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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

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how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy.

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work.

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into.

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears.

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere.

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever.

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company.

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone.

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true.

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house.

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight.

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying.

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect.

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue.

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now.

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes.

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is.

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth.

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl.

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.”

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time.

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?”

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable.

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own.

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little.

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate.

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting.

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still.

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air.

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller.

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.”

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby.

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.”

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.”

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand.

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip.

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years.

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then;

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows.

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze.

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?”

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse.

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light.

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else.

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear.

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

#u both catch a cold the next day <33 #anyway i am normal about the devotion of a loyal knight paired w the devotion of a man who’s only ever loved one single person in his life #shoutout to knight x royalty dynamics for inventing romance #i wanted to get a good balance on prince!gojo’s twisted side and soft side so i hope i did ok!! :’3 #hes a kind man at heart he rly is but i think being born at the peak of the class pyramid does smth to a person lmao #i didn't touch on it in the fic but he would have turned out a lotttt more twisted if he hadnt met reader as a child …#what if i was ur knight..;;; and u were my prince….;;;;; and we changed the trajectory of each other’s lives 😳😳 👉👈#mickey if u see this!!! tysm for letting me write abt this concept i had so much fun!!! this fic is for u <33 #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen

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princeguri66 · 3 months

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Y'all ever get so heated that all you wanna do to calm down is to lay in someone's embrace?

Gaz x Male Reader

All fluff!

Ever think of going to Gaz after having a shitty day, where nothing went as they were supposed to. Your day was shit, waking up later than usual, getting chewed out, training didn't go well at all, some other soldier bumping into you at the mess hall making you spill some of your food on the ground and you just felt so drained and the cold environment did not help at all.

Stalking through the halls with your back tense with frustration. You can feel your jaw getting tighter and your brows furrowing as little bits of your day flashes in your mind. You walk around mindlessly as you try to think of a good way to de-stress, itching for the touch of a certain sergeant. And speak of the devil there he is.

You see Gaz being illuminated in the glow of the tv in front of him, the thin blanket wrapped around him making him look so much cozier. it's as if God was giving you a sign.

Gaz tore his eyes away from the telly to lock on to yours, seems like he noticed you, standing there all awkward. With a small quirk to his lips he beckoned you over with his hand, you immediately followed the order to sit next to him on the couch.

"Bad day?" He asks you, wrapping an arm around your stiff shoulders. You only grunt as an answer and relax into his hold, all the tension and frustration in your system melting away as he brings you closer to his side.

"Big guy just needed his cuddles after a long day, hmm?" He teased, you put all your weight onto him as a response. He's now stuck between the couch and you, effectively using your body to replace the thin blanket he had earlier.

You place your head between his pecs and he wraps his arms around you, gently stroking at your back, knowing that it helps you get more comfortable and just as he expects, you absolutely melt into the touch. Letting out content hums in the space between you. How easily you turned to putty in his embrace.

Gaz chuckles as he sees your brows unfurrow. Seems like you're getting quite comfortable there.

With a kiss to the top of your head he settles in, turning his head to face the tv once more but this time he has something infinitely better than that thin ass blanket.

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stevebabey · 9 months

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surrounded by your embrace

summary: when you get drunk at a party, old memories make steve worry. he really doesn't need to because all alcohol does is make you clingy. gn!reader but mentioned to wear sum eyeshadow, no warnings u and steve are just absolute goobers for each other :D wc: 2k

He goes to the bathroom for five minutes.

Five minutes and you manage to make yourself scarce. The corner you had been previously inhabiting, slurping the lip of your red solo cup while talking to some friends, is completely void of you when Steve finds his way back to it.

Your friends are still there, leaned against the wall and chattering amongst themselves. Steve clears his throat to gain their attention.

"Did you see...?" He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, asking if they'd noticed where you might've wandered off to. You've had quite a few drinks tonight already and Steve's not surprised if it means you've forgotten you're the only one he knows at this party. These are your friends, not his.

One of them points towards the kitchen and he mutters a quiet thank-you, beginning to wind his way through the people to reach the kitchen.

A fraction of unease prickles at the back of his neck. Last time he was a party and his partner ambled off, full of alcohol, it had left a couple memories that cut deep. Steve hasn't ever admitted it aloud to anyone the seeds that Nancy had sowed that night, the little insecurities that had never bothered Steve in the slightest suddenly sprouting up overnight.

Worst is, he can't make himself forget that night. He remembers the spill of red punch on her white shirt vividly. Remembers the sting behind his eyes. Remembers how later on she'd come back in the middle of everything with Jonathan by her side and Steve had just... known.

But you're not Nancy and he knows that. He knows that this is a different party, you're a different person, it's a whole different relationship—

Yet, those insecurities have rooted deep and Steve can feel them shifting painfully inside him as his worries get away from him. Like vines wrapping tight around his ribcage the longer it takes to find you.

You're aren't by the drink station on the kitchen bench and looking out at the sea of people in the living room, you aren't there either. Steve pulls his collar away from his neck, feeling the prickle roll down his skin again. You've gone, something in his head whispers meanly, You've left him and found someone else at this party. Someone without his baggage, someone without his neediness, someone—

Steve scrubs a hand down his face and shoves away his ugly thoughts. None of them are fair to you — you who has been nothing but impossibly and endlessly sweet on him in the one month you and Steve have been dating. He inhales sharply to clear his head and scans the crowd again. Nothing.

Just as he's turning to go bug your friends again, he spots movement out the corner on his eye, someone shuffling about the walk-in pantry. Steve walks closer and peers in. It's you.

Delight and relief bloom together in his chest and he rounds the corner with a shaky smile, leaning up against the door frame. "There you are."

You turn with a little hiccup, clearly startled.

Steve adores how the recognition on your face melts into excitement, steamrolling his anxieties in an instant, and you drop whatever is in your hands and leap for your boyfriend.

"Steve!"

"That's me," He says with a smile, arms opening for you to burrow yourself in. You do so, arms twisting around his middle and face smushing against his chest and he welcomes the warmth of you in his arms. He expects you to move after a minute but you stay put, pressed right up against him, hold only tightening.

"I couldn't find you." You whine.

"You were looking for me in the pantry?"

"Nooooo," The drinks you've had have turned your usual drama up to 11. You dig your face out of his chest and rest your chin against it instead, forcing Steve to look directly down to meet your eyes. "S'just went to get water from th' kitchen 'n' then I saw they have a box of Fruit Roll-Ups."

You say this all as if it's incredibly self-explanatory why you're in the pantry while you're also looking for your boyfriend. Steve looks over your head and spies the spilled box on the ground you were holding just a few moment prior. Lo and behold, half a dozen Fruit Roll-Ups are scattered on the ground.

"Fruit Roll-Ups, Steve." You whisper with more emphasis.

He laughs a little, looking back down at you and thinking how pretty you look tonight. There's this blue crystal-coloured eyeshadow lightly smudged across your eyelids and it glitters beneath the low hanging bulb of the pantry.

"Well, I'm sure you can have one." He nods to gesture behind you. "Melanie won't mind, you're her friend."

Melanie, the party's host, had been tucked up and fast asleep in her bed with a big red bucket by her side when he had opened her door trying to find the bathroom. Steve definitely thinks she won't mind letting you gorge yourself of a single Fruit Roll-Up. Or a couple. Whatever, he won't tell on you.

"You think?"

Steve rubs your back lightly and goads you back towards the snack you're clearly hungry for. Your hands slide out of the hug reluctantly but the moment you turn, you're scuttling over to the treats. Steve chuckles watching you plop yourself down, sitting down on the cold tiles. You're in shorts. Steve can see your goosebumps from here.

He takes a few steps and crouches down, taking a seat next to you, leaning his back up against a beam. You're trying to tear into one of the packets but the moment Steve's back in your view, you're pouting and holding it out to him.

Steve pretends to scoff, taking the packet and opening it easily, but really, he loves that you ask him to do those things. Loves doing little things for you. He offers it back to you and you pluck it from his hands with glee.

He assumes you'll sink your teeth into it but you stare at it for a moment before you surprise him, crawling forward and all bout clambering into his lap.

It's rather inelegant, your drunkenness not helping and you push the heel of your hand just two inches from where it would really hurt, making Steve wince in anticipation. He holds his hands up and out of the way and lets you settle yourself.

A quiet revelation makes something in his chest glows hotly. You're always affectionate, always want to be touching him, but this is another level for you — there's a shyness around PDA that you usually carry that seems to have been shed tonight. Anyone could peer in the pantry and see you curled up in his arms and lap and you seem too enamoured with him to even care.

Steve grins and chides himself for ever being worried earlier.

"Hi." You say, finally situated comfortably. Steve's not sure it is comfortable, sitting sideways in his lap with one leg twisted nearly underneath you and one out in front, sorta curled in, but you seem content enough. He places one hand on the small of your back, the other holding just above your knee.

"Hi there. Comfy now?"

"Very. Can you pass me my roll-up please?"

You've dropped it in your wriggle to get closer to him and its rolled nearly under the shelf Steve's leaning up besides. He leans over and retrieves it, thanks God for the wrapper, and produces it for you.

"A gift." He says, drinking in how your face washes over with delight. With the lights haloing behind your head, your hair frizzy from dancing earlier, he thinks you look like an angel.

"That's right!" You take it from him and pull it close to your chest, attention back on him. "I wanted to give you a kiss, to say thank you."

Steve feels his heart flutter, a stutter in the beats at the utter tenderness of your words. He squeezes your knee and turns his face, holding out his cheek.

"Well, go on then."

You giggle and it's the most dreamy honeyed noise Steve's ever heard. You lean in and plant a big wet kiss on his cheek with a happy hum, pulling back with a mwah!

"Thank you for the kiss, sweetheart." He rubs the hand on your back lightly and you soften at his words completely, pure giddiness running rampant across your features.

Steve soaks it all in, unsure of the last time he knew someone who gave him love so freely. You seem to have endless amounts of it for him. You don't even mind when he's greedy with you.

You finally peel back the wrapper of the Fruit Roll-Up and gobble a bit of it down. You chew and swallow and lean all your weight against him, your shoulder pressing into his. You're close, a couple more inches and the tip of his nose would brush yours. A bashful expression flits across your features.

"I like when you call me sweetheart."

"You do?"

You nod enthusiastically.

"That's good," Steve says, fondness coating each word. " 'Cos I like calling you sweetheart, sweetheart."

It's so cheesy that Steve thinks you shouldn't laugh, but you do because you're wonderful. He grins, his fingers on your knee tightening slightly as you look over him, your eyes crinkled up by your grin. The alcohol makes you brash enough to stare and you look at his face intently for a moment before you huff.

“God!” You drop your head back with a dramatic sigh and sink your teeth into your bottom lip to try contain your giddy grin. It doesn’t work in the slightest. “That look.”

"What? What look?”

You tip your head back up and Steve can read the shyness on your expression, pulling at your eyebrows.

“You know,” You say, a little embarrassed, which is even more adorable on you while drunk. You're flustered over your words, like you know you wouldn't normally have said them if you were sober. “You just get this look sometimes, when you’re looking at me—”

Steve frowns for a moment, minuscule, as he thinks of what face you might be referring to.

“—and your eyes get all intense and- ugh! It still makes nervous when you do it.” You’ve drop your head again, forward this time, to hide your face in his shoulder. You pat your tummy theatrically and then clutch it, voice lowering to a whisper in his ear. “These butterflies are your doing, Harrington.”

Steve laughs, entirely too pleased with himself —he still makes you nervous. Ditto, he thinks. “Is that so?”

"Mmhm." You hum and Steve feels you place a soft kiss on one of the moles on his neck. His breath catches and his heart flip-flops. You wiggle a bit but it's just to try get closer to him, your nose nuzzling against his neck. A tired sigh escapes you.

"You tired? Wanna go home?" He asks.

You nod sluggishly but make no attempt to move. Steve chuckles lightly, his hand still soothing up and down your back gently, not helping in the least he knows. Still, he can't help himself; he wants to ply you with love, with comfort, if he can. You sigh happily.

"N' a minute." You mumble. Your words are slurring the more tired you get. "Just wanna be at a party with my super hot and amazing boyfriend for one more minute. S'okay?"

Steve's heart crumples and he can feel his entire body curl up, his legs sliding up an inch, his hands tensing, all involuntarily reactions to try bring you in closer to him. There is an ache in his very core but it's a lovely ache. Steve feels a burn behind his eyes. He blinks and presses a long kiss to your hairline.

"Yeah, sweetheart," He murmurs into your hair. "That's more than okay with me."

#title from halo by beyonce ! bcos i literally have. had on it repeat #plus the line in there about halos is indeed a ref to that <3 #why did i bust this out in one night. who am i #this is unedited so like if theres a mistake just like take me out the back and shoot me dead #ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #annnnnd uuuuuh post :D

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blindmagdalena · 7 months

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Homelander POV with “looking at wedding ring in finger”

from this prompt list. just some rambling fluffy homelander x reader feelings. 🖤

To a man with enough strength to juggle approximately a dozen Mack trucks with minimal effort, there are few things in this world that he would earnestly consider heavy. Except for, it turns out, a single gold band around his ring finger. He's barely left it alone since he put it on, always either twisting it on his finger or flexing his gloved hand just to feel it shift, hyperaware of the weight of it.

Not because it's uncomfortable. It's new, certainly, and it's taking a little getting used to, but not because he doesn't like it. He just can't quite believe it's real. That you're real.

Before the ring, Homelander would scrounge for a variety of ways to remind himself of the reality of you. He would spray your perfume under the collar of his suit or carry any kind of tactile article of yours with him. Something tangible to keep him grounded when he is so characteristically prone to flying, both literally and off the handle.

Now, all he need do is tighten his fingers together, or press his thumb to the band. Even through his gloves, he can feel the metallic press of his wedding ring. It soothes him, gives him something easy and inconspicuous to fidget with, and without fail it makes him think of you.

A comfort in and of itself.

It feels good to call himself a married man during interviews. He can wield it like a shield or a blade, depending on the context. Your existence alone is enough to protect him, affording him a sense of normalcy that he's lacked for the majority of his life.

His experiences in this world have been so utterly alien, with every human part of him fabricated by Vought.

Not you. You're genuine, you're real, and you're entirely his.

No more sickly sweet stories of a family that never existed. No more gritting his teeth through recollections of baseball games he never played. He no longer needs to read scripts to appear human to the world. When he talks about you, it's like he comes alive on screen for the first time in his life. You protect him without ever having to even be there.

And yet you are there. Any time he glances off camera, or off stage, he can almost always find you in an instant. You never fail to smile, to wave, to be present when he looks for you. It's not just the heat of his skin that gives the ring warmth, it's the love you leave in it when you kiss it every morning before he puts his gloves on.

It's you. The warmth is you.

"Heyyy," you coo as he walks backstage, opening your arms to him. He immediately scoops you up into an embrace, lifting you clean off of your feet and spinning you in a little circle, startling a giddy laugh out of you.

"Whoa, what's all this about?" You ask, arms looped around his neck, a slightly bewildered edge to your smile.

"You saved me out there," he says. He can tell the depth in his tone catches you off guard by the way your eyes widen, expression faltering. "You did. Y'always do. Thanks."

He knows by the lingering confusion in your gaze that you're not sure what he means, but that's fine. You'll understand. He'll thank you properly when it's just the two of you, and he can write his gratitude on every inch of your body with his lips, his tongue, his fingers.

"I love you," he says, kissing you with such intensity, the two of you forget for a moment that you aren't alone.

"I love you, too," you say breathlessly, blinking yourself back to reality, thoroughly flustered. "Phew, wow, alright. Good, so..."

You glance around, taking note of the number of people trying their best not to stare while very clearly needing Homelander's attention, but all he can focus on is you.

"You better get back to work," you say, trying to put some authority in your voice.

He grins, setting you back on your feet. "S'pose I better," he agrees, though his hands linger on your waist a little longer. "Wait for me?"

"Always," you vow, the glint of your own ring catching the light as you touch his face. You give his cheek a playful little smack. "Now go. Before you ruin both our makeup," you chide, smiling as he slips off, casting one last look back at you.

He squeezes his hand into a fist, feeling that ring firm between his fingers.

It brings him such peace that even when you're not with him, you're never really gone from him.

#homelander x reader #homelander #homelander x you #ask and you shall receive #FLUFF #big time fluff #two fics in one night??? who am i #my writing

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princekeerys · 1 month

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you know what? i’m tired of reading fics about lucifer that portray him as awkward and shy and stutters with every sentence (not that i’m saying he wouldn’t)

but did you guys see his confidence in the finale?

the way he talked to adam about stealing his two wives?

or even singing his part in “hell’s greatest dad”

or when he says “charmed, i’m sure” in that voice

i need more fics with him being, i dunno… cocky? confident?

#❦ lexiˊs diary #not hating on the people who write lucifer as a shy lil guy cuz yeah he is!!!!!#i just wanna see more of his cocky side #to the writing board teehee #if i sound mean in this post i didn’t mean to 😭#pls dont send hate to my inbox i am fragile #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar fanfiction #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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nikoisme · 8 months

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Personally I imagine that Telemachus has his mom's hair color and eyes,, but he still creepily looks like Odysseus. So, naturally, I have to ask:

Do you think that Penelope sometimes flinced when she saw her son? Because he looks so much like her husband?? Like, he would pass down the hallway and greet his mother, and she would think it's Odysseus - a flicker of hope on her face, only to realize it's her son. And after a while Telemachus doesn't know if that brief drop of her face is disappointment because it's him or because it's not Odysseus.

Do you think Eurycleia sometimes openly cried when she looked at Telemachus?? Because he has the same slightly impish grin just like his father?? Just like the boy she raised so many years ago?? Do you think she unconciously scrubbed more thoroughly around his thigh? Telemachus would wince at the sudden roughness and Eurycleia would realize that he doesn't have that scar that needed more cleaning to make sure debris didn't get stuck in it??

Do you think that Eumaeus would rush out of his hut when he heard Telemachus laugh? Because, as he got older, even his voice started sounding a bit like his father's?? Only to abruptly stop when he realized that it's not his master??

Do you think that even Telemachus would stare at a bronze mirror or at his reflection in a puddle and try to see his father - the one he barely remembers - in his own reflection?? He would imagine himself broader, stronger, with a beard?? His mother told him that he got his hair and eyes from her. So he tries to imagine something else in their place. He doesn't know what he's even looking for or thinking about. Just something, anything to get a bare idea of a man that is his father.

And do you think that as years went on, others started seeing more and more Odysseus in him and less and less Telemachus in him? Even if it wasn't intentional? They treated him like his father. They would offer him the fruit his father loved. They would sometimes expect him to wield the weapons his father could. They would tell him how much he looks like his father. And Telemachus would simply smile in response. But over time it was a slightly pained smile. At first he prided himself for all of that, he wanted to know everything about his father. He wanted to know how much of his son he is. But he finds the fruit sour. His arms slightly tremble when he tries to string a bow (not necessarily The bow™).

Do you think that over time, even he started feeling less and less like himself? Do you think that subconciously he tried acting like his father (based on the stories he's heard)? For the kingdom's sake, for his mother's sake, for his own sake? After all, "son of Odysseus" was his main trait. He was haunted by the ghost of the man he doesn't even know. But he does know him, doesn't he? Everyone tells him just how much he is like his father. But what part of him is like his father?? What part of him is like his father? Everything he does, everything he is, is apparently an echo of his father. But what part is Telemachus? What part of Telemachus is like his father? Is he like his father or is he slowly becoming his father? His voice isn't his own. His skin isn't his own. Hell, the blood in his veins isn't his own. It's the blood of Odysseus. Is that who he is?? A replacement for the king?? A mere stand-in until he comes back?? If he comes back?? Will he always have to act, to be a copy of his father?? Will he ever be himself? But who is he even? Who is Telemachus? Yes, he is the son of Odysseus (as a way of identification). But who is simply Telemachus?

DO YOU THINK?

#the odyssey #telemachus #tagamemnon #greek mythology #quietly opens google docs #leave it to me to give any characters fucked up problems and crisises #what is wrong with me lmaoo i can't come up with fluff #once again me and my obsession with identity and self #and then losing your sense of self #“who am I? a direct descendant of odysseus? i never asked for that!” is the only thing i could think of while writing this hehe #i'll write this down COPIUM #currently taking a small break from drawing because of back pain #and i am suffering #this is what happens when i don't draw

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whoopssteddiefeels · 1 year

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Penny in the Air

Robin is a lot of things: judgey, hyperactive, anxious, impulsive, talkative, loud- there’s a list okay, and she’s very familiar with it. High up the list is that she is very, very gay (if possible, she’s pretty sure she’s actually getting gayer. She blames Steve for this, as she’s pretty sure it has to do with being able to finally talk about her crushes to someone other than her reflection.)

The point is, she’s gay, so she’s not surprised that she notices first. The Steve-Eddie thing. Because it is, in fact, a thing at this point.

She knows Eddie is gay- knows it like the sky is blue and David Bowie rocks- because of, y’know, the way he is (if she had any doubt, the way he leaned in while calling Steve “big boy”, ew, killed it dead.) Her research suggests this is “gaydar,” but its very unfair, she thinks, that so far it has only detected exactly (2) gays, both men, making it pretty much useless. It has given her exactly 0 information on Vickie.

She empathizes with Eddie’s position. Feels it pang under her sternum when his eyes go soft watching Steve talk emphatically, hair flopping around in that ridiculous way it does. Knows how it must catch in his throat when his hand suddenly retracts halfway to Steve’s shoulder, going to his own hair to cover the aborted movement. Tries hard to not over-identify with the sharp tug he gives there, trying to snap himself out of it (fails because she did literally exactly that when Vickie was in the video store the previous day, almost as if he had seen and copied the mechanism).

The part of the puzzle she can’t figure out is Steve. She’s annoyingly aware that he likes (groan) boobies, thanks Fast Times, and he isn’t treating Eddie like a girl whose number he’s trying to score. That being said, whenever the older boy appears, Steve lights up like a damn Christmas tree. Affection doesn’t have to be romantic; she knows this- wants to hit several of the kiddos over the head with it whenever they allude to her dating Steve- but empathy for Eddie is tinting her judgement, and once you put on the gay rose-tinted glasses it’s hard to unsee the possibility. It certainly seems like flirting. Rearranging his hair every three seconds, drawing Eddie’s eyes to the mane that is his pride and joy. Getting what she can only describe as unnecessarily close when he squeezes by Eddie in the video store aisles or whoever’s living room they’re sprawled in, hands brushing a shoulder, back, or one time his hip under the pretense of maintaining balance. The soft blush whenever Eddie flirts hard in a way he knows can be passed off as a joke. The honest megawatt smile Steve gets whenever Eddie starts in on his usual antics is infinitely more endearing than the smolder he’s learned to use like a weapon.

She usually knows exactly what Steve is thinking or feeling before he does. They’ve got that whole platonic soul mate telepathy thing, and he’s easily the center of her social world. So, since she can’t tell what he’s thinking (other than the obvious but unhelpful “Eddie, yay!”), she’s 99.9% sure, from experience, ok, that it means he isn’t thinking. Like at all. So, what she’s witnessing is instinctive, his body just moving into Eddie’s space because it feels correct, and he hasn’t paused to think about it.

He’s walking that line of comfortable and affectionate that is ambiguously intimate. Could be platonic, could be more. It would be frustrating for anyone with a crush, but she knows from bitter experience with straight-girl crushes that Eddie must be going insane. And yes, Robin and Eddie are friends, but not close enough for her to open a conversation with “So you’re obviously gay and into Steve, my best friend who I talk to every second of every day, and no he hasn’t mentioned it, and neither have I. What’s up with that?” Similarly, she can’t quite figure out how to bring it up to Steve without accidentally outing Eddie in the process.

That’s the main reason she’s keeping her mouth uncharacteristically shut on the subject. She is not, however, above the occasional raised eyebrow, ok, especially as Eddie’s flirting slowly becomes ridiculously obvious. The man is literally leaning on the counter, chin on his hand, mooning up at Steve through his eyelashes. Steve has his hip propped on the opposite side, leaning into the shared space. How are either of them this oblivious, seriously.

~*~

She’s there when the penny finally drops.

They’re not even watching a romantic movie, it’s fucking Life of Brian, all three of them calling out their favorite lines along with the actors, throwing things and generally goofing off. If she takes the armchair to force the boys together on the couch, she doesn’t think anyone can blame her. If she’s feeling a little smug that they both sit in the middle, right next to each other, instead of taking opposite ends, she keeps it to herself. She might not want to stick her foot right in the middle of that mess, but she’s not above setting booby traps.

Robin couldn’t tell you exactly when Steve’s arm went around Eddie’s shoulder; it was somewhere between Eddie practically climbing into Steve’s lap for a “Biggus Dickus” re-enactment, the closeness and flirting safely enveloped in humor, and Steve attempting to force Eddie to “haggle” for the bag of chips. When she glances over from the safety of her armchair, Steve’s arm is trapped behind Eddie’s head, draped over his shoulder on the opposite side. Eddie, usually a constant ball of fidgety motion, is frozen stiff like he’s trying not to scare off a nervous rabbit. Even in the blue light coming off the screen she can see the flush coloring his usually nocturnal-pale cheeks.

The thing is, Steve had just discussed this move with her. Told her to invite Vickie to movie night, recommended light, easily joked off roughhousing and settling an arm around her in a way specifically gaged to judge the reaction. Which means he knows. No way he hasn’t finally figured out what his lizard brain has clearly been screaming for months (seriously, she deserves a medal. Someone tell her future girlfriends about her stamina), not with the way he’s twirling a soft brown curl around and around his finger. He must know Eddie can feel that. And oh. Steve is not-so-subtly glancing to his right, trying to gage that reaction like they discussed, to see if this is ok.

Yup. Robin needs to be literally anywhere else. She tries to be subtle (insert laugh here), muttering “bathroom” and legging it out of the room, seeking the safety of the kitchen. She wasn’t worried though- odds are she could start playing trumpet and those two wouldn’t hear it past the tension of the moment.

~*~

In addition to gay, Robin is also easily bored. She hums along to “Always look on the bright side of life,” drifting in from the living room, crunching on some peppery crackers she found in a cabinet in a way that vaguely matches the song’s rhythm. She would just leave the boys to whatever they were going to do (yuck, don’t think about it), but unfortunately the two people most likely to give her a ride home were occupied (seriously, no thinking about it). She’d held out for as long as she could, really, but if the movie was ending, surely she had given them enough time?

Hoping she wasn’t going to regret it, she peaked out of the kitchen, and was relieved to see that 1) everyone still had clothes on and 2) Steve and Eddie were cuddling. Fucking finally.

“SO, BOYS,” she boomed (remember loud is on the list of things she is), trying not to enjoy the way two ridiculous heads of hair jumped and then shifted away from one another anxiously. “Who finally lost the longest game of gay chicken I’ve ever seen?”

Steve’s head makes an audible thump as it drops against the back of the couch, hands coming up to rub at his face as she rounds the furniture to face them, feeling deliciously smug. Eddie gave up any pretense and buried his face in Steve’s shoulder, sweater and hair completely hiding his face.

“Shut up Robin, go away,” Steve groans.

“Nope! This has been the slowest burn of all time, you guys were killing me. I have to balance it out by being just as insufferable.” she chirped, doing her best Steve impression, hands on her hips and eyebrow quirked.

“Technically, I would say we both won gay chicken since neither of us pulled back. No chickens here. Roosters only, in fact.” Eddie surfaces with a smug little smile, dimples on full display.

“Oh you’re definitely a cock Munson, I’ll give you that,”

“Don’t make me flip you the bird-”

“That’s a bit of ostritch-”

“Well toucan play at that game-”

“I’m so happy I like tits-“

“Why me?” Steve grumbled at the same time Eddie dropped his teasing tone to ask, “Wait what?”

“Me? Lesbian. You? Obviously gay. Steve has been flirting back at you for months you dingus.”

“I’ve been what?” Steve sits up straight, suddenly laser focused on Robin. “I have not. I only realized, like, a week ago-”

He was seriously going to be the death of her.

“Steve. Stephen. My guy. What would you say if I told you a girl had been giving me a hair show, the unnecessary squeeze-by, and big eyes? Consistently. For weeks.”

Eddie starts laughing. Then cackling. Steve went an even deeper shade of red, though she could tell this one was more indignant ruby than embarrassed scarlet.

“Thank you,” Eddie wheezed out, fighting down another fit, picking himself up from where he had slid down the couch. “Oh my god, thank you for fucking noticing that. He was wasn’t he? I thought it was just in my head, y’know, and Gareth always said I tend to imagine signs that aren’t there.”

“Oh I know, you think you have a hard time, girls are so physically affectionate platonically, it’s impossible to tell-”

“Ok. Done with this conversation!” Steve interrupted, standing up between the two of them, hands furiously combing through his hair.

Robin only grinned wider at Eddie. “So, Munson, care to give me a ride home?”

“You know, Buckley, I would be delighted.”

“Hey now-” Steve tried to interject as the two of them moved towards the door.

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

“Don’t mention it, fair lady. Your chariot awaits.”

“Wait, hang on, Eddie-” Steve’s tone shifted from confused to plaintive as she stepped out into the night. And she resolutely pretended to not hear Eddie’s reply before he closed the door behind them.

“Sit tight, big boy, I’ll be right back!”

#steddie #steddie fluff #Robin Buckley #Robin POV #steve harrington/ eddie munsion #fic #ficlet #sometimes i write things #fluff #Am I the only one who remember Life of Brian? Biggus Dickus was iconic #I too am a tired lesbian #platonic stobin #gratuitous bird puns #i just think my writing style sounds like Robin so I wanted to try something #letterkenny reference if you squint real hard

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feralforfrank · 12 days

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simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

cw unspecified age gap, reader is in uni, NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER

just thinking about stressed!reader trying to memorise whatever textbook you have in front of you. exam season is coming up, and you feel like all the progress you've made all year has disappeared as you blankly stare at the small letters. your poor head hurts, having gripped your roots hard for the past two hours.

also thinking about how bf!simon would hate seeing you like this, so he'd coax you out of your desk chair for a small break. then would proceed to fuck your brains out, pull several orgasms out of you, and reduce you to a puddle of shaky legs and fucked-out eyes.

can't stop thinking about how, after getting you water and making a trip by your desk, would pull you close to his chest, open the textbook (also wear his glasses bc he's blind as hell idc idc, he can't read small letters), and stroke your hair.

"let's do this again, shall we, lovie?"

he'd help you out, asking you the questions you've hurriedly scribbled down next to specific paragraphs, praising you when you got every single one right.

"see, lovie, you do know everything. no need to worry. my smart, pretty, lovie."

#whaaaat who said that???#am i projecting?#nooooooo #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley fluff #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost x reader #fluff #established relationship #frank writes

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lover-of-mine · 3 months

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nothing safe is worth the drive

Pairing: Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz (911)

Word Count: 2,1k

And, sure, it took Buck way too long to realize what he was feeling. To name it. To try to understand it. But he's here now. And can't keep not doing something about it. So he's doing something about it. He's getting in the goddamn car. Who cares if it's almost midnight? Who cares if they're just out of a 24-hour shift? Who cares if he doesn't know for sure the answer he's gonna get? He's doing it. He's gonna say it. Put his feelings out in the world. Evan Buckley is in love with Eddie Diaz. And he's gonna tell him. or Buck decides he needs to confess his feelings and drives over in the middle of the night.

read it on ao3

#911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie #buddie fanfic #writing #otp: you don't need to pretend with me #911fics #usercam #hi have a fic i wrote at 3 in the morning last night oaksaokasaoksa #or maybe the correct thing is this morning lol #anyway #look #fluff #on bucks pov #who am i?#aoskasaokaslokasas

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updownlately · 8 months

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5 - why the hell do you love me?

series masterlist

~~~

“Pleaseeee? I’ll do the dishes for the rest of the week?” Alessia pouted, eyes pleading as her eyes kept darting between you and the corner of your shared bedroom.

“Lessi you’d already be doing them anyways…you made that promise yesterday when we were in the exact same situation,” you laughed, leaning against the doorframe.

“But-“

“Baby, it’s not that bad, I promise. You got this!” You grinned, eyes full of mirth.

You couldn’t help but find the situation amusing, you doing your best to hide your constant smile behind the neck of your hoodie.

“I’ll- I’ll…erm…,” head swivelling between both sides of the room, the blonde tried to come up with another trade, something, anything, that would get her out of this situation ASAP.

“I’ll take the blame the next five times we’re late for practice!” She yelped, eyes widening as she saw the slightest movement from the corner of her eyes, head whipping to stare intently at the opposite side of the room, her back to you.

You couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped you no matter how hard you tried. Nearly bent over, hands on your knees, you shook with laughter. Shaking your head as you rose to your standing form, you wiped a lone tear from the corner of your eye. Short of breath, you just barely managed to get the next words out.

“Love, if you stare any harder at it, I won’t even need to do anything here,” you jested.

“It’s not funny…” Looking briefly at you, the striker shot you a desperate look, eyes full of fear as she swallowed hard.

You finally relented, heart melting at just how absolutely terrified she looked.

“I’ll cut you a deal, yeah? I’ll take it out but you have to follow me as I do....”

Apparently that exchange wasn’t as good as you thought it was, Alessia whipping her head to give you an incredulous stare, momentarily forgetting about her woes.

“No! What- Why?” She sputtered out, shooting you a pout before her voice turned sweet, chin tilting up towards you. “Baby, please can you just get rid of it? If you love me?”

Jaw dropping, a surprised look on your face at her antics, her attempt at guilt-tripping you nearly successful, you shook your head in mock disbelief.

“Less, what would you do if I wasn’t here? Like, you’d have to get rid of it by yourself somehow…” You shook your head in faux disappointment, a smile giving away just how annoyed you were (spoiler: it was not at all).

“I’d move out.”

The blonde’s reply was so definitive and quick, you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Less…” Rolling your eyes playfully, you made your way to the corner of the room, the paper you had been hiding behind your back finally making its presence known.

As you approached the barely penny-sized spider chilling on the wall, you could make out the sound of Alessia’s footsteps behind you, the noise getting suspiciously quieter and quieter with each step.

Turning in your tracks, hands on your hips, you tilted your head as you took in the blonde who was nearly halfway out the door, a sheepish smile on her face.

“Okay and where do you think you’re going?” Eyebrow raised in question, you tapped your foot as Alessia shot you an embarrassed look, no doubt ashamed at being caught mid-getaway.

“…away?” Shooting you a toothy grin, the Arsenal striker took a slow step backwards, testing you.

Unfortunately for her however, you weren’t having it, enjoying her discomfort of arachnids too much to let her escape now.

“Nuh-uh, get back here…or I’m not taking it out,” you threatened, confident that Alessia wouldn’t take that risk.

And you were proven right in your judgement a second later, Alessia despondently making her way to you, shoulders caved inwards.

Grinning toothily, you quickly placed a peck on her cheek in appreciation before you made your way over to the spider, paper held taut.

Doing your best to teach the blonde how to catch spiders on her own, you made a point to show her how to hold the sheet of paper, curling it just enough to give it some structure as you wiggled it underneath the arachnid.

Eyes dancing in amusement, you chuckled as Alessia watched you with wide eyes, stepping back quickly from you as you started walking towards the door, the spider on your paper like it was Aladdin.

“Love, I don't know what they teach you here in England but spiders can't fly....” you laughed out.

Getting a groan in return, your smile didn't leave your face for a second, cheeks beginning to hurt now.

Quickly making your way outside to the garden, you gently put the paper down on the ground as watched as the tiny eight-legged fuzzball scampered away.

Standing upright, you turned to the blonde that had followed you.

“What would you do without me?” You teased, a twinkle in your eye.

“Probably change homes every other day.” The cheeky response had you shaking your head with a smile on your face, eyes rolling at the dumb joke.

Punching the striker playfully, you intertwined your fingers as you led her back inside.

“Please tell me you at least learned how I did that?”

You groaned as the Gunner shook her own head, the smile on her face saying everything.

“Alessia!”

She shot you a toothy grin, bringing your intertwined hands up and placing a gentle kiss on the back of yours. “I guess you’ll just have to stick around for the rest of my life huh?.”

“So I can continue getting rid of spiders for you?”

“Yup,” Alessia smirked, popping the ‘p’.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, y’know?” You smiled softly, liking the idea of forever with your girl.

Pulling away from the blonde, ready to head back to where you had initially been- on the couch reading your book- you placed another quick kiss on her cheek.

“By the way, you’re still taking the blame for the next five times we’re late for practice!”

And with that, you took off, scrambling to get away from Alessia before she could protest, her groan of disapproval ringing throughout your home as you vibrated with laughter.

Maybe a future of being your love’s designated spider catch didn’t sound so bad after all, especially not when the promise of forever was slipped in between.

#not proofread as usual #on a spree of posting mediocre works and i'm too lazy to do anything about it #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso #fluff #my writing #part 5 of a 15 part series :)#bpom #blurb #two fics in two days? who am i?

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jasntodds · 1 year

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Migraines | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Request: Anon - “Hey I get pretty bad migraines, and i was going the injury prompt list and #4 and #6 kind of remind me of how my lovely s/o takes care of me when i have an episode. I’d love to see those prompts with jason todd! Prompts: (from here) #4: Trying to hide your injury from them, but failing miserably once you faint right in front of them #6: Staying the night in case they need your help, being asked to sleep on the bed instead of the couch/floor

Summary: You have a migraine and try to hide it from Jason until you manage to faint in front of him, sending him into a worrying spin over you

Warnings: Description of migraines, friends to lovers, mentions of being nauseous from the migraine, fluff, hurt/comfort (kind of)

Words: 4,595

A/n: I am both a big sucker for injury prompts and Jason Todd so here we are lol I also get migraines so anon, I’m sorry you’re dealing with them 😭 I did friends to lovers just because I thought it fit a little better with the second prompt!! If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

It starts as a mild headache. It’s just an ache in the beginning of your head at first that’s a bit annoying but nothing horrible. However, with your history of migraines, you take your precautions to prevent it from turning into a migraine. The thing about the migraines is they tend to send you out of commission until they go away. You always play it out to be just a mild headache or that you’re just tired and take a nap. Jason doesn’t actually know how bad your headaches (migraines) actually are. He’s Robin! Jason could have ten broken bones and still go out swinging. You get a migraine and want to explode.

After about two hours though, the mild headache has turned into a full-blown migraine. It’s throbbing in the front of your head. Your stomach is nauseous with the pain and every bit of light in the room makes you cringe. You’re in the library of Wayne Manor with Jason, sitting with him while the two of you read and reading is making it worse. You swear you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes, unable of focus your eyes or your attention on the book. Everything hurts, even moving your eyes is agonizing.

“You good?” Jason looks over at you, noticing you haven’t turned a page in a while.

“Oh, yeah.” Your voice is quiet as you give him a fake smile and a very subtle reassuring nod, almost wincing with the movement.

“You don’t look good.” Jason sees the grimace across your face. “Seriously,” He puts his finger in the book to hold the page while he closes it. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired.” You shrug it off. “I’m just gonna take a nap.” You smile sweetly but faintly.

“You’re a bad fucking liar.” Jason chuckles softly as you get off the couch. “I know something’s wrong, can’t hide it from me, babe.” There’s a cheeky grin tugging at his lips when you turn to face him, knowing he’s trying to get the real answer out of you by being cheeky.

“Jay, I’m fine.” You insist, giving him a toothy grin as if that’s enough to convince him but the window is right behind Jason and you moved too quickly.

Everything is spinning and throbbing and pounding and your vision is blurring in and out. Everything is agonizing and all you want to do is curl into a ball and melt away. Your heart is starting to race while your legs are starting to feel weak and shaky.

“Y/n?” Jason calls, the grin completely vanishing as he watches the look at your face turn distant and shallow just as your legs give out.

Jason scrambles to his feet, catching your head just before you hit the ground. Panic courses through Jason’s blood as he holds your head in his hands, unsure of what just happened. You’ve never fainted before. He knew something was wrong but something wrong enough to make you faint? He never would have guessed and he’s kicking himself for not realizing that it was something that bad. He should known better, paid closer attention maybe. Something. But, then your eyes open slowly, you barely coming to with your head still pounding like a kickdrum at a rock concert.

“Hey, holy shit, are you okay?” Jason’s words are slurred as he looks at you but you can’t make them out. Everything sounds mixed together, hazy even. “Y/n?” Jason asks and as your vision starts to steady slightly, you can make out his brown eyes laced in worry, forehead wrinkled.

The jig is up.

“Migraine.” You mutter out.

Jason lets out a sigh, wondering why you didn’t just tell him. You both make fun of each other with little stuff. It’s all fun and games though, Jason tends to take some low blows when he gets mad but it’s never anything too horrible and you know where not to cross a line. Had you just told him you had a migraine, he wouldn’t have made a joke or yelled to make it worse. He would have just let you rest. Jason knows his constant training even with an injury isn’t normal, most people know when to tap out. He doesn’t want you to end up like him, unable to take a break even from just reading a book with him.

“Come on.” Jason slides his hands out from under your head as you sit up. “Get your ass to bed.” Jason stands up, offering both of his hands to you to help you up.

You take his hands gingerly in yours, carefully and slowly getting up, trying not to move too much or too fast. “I’ll be fine.” You brush it off once you’re on your feet.

You don’t want to bother him with it. Migraines are debilitating but it’s still a headache. It just sounds so pitiful in a way. You have to nap in the middle of the day over a headache. Jason shouldn’t be bothered with it or you. You’ll take a nap and maybe you’ll feel better later.

“Yeah, then ya fucking fainted.” Jason scoffs, not realizing he was still holding your hands.

“Mhm.” You hum, your mouth dry from the nausea of the throbbing headache.

“I’ll walk you.” He offers, realizing your hands are soft in his.

His heart swells with the idea but he lets go and opts to move to your side, resting a hand on the small of your back. He gestures for you to start walking, him walking right beside you and not moving his hand just making sure you don’t fall or faint again.

If your head wasn’t a throbbing and pulsating mess right now, you’d have some comment about how nice he’s being. Jason can be a little less than nice at times with people, but he does have these really nice moments with you ever since you followed him to Gotham. It’s….domestic in a way. At Titans Tower, there was this ruggedness to everything and this hardness that almost surrounded him, a bitterness that ate at his bones. But, when he’s here, he’s kinder. He’s still rough around the edges, that’s just Jason but he’s kinder and you’d be lying if you said you don’t like the kinder side of him that mixes with his sarcasm. And maybe if your head wasn’t causing such agonizing pain, you’d notice him looking more at you instead of where you were walking, his eyes laced with worry. It’s just a headache he tells himself, but he worries anyway because it’s you.

Jason gets you to bed, you swearing you can get into bed just fine but he doesn’t take that for an answers. You fainted in front of him and now he’s determined to not let you do anything until you’re feeling better. You’re his best friend and while it’s a migraine, he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself more or prolong the pain. So, he pulls the blankets over you and takes your phone from you before putting it on silent and putting it on your nightstand.

“Did you need anything?” He asks, trying to hide his concern from his voice.

“No,” You say softly, comfortable in your bed now and glad to be able to sleep. “Thanks.”

Jason nods, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Text me if you need something, alright? Don’t go getting up and making shit worse.” Jason offers an awkward laugh.

“Yes, sir.” You mutter, giving him a soft smile.

“I mean it.” He warns as he starts walking towards the door.

“Thanks, Jay.” Your voice is a little louder this time so you know he’ll hear you.

Jason smiles softly. “Yeah.” He nods at you before leaving your room, shutting the door slowly and quietly to allow you to sleep.

Jason leaves you alone for a few hours, casually passing by your room every fifteen minutes just in case. Of course, Jason doesn’t realize he’s passing by so often. He’ll go into one of the living areas and then conveniently remember he needed something from his room which is next to yours. Or he’ll go back to the library only to realize he needed something from the kitchen which means he has to pass by your room. He plays this little game for a few hours, getting an eyebrow raise from Bruce every time Jason passes him in a different room. After the fifth time, Bruce finally just asked what was going on. Jason tried to brush it off with “Forgot something again.” Bruce didn’t press but figured it had something to do with you. Jason isn’t the forgetful type and it made Bruce chuckle softly to himself.

But, after that few hours, Jason got a bit stir-crazy worrying about you. You’re his main form of entertainment here. You’re both either training (to Bruce’s dismay) or joking with each other or reading. You show him a lot of movies and TV shows he’s missed. You’re always together and now he’s just bored and worried. So, he makes his way to your room around 10pm with a glass of water and he knocks softly, hoping it wasn’t too loud but that you heard him. You don’t answer though and Jason feels a bit more worried, so he opens the door just slightly to look inside.

You’re asleep in the same exact position he left you in. Your room is completely dark, the currents drawn and the TV off. But, Jason shines just enough light into your room to stir you awake. Your eyes peek open, catching a blurry glimpse of him in your doorframe, able to make out his dark hair.

“Jay?” You question, barely noticing the throbbing of your head slightly better than it was a few hours ago.

“Sorry.” Jason mumbles. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t die or some shit.” He brushes the worry from his words, trying to act casual.

“I’m alive.” Your voice is weak, stinging Jason’s heart.

Jason takes a step in the room, leaving the door cracked so he can actually see you. “Feeling any better?” He asks.

“Migraine is still kicking.” The sarcasm in your voice is even weak and Jason feels so bad for you.

And he’s still worried because you don’t normally nap this long. It makes him wonder if you nap just long enough to ease some of the migraine but still keep up appearances. But now he does know, so maybe your migraines do last this long after all this time and he feels horrible.

“Well,” Jason walks over, resting the water on your nightstand which you definitely take note of. Was that the excuse he was going to use if you were awake? Bringing you a glass of water? That’s kind of sweet. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to get my stuff then.” He holds his head up high, chest puffing out slightly. “Gotta make you sure you don’t croak in your sleep or something.” Jason nods his head, giving you this half-cocked grin. “Or,” Jason clears his throat. “Just in case you need something.”

“In case I need something?” You wanna make fun of him so bad, you love making fun of him. It’s how you two show affection but, you’re actually curious where this is going. The migraine might still be kicking, but the curiosity has now taken over.

“Yeah,” He shrugs casually. “I don’t want you to suffer longer so if you need something, you won’t have to deal with it.” He shifts his weight from his toes to heels.

“Awww.” You manage the quip with a smile.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason chuckles softly, dodging his eyes from you for a second. “So, I’m staying in here tonight and you’re just gonna have to suck it up.”

“Fine.” You try to sound stern but there’s a smile playing at your lips and your chest bursts of warmth with having Jason stay in your room.

That’s something neither of you do. You are friends and the flirting sometimes gets a bit…too flirty. There’s a difference between two friends flirting and joking around and whatever the hell the two of you do. You always get just a little too close to Jason and Jason always comes up with a quip that’s said a little too seriously. There is this invisible line neither of you have ever crossed because it overcomplicates a fun situation. Jason doesn’t think you’re into him that way and you think if you were to ever tell Jason, he’d laugh or make it weird. But, maybe this is a good opportunity to try something a little less flirty and fun and try something a little more casual and soft.

When Jason comes back, he’s in grey joggers and a loose black t-shirt. He has a pillow with a beige pleated pillowcase under one arm and a matching blanket draped over the other arm. He said he’d go get his stuff but you were certain he was just being dramatic. Jason has always had a flare for the dramatics. And a part of you thought for sure Jason was just going to slide into bed with you with a cheeky grin because that’s just Jason. But, he doesn’t. He puts his pillow on the floor beside your side of the bed. You eye him with suspicion, not moving your head and you want to laugh but you know it’ll just hurt.

“What’re you doing?” You ask once Jason sits on the floor.

He looks at you with, what you swear seems to be innocence. “Sleeping on the floor?” He questions back, not sure why you’re asking.

You let out a huff, smiling down at him. “Can you just sleep in the bed with me, please?” You ask and at this point, you don’t even want to deny the fact having him next to you would at least bring you comfort. You always sit close to him because it’s comforting but having him sleeping next to you now with a throbbing migraine? That might be the only thing you actually want, besides the pain to stop.

Jason gains this smirk and devious look in his eyes. “Oh, want me in the bed, huh?”

“Shut up.” You groan. “I said please.” You pout a lip at him and Jason swears he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“Since you asked so nicely, babe.” He emphasizes the word and your stomach spins with butterflies.

Jason walks to the other side of the bed and gently flips the blankets up to get underneath them. He tries to play this off in the cool, calm, and collected way he tries to play everything like this, getting a little too close to you. His heart is thundering in his chest and he tells himself that you’re just being nice because he’s being nice. This is a nice, friendly thing to do to make sure you’re okay and he doesn’t wake up with back pain in the morning. This is a casual, friendly thing you’re doing.

You roll over slowly, careful not to move your head too much. The migraine is just barely starting to subside but you know if you move too much or try to stay awake, it will come back with a vengeance. So, you remain careful as you move closer to Jason. He stretches his arm behind your head almost instinctively, careful not to hit to your head with the movement. Your head lays on his chest and you have to admit, he is so warm.

Jason brings his arm around you, pulling you closer to him and this is kind of nice. He wishes your head wasn’t in pain so maybe this would be something a little more or something would come out of it. But, he’s so sure that you’re only willing to cuddle with him like this because you’re in pain and for a reason he doesn’t fully understand, you find comfort in him being here. Your head is aching but this is the most comfortable you’ve been in forever. Jason is comfortable.

“Thanks for checking on me.” You whisper to him, your eyes closed as you listen to his heart still thundering in his chest. “And the water.”

A bashful smile comes to his lips. “Yeah,” You feel him huff under you. “‘Course.”

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” You ask.

Jason pauses, his eyes widening. How is he somehow at a loss for words? He’s never at a loss for words but how’s he supposed to answer that without admitting anything? Your question and his running through about it just made his heart beat faster.

“Are you...nervous?” A gentle chuckle leaves your lips, you wincing with the throbbing.

“Fuck off, no I’m not nervous.” Jason groans.

“Okay, Jason.” A snicker comes from you. “Seriously, thank you for staying.” Your voice is quiet and coated in a honey-like sincerity.

Jason sucks in a breath and honesty isn’t exactly his thing. Not that he lies, he just doesn’t say how he feels but you’re kind of really important to him.

“Yeah, well, I’d kind of doing anything for your ass.” Jason chuckles.

“I know.” You smile to yourself. You know he would. He’s a bit rough around the edges and he has his issues that he’s kind of trying to deal with, but you know he’d do anything for you. “I’d do anything for you, too.” You admit, just sensing the deadpan expression he’s giving you. But before he can turn it into some type of flirty, taunting banter, you continue. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Night, Y/n.” Jason lets out a sigh, rubbing your back lightly.

You fall asleep first, the migraine fully wearing you out and Jason offers the perfect amount of comfort. He’s soft and there’s a firmness of his chest that isn’t hard or too stiff. It’s just firm enough to offer support and just the right amount of soft. You think he makes a better pillow than your own (which is insane since Bruce did not skimp on the pillows). Jason, on the other hand, he stays awake a little longer.

It’s been harder for him to fall asleep ever since Deathstroke. But, tonight, that’s not where his head is focused and he has to admit, it’s a bit cathartic. He’s so careful not to move or tense up with you so peacefully asleep under him. He doesn’t want to disturb you because of your migraine and he doesn’t want to disturb you and make you move away from him. You keep him calm and turn his brain off for a little bit. He always chalked it up to you being friends. You’re one of the only people who ever really listened to him anyway and that always helped a bit but, he’s looking down at you with this gentle smile and that’s his real ‘oh shit’ moment.

It’s not just flirting for fun or the joking banter, but a genuine liking between him and you. Deep inside, he knew why he was worried about you and why his heart was beating so fast. Deep down he knew why he didn’t risk immediately getting into bed with you, because he didn’t want to scare you off and risk you turning him away from the room altogether. But, right now with the dark room and you asleep on his chest, finding comfort in him, he knows and he knows he won’t be able to ignore the warmth in the pit of his stomach. So, he closes his eyes and settles with the thought of maybe. With the thought of maybe something happening between the two of you and the thought of maybe this becoming your thing because that’s where he finds comfort. In the thought of maybe.

The next morning comes around and you wake up first, bright and early. Your head is a bit groggy from the migraine but you’re finally away from the pain. As long as you get some food and water, it should stay away. You’re in such a state of relief the migraine has finally released you from it’s grip, you almost don’t realize your head is still on Jason’s chest. It only takes less a minute for you to realize it but it’s long enough to surprise you.

You sit up slightly, looking at him and for once, Jason Todd looks peaceful. There’s a blooming happiness that pulls at your heart as you watch him. He’s had it rough and he never really looks at peace, not fully but he does right now and you adore him so much. You don’t think he sees how happy he makes you and you wish he did. Jason Todd also deserves to live in peace and happiness with love and acceptance and that’s all you ever really want for him.

“Hey.” You whisper, poking his cheek softly. “Jaaaayyyyyy.” You hold out his name, poking his cheek again as he scrunches his face and you swear it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“What?” He mumbles, voice drenched in sleep, almost incoherent.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re sleeping.” You keep your voice a whisper and it’s the most graceful alarm Jason has ever had. Alarm even seems like too harsh of a word to call you.

He peaks an eye open at you, managing this expression of a cross between annoyance and teasing. “Just my face, babe.” He has this tired smirk that gets your stomach in a twist.

“Eh.” You shrug at him while he opens his other eye. “‘S alright, I guess.” You tease him and the annoyance evaporates from his expression.

“How long’ve you been up?” Jason asks, enjoying the lively expression back on your face.

You look like the sun now which he thinks is a cheesy thought but it’s true. Last night, you looked like a rain cloud and not even the cool ones that are large and fluffy, consuming the whole sky in lumps of deep greys and blues. No, last night you just looked like the rain smog around Gotham, gloomy and tired.

“Just a few minutes.” You answer casually before running a hand through his hair. It’s wild this morning, curly strands standing up and scattered about the pillow.

“What’re you doing?” Jason laughs, eyes looking up at your arm and back you.

“Messing with your hair, it’s shockingly soft.”

“Shockingly?” Jason chortles. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” You laugh back, pulling your hand away and resting it on his chest. “Thought it would be stringy.”

Jason’s brows furrows, the smile still tugging at his lips. “Yeah, okay, perfect sense.” He jokes with you and there’s something about how this feels right now. It’s not the tension-filled flirting the two of you do. There’s something so domestic about it that he really likes. “You hungry?”

“Starving.” Your eyes widen dramatically.

“Alright, what do ya want?” Jason wiggles his brows at you. “I’ll cook.”

Your brows shoot up with surprise. Jason has cooked for you a handful of times, but it’s not that he really offers. He just kind of makes something and then tells you to try it. “What’re you up to, Todd?” Your eyes narrow at him playfully.

Jason shakes his head, smile turning down and then twitching back up. “Just being nice.”

“Well, I won’t turn down food.” You laugh softly before telling him one of your favorite breakfast foods.

“You got it.” Jason nods at you while you get off of him so he can get off the bed.

“Are you gonna bring it to me?” You pout up at him as he looks down at you. He thinks you look pitiful in the cutest way possible.

He shakes his head and he wants to argue it, tease you but he can’t. “Fine, but you owe me.” Jason has a one-sided grin as he points a finger at you jokingly.

“I’ll take that.” You beam a smile up at him, shocked he actually said he’d bring it to you.

Jason tosses the idea around in his head and you’re clearly feeling better, so why not? “How about a date then?” The words are much smoother than the frantic thoughts in his head. He’s a bit panicked that he just asked that, thinking maybe you’d actually say no or laugh. He’d be devastated if you did and then probably hide out in the Batcave for the rest of the day.

The smile falls from your face for a second, unsure if he’s joking or not. He doesn’t look like he’s joking. He actually looks pretty serious despite the devious grin on his face. There’s a pleading in his eyes that tells you he’s completely serious and you just can’t believe it. You thought Jason just liked flirting and maybe he does, but you thought that’s all it was. It was something you just accepted after a few months at Titans Tower. You just accepted that’s all it would ever be but now? It seems as if it’s real.

“Seriously?” You ask, your voice not giving Jason any indication on how you feel about it.

He shrugs a shoulder, trying his best to play it off. “Yeah, why not?”

The smile comes back to your face and you can feel the heat coming to your cheeks. “Yeah, okay. When do you wanna go?”

Jason’s heart is exploding into fireworks across his chest. You actually said yes. But, he didn’t think he’d get this far into the conversation so now he’s just stuck making it up on the fly. “Tomorrow?” Jason asks, figuring tomorrow would be better in case you need today to recover from the migraine.

“It’s a date.” You’re beaming up at him and the giddiness consumes your bones like a kid in a candy story for the first time.

“Awesome.” Jason smiles widely, looking to the floor and back to you, a few strands of his hair bouncing onto his forehead. “I’ll go make your breakfast and bring it to you then.”

“Thank you, Jay.” You give him a toothy smile. “You’re gonna eat with me right?”

“I guess.” Jason wrinkles his nose, his cheeks starting to ache from the smile.

“Okay, well hurry up, I wanna hear about this date you have planned.” You tease him and watch him stiffen just slightly.

“Just for that,” Jason says as he heads for the door. “I’ll take my sweet ass time.”

“Or, you could hurry up and come back to bed.” You taunt him, brushing your hand over his side of the bed and you can see his jaw clench.

“Fuck, yeah, alright.” Jason groans, knowing he’s lost and you fall into a fit of laughter, a sound Jason adores. “I’ll be right back.” Jason says before quickly leaving the room, leaving your door open just a bit.

You fall back into the pillows, ecstatic that you have a date with your best friend and he’s making you breakfast. A part of you finds it funny that this whole thing is because you fainted over a migraine.

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Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #jason todd one-shot #jason todd one shot #request #i too cannot believe i wrote 3 whole things of fluff back to back #who am i #actually writing fluffy jason was fun i had a great time

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