Can I have another kiss before I go?" he asks. You giggle.

"Sure." You get up on your tiptoes to kiss him, giving him a few pecks on the lips before finishing with one long kiss. He lets you go when you're done, a big smile on his face.

"I'll miss you," he says first.

"I'll miss you too." You grab his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "I'll text you later, okay?"

"Okay," he says, squeezing your hand back. He releases you, lingering for a moment before he turns and walks out of the cafe.

"You two are so cute I could barf." You snicker.

"Oh, shut up, Liz."

You agree on Guy arriving around five thirty. You let him know that dinner will be ready when he arrives.

You start cooking around four thirty, just to be safe. You add some cut onions and spices to a pan, cooking them until they're soft. Then you add crushed tomatoes and two cans of chickpeas, along with a can of coconut milk. You let it all simmer while you cook some rice. The rice is completely cooked by the time Guy knocks on your door.

You skip to the door, opening it up and smiling at him.

"Hi!" you chirp.

"Hey." He lifts up his hand, showing a full paper bag. "I know you told me not to bring anything, but I got some cake for us to share."

"What kind is it?"

"I didn't know what kind you'd like so I got a sampler." You giggle, moving aside.

"Come in, goofball."

He enters your apartment, looking around curiously. You shut the door behind him, grabbing his free hand and guiding him in.

"So this is my humble abode," you say, gesturing to your apartment. "It's not much but at least I'm comfortable."

"I love it," he says, taking it all in before looking at you. "It's so you." You giggle, tugging his hoodie.

"C'mon. Dinner is ready."

He puts the bag down on your kitchen counter, standing to the side as you get out some bowls. You scoop up some rice, topping it off with some curry before grabbing a spoon from your drawer and handing it to him.

"Start with this. You can always have seconds."

"Thank you."

He waits for you to get your own bowl before following you to your tiny table and chairs tucked at the edge of your living room. You sit across from each other.

"Oh! Do you want anything to drink? I've got water and some diet soda."

"I'll take some water with ice, if you don't mind."

"Sure," you smile, getting up. "I'll get it for you."

You hurry to the kitchen and grab two glasses. You fill them with ice, then water, and return to Guy, who has not started eating yet.

"You waiting for me?" you ask playfully.

"Of course," he said seriously. You bite your lip as you sit with him again, placing the waters down.

"You're sweet," you say, grabbing your spoon. "You can eat now."

He takes his spoon, bringing his bowl to his mouth and scooping up a big bite. He chews, sighing and slumping in his seat.

"Oh my god," he mumbles, chewing faster. "That's so fucking good."

"Isn't it?" you reply as you take a bite, moaning happily. "I love this recipe."

"It's amazing," he says, taking another large bite. "I could eat a whole bucket of this."

"Well, there's plenty left for you."

You chew in silence for a bit, watching him shovel curry and rice into his mouth. He finishes his bowl when you've barely made it halfway through yours. He swallows his last bite, pointing his thumb at the kitchen.

"I can get seconds?" he asks. You nod and he nods in return, getting up with his bowl and heading to the kitchen. You hear him get more food before he returns to you, his bowl practically overflowing.

"Got enough?" you ask jokingly, and he nods.

"Yes." He mixes the curry and rice together before taking a bite. "I'm actually bulking right now."

"Ah, so you're building muscle."

"Mm-hm." He takes two more bites. "I'm basically eating whatever I want before I cut."

"What kind of food do you eat when you cut?"

"A lot of lean meat and eggs. And cauliflower rice."

"That sounds horrible." He shrugs.

"I'm used to it by now. I've been doing this for years."

"Do you like it?" He pauses, chewing slow, zoning out.

"Not always, but by now it's a habit and I don't mind it." You hum, finishing your food.

"Well, if you ever decide to quit, I'll still be with you." He scoffs.

"You sure?"

"Yes! Of course I'm sure. Your body doesn't define who you are as a person. So far, you seem like a really sweet guy and I like you as a person, not just your body."

He stops, looking up at you. You lick some sauce from your lip, shimmying in your seat.

"That's very kind of you, Y/N. I want you to know that I greatly appreciate that." You give him a smile.

"I just don't want you to think I like you just for your body." He grunts, taking his last bite.

"Would you still like me if I had the body of a worm?" You laugh, tossing your head back.

"Oh my god! You're ridiculous, haha, but yes, I would. I'd like you if you were a little baby worm and I let you live in the dirt outside my apartment."

"Aw, what? You wouldn't bring dirt inside for me to live in?"

"Hell no. You can keep your dirt outside and I'll bring you in when it rains."

The both of you are laughing now, chuckling and giggling. You calm down, gazing at each other.

"I really like you, Y/N."

"I like you too, Guy."

He sets his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand as he looks at you.

"You're really special."

"Aww, you're special too!"

"I mean it, Y/N." You look at him, seeing how serious he is right now.

"I-I know."

He reaches a hand out, beckoning you to hold his. You oblige, holding his hand, letting him bring it to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks.

"Of course," you reply. He swallows, licking over his lips as he stares at you.

"I love you, Y/N."

Your eyes widen, head tucking downward as you stare up at him.

"You're serious?" you ask.

"Of course I'm serious. When am I ever not serious?"

Your hand fidgets in his and he glances at the action, looking back at you.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say it back yet," he reassures, letting your hand go. "I don't want you to say it unless you mean it, but I want you to know that I mean it."

"Well, I... I appreciate you telling me, and for being honest."

"Of course."

Silence overcomes you, and you finish eating in the quiet of your apartment.

"I'm sorry for making things awkward," he says as you get up and collect your bowls.

"Don't say sorry," you reply, making your way to the kitchen. "I just... I don't know if I'm ready to say that to you yet and I feel bad about it."

"You shouldn't." He stands up from his seat, looking over the counter at you as you turn on the sink faucet. "I just wanted to tell you how I feel right now, in this moment."

"And I appreciate that." You let the water heat up and fill the sink, adding some dish soap. "I still feel bad though."

"Please don't." He circles around the counter and meets you at the sink. "It's my feelings, not yours. Like I said, I don't want you to say it back unless you mean it. You just—I mean—"

"Guy." He stops, looking at you. You give him a sincere smile. "I understand. I get what you're trying to say. I promise I won't say it until I mean it, okay?"

"Okay..." You give him a look.

"You want a kiss?" He nods and you giggle, getting on your tiptoes and pursing your lips. He leans down to give you a peck on the lips, lingering to give you a few more before he pulls away. "Better?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

"You're welcome." You nod towards the living room. "Go find us a movie to watch."

"I'm surprised," you say as you sit down next to him on the couch. "I didn't think you'd pick a romantic comedy."

"'You've Got Mail' is a good movie," he defends, and you giggle.

"I know; I've seen it."

"Oh..." He twists his mouth. "Do you want to watch something else then?"

"No, I like this movie. It'll be fun to watch it with you," you say, giving him a smile. He smiles back at you.

"Okay."

The movie starts and you tuck your legs under you, shimmying closer to Guy. You both watch the movie quietly at first, staring intently at the screen across your living room. You watch the beginning scene, how Kathleen opens her email and corresponds with the mysterious "NY152". It's when the dual scene with Kathleen and Joe starts that you lean closer to Guy.

"What do you like about this movie?" you half-whisper to him.

"I like Kathleen, how bubbly and kind she is." He glances at you. "You remind me of her in a way."

"Oh yeah? Is that why you started bringing me gifts? You were trying to impress me because I reminded you of Kathleen?"

"No, not that. I just think you two are both really good at customer service. I started courting you because of who you are as a person."

"But you only knew me as a barista in the beginning, not who I was deep down."

"That's why I was trying to win your favor. I wanted to go out with you so I could learn more about you." You hum, wiggling closer still.

"And do you like what you learned?"

"I love it, actually." He brushes his knuckles against the side of your leg. "You're genuinely so cool."

"I'm 'cool'? What else am I? 'Radical'? 'Awesome'? 'Tubular'?" He pushes against your knee and you laugh.

"You tease me too much."

"Aw, don't act like you don't like it." He sighs, placing his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb along your leggings.

"I do. I really do like you, Y/N."

"Hmm, well, according to you just a little while ago, you love me."

"I do," he says seriously, looking at you full on now. You're face to face, eyes searching before he leans closer, waiting for you to close the distance between the two of you. You oblige, leaning in and pressing your lips against his. He sighs once your lips touch his, tilting his head to the side, his hand squeezing your thigh gently, reassuringly. You place your hand on top of his, but he suddenly pulls back.

"Your hand is so cold!" he says, eyes wide as he looks down at your hand on his.

"They're not that cold."

"Yes, they are." He grabs your hand and reaches for the other one, taking it when you give it to him. He puts pressure on your hands, trying to transfer his heat to you.

"Wait, let me." You take your hands away, stuffing them between your pressed thighs.

"What...?"

"It's warm in between my legs!" you say cheerfully, kicking your feet. He scoffs, running his hand over his face.

"You're teasing me again."

"What?" You tilt your head. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb." He looks at you seriously. "'It's warm between your thighs'? What do you think that makes me think of?"

You purse your lips in thought, wondering before realization hits you. You pull out your hand and slap his arm.

"Naughty! Why're you thinking about that?!"

"You're the one who said it!"

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"Well, it sounded like it!" You blow a raspberry, plopping against the back of the couch.

"You just have a dirty mind."

"It's hard to have a clean mind around you."

"Dirty!" you giggle, shoving him. He shoves you back playfully and you repeat the action, the two of you falling into a game of pushing each other. He pushes you once more and you dramatically fall back, feigning shock and giving a quiet scream as you slowly fall onto the couch.

"Blegh! I've been slain." That makes him laugh, and he reaches a hand out for you to grab. You pause but then take it, letting him pull you back up into a sitting position.

"You're really fun to hang out with, Y/N." You give a cheeky grin and pretend to flip your hair with your hand.

"I know!" He chuckles, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, leaving kisses there and making you giggle. You pull away just to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to yours.

You forget about the movie and start making out with Guy. You alternate between holding his face in your hands and wrapping your arms around his neck, always keeping him close so you could kiss him. He kisses back happily, hands resting on either side of your hips, fingers clawing into the couch. You slowly lean back as you kiss him, lowering yourself to the couch, and he follows you willingly. Soon enough, he's towering over you at this point, caging you in with his arms as he continues to mold his lips against yours. You feel yourself getting excited, so you spread your legs, one of them swinging and latching onto Guy's hips, trying to pull him in to you. He grunts and unexpectedly pulls away.

"What's wrong?" you ask. His eyes dart over your face, his breathing suddenly quick and heavy.

"I... I gotta go to the bathroom."

"Wha—"

He bolts up quickly, getting up off the couch and preparing to rush away, but he stops.

"Where's your bathroom?"

You stare at him before pointing to the hallway.

"On the left."

He nods, walking fast to the bathroom and closing the door. You sigh, sitting up on the couch. Did you do something wrong? Did he not like kissing you that much? Maybe he got uncomfortable and needed to take a break? You didn't know, but your anxiety was bubbling under the surface, ready to burst at any moment.

He takes his time in the bathroom. You're at the point in the movie where Kathleen loses her bookstore when the bathroom door opens and Guy sheepishly walks out. You pause the movie.

"I'm sorry," he says as you look at him. "I wasn't feeling well."

"It's okay," you say, but you knew it wasn't. He stands there awkwardly before pointing to the kitchen.

"Would you like to try a piece of cake?"

You think for a moment, then nod. You get up and follow him to the kitchen where he takes the cake out of its container. He presents four different types of cake for you to choose. You pick the flavor you want before getting some plates and forks. He helps you place the cake on your plate before getting his own piece, following you back to the couch. You plop down together and start the movie again.

"You missed a lot," you remark, taking a bite of cake.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you say.

"It's not," he replies, cutting into his cake with his fork. "I shouldn't have rushed off like that. I just..." He trails off, looking defeated.

"You just what?" you ask. He doesn't answer, not looking at you. You turn to face him, placing your hand on his arm. "Guy, if you had like a G.I. problem or something, you can tell me. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"I didn't—" He sighs, running a hand over his face. "It wasn't a stomach issue."

"Then what was it?" He sighs again, scratching at his scalp, not able to look at you. He mumbles something, but you can't hear it. "What?" you ask, leaning closer. He takes a big breath, looking up at the ceiling before down at his half-eaten cake.

"I got hard," he whispers harshly. Warmth rushes to your cheeks, and realization hits you.

"Oooooh."

"Yeah."

You stare ahead of you, watching the credits roll on the movie. You scoff, then start giggling, then laughing. He looks at you, offended.

"It's not funny."

"It's a little funny," you say between snickering.

"It's not!"

You put your cake down beside you, putting your hand on Guy's shoulder.

"You're telling me that you're so attracted to me that you got hard just from a little makeout session?" He gives a single nod, and you laugh again, covering your mouth.

"Quit laughing at me," he says, but a smile is starting to creep up on his face. You keep giggling, posing.

"Oh, look at me. My girlfriend is so hot that I got hard just from kissing her."

"Shut up!" he laughs, covering his eyes with his hand.

The two of you sit there and laugh a bit before going back to eating your cake, quietly snickering every now and then as you think about the situation you're in.

You finish your cake, setting the empty plates down beside yourselves. You place your hand on his leg, and he looks up at you, unsure.

"Guy, it's okay. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm actually quite flattered."

"You are?"

"Yes. I think it's very flattering that someone I like also likes me, especially in that way." His eyes dart to the ground and then back to you.

"You don't think it's weird?" he asks. You shake your head.

"No, I don't." You give him a look. "You wanna know a secret?" He hesitates but nods. You lean in closer to him. "I was getting into it too, if you know what I mean."

"Oh..." He furrows his brow before his eyes go wide. "Oh."

"Yeah." You pat his shoulder. "So it's not just you feeling these things."

"I..." He licks over his lips. "I really want that one day, if you're willing."

"I will be one day." You twist your lips. "But not today because you kind of ruined the mood by running to the bathroom once things started getting heated."

He laughs, nodding.

"I understand. To be honest, I don't know if I'd be able to control myself if we did anything like that now."

You raise your eyebrows.

"You trynna tell me something?" Realization hits his face and he shakes his head.

"No, no, nothing crazy. I just mean that I wouldn't last very long if we did stuff like that now."

"Awww, that's so cute!"

"Oh, shush!"

You laugh again with him before sighing. He glances at his watch.

"I really want to stay, but I should probably get home."

"That's okay," you say, standing up and stretching. "I'll walk you out."

He gets up with you and you walk to the door. You open it for him and he stops, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Guy."

He leaves and you close the door behind him.

[luveline]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

spencer comforts you with facts and affection alike when you worry you aren't as pretty as the girls on his team. requested here. fem!reader, 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Photographs can't accurately capture how beautiful Emily Prentiss is. JJ and Penelope are both gorgeous too, but it's Emily who startles you. Her hair a cool black colour and curled around her demure face, the line of her nose and her deep, dark eyes. Her lips, picture perfect and painted a soft pink.

The prettier you find her, the more your heart sinks. 

Spencer squeezes your shoulder. It's bold for him to do so in front of his friends (his family, really), he can barely show you affection in the grocery store without turning rosy. You preen at the touch, but the feeling of insecurity remains like an irksome gnat zipping around your head. 

"We didn't think we'd ever get to meet you!" Derek is saying, a casual arm thrown around Penelope's shoulders, a drink in hand. 

Rossi couldn't attend and JJ felt too pregnant, bringing your party to a solid six. It still feels like a lot of people to meet at once. 

You hold the flute of your glass in a nervous hand, fingers stickied by condensation. You have a feeling that you're in trouble, all these profilers assessing your behaviour, nowhere to hide. "No, I'm," —you raise your voice to hide the funny tremor that's taken hold— "so happy to meet you all, I promise I've been trying!" 

"Whenever she gets time off, we're on a case," Spencer says. 

Emily smiles widely at your statement. It's such an open, friendly look, it floors you. You look down at your drink and blink. 

You don't know it, but the team exchanges glances at your behaviour. 

"So, do you enjoy your work?" Emily asks. "Or hate it, like us?"

Hotch laughs and moves his pint glass onto a coaster. "I think it's safe to say that none of us hate our jobs." 

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. I can't imagine how hard it is, how hard you all work," you say. Spencer's hand drifts down your back. "But you have each other."

Emily does this thing with her eyes and if you weren't in a happy relationship, you'd probably be a puddle at her feet. "Too much of each other," she says jokingly.

She's gorgeous, and Spencer sees her every single day? You're nothing compared to her. Not smart, not strong, and nowhere near as pretty. You could never measure up. 

"Would you, um, excuse me?" you ask, moving your purse from your lap and onto the table. 

"You okay?" Spencer asks, looking up as you stand. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just gonna use the bathroom," you say quietly. You aren't, but if you were, you wouldn't really want to broadcast that anyhow. 

You try not to wobble on the way to the bathroom. The weight of five pairs of eyes follows you as you leave, four of which are trained in the art of spotting lies. Everything isn't okay, and they know that, and by extension —all the effort you made tonight? Getting your hair done, your nicest clothes, your makeup and your perfume? It might as well be a huge blinking neon sign that says you're trying really hard, and it doesn't make a lick of difference. 

You sidle into a stall, pulling the lid of the toilet down with a tissue and sitting on it heavily. Elbows on your knees, you hunch your back and hide your face in your hands, breathing in the smell of bleach through quick breaths. Water drips somewhere near the sinks, the cacophony of the restaurant hushed. 

You've never felt naturally pretty. With Spencer, it hasn't ever mattered. He's never given any indication that he cares. But… 

"Loser," you mutter to yourself. 

"Hey, Y/N?" Spencer asks, his voice bouncing off of the tile. 

You freeze. "Two seconds!" 

"You're not really using the bathroom," he says incredulously. 

"Says who?"

Spencer laughs, his tone wry, "I know you really well, you realise? Like, better than I know anyone else on the planet."

"Then you know I'm having an authentic pee and need my privacy." 

"Come on out." 

The ringing of the lock slotting free is like an announcement of your embarrassment. Spencer's standing a half a foot from the doorway, keeping his distance from the no man's land that is the ladies room. You're going to use it to your advantage, only he holds out his hand expectantly. When you take it, he pulls you out of the bathroom and firmly into the restaurant hallway. 

You can't escape his concern, nor his hands as they cup your face unexpectedly. 

They feel as nice as they look, deft fingers pressed to your skin like you're one of his puzzles to decipher. 

"What upset you?" he asks. 

"Nothing your friends did, I promise." 

"But something." He smooths a hand down to your shoulders. He's not quite frenetic but certainly close to it, searching for a problem he won't find on the surface. "You're insecure about something," he deduces. 

You cringe bodily. "I'm not." 

"What is it? Is it your necklace? It really is nice, the colour goes with your skin. It's understated." 

"It's not my necklace, Spence." 

"Then what is it?" 

"I just…" You pull his hands from your neck and collar to hold them, looking up into his melty brown eyes wishing he weren't so hard to say no to. "Feel like you could do better." 

He frowns. It's a pout, and endearing, but not what you want to see. 

"I love being with you, I just think, you know, you're so handsome, and you have all these pretty friends," you say.  

"You think you're not pretty?" he asks. He sounds gutted, if a little confused. 

"Not like her." Your voice quivers. 

The first time you got upset in front of Spencer, he wasn't sure what to do. He ended up putting an arm around your shoulder, your brand new boyfriend out of his depth. You've both had some practice at comforting one another now, and any hesitance Spencer held is gone. He wraps his arms around you like he's afraid you'll fall over, the crease of his stressed brow smushing against the side of your face. 

"Don't think that. Why would you think that?" he asks quietly. 

"I know I'm not pretty like some girls," you say, surprised by the ferocity of his reaction. 

"You don't know that, because it's not true. You're beautiful." He squeezes your side between his fingers, something contemplative about the way his thumb curls upward. "Do you know how many books I've read?" 

"Thousands." 

He hums. A hand grasps at the back of your neck. "Thousands of books. I know so much, especially about the human body. I know that falling in love can make some people feel the same effects as cocaine. Staring into their eyes can synchronise your heartbeats." He encourages your head back. "Butterflies are adrenaline and when I look at you I can't get them to stop, even if I know it's chemical." Spencer's eyes are lit with something you don't often see directed at you, a furious conviction. "What we think we know isn't always fact, so if you think you're not pretty…" He nods his head gently to the left. "There's only really one thing left to do." 

Your heart feels like it's being juiced. "What's that?" you ask. 

He grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. Fingertips to his breastbone, he holds it flat. Sure enough, even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, you can feel the rapid capering of his pulse. 

"It's like that pretty much any time I look at you." 

"Spence…" 

"I know it's bad," he says.

"Are you messing with me?"

"Yeah, I did a lap before I came to find you– No!" He laughs, giving you an admonishing look. "Why would I mess with you? How could I?" 

"I don't know." 

He dips in to kiss your frown. "You're so pretty," he whispers. "So, so pretty. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, no matter what you think." 

You don't believe that you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, but you believe that he believes it. He has no reason to lie to you, nothing to gain. He could've said, Hey, you're pretty, and left it at that. He could've been angry with you for leaving the table for something some people would say was superficial. But Spencer's your sweetheart. 

"Do you want to go home, angel?" he asks, looking at you worriedly. 

"No." You don't even have to think about it —you've done enough thinking. "I don't want to go home. Sorry, Spencer. I feel better." And you'll stay out all night if he's going to call you angel again. 

"Well, let me know if you need me to tell you again." 

The chances of you surviving such an ardent speech a second time are low. "I won't be doing that." 

Spencer shrugs. "You'll let me know, even if you don't think so. You have a tell when you're upset." 

You spend the rest of the night making up for your disruption (which Spencer's friends immediately dismiss without questioning), shepherding the crisper curly fries on to Spencer's plate because he likes them that way, and begging him to tell you what your tell is with subtle pleading glances and a hand on his knee. Nothing inappropriate, but affectionate nonetheless. 

He doesn't tell you no matter how much you ask, and maybe it's the drinks or the way the scone light kisses his cheeks in a warm buttery light, you can't find it in you to be mad. 

"Keep your secrets," you say, chin tilted upward. You're failing to glare at him, too much love in your eyes for it to be believable. 

"You're beautiful," he says back, mirroring your expression playfully, before leaning down for a chaste kiss. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!! if you did, please consider reblogging, it makes a big difference to me<3 have a good day!

[thagomizersshow]

I love when sci-fi/fantasy writers throw in a random fact about a fictional species that actually has big repercussions for that species' biology.

Like, there is a species in Star Trek called Saurians who are adorable dinosauroid looking dudes. They've had very little revealed about them despite having been mentioned as early as the original series by way of "Saurian brandy" — a drink that is so strong it can put a Klingon on their ass in one swig.

Other than that, most of what we know about them comes from snippets involving a reoccuring character on Discovery named Linus, who is mostly a comic relief character. Now the reason I bring them up is that in one episode there's a scene where Linus is eating bamboo of all things, and I'm not sure the writers realized how telling this is about Saurian biology.

Bamboo is a damn hard food to eat, and us humans can only eat the shoots of a few species. Even then, raw consumption of shoots can lead to cyanide poisoning if you aren't careful. We still don't know how exactly a lot of animals that eat a lot of bamboo (bamboo lemurs, red pandas, bamboo rats, elephants, gorillas) are able to digest so much of it without getting cyanide poisoning. There is some sort of neutralization process in giant pandas involving the rhodanese enzyme that turns cyanide into the non-toxic thiocyanate that they just pee out, but the process is still poorly understood in other species.

Bamboo is also hard to digest for the same reason all grasses are; their plant wall cellulose is hard as hell to break down. Like, your choices are:

a) you do a poor job of digesting it and just spend all day eating (giant panda, red panda, bamboo lemur)

b) you grow really big and have a big gut (elephants, gorillas)

c) you only eat the parts of the plant that are easier to digest (bamboo rats)

On top of that, bamboo is loaded with silica phytoliths that are like microscopic bits of glass. These evolved to make their tissues even harder to chew and metabolize.

It's hard to make out in the scene, but it looks like Linus is eating raw bamboo leaves. Just picking them up with his fingers and munching on them like it's nothing. That means his teeth and/or jaws would need to be very powerful (maybe hypsodont? or maybe tooth batteries?) AND, because he's eating it raw, he'd have to be immune to the cyanide in some way.

One explanation could be in the Star Trek Adventures TTRPG, where Saurians are said to have an ability called "Enhanced Metabolism" where they recover from toxins faster than other species (my guess is this was meant to reference their brandy being so strong). BUT, that's not the same thing as the immunity real bamboo eating animals seem to have. My head canon is that Saurians have a diet similar to red pandas, where bamboo-like plants are their main diet on their homeworld, but they'll eat other stuff too when it's available, AND they've evolved some way to convert cyanide into a harmless chemical they excrete, like a giant panda.

All of these whacky biology shenanigans stem (hehe) from the casual writing decision to make a supporting alien character seem weird by eating a weird thing.

[impish-baby]

heyo! Request here! Maybe you can do like a hero caretaker with a sidekick? So basically the sidekick is a beginner and gets hurt during battle and the hero becomes super over protective? (Also maybe like a sibling relationship or something?) Sorry if it’s too specific, and you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to! Make sure to drink water, ear so healthy delicious food and gets lots of sleep! Love your work!

-🐠 Anon (can I be 🐠 anon if that cool with you?)

Superheros.. (trigger warnings: heavy violence!! Creepy behavior, gas lighting, drugging)

You don't think the low level villian is recognizable anymore. They don't even look like a person. What was once their face is a bloody pulp, features blurring together in a mess of tissue and broken cartilage. Your mentor is still towering over them, snapping their fingers one by one methodically.

It's terrifying. You idolized Cyrus, looked up to him. He was the one who made you want to start hero work in the first place. This isn't what a hero is. Cyrus is just being cruel now, no sign of the man you've come to think of as a brother as he smirks when the person lying on the ground groans in pain. You should do something. Even if they're a villain, they don't deserve this.

But you can't. Body paralyzed with fear as you stare wide-eyed at the scene playing out before you helplessly. You feel almost numb, static ringing in your ears, the sound of bones crunching still evident until it suddenly silences.

You don't even notice when Cyrus moves, not until he's right in front of you. There's only warmth in his gaze as he smiles at you and only horror in yours. "Aw, I'm sorry, kiddo.." The hero pulls you into his arms, blood from his hands smearing onto your costume. "That must have been scary, huh? Don't worry, they can't hurt you anymore.."

Like he wasn't the one you're scared of?!

Cyrus hums, pulling away only to cup your face with utmost care. "I know, I know, you're a big kid that could've handled it.." He rolls his eyes fondly, paying no mind to your lack of response. "What do you expect me to do? I'm your big brother even when we're in uniform.."

You blink dumbly, unable to utter a word, the shock of everything becoming a crushing weight on your chest. "Let me see the owie, ok?" Cyrus murmurs, guiding you to sit before kneeling in front of you. The injury is barely anything, a cut along your thigh that at most needs to be bandaged-

"Ow.." He hisses with a wince, "that'll need stitches, kiddo.."

What? "I can do them, so you don't have to go to the hospital. I'll bring you home a treat after for being brave!" Cyrus ruffles your hair, dismissing your stuttered protests with a laugh. "Hey, I've been doing this for how long? I've been hurt way more than you, kid. Do you think I can't tell when something is serious or not?"

He.. he does know more than you. He's seen so much more combat, come back home with hundreds of injuries. Cyrus would know. You're lifted into his arms when you don't say anything more, the hero taking flight with you cradled to his chest.

The medicine he offers you once you're set down on your bed is foreign. It doesn't look like ibuprofen or Tylenol, there's not even an identifying mark, they're just blank. "It'll be easier if you're asleep." Cyrus hums, already holding a glass of water to wash the pills down. "You've seen me get stitches just fine, but I've built up a pain tolerance for years. You won't want to be awake, sweetheart."

They taste sickly sweet, the water doing nothing to help wash out the taste. "Good kid.." Cyrus presses a light kiss to your forehead, "You know I love you, right?" The dots lining your vision take over before you can even manage to respond. Cyrus doesn't mind, slipping the power suppressor over your wrist with a content hum.

(a/n: Thank you for being so kind, Anon!! And yes, you can have that tag! I hope this was ok ^^)

[solarmorrigan]

omg I'm obsessed with your latest "don't fucking touch me" prompt. Would you continue it?

Hello! I know this is actually from earlier in the week than the one I answered a couple of days ago, but I was saving it because, while I don't exactly have a continuation, I do have a little stobin interlude I wanted to share

I'm still working on the "fix it" part of this idea, but at least in the meantime Steve gets a hug?

[Part 1]

It isn’t unusual for Steve to show up at Robin’s house well after any reasonable guest would come knocking. It isn’t unusual for him to do it by climbing the side of the house and knocking on her window (she hasn’t told him that her parents don’t really care anymore if he’s there in the middle of the night; she figures the physical activity counts as some kind of jock enrichment). Unfortunately, it isn’t even unusual for him to appear out of the dark because he’s upset.

What’s more unusual is the way he sits silently on her bed after she’s let him in, the way he’s almost folded in on himself, the way he won’t quite meet her eyes – as if there’s anything he can or even needs to hide from her.

What’s fucking unheard of is the way he starts crying when she pulls him into a hug, his face pressed to her shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist like she might disappear if he doesn’t hold on.

Robin doesn’t even understand what’s happening at first; she can feel Steve shaking against her as she rubs a hand up and down his back, but when his shoulders start to heave like he’s having trouble drawing in breath, a cold bolt of uncertainty lances through her gut. She tries to pull him back to look at him, to see what’s wrong, but she only gets him far enough away to hear one very quiet sob before he’s hiding his face again and she realizes–

“Oh. Oh, shit– okay, this is happening. Okay.” Robin resolutely does not panic as Steve sobs into her shoulder, even though crying isn’t something Steve does (not that Robin’s ever seen, and she’s seen Steve through a lot); instead, she goes back to rubbing a hand up and down his back, bringing her other up to pet his hair, and tries her best to project literally any kind of comfort. “Okay, you’re okay – well, you’re obviously not okay, but I’ve got you. You can just let all this out and when you feel up to it you can tell me what’s wrong because you’re kind of freaking me out, but not until you’re ready, okay? I’ve got you.”

She feels maybe her success is mixed, but Steve doesn’t complain and he doesn’t seem to be made more upset, so she can’t be doing too badly.

All told, Steve’s breakdown is unsettlingly quiet. Robin tries not to think about why he can cry so silently, and instead focuses on finding the transition from actively sobbing to sniffling and trying to catch his breath. The next time she tries to pull him back, he lets her, still not quite meeting her eyes and automatically bringing a hand up to wipe at the tear tracks on his face.

Robin has seen Steve all manner of beaten and bloodied and bruised, but somehow, sitting here in her room, still half-curled into her space with his face blotchy and wet from crying, she thinks this might be the most upset she’s ever seen him. She can only imagine what’s happened to cause it – at least until she can get him to tell her.

“Get it all out?” Robin asks, as gently as she’s able (she’s never been great at gentle, but Steve’s used to her by now, she thinks he’ll get it).

Steve shrugs, but then gives a little nod.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do: I’m going to give you some tissues so you can clean yourself up, because I love you, but I’m not going to wipe your nose.” This gets a congested laugh from Steve, and Robin allows herself an answering smile. “Then I’m going to go downstairs and get you something to drink, and then you’re going to tell me what’s wrong, because I am this close to being seriously alarmed.”

“Sorry,” Steve says gruffly, ducking his head, moving to pull away.

“Nope, we don’t do sorry here, nothing to be sorry for,” Robin insists, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and keeping him close. “I just want to know what’s wrong, okay? I want to help. So here.” She shoves the box of tissues from her bedside table into Steve’s lap and gets up with one last squeeze to his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

Robin slips out of her room and sneaks down to the kitchen (her parents don’t really care about Steve’s late night visits, but they will be grumpy if she wakes them up), poking around quietly for some kind of suitable post-breakdown sustenance. She ends up with a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and a half-eaten package of Oreos from the pantry – the late night snack of champions, she decides.

Back up in her room, Steve has shucked his sneakers (no shoes on Robin’s bed, it’s a cardinal rule) and settled himself up against the pillows; his face is dry and his eyes aren’t as red, but the tiny smile he gives her when she passes over her spoils still makes him look just as sad as before. Still, Robin valiantly lets him get through half the bottle of Gatorade before she elbows him gently in the side, demanding answers.

“Right.” Steve caps the bottle and rolls it nervously between his hands, watching the highlighter fluid yellow slosh around inside. “So, uh. You know how I’ve been seeing Eddie?”

Robin’s heart sinks. “Oh, shit, did you two break up?”

“Actually, it turns out…” Steve clears his throat. “It turns out that there wasn’t anything to break up. Apparently, we’ve been friends with benefits this entire time and I’m just a delusional idiot who made up an entire relationship in my head. So there’s that.”

There is nothing Robin can think to say to that. There’s entirely too much to unpack, and none of it makes sense.

“What,” she finally manages, a little flat.

“Yeah, he said that, uh. I’m not the type of guy you have a relationship with, and that I’m hot, but I’m just a good friend, and we’re just having fun.” If Steve’s voice cracks on the last word, Robin doesn’t mention it.

In fact, she’s too busy being consumed by rage to really notice. “He said that to your face?” she demands.

Steve clears his throat. He won’t meet her eyes. “Not– not exactly.”

“Steve.”

“The guys were over, and I went out to get some air, and that’s… what I heard Eddie saying to them when I came back in,” Steve says. “So now they know how pathetic I am, too, which is. Great. That’s fucking great.”

The world goes still. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense. Robin reaches out and squeezes Steve’s wrist. “I’m going to have to leave for a few hours, okay?” she says. “I have to bike down to the trailer park and fucking kill Eddie.”

In a flash, Steve twists in Robin’s grip and grabs her by the wrist in turn. “Don’t leave,” he says quickly.

“No, he doesn’t– he doesn’t get away with this,” Robin hisses. “He doesn’t get to do this to you and not face consequences!”

“He wasn’t trying to– I mean– I was the one who–”

“Are you defending him right now?”

“No, I just– fuck.” Steve lets go of Robin and shoves both hands up into his hair, grabbing and pulling. “I already feel enough like some fucking – loser reject, okay? I don’t want to be alone right now. Please just… stay.”

The rage doesn’t abate (if anything, there’s probably more of it), but Robin’s priorities do rearrange, and she settles back on the bed next to Steve. “Fine,” she huffs. “Munson gets a stay of execution.”

She pushes the package of Oreos into Steve’s lap and orders him to finish the Gatorade. She doubts if he’s going to escape tonight without a migraine, but dehydration on top of stress will only make it worse.

They sit quietly for a while, munching on cookies, shoulder to shoulder on Robin’s bed, before Robin breaks into the silence.

“You’re not a loser, Steve. You’re my best friend, and you deserve to be loved, okay?” she says softly, reaching over to wrap her hand around his wrist again. “And one day it’s going to happen. I’m choosing to believe in love, too.”

For a long moment, Steve says nothing. When he finally does speak, his voice has gone a bit rough. “If you make me cry again, I’m dumping what’s left of the Gatorade over your head.”

Robin snorts, squeezing Steve’s wrist. “There’s that mean girl I know and love.”

Steve laughs, too, small but sincere, and Robin takes it as a win.

Part 3

[demonsslayersstuff]

When You’re Sick (AOT Men x Reader)

A/N: Drabble/ head canons of how some of men from Attack on Titan would take care of reader when they are sick. Did this for JJK, stay tuned for the Demon Slayer one. No warnings, mostly just fluff Enjoy!

Characters: Erwin, Levi, Jean, Eren, Armin

Erwin Smith: *I just finished season 3 and I'm so gutted, I won't give spoilers away but I legit cried.

This blond haired blue eyed king is the commander for the Scouts so he is busy with a capital B. However if you were sick he would make the effort to take what little breaks he has throughout the day to stop by and check on you

I could see him bringing you hot tea or water when he stops by, placing it on your night stand as he leans down to give you a light kiss on the forehead

As the commander he doesn't want to get sick so he'll keep his distance if your super sick, but he would still come by to check on you and making sure your getting the best medical care

Once your on the mend I could see him making more of an effort to end his day earlier than normal so he can come cuddle you in order to make up for his slight distance whilst you were sick

You hear the bedroom door creak open as the last rays of the sun dip down below the wall. You sit up slightly in bed as your partner comes into view. "Hey darling, how do you feel?", Erwin asks as he comes a bit closer to your bed, placing down the tea he'd brought with him. "Better, still a headache, but no longer coughing, so I think I'll be good to back to work tomorrow", you tell him with a light smile. "I'm glad to hear that", he says coming to sit on the edge of you bed. Erwin reaches out to softly touch your forehead, noting the lack of fever before he leans to give your forehead a light peck. "Will you stay?", you ask him with pleading eyes. "You don't have a fever anymore, so I think I can if that's what you want", he replies. "Then please stay", you tell him. "Ok", Erwin responds before standing up to remove his his jacket and gear before climbing into bed to join you. "Thank you", you whisper as he pulls you to his chest. He hums in response, content with stroking your hair softly as the two of you enjoy a quiet night together.

Levi Ackerman:

Similar to Erwin, he is a busy guy, but that doesn't mean he won't take the time to take care of you. Before he starts his day he is making sure your taking meds, drinking plenty of water, and eating a little bit of food before he feels comfortable with leaving you

100% stopping by during meals to check on you and if you were really sick I could see him taking you to a doctor or getting you the help you need

We all know our short king is a bit of a clean freak so I could see him going out of his way to make sure your room stays fresh and clean, even though your sick, he'll mask and glove up to clean up your dirty tissues and such

If your super sick he'll keep his distance because he needs to stay healthy, but would want updates and such as your recovering. If you aren't to sick I could see him making an effort to just spend a little bit extra of time with you. Levi is a very caring person, so he would make sure you felt cared for during your illness.

"Goddam you look like shit", Hange says as you walk into the kitchen. Levi looks at you with a concerned expression as you hobble in the room. "Feel like it too", you mutter as you move to make some tea. "Maybe you should go lie down, I'll bring you some tea", Hange says with a bit of concern in their face. Before you have chance to respond, Levi cuts in. "Go back to bed, I'll bring you some food and water", he stays in an authoritative tone. You don't even argue, you just nod your head as you turn to head back towards your room. It's not long before Levi enters, gently placing a try of what looks like soup and tea on your night stand. "Eat", he says as he comes to sit on the edge of your bed. "M'not hungry", you say looking at him tiredly. Levi's eyes soften. "Eat a few bites, for me", he says softly, a tone reserved just for you. You take a few bites before you shake your head, signaling you've had enough Levi sighs, but doesn't push you further. "Sleep, if you don't feel better by dinner I'll take you to the doctor", Levi says pulling the blankets up to your chest. You nod your head slightly, "Thanks", you whisper. "Anything for you", he replies as he heads for the door.

Jean Kirstein:

He would do anything and everything for you when your sick. I feel like his partner would be his number one priority, so you'll be taken care of by him

I could see him taking you to the doctor right away, he doesn't want you to get any sicker. If your not sick enough to be resting, Jean would definitely take on some of your work to help lighten your load

He's making sure your eating, getting the necessary fluids down, and making sure you get rest if you need it. Even though your sick that doesn't bother him, he'll cuddle you and what not in order to make you feel better

If he can't be around you when your sick, you best believe that any chance he gets, he's stopping by to check in on you.

"Here", Jean says as he hands you a cup of hot tea. "Thanks love", you whisper, throat too sore to talk at a normal volume. "Of course, I do wish you'd rest though", he replies, a worrying look in his eyes. "It's just a cold, it'll pass after a few days", you tell him before sipping the warm drink. "Ok, but after dinner no staying up late, straight to bed", Jean tells you, giving you a serious look. "Fine", you mutter, though deep down you were happy to follow his command. Jean smiles lightly before kissing your cheek. The two of you spend the rest of your lunch break in comfortable silence.

Eren Jeager:

Eren might not seem very worried on the outside, but on the inside he's a bit anxious when your sick. Does not want you to do any sort of work, even if all you have a simple cold. Could see the two of you having a little argument over you working

Get's what you need without you even needing to ask. Want some tea, already in your hand, head sore from a headache, he's massaging it for you before you go to bed

No shame in sticking close to you if you sick, he's holding your hand/ cuddling you even if it puts him at risk. He wants to make sure that you are cared for in anyway shape or form

If he's unable to be around when your ill, Eren is totally asking Mikasa or Armin to keep an extra eye on you and to update him if anything changes

"You need to stay in bed, you have a fever", Eren huffs as you make your third attempt to crawl out of bed. "I don't care, we have work to do", you tell him angrily. "Hey, even the captain said to take a day of rest, so stop arguing with me" Eren replies with equal anger in his tone. You stop fighting at his words, "Really?", you question. "Really, a sick solider is more of a burden than an un-sick one, so please lay back down" Eren tells you. You sigh, but listen to him. "Fine, but only because the captain said too", you mutter as Eren softly drapes a blanket over you. "Do you need anything?", he questions softly as he gently rubs your cheek with his thumb. You shake your head no, before turning your head to kiss his palm. "Then I'll see you at lunch, please just rest", Eren says before standing up to put on his jacket. "Thank you", you tell him and you mean it. "Of course, sleep", are his last words before he slips out the door, leaving you to get some much needed rest.

Armin Arlet:

One of the sweetest boys out of the whole group. If your sick, he's there for you, even it means putting himself at risk. I could see him going personally out of his way to make you tea or even make you food himself if he has the time

Even if your not sick sick, Armin is already getting you permission to take a sick day, he's not letting his partner get more sick. If your really sick, Armin is taking you to the doctor

Tries to be with you as much as possible, but similar to Eren if he can't be with you he would ask one of his friends to keep an eye on you.

I could see him reading a book you or talking to you in his free time if you felt bored. He's going to do everything in his power to make you feel better

A light touch to your forehead is what wakes you up. "Armin?", you mutter, sleep still heavy in your voice. "Shhh, go back to sleep, I was just checking on you", he responds quietly. "What time is it?", you ask, rubbing sleep from your eyes. "After dinner, you slept most of the day", Armin replies a bit sheepishly. "Damn", you say, moving to sit up. "Don't worry, I brought some food if you feel up for it, but if you want to sleep, I save it", he tells you with a small smile. "I'll eat now, thank you", you tell him you heart swelling at his thoughtfulness. Armin sits on your bed, conversing with you while you eat and once the food is gone and your ready for more sleep, he gives you light peck on the forehead with the promise he'll be back soon to cuddle with you.

[jasontoddspussy]

hanahaki au. but the disease/curse is built so that if its strong enough it'll like, give symptoms to whoever is the cause of the thing in the first place.

jason has hanahaki. his hanahaki is caused by his self hate, and jealousy. he's deep deep down envious of dick. he wants to be loved so, so badly. he wants to have a family. and yet he was betrayed. the bats dont like or trust him. he hates himself so so much.

and the hanahaki seizes him then. making him cough up blue flowers (im unsure which yet, this is just like base idea)

its so strong that *dick* coughs up flowers - marigolds. and he's like. wtf. he contacts and talks to raven abt it who tells him the curse isn't within him - whoever that flower represents is the one dying right now. and dick being dick finds out its jason and tries to save him. he tries to like. hang out with jason more. he tries to be there for him. and jason is aggresive and annoyed and finally ends up coughing up bloody flowers and dicks like please, jay. you know i love you. and jasons like. no, you don't. not in the way i need you to.

what jason means; you don't love who i am now, you love the dead kid i was. you don't trust me now. you wish i was still dead and that i'd never come back to life.

what dick *Thinks* jason means: i'm in love with you, but i know you see me as only a brother and that you can't reciprocate.

and dick thinks to himself "oh god. jasons in love with me." and decides then and there, that he's gonna beat the curse into the ground with the affection that jason needs, because the curse will "wilt" away if it's tricked into thinking the love is returned. he's gonna have to act like an interested lover, he thinks, or else jason will die.

he starts out slowly. initiating more body contact. he has to be slow or else jason will realise whats going on and then he might die quicker. it takes him weeks but jasons drunk and they're together drinking and dick kisses him, pretending to be drunk (he's tipsy but nowhere near as drunk as jason is) and jasons like ? dickie? what're you...doing? we- you shouldn't do this, we shouldn't- we're siblings- and dicks like shh sh it's okay jaybird, i got you it's okay

they kiss but it turns into making out and dick *loathes* that he can just do that while jason is all blushing and kinda innocent/confused, that he can do this to his *Brother* - and jasons like you cant be serious, you want to- to have sex? with *me*? and dicks like well, if you want to. we can also not. and jasons like why would you want to do that with me. we're siblings. and dicks like "you're a crimelord, jason" and jasons like yeah but also have you seen me? im more scar tissue than flesh. i have a pussy, im big and hairy and-

and dick hasn't looked at jasons body naked like that. he hasn't studied him. he couldn't bring himself to. and jasons still like. going on about how he doesn't understand how anyone, much less golden boy dick grayson, could look at him and see something attractive. and dick feels so, so guilty abt doing this but he can't stop, he has to keep going to save jason's life.

in the smut scene it's like... dick is trying to tell jason he's gorgeous and what not bcs it doesnt sound like jason has a lot of confidence, which is a surprise to him, and instead of letting himself think too much about it, he.. hotdogs? him is that the term, and jasons just flushed and pliant and needy and dicks like... i got condoms and lube... if you want to? and jason says ok. but uh. i dont know what im doing.. im..ive never done this. before. so, uh. yeah. and dick screams inside himself at the fact he's taking his little brother's virginity but outside just nods and assures jason its okay, they're safe here this is okay-

i havent decided yet if this is purposeful or not but the condom is broken. and jason ends up getting knocked up. and dick is so confused bcs the curse should be done but it's *not*-

and he realises...

he may... not have any idea about who jason is. because red hood, the man he thought he knew, is a dramatic, extremely talented fighter & assassin who is cunning and a masterplanner, self assured and a hardass.

but the drunk jason was just a mess of self-hate and maybe- maybe the curse isn't because he's in love with dick, but because he's in love with what dick *has*, because jason hates himself and dick-

dick just fucked his little brother and he may or may not have fucked their entire relationship up.

[sizzlingstarlightsky]

*Ribbed For My Pleasure

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 676

cw: smut without plot, fingering, fisting, slight shadow play, rough editing

His hands. Oh Gods his hands.

The texture of his fingers molding between your flesh. Working you like putty melted around his.

"You're so good bunny." Azriel purrs, shivering your spine.

"Sir," your voice raspy, gasping for your next moan, "Your hands- I love your hands."

Stillness.

"What- ?" Three scarred fingers still cocooned in you warmth. The male was too stunned to speak.

Flushed, airy, "They're ribbed, for my pleasure... fuck please please keep going sir?" Waves of confusion spiraling your mates lust coated eyes.

You've been watching him. Admiring the ways he flexes his fingers while writing or holding a fork. ...cutting his food- gods you just needed to know what it felt like. If his fingers were this delicious, how was the rest of the meal?

"Fist me Az. I wanna feel you down your forearm. Fuck... your scars feel divine sliding in and out of me."

As his fingers started to fall back into rhythm, the air fills with the sounds of your lewid orcestra once again. "Are you sure Angel?"

"Please. I need it"

"Well, then let's see how good of a girl you are."

The momentary loss of his skin being repleaced with the pressure of more digits aligning themselves to your entrance coiled something so deep, so primal in the base of your stomach. Tickling your very soul and being. "I'm ready. Give it to me sir."

The pressure. The texture. Fuck. It felt like being torn open and sown back together by the hairs of a God. Four fingers in, three knuckles deep, thumb teasing your opening. His thick moan ripping the oxygen from your blood. "You take me so well bunny. Look at you fucked out with my hand deep in your womb."

Bliss. That's all you could feel. All that you were. At the hands of your mate, grinding down to his wrist, feeling him- needing him inside you. If you asked him to put his head in he would find a way. Just as addicted to each other as you were decades ago when the mating bond was accepted. You'd try just about anything with one another.

Azriels growls grew as his thumb finally slid inside. Scar tissue pressing against your walls, creating rippled screams of please from your thoat. Shadows curling around your body to get a better view, playing with your nipples and clit. Finding any contact they could to add to your pleasure.

Mate. Must please our mate.

One hand fisting your sopping wet cunt, one gripping your jaw, Azriel leans inbetween your neck. Leaving a trail of kisses from your earlobe to your collarbone. Evenetually finding shelter in the crook, he bites down. Marking his mate. Taking his claim.

"So good baby. Just like that- fuck your so beautiful."

"Az... Sir.. I.. I"m"

"Let go Y/N, cum onto my hand." That was your undoing. His raspy dark voice, his delicately rough hands, the pulse of love and adoration being shot through your chest. It was all too much. Arching against the bed you scratch at Azriels shoulders. Screaming as your release dances down the ridges of his skin. Skin intertwined with yours.

" You did so well my love" Wispers of praise help ease you as your come down settles. Bringing your mind back to reality.

"Don't leave yet. Please"

"I'd never leave you bunny. I should take my hand out, but I'm not going anywhere." With a whine of displeasure, Azriel begins to slowly pull his arm out of you. The shadows bring over a towel, cleaning you up before tossing it to Azriel. Allowing their singer to clean himself in your esseence. You were as much their mate as he.

"Drink sweetheart" handing you a cool glass of water the sleep starts to hit your eyes "Let's get you cleaned up. These sheets desperatly need to be changed or we'll be sleeping in a waterbed." Kissing the top of your head Azriel carries you into the bathroom, ever the loving mate. "I love you Y/N"

"I love you Azzie"

[wenosgf]

PUBLICITY STUNT

synopsis: nicholas is an old friend of yours from back when you were a trainee under hybe. however, due to a grudge you’re stubbornly holding onto years later, your relationship as fellow idols is strained. what happens when a video is leaked of you and nicholas bickering backstage, and your company wants you to fake date him to dispel the backlash from his fans?

chapter 15: new years

wc: 2.1k

yunjin dragged you onto the dance floor, amongst all the drunk and partying idols. you began to dance, though you didn't feel drunk enough yet to totally let loose. still, you started to get into it as the intoxicating surroundings took over. the disorientating disco lights and the heat radiating off of the many bodies around you made you more carefree, plus the shots you’d had earlier started to settle in your gut. eventually you were dancing with yunjin like no one was watching, fully immersed and having fun.

as minutes went by wonyoung and yuqi, as well as some other idols, including nicholas, found you and yunjin in the crowd and formed a group as you all danced together. you were spinning around, being passed from yunjin to yuqi to wonyoung as you swayed, bobbed and lip-synced happily with each girl. at some point you came face to face with nicholas. he stepped closer to you and tilted his head down to keep eye contact, as if daring you to dance with him. and although your senses told you not to, you wanted to. you wanted to feel physically close to him.

without giving it much thought, you took nicholas’s hand and turned your back to him. you swayed your hips slowly to the rhythm, purposefully arching your back to stick your backside out towards him, but not touching him. you descended down, and then back up, before turning to look at him. his expression was hard to read, as he stared at you, his eyes darker than usual. you leaned in to talk into his ear over the music.

"can i have some cash?" you asked him. he looked confused, probably having forgot you didn't bring your purse,"i want to buy more shots,"

his face relaxed into a small smile, and he sighed,"what am i, your sugar daddy?"

despite his words, he was already digging into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. you grinned at him, having not expected for him to fold so easily. you only asked because he had paid for your drinks previously, so you wondered if he would do it again. knowing that he would without so much as a fight made the butterflies in your stomach multiply.

"i'll pay you back," you said as he handed you a few notes.

“no need," he waved you off, but then gently grabbed your arm as you tried to walk away,"but, y/n..."

you arched an eyebrow at him as he looked down at you very seriously, softly rubbing his thumb back and forth over the skin of your arm.

"not that bartender... okay?"

you rolled your eyes,"okay.”

in the next hour or so, you managed to get astronomically drunk. before it was even midnight, you found yourself stumbling when you went to find the bathroom. you were pretty sure you’d somehow lost a contact lense, either that or you were just incredibly disoriented. you found the bathroom by dragging yourself across the wall, pushing on the nearest door, peeking in and spotting that it was in fact a bathroom. you quickly locked yourself in a stall to pee, wiping down the toilet seat with tissue before sitting down.

then, you heard the door to the toilet open, along with footsteps walking in. when the owners of said footsteps started talking, you immediately recognised nicholas’s voice. you could identify his deep cadence easily.

at first you were thinking, why the hell is nicholas in the girls' toilet? And then you thought, ah wait, i'm definitely the idiot who went into the boys' toilet. you quickly decided you’d just wait for them to leave and then make a quiet escape.

"what happened?" the voice you didn't recognise asked.

"that stupid bartender splashed a drink on me," nicholas pitch was steady but you could still identify and shake of anger in his voice.

"on purpose?"

he let out a harsh laugh,"probably,"

there was a sound of paper towels being ripped from the dispenser, before the unknown voice spoke again.

"you and y/n still going strong?”"

another pause along with the sound of a bin being opened.

"stronger than ever,"

"do you ever get tired of being known as ‘y/n’s boyfriend’?”

“no.”

“really? i’d get tired of it.”

“good thing i’m dating her and you’re not, then.”

“i don’t know, man. maybe i’m a pessimist. but having a girlfriend who’s quite a bit more famous than you seems pretty exhausting. wouldn’t be good for the ego.”

“she’s worth it.”

their voices faded as they walked out of the bathroom. you waited for the sound of the door closing to exit your stall. popping your head out of the door slowly to checked and make sure the bathroom was empty, you then opened the door wider so you could leave. but just at that moment, the door to the bathroom swung open again, and you couldn't react in time before nicholas walked in and froze upon seeing you. he frowned, looking up at the sign on the door he was still holding open, checking that he definitely walked into the men's room.

for some reason, you was possessed by the spirit of drax the destroyer, and you believed if you stood incredibly still that he wouldn't see you. once he got over his shock, he smirked, walking into the bathroom and letting the door shut behind him. he walked straight past you and towards a sink, picking up a watch that was to its side and fastening it around his right wrist. he looked back at you, with a devious glint in his eyes.

"evening, y/n," he greeted you.

you were debating whether to lock yourself back in the stall or make a run for the door. but ultimately you decided both those options would make the situation even more embarrassing than it was, so you stayed stubbornly silent.

"what are you doing in the men's toilet?" he stepped towards you, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"i get a thrill out of listening to men in their most vulnerable states," you said dryly,"obviously i came in by accident,”

"hm," he bit his lip to hold back a laugh,"are you sure you weren't trying to get me all alone?"

you scoffed,"in the men’s bathroom? i’d take you home if i wanted you that badly,"

he cocked his head at you, and you had to break eye contact, it was getting too intense.

“why aren't you looking at me?" he asked you.

"you’re trying to stare into my soul right now,"

he chuckled,“come on. show me your pretty eyes,”

“don’t.”

“don’t what?”

suddenly, the door to the bathroom began to open, and before you could even react, nicholas pushed you back into the stall, swiftly following you in and locking the door behind him. you held your breath as you listened to the footsteps walking in. it sounded like a few drunk guys conversing while simultaneously using the urinals. you were thankful nicholas had hidden you before you could've gotten spotted.

you glanced up at him and realised how little space there was between you. obviously, the toilet stall didn't leave much room for two people, so you were almost chest-to-chest, and your height difference definitely gave him a view down the low-cut neckline of your dress. he must've noticed it too, because he glanced down for a split second and then his eyes immediately snapped back to your face, his cheeks growing pink. the close proximity was making him more attractive. maybe it was just the angle, his black hair falling over his eyes as he stared down at you. or maybe it was the fact that you could smell his piney aftershave. he just had the kind of face that you couldn’t believe was real, like it was a chiselled statue made by an artist with a keen eye for beauty.

"why have you done this?" you whispered to him.

"i saved you from getting caught," he said.

“why did you have to come in here with me?"

he blushed and looked away from you for a second,"i don't know... i wasn't thinking,"

you rolled your eyes. he shifted his position so he rested his forearms on the walls either side of you. that only increased the skin exposed on his chest due to the couple of undone buttons on his black shirt. you had to look away. you felt like you were going crazy. of course you’d been craving him for months now, but actually being face to face with him now after ages of just texting was overwhelming. you drew in a deep breath and looked back into his eyes. he was staring back with a hooded gaze, something that made your lower stomach tingle.

"what are you looking at?" you asked him, trying to not show the tremble in your voice.

he smirked, leaning down to whisper in your ear,"you look pretty today,"

you jerked away from him, glaring. his teasing and flirting was the last thing you needed while you were already holding yourself back from smashing your faces together. and you simply would not let yours and nicholas’s first kiss be in a stall of a men’s toilets while drunk men used the urinals in the background. he chuckled at your reaction. the voices faded as the men left the bathroom, along with the sound of the door sliding shut. you emerged from the stall, washing your hands, and then nicholas held you around the wrist. he opened the door to the bathroom and poked his head out, checking the coast was clear, before he pushed the door open wider and gently pulled you out into the corridor. you began walking in silence as you made your way back to the dance floor.

just then, the pair of you heard the countdown from ten starting from the main room. ten seconds until midnight. you looked at each other. it appeared neither of you were that eager to rush onto the dance floor to be included in the celebration.

"should we kiss?" you joked.

his eyes widened, his lips parting out of shock,"what?"

"you know... people usually kiss at midnight, it’s a western tradition." you felt like you were explaining to a toddler.

the countdown was almost done and he wasn't laughing or acting disgusted, he was just staring at you. you were worried because he seemed to have not realised you weren’t being serious, but you was curious if he'd actually want to kiss you. god, you hoped he did.

"do you want me to?" he asked in a low voice, stepping closer.

your breath caught, and the alcohol took over as the countdown hit zero,"shit."

without letting yourself think more, you reached around his neck and pulled him in. he met your lips hungrily, holding your face in his hands. he kissed like he was ravenous, passionately and quickly, so much that you struggled to keep up with his pace. it was as if he was desperate. he started to migrate his hands into your hair, weaving his fingers into your loose strands and slowly squeezing, making you gasp. he didn't miss the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, licking into your mouth, and you practically became goo in his hands, letting out an embarrassing sound of pleasure. he began to slow down now, moving his mouth in a savouring manner. gently, he pushed you up against the wall of the corridor and removed one of his hands from your hair, now holding your face again and using his thumb to stroke your jaw.

he let out a tiny, barely audible moan, bordering on a whimper, and your head began to spin. this man was driving you insane. you pulled him closer and his hands moved down and started wandering your stomach and waist. he hummed lowly, bowing his head further down to kiss you more forcefully before he pulled away and buried his face in the side of your neck.

“please can we stop dancing around each other now. please, can i finally have you?”

your mouth fell open as his fingers flexed on your hips and he pressed himself against you,“yixiang,”

“that’s not an answer, baby,” he ran his mouth up your neck,“please, y/n, be mine,”

“i will,”

“fuck, this is real, yeah?” he pulled back a little to look at you, as if needing the reassurance.

“this is real,” you laughed breathlessly.

“i love you,”

your eyes widened, you felt like your heart had stopped beating. that was one of the last things you expected nicholas to say.

“shit, did i scare you, y/n? you don’t have to say it back,” he cradled your face as if it were precious,“i just had to tell you. i couldn’t hold it in anymore,”

“we’re going back to mine. now.”

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taglist:

@conwunder @eunbiland @n1staytiny @cherry012309 @ikasaeki @c9b7luv @makixroll @mimimiloomeelomi @smoophie @saranghoeforanton @starrihan @yoyomul

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Hi! Can I request a First Aid x sick (like the flu) human reader please? Thank you :D

I wish I had First Aid when I was sick. Have some light fluff~

Coughing, sneezing, groaning. None of it bothered the medic. First Aid had seen many things, fascinating and disgusting from his own kind. Many Cybertronians were disgusted by human bodily functions. Not him. He took every blow of your nose with grace, ensuring you had plenty of tissues near by. And a puke bucket. After that last little incident, he wanted to be sure.

"How is my patient today?" First Aid brings in your breakfast. Plain foods, like Ratchet recommended. The older Mech had been to earth and thus had some information.

You take one look at the food and turn over with a groan. First Aid vents.

"Come on, I need you to eat. You couldn't keep it down last night and need to stay fueled to get better." He sets the tray beside your human sized berth and leans close, nudging you. "Come on. I'll adjust the bed." The shifts it carefully to put you in a sitting position. He wouldn't lie to himself, you looked awful. Tired and exhausted. A little pale. He would have the drones help you with your hair later.

"Y/n," A digit presses to your forehead, taking your temp. Still pretty high, but better than yesterday, "Please eat, you can't take your medicine on an empty stomach.

"I'm cold." you mumble, shifting as he put an extra pillow behind you.

"I can adjust the heat of the berth for you. We don't have many blankets on board." He made a mental note to request a few things next time the ship stops planet-side.

"Thanks." You start eating, tiny little bites. First Aid stays near by, writing into his data pad. Leaned against the main berth yours is placed on. Like a Doll on a bed. "I'm bored."

The red and white Bot glances down, "Yeah, healing can be pretty boring." You give him the most pathetic expression he had ever seen. Poor thing, "Tell you what-" Metal digit scoots the bowl you pushed away a bit closer to you, "-finish up, take your meds, and I'll set up a data pad with some holo-vids. Deal?"

You groan and sigh, giving him another look. He taps the top of your head, "And drink your water too. You REALLY need that." Ratchet had made it very clear how much humans needed water, especially when sick.

A sigh, and you pick up your utensils. First Aid's mask shifts as he smiles, sending a request to rewind for something to entertain you.

"I'll be back to check on you. The drone will bring your meds when you're done." He pats your head and heads off to disinfect before checking his other patients. He had to seal with a broken digit, a missing arm, and Whirl barreling in with a pipe through his socket. How the frag he got to the med bay without a guide, he couldn't say, but First Aid would bet they could follow a trail of chaos to the origin.

Half a cycle passes before the Medic can check on you. It's calm, so he figures he can sit and talk with you for the rest of his shift. Ease some of the boredom. He grabs your chart, looking it over while he heads your way. Drones had checked your vitals through the day and he compared them to Ratchet's list of acceptable numbers.

"Well Y/n, it looks like-" He stops at the sight of you. On your tiny berth, was a pile of blankets. He almost panics before realizing the rhythmic, barely perceptible movement. First Aid steps closer, carefully, nudging and moving the blankets until he can see your face. Sleeping peacefully. His spark pulses at the sight. You still looked drained and sick, but peaceful. A murmur and you grab blinding for the blanket to recover yourself. Instead your hand lands on his digit and stays put.

Ambulon comes in to relieve his fellow Medic a mega cycle later, but First Aid remains where he is a little while longer, with you holding onto him.

[keyotos]

i'm unglued, thanks to you

summary ⎯ reader is sick as a dog. unexpectedly, wriothesley comes to the rescue.

tana talks ⎯ originally this wasn't going to be very long. but SICK FIC SICK FIC SICK FIC

"on the count of three, you're gonna blow," wriothesley holds the tissue up to your nose, gently holding the back of your head upright, "one. two. three."

you use all the muscles in your face to blow into the tissue, even going so far as to lean upwards due to the force. wriothesley takes the tissue and throws it into the trash, then quickly goes to grab another one.

as you watch wriothesley rummage through the cabinets for a tissue box (you've gone through an entire one in the span of 1 hour) you mentally scold yourself. you never get sick⎯it's a personal record at this point⎯yet this week has broken that record by turning you into a sick dog.

really what happened was that you were tending to your duties in the prison: delivering supplies, shipping items, and packaging items to be sent as mail. is it a mundane job? oh absolutely⎯but it pays the bills and keeps you steady, so you don't have much to complain about.

what you expected from this job was going back and forth, packaging items, and basic delivery. what you did not expect was catching the worse cold of the century. your bones ached, your head wasn't focused, and you nearly dropped everything you held. so much so that the duke of meropide even had to check up on you.

which begs the question, how did you end up in the duke's office rather than the infirmary? well, he took you here himself. you, being in a scatter-brained state of mind, thought he would be taking you to sigewinne. and now, you are in the duke's personal care.

"good job," wriothesley with a cup and a tissue box. as he hands you the full box, you hoarse out your thanks as you sink lower into the couch.

you blow once again, trying not to get your snot onto the duke's personal couch. that would be embarrassing, and you were sure that he would never let you live the moment down. alas, you weren't sure he'd let you forget the time he personally pampered you either.

"you really didn't need to do all of this," you threw the tissues in the other empty box, "i was fine."

"you looked like you were about to pass out," he brings the warm cup towards your face. his fingers, rough and calloused, delicately tilt your head up.

"drink," he commands. though, there were no tints of dominance in his voice, only concern. just between the two of you, wriothesley's voice softened. his usual authoritative and magisterial tone dissipated, now replaced with conscientiousness and tact.

you shook your head, "i hate tea."

wriothesley sighed; not out of annoyance, but out of habit. the familiar ring of breath was commonly heard: you were very vocal about your dislike for his favorite drink.

"is now really the time to be stubborn?"

"always. especially when it's with you," you snickered. embarrassingly, your snicker quickly turned into a coughing spasm, and you had to turn your head away from wriothesley's as you coughed into your elbow. if you stopped listening to the sound of your sickness, you'd be able to hear the grand duke of meropide chuckle.

"if anything," the duke set your cup down on the coffee table, "that should've been enough to convince you to stop being stubborn. will coffee really give you the same results as tea?" wriothesley skeptically asked you.

you let out one last cough, a smaller one than the last few you had. your hand grabs the tea cup on the counter and you blow over the hot liquid. you can feel wriothesley's eyes lingering on you; you can especially feel the smirk growing on his face as he watches you take your first sip. normally, you don't give in to wriothesley's ideas: however, you are sick and you have no other choice. soldiers can't win all their battles anyway, right?

the warm liquid soothes your rough throat as you gulp it all down in one go. surprisingly, it's less hot than you thought it would be. the tea seems to be made at the exact same temperature you make your coffee. only, you don't tell anyone how to make your coffee.

you finish the drink and look up at wriothesley, about to question him on how he managed to heat your drink at the perfect temperature. but he moves first, his thumb wiping remnants of tea around the corner of your mouth.

"good job," he keeps his voice low. his expression is fond, eyebrows slightly crinkled and relaxed eyes.

you open your mouth to say something back, to ask him how he learned to make your tea, to ask him how he learned you; alas, your sickness got the better of you, and you lunged for the tissue box as a huge sneeze erupted out of you.

oh dear. how embarrassing.

wriothesley stays as you blow out all the nerves in your nose into a few sheets of tissue paper. it's an unattractive sight, to say the least. he's a better person than you: you would have walked away.

once wriothesley realizes you're almost done with your blaring, he grabs your empty cup and starts to walk towards the stairs leading to the rest of his office. but you have other plans. other questions that desperately need answers, like why you're here instead of the infirmary; why he's taking such good care of you; why he's doing this.

"wait!" you throw your tissue onto the coffee table and wrap your hand around his empty one. was it unsanitary? definitely; yet, wriothesley grabbed back immediately.

"what's wrong?" he asked urgently, his eyes traveling your body as he searched for any signs of problems.

for a moment, you didn't respond. you blamed it on the hoarseness of your voice: yeah, that was it. but it wasn't.

you were about to cough (you weren't).

you were about to sneeze (you weren't).

"uh," you swallow, your hold getting loose as you turn your body away from him, "can you stay?"

when your hand was about to slip out of his, wriothesley pulled it back in. his thumb⎯the same thumb that wiped the tea off your face⎯ran over the top of your hand, a silent pledge that he would stay. he sets your cup down and you move to make room for him. though, with the massive amount of room you gave for wriothesley, he still finds a way to be close to you, regardless of your sickness.

with how close you two are sitting, wriothesley's leg is almost intertwined with yours. he turns his body so he can fully face you; he doesn't even shy away from the fact that he may become ill as well.

"did you need anything?" he asks. his voice⎯which should echo due to the both of you being in the quiet office⎯is quiet. and you notice that he's leaning closer, only for you to be able to hear him. funny, being that the two of you are the only ones in his office at the moment. regardless, he's close.

you freeze. try to focus on anything but him. put your mind back on track. you feel foolish: pulling wriothesley towards you only to be rendered speechless when he actually comes beside you. your fingers drum from beside you, working their way to help you figure out what to say next.

"my body isn't functioning properly," you sniffle, following with a light hearted smile. you want to wince right after the words leave your mouth. "i need a caretaker." i need you.

wriothesley, who is always full of sarcastic and cheeky retorts, nods. he is aware of what you meant. he knows what it meant. that's why instead of brushing you off with a small chuckle, he shifts towards you even more and grabs a blanket from one of the couch cushions he was sitting on.

you try not to squirm when his cold hands graze your back as he puts a pillow underneath you. wriothesley slowly ushers you until you are flat on your back. he pulls your legs into his lap, and you have to hold your breath so you don't begin coughing again. it was so easy. so casual. it was as if you two were more than just consumer and supplier.

now is a good time to probably ask him questions, you thought to yourself. but once you look back up at him, you find that you've lost your tongue. because when he looks down at you, it's like all you can see are stars. and to think this was the same man who was attempting to pour tea into your mouth just a few seconds ago.

"how are you feeling?" he is the first one to break the silence. the first one to initiate anything.

you tuck yourself further into the blanket, "better, i think." you look at wriothesley, who was looking at your legs on his lap. you part your mouth to say something, but you close your lips and turn your body the other way.

you gnaw on your lip, wrapping the blanket more tightly around yourself. wriothesley's hands lie softly on your calves. you feel your breathes getting sharper and shorter at the proximity, and you squeeze your eyes shut as a way to tell your body to stop.

after a few minutes, you feel a stare crawling up your body. it trickles from your legs, to your back, to your head. you know who the culprit is, there is no need to turn back. but it still surprises you. wriothesley is still there. he's there even in the silence. he's there even when he doesn't need to be. he's here.

if you turn around right now, what will he look like? will wriothesley look dazed? annoyed? lost? will he have that gaze in his eyes⎯the one where his eyes lower just slightly that you can tell he's at ease? or will he accessorize his pinched look with crossed arms?

you take a deep breath (as deep as you can get without being blocked by congestion), trying to make your respirations as quiet as possible. then, you shuffle your body so you lie on your back instead of your side.

when you look up at him, he is shamelessly staring at you. you meet his stare with a strong gaze, and wriothesley tries to smile, but you can tell that it's faltering. he swallows as your eyes dance around his face, studying it like a textbook.

"you should probably get some rest," wriothesley pulls a pillow from his side of the couch and lends it to you. your hand reaches out to grab the pillow and your fingertips brush. and for a moment, you find that wriothesley nearly takes your hand into his. however, he pulls away promptly, like you burned him.

with a few groans and coughs, you prop yourself up on the pillows he gave you. now, you two are on the same level. it should be the perfect time to ask him the questions from earlier, right? you've mauled over your feelings, had a few moments of silence to yourself, and you felt fine interacting with him.

so why is it that you can't bear to ask the question: why are you doing this for me?

you must be delirious. the cold is making you delirious. maybe the doctor mixed up your sickness and diagnosed you with a cold rather than a high fever, because there is no reason why you should be avoiding such a simple question.

you reach for the back of your neck, and you're burning up. strange, because you were feeling cold just a few moments ago. you look back to wriothesley, who was currently tapping the couch arm across from you.

"can i ask you something?" you say, breaking the long silence between the both of you.

his head instantly turns back around, "sure," he says a little too quickly.

"why..." you pause, picking at the couch fabric, "why did you choose to personally take care of me?"

wriothesley's hand drops from the couch arm. he looks off over to his desk and you can see him adjust his tie. your eyes follow wherever his are, attempting to decipher whatever he was doing.

finally, he turns back to you, "what if i just liked to take care of my favorite supplier?"

damn him; he answered your question with a question. you know that you probably shouldn't press on, especially if he is avoiding the question. but you have to know. why not bring you to sigewinne? why not send you back to the overworld? why sit here with you, doing nothing?

"first of all," you were cut off with a cough, "i'm your only supplier. second, would you do this for monsieur neuvillette?"

wriothesley's eyes bulged at the mention of neuvillette, "um, what?"

"i bet he's your favorite chief justice."

"he's the only chief justice."

"and would you take care of him the same way you took care of me?" you raise an eyebrow.

you imagine wriothesley will say something on the lines of, "that correlation made no sense," but he is quiet. the tips of his ears are slightly red, and he shoved his hands into his pant pockets.

"i'm guessing the answer is no?" you remove your legs off of wriothesley's lap and curl them into you. wriothesley's eyebrows slightly raise up due to the lost of contact. you pretend not to notice.

"i care about you," he looks down at the floor, and then turns back up, "i care a lot. so when i saw you on the verge of fainting⎯i just... i didn't want to leave you alone. it's not about tea either. i care for you.

plus, this is a way to reimburse you after you gave me all those free samples."

you understand. it clicks. wriothesley, who has never had a stable life. wriothesley, who did not have a good support system. wriothesley, who grew up in a careless household.

i care about you, i care for you. the back of your neck gets hotter, and this time you're unsure if it's a fever or something else.

"you don't have to pay me back for the samples. that's why they're free," you look down, your teeth biting the bottom of your lip to keep you from smiling.

"for the record, i give you those because i care about you too," you smile. it's not faltering. it's not fake. it's real, and it shows that you care.

your hand slides over to the side of wriothesley's thigh, urging his hand to intertwine with yours. you look at him again, lightly poking his thigh to send him the message.

wriothesley grabbed your hand like it was the last thing he ever needed before death. his thumb brushed over your hand again, and you feel yourself gulping.

"do you want to share the couch?" you lean back down on your back, removing one of the pillows and still holding onto wriothesley's hand.

"there's not gonna be enough room," wriothesley chuckles and scoots closer to you.

"i'll make enough room," you begin shuffling onto your side, creating a huge gap between the back of the couch and you.

"what if i get sick?" wriothesley jokes.

you playfully scoff back at him, "please. you've made it this far anyway," you turn onto your other side to see wriothesley, "come on. it'll be fine. we won't fall. you'd probably catch me in your sleep or something before i fall."

wriothesley pulls at his tie again, "fine. just this once," he says, even though he knows that this will be one of many.

your smile is enough to bring a year's worth of sunlight into the fortress of meropide. wriothesley doesn't see the sun often, but when he does, he is surprised it doesn't look like you.

wriothesley takes his spot behind you on the couch. you move to lay on the edge of the couch, but he pulls you closer just in case. you're a few centimeters away from his shirt; it seems like wriothesley is eager, yet still wants to maintain some distance.

his arms flop over your body as he buries his face into one of your (his) pillows. his head is right next to yours. for someone so cold (physically), his body temperature became warmer. you turn your head to the side so you can get a good look at him, but he's out like a light.

throughout the night, wriothesley's head shifts closer and closer to you. to others, like sigewinne, it seems like his body has a mind on his own: she found the two of you sleeping together in his office; she saw wriothesley's head buried in the crook of your neck; she saw his arms wrapped around your waist; and most of all, she saw that his face lit up, just like yours.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Precaution

Moon boys x afab!reader

Wanna get tagged?

Summary: You feel like starting to get sick. The boys take action.

Content: Marc being Marc, Jake feeds reader at first, wholesome.

A/n: Felt like getting a cold couple days ago but it turned out to be nothing but a stuffed nose and some sneezing. Welp.

You woke up with a throat drier than sand, a full nose and feet as cold as ice.

Steven was sleeping perfectly fine next to you with his face buried in his pillow.

As bad as you wanted to just shove your feet into Steven's blanket, your dry throat made you want to drink liters of water.

With a soft groan, popping your bones and putting socks on, you got up and headed into the kitchen.

The clock along your way showed 2:45 AM. An ungodly time for an ungodly feeling.

In the kitchen the first thing you did was downing two and a half glasses of water.

Your throat was feeling so much better with all the water, but your nose was still stuffed so you grabbed some tissue and took care of it.

Both nostrils breathing in fresh air. The best feeling.

Just a second later you heard the soft padding of feet approaching the kitchen.

When he came into view, he was rubbing his eyes.

"Hi luv." Steven spoke up with a sleepy voice.

"Hi." you smiled.

Steven went to the fridge, opening it and grabbing the milk. "It's like 3 AM, can't sleep?" he asked, pouring milk in a glass and putting it back in the fridge.

You shrugged, "Woke up with a dry throat."

Steven eyed you with worry, sipping on his milk. "Don't catch a cold now."

You gave a smile. "Nope."

"Did you open the window again? Maybe that's why."

"Yeah... but only for five minutes... well, until I fell asleep." you admit sheepishly.

Steven shot a lazy smirk. "Oh wow."

You shrug. "Anyways, I'm heading back to sleep, you coming?"

He nodded, putting the glass down and followed you back into bed.

"See you in the mornin' love." he smiled, giving you a peck on the cheek before he fell asleep.

You moved closer to him, feeling how so much warmer he is compared to your blanket.

A cheeky smile tugged on your lips, your ice cold feet inching closer into his blanket, immediately feeling his heat.

Wanting more heat, you slipped both feet inside, brushing them against his feet.

He jumped at the cold feeling. "What's that thing!?" it wasn't Steven anymore, instead it was Marc now.

You snort. "That thing is my feet."

Marc turned to face you. "Shit, you're really catching a cold, huh?"

"No, my feet are just cold!" you argue, slipping your feet under Marc's.

Marc pulled his covers up and reached out to pull you close, bringing the covers back down over you. "Fine, let me warm you up."

You immediately melt into the heat he provided. "Much better, thanks."

He pulled you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you. "You know, you could have asked." he chuckled.

In mere seconds you were out cold thanks to the warmth.

Couple hours later you woke up to an empty bed. Feeling refreshed, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

The smell of vegetables was in the air, some herbs and even chicken.

Then the door opened and Jake came in.

"Ooh, getting sick now, sweetheart?"

You blinked confused at him. "Um? No?"

"Dry throat, stuffed nose and cold feet are a mean sign of catching a cold."

"But I'm feeling perfectly fine.."

Jake grins. "Until it comes back with a smack."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

He shrugged. "Precautions, sweetheart."

You smile. "Jake, I appreciate your offer but really, I'm feeling good." you said softly.

"No no no, you will thank us for it, trust me." Jake insisted.

Your nose was stuffed some more. "Pwease, don't work your asses off just because of me." you sniffled.

Jake grins again. "Mi amor, when our girl gets sick we of course do everything we can to get her well fast."

You sniffled again, pouting at him.

"Ay, we're just trying to prevent you from getting sick." Jake walked over to you to pinch your side playfully.

"Jake!" you threw an exaggerated pout, watching Jake proceeding to the door.

"You wait here, we bring everything when it's done!" he smirks over his shoulder before disappearing again.

About 10 minutes later, Jake returned with a plate of soup and steaming tea.

"Sit up sweetheart, you're getting fed." Jake smiled, putting the plate down on the nightstand, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Jake please, I feel awful with you pampering me." you chuckle.

"Ah-ah. No complaints." Jake playfully wagged his finger.

You sat up against the headboard. "The soup smells delicious." you smile.

Jake spooned up some soup, blowing a bit and moved it close to your lips. "Marc and I made the soup." Jake smirked.

Parting your lips, you leaned in a bit, allowing Jake to guide the spoon into your mouth. "You and Marc are a dangerous compilation." you chuckle as Jake moved the spoon out.

The herbs mixed with the vegetables hit your tastebuds, the chicken lingering in your mouth after swallowing.

Jake chuckles, "But it's good, huh?" he got another spoonful of soup to your lips.

"Delicious." you parted your lips, letting Jake feed you.

"Oh and Steven made the tea. Green tea." he grins, pulling the spoon out, spooning up soup again.

You made a face and parted your lips. "Ugh, green tea."

"Don't worry, he put honey in it so it won't taste that gross." he fed you again, then put the spoon down and got up.

"Now, eat that soup and drink the tea. And don't fool us, or you will get sick." Jake smiled, flicking your nose then left the room.

You ate the soup in peace, feeling warmed up well and full.

Later, Steven checked in on you, seeing the soup and tea already empty.

"All done, luv?" he smiled widely.

Nodding, you pulled the covers up your chin. "Yes, I already feel better, thanks." you smiled contently.

"That's wonderful. Now since you're feeling better, how 'bout we just lounge around on the couch, watch your favorite show?"

"Can we rewatch The Mandalorian?" you grin.

"Of course." Steven smiled.

You followed him into the living room, sitting down while Steven went into the kitchen.

When he came back, he brought some snacks and set everything up.

You immediately knew Marc was back.

He flipped the remote control in his hands as if it was a blaster, doing the same pose and motion of Mando shooting.

"Alright, who's ready for some Mando action?"

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Taglist: @nekoyin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction