MY BRAIN MALFUNCTIONED. WE’RE DOING IT. victorian/ROYAL AU WITH MY BELOVED SAE <333 !!! HE MAKES ME WANNA JUMP ON HIM, AND OFC THE WEDDING. AJDHDHDH YALL ARE INVITED <3
#: @humanitys-strongest-bamf @yamaguccitadashi @leviismybby @bertholdts--butt @mrsackermannx @youre-ackermine @palebrunettesstuff @sixpennydame @afortoru @nelapanela94 + 🫵 WHO SAW THIS AND DHHDHDHD <333 dont be shy!! SWOOSH IN!
notes: this is an edited repost from my old account, @iwaso! just hcs, nothing too crazy. but there’re a couple of swears in here.
. . . ʚ THE SCREAMER; this is a genuine reaction. Maybe he mistook you for a serial killer, or he’s insecure about his body, or perhaps he’s just shy. The only thing for sure is as soon as you walk in, a shrill, almost girly shriek bounces off the walls, and when it reaches your ears, you have to worry if your eardrums might pop. His arms are around his body when you see him (if this is for jokes, only you would know), and he gasps. “Get out!”
hinata, ASAHI, LEV, tendou, GOSHIKI, KOGANEGAWA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE FLIRT; he has no shame. You walk in on him changing? That’s an opportunity. A gift, even, for him and you. As his eyes meet yours, the expression on his face is smug, and he takes his sweet time discarding his clothes. This one flexes what he can; his abs, biceps, anything, just to see you all flustered. Consider it his guilty pleasure (except he’s not ashamed at all).
“Like what you see? Come on, don’t be shy now.”
ATSUMU, oikawa, KUROO, TERUSHIMA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE INDIFFERENT; you could barge in on him doing anything, and he would not give a shit. Who cares? He’s just changing. Is it that big a deal? Sure, his stomach does a flip (just one, singular), but no one needs to know that.
USHIJIMA, aone
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE CONVERSATION STARTER; branches from the previous category. He’s casual — opts to go about it like he’s making his morning coffee. Why get shy? There’s nothing wrong with his body. Then again, he’s a little unaware of how good he looks. That, or he’s very aware but hasn't said anything, and casually teases you with his assets. Either way, this one is dangerous.
. . . ʚ THE ANNOYED ONE; he’s freaking out a little — mind going blank, his breath getting caught in his throat — but under no circumstance would he ever admit it. He puts up an irritable front and shoots you a glare as if to ask what the hell it was that you wanted. Then, he urges you to get out as he returns to changing, but after you leave, he malfunctions in the silence. He’ll shoot an arm through the neckline, miss a couple of buttons, and forget his shirt is inside-out. Gods, he hates that you have that effect on him sometimes.
TSUKISHIMA, shirabu, daishou, SAKUSA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE “PLAY-IT-COOL” TYPE; he freezes when you walk in, but only for a moment. “Hey,” he says, voice level and calm. The only thing that betrays him is the flush of shyness tinting the tips of his ears. It’s something you’re quick to notice and something he accepts he can’t hide. He goes about changing while making light conversation, but you know his mind is running a couple of miles.
ennoshita, yamaguchi, KAGEYAMA, AKAASHI, semi, IWAIZUMI, kenma, KYOTANI, yaku, KITA
[✧]
. . . ʚ “FUCK, DON’T COME IN”; self-explanatory. Alternatively: the one who rushes to the door. As soon as he hears the door creaking open, he jumps to slam it shut. He yells out an apology in case he hurt you on accident, but he swiftly follows it up with, “Don’t come in til I say!” Why? “My pants are down right now!” Just listen, or else he’ll yell again. Louder.
notes: this is an edited repost from my old account, @iwaso! just hcs, nothing too crazy. but there’re a couple of swears in here.
. . . ʚ THE SCREAMER; this is a genuine reaction. Maybe he mistook you for a serial killer, or he’s insecure about his body, or perhaps he’s just shy. The only thing for sure is as soon as you walk in, a shrill, almost girly shriek bounces off the walls, and when it reaches your ears, you have to worry if your eardrums might pop. His arms are around his body when you see him (if this is for jokes, only you would know), and he gasps. “Get out!”
hinata, ASAHI, LEV, tendou, GOSHIKI, KOGANEGAWA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE FLIRT; he has no shame. You walk in on him changing? That’s an opportunity. A gift, even, for him and you. As his eyes meet yours, the expression on his face is smug, and he takes his sweet time discarding his clothes. This one flexes what he can; his abs, biceps, anything, just to see you all flustered. Consider it his guilty pleasure (except he’s not ashamed at all).
“Like what you see? Come on, don’t be shy now.”
ATSUMU, oikawa, KUROO, TERUSHIMA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE INDIFFERENT; you could barge in on him doing anything, and he would not give a shit. Who cares? He’s just changing. Is it that big a deal? Sure, his stomach does a flip (just one, singular), but no one needs to know that.
USHIJIMA, aone
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE CONVERSATION STARTER; branches from the previous category. He’s casual — opts to go about it like he’s making his morning coffee. Why get shy? There’s nothing wrong with his body. Then again, he’s a little unaware of how good he looks. That, or he’s very aware but hasn't said anything, and casually teases you with his assets. Either way, this one is dangerous.
. . . ʚ THE ANNOYED ONE; he’s freaking out a little — mind going blank, his breath getting caught in his throat — but under no circumstance would he ever admit it. He puts up an irritable front and shoots you a glare as if to ask what the hell it was that you wanted. Then, he urges you to get out as he returns to changing, but after you leave, he malfunctions in the silence. He’ll shoot an arm through the neckline, miss a couple of buttons, and forget his shirt is inside-out. Gods, he hates that you have that effect on him sometimes.
TSUKISHIMA, shirabu, daishou, SAKUSA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE “PLAY-IT-COOL” TYPE; he freezes when you walk in, but only for a moment. “Hey,” he says, voice level and calm. The only thing that betrays him is the flush of shyness tinting the tips of his ears. It’s something you’re quick to notice and something he accepts he can’t hide. He goes about changing while making light conversation, but you know his mind is running a couple of miles.
ennoshita, yamaguchi, KAGEYAMA, AKAASHI, semi, IWAIZUMI, kenma, KYOTANI, yaku, KITA
[✧]
. . . ʚ “FUCK, DON’T COME IN”; self-explanatory. Alternatively: the one who rushes to the door. As soon as he hears the door creaking open, he jumps to slam it shut. He yells out an apology in case he hurt you on accident, but he swiftly follows it up with, “Don’t come in til I say!” Why? “My pants are down right now!” Just listen, or else he’ll yell again. Louder.
tag nine people you would like to know better: tagged by miss Mao herself what an honor <;3 @itoshisoup I will win the competition for most boring hehe
last song: Here’s the Thing by Don Bronco! toxic as hell but its catchy af. ever since I saw them in concert a couple of weeks ago ive been bingeing their music
currently watching: jigokuraku, rewatching neon genesis Evangelion (im already on rebuild #4 it went by so fast booo). im gonna need a new anime someone drop some suggestions T_T
currently reading: I had ordered 2ha months ago and they are both currently sitting on my shelf but I’ve made no progress LOL. I did just order the entire 86 light novel series I might end up reading that first </3
current obsession: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I can’t really say im obsessed with something per se. I need a new hyper fixation </3 im very brainrotted on yuuta as you know but what else is new
no pressure tags: gonna go through my notifs and tag the first nine peeps in there LOL but everyone is tagged in spirit pls go ahead!!
last song: photograph by r.e.m. ft. natalie merchant
currently watching: the way i am struggling with my watchlist is ridiculous! you know how you sometimes don’t want to start something new that will demand all of your attention (i swear this is not commitment issues) and you keep rewatching stuff you’ve seen million times? that’s me rn refusing to step out of my comfort zone and for that reason i am rewatching hxh but also watching (waaaaaay behind though and super slow with my progress) mashle & why raeliana ended up at the duke’s mansion (i’ve already read the manhwa and now kind of unmotivated to finish the adaption tbh so might drop it). also starting my jjk rewatch this weekend!!!!!!!!
currently reading: i have a lot going on here but i’m mainly focused on blue lock, dreaming freedom, olgami, hito hitori futari + 1q84 by murakami
current obsession: gojo satoru. i feel like that’s my constant obsession lmao. also megumi.. he is growing on me
TERRIBLE LATE SO LETS DO IT <3 THANKYOU DARAAA BABY!! I SEE THE TAKEOMI-FICATION OF TEH BLOG 🤭🤭
currently watching: ummm………….. ooooh ye— a hindi webseries called Farzi. (i finished watching… i have commitment and i get bored easily issues plus hate movies)
currently reading: strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde
current obsession: UMMMM…….. K A R A S U & R A N P O <3 (sae in between but them 😮💨 ) also lwk into the whole spiderverse thingy…. (no i havent watched the movie)
notes: this is an edited repost from my old account, @iwaso! just hcs, nothing too crazy. but there’re a couple of swears in here.
. . . ʚ THE SCREAMER; this is a genuine reaction. Maybe he mistook you for a serial killer, or he’s insecure about his body, or perhaps he’s just shy. The only thing for sure is as soon as you walk in, a shrill, almost girly shriek bounces off the walls, and when it reaches your ears, you have to worry if your eardrums might pop. His arms are around his body when you see him (if this is for jokes, only you would know), and he gasps. “Get out!”
hinata, ASAHI, LEV, tendou, GOSHIKI, KOGANEGAWA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE FLIRT; he has no shame. You walk in on him changing? That’s an opportunity. A gift, even, for him and you. As his eyes meet yours, the expression on his face is smug, and he takes his sweet time discarding his clothes. This one flexes what he can; his abs, biceps, anything, just to see you all flustered. Consider it his guilty pleasure (except he’s not ashamed at all).
“Like what you see? Come on, don’t be shy now.”
ATSUMU, oikawa, KUROO, TERUSHIMA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE INDIFFERENT; you could barge in on him doing anything, and he would not give a shit. Who cares? He’s just changing. Is it that big a deal? Sure, his stomach does a flip (just one, singular), but no one needs to know that.
USHIJIMA, aone
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE CONVERSATION STARTER; branches from the previous category. He’s casual — opts to go about it like he’s making his morning coffee. Why get shy? There’s nothing wrong with his body. Then again, he’s a little unaware of how good he looks. That, or he’s very aware but hasn't said anything, and casually teases you with his assets. Either way, this one is dangerous.
. . . ʚ THE ANNOYED ONE; he’s freaking out a little — mind going blank, his breath getting caught in his throat — but under no circumstance would he ever admit it. He puts up an irritable front and shoots you a glare as if to ask what the hell it was that you wanted. Then, he urges you to get out as he returns to changing, but after you leave, he malfunctions in the silence. He’ll shoot an arm through the neckline, miss a couple of buttons, and forget his shirt is inside-out. Gods, he hates that you have that effect on him sometimes.
TSUKISHIMA, shirabu, daishou, SAKUSA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE “PLAY-IT-COOL” TYPE; he freezes when you walk in, but only for a moment. “Hey,” he says, voice level and calm. The only thing that betrays him is the flush of shyness tinting the tips of his ears. It’s something you’re quick to notice and something he accepts he can’t hide. He goes about changing while making light conversation, but you know his mind is running a couple of miles.
ennoshita, yamaguchi, KAGEYAMA, AKAASHI, semi, IWAIZUMI, kenma, KYOTANI, yaku, KITA
[✧]
. . . ʚ “FUCK, DON’T COME IN”; self-explanatory. Alternatively: the one who rushes to the door. As soon as he hears the door creaking open, he jumps to slam it shut. He yells out an apology in case he hurt you on accident, but he swiftly follows it up with, “Don’t come in til I say!” Why? “My pants are down right now!” Just listen, or else he’ll yell again. Louder.
notes: this is an edited repost from my old account, @iwaso! just hcs, nothing too crazy. but there’re a couple of swears in here.
. . . ʚ THE SCREAMER; this is a genuine reaction. Maybe he mistook you for a serial killer, or he’s insecure about his body, or perhaps he’s just shy. The only thing for sure is as soon as you walk in, a shrill, almost girly shriek bounces off the walls, and when it reaches your ears, you have to worry if your eardrums might pop. His arms are around his body when you see him (if this is for jokes, only you would know), and he gasps. “Get out!”
hinata, ASAHI, LEV, tendou, GOSHIKI, KOGANEGAWA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE FLIRT; he has no shame. You walk in on him changing? That’s an opportunity. A gift, even, for him and you. As his eyes meet yours, the expression on his face is smug, and he takes his sweet time discarding his clothes. This one flexes what he can; his abs, biceps, anything, just to see you all flustered. Consider it his guilty pleasure (except he’s not ashamed at all).
“Like what you see? Come on, don’t be shy now.”
ATSUMU, oikawa, KUROO, TERUSHIMA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE INDIFFERENT; you could barge in on him doing anything, and he would not give a shit. Who cares? He’s just changing. Is it that big a deal? Sure, his stomach does a flip (just one, singular), but no one needs to know that.
USHIJIMA, aone
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE CONVERSATION STARTER; branches from the previous category. He’s casual — opts to go about it like he’s making his morning coffee. Why get shy? There’s nothing wrong with his body. Then again, he’s a little unaware of how good he looks. That, or he’s very aware but hasn't said anything, and casually teases you with his assets. Either way, this one is dangerous.
. . . ʚ THE ANNOYED ONE; he’s freaking out a little — mind going blank, his breath getting caught in his throat — but under no circumstance would he ever admit it. He puts up an irritable front and shoots you a glare as if to ask what the hell it was that you wanted. Then, he urges you to get out as he returns to changing, but after you leave, he malfunctions in the silence. He’ll shoot an arm through the neckline, miss a couple of buttons, and forget his shirt is inside-out. Gods, he hates that you have that effect on him sometimes.
TSUKISHIMA, shirabu, daishou, SAKUSA
[✧]
. . . ʚ THE “PLAY-IT-COOL” TYPE; he freezes when you walk in, but only for a moment. “Hey,” he says, voice level and calm. The only thing that betrays him is the flush of shyness tinting the tips of his ears. It’s something you’re quick to notice and something he accepts he can’t hide. He goes about changing while making light conversation, but you know his mind is running a couple of miles.
ennoshita, yamaguchi, KAGEYAMA, AKAASHI, semi, IWAIZUMI, kenma, KYOTANI, yaku, KITA
[✧]
. . . ʚ “FUCK, DON’T COME IN”; self-explanatory. Alternatively: the one who rushes to the door. As soon as he hears the door creaking open, he jumps to slam it shut. He yells out an apology in case he hurt you on accident, but he swiftly follows it up with, “Don’t come in til I say!” Why? “My pants are down right now!” Just listen, or else he’ll yell again. Louder.
content: fluff. established relationship. set in japan. reader is a lil mean (it's just their dynamic). "only idiots get sick in the summer". nursing him back to health. wc: 1.6k
notes: this is for @hobieist’s 1k event, “FUN IN THE SUN”! congrats on ur milestone.
It’s mid-July in Japan and the weather outside is, for lack of a better word, scorching. The rays of sunlight that pierce through the trees and filter through your blinds are most certainly unwelcome. While you usually like the sun on your skin, an exception is when summer arrives.
When the rainy season transitions to hell on earth, your brain does its best to find any reason to like it. Beneath the fact that it’s too hot to frolic on a beach and the heat brings a misery that overpowers the cadence of the cicadas, there sits a glowing justification:
Summer means fewer colds.
But, of course, a single call is enough to shatter that little sense of hope you’ve come up for yourself.
“... Seriously, ‘tori?”
“Okay, sweets, I know what you’re going to say! Something about how only idi-”
“Idiots get sick in the summer. Yes.” You cut off the red-haired boy with an exasperated sigh, pressing your phone against your ear as you fold the rest of your laundry. “I told you not to lick that pole. It probably had a whole city of germs.”
Knowing Satori so well, the pout now plastered on his face was practically audible. A soft groan sounds from the other end of the call. “I know, ‘kay? You haven’t kissed me in, like, a week.”
You snort. “And now that you’re sick, you’ll have to wait two to three business days more, at least.”
A loud gasp meets your ear, followed by a whine from your boyfriend. “Baby!” His voice becomes a slight rasp as it goes an octave higher, and it almost makes you feel bad for teasing him so much.
“You brought this upon yourself, ‘tori,” you add with a roll of your eyes, and while he can’t see you, you know he can sense the action. “You and your bad decisions.”
After a while of shuffling sounds, his blanket-muffled reply comes to you. “I know… ‘m sorry.”
Neat piles of folded clothes sit in front of you, eliciting a pleased breath from your nose. You put the call on speaker and set your phone on the bed. “I’ll come over, okay?” You’ve begun moving to put the clothes in their rightful places. “Don’t strain yourself, or you’ll get a punch when I see you.”
“Won’t that be counterproductive?” Satori asks with a playfully hurt tone, his voice still muffled.
“Huh, that’s a big word.” You say, disbelief coating your reply. “Must be worse than I thought.”
As another whine resounds from your phone, you simply chuckle.
[✧]
Well, truth be told, you didn’t think it would be this bad.
Tendou Satori had a habit of exaggerating. Sometimes it’s endearing, but other times it gets on your nerves. So, for your sanity, you’ve decided that nine times out of ten, he’s probably spewing hyperboles in hopes of getting your attention.
Now, however, you regret brushing off his earlier complaints.
“What the hell happened here?” You ask, placing down the bag you had brought with you. The floor of his room had comic books and paper strewn all over, more so than usual, and a lonely, empty cup of ramen sat on his nightstand. Underneath a heavy, yellow blanket was your boyfriend, whose eyes were a little glassy and cheeks flushed a soft red.
A cough answers you, followed by a hoarse voice. “Normally, I would clean up before you come over… but I can’t move right now.” Satori grins sheepishly at you. “Is it gross?”
“Extremely,” is your immediate quip. “But never mind that. You look like you’re roasting under there.”
“No, I’m not. It’s cold.”
You roll your eyes. “I can see your sweat, ‘tori. Any more, and your cough will get worse.” Immediately, you move to take the blanket off of him, ignoring his refusals. “Plus, if you keep burying yourself in there, you’ll dehydrate yourself — or have a stroke. I don’t want to carry your corpse.”
Through his pout, he speaks while wrapping his arms around his now exposed (clothed) body. “Come on, sweets, nothing’s going to happen. You’re such a worry wart.”
“One of us has to be.” As you fold the blanket, you gesture for him to sit up. “I brought you Okayu* and ibuprofen. Take the capsule as you eat.”
He musters up the strength to get into position with a grunt. He hunches when he sits, almost comically, and his sniffles are loud with the gurgle of fresh mucus. The red hair that’s usually gelled up and away from his face now droops and mats with sweat, and when he coughs, it produces a booming sound, enough to echo and bounce off the walls.
He was going through it.
“Thank you.” He mumbles his words as his eyes follow your movements, watching you take out the porridge, a blister pack, and bottled water. “And sorry. I know you didn’t want to get out of your house.”
“Yet you got yourself sick anyway.” A sigh slips past your lips as you hand him the spoon you snagged from his kitchen earlier. You pass him a few tissues as well. “Here, blow your nose, then eat. I’ll clean this pigsty while you do.”
Satori does as he’s told, throwing the used tissues before chowing down on his meal. The taste entices a happy sound from the boy. “You’re so harsh, baby,” he says, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth. “It’s not that messy.”
“It’s messy enough. And slow down, you’ll choke.”
He gives you a salute. “Yes, boss.”
As he continues eating, you take care of the mess on the floor, gathering the comic books and paper, respectively. One of the perks of dating your best friend is knowing the layout of his room by heart. So, your movements are sure and quick, and soon enough, everything is in order. You've gotten rid of any trash you found while cleaning and even set the AC to the ideal temperature to combat the heat from outside.
Perhaps a “best lover” award is in order.
After a while, you ask Satori if he’s finished with his food. A nod answers your question, along with the sight of a cleared bowl, a missing capsule, and a bottle three-quarters empty. Relief washes over you. After all, he’s still got an appetite.
“You gotta stop worrying so much,” he says, his reassuring gaze set on you. “It’s just a little fever.”
Your brow quirks at that. “Which you probably got after licking a germ-infested pole. You think I’m going to overlook that?”
With a crooked smile, he looks away. “If you could? Please?”
“No.”
“What if your kiss is the only cure for this cursed illness?”
You sit by his bed, a thermometer in your hand and an unimpressed look on your face. “What, like Sleeping Beauty?”
“Yeah,” he rasps, laying back down. “Except I’m the Feverish Hottie.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to die.”
A grin tugs at his lips. “But you agree, right? That I’m hot?”
Your cheeks grow a little warm. How insufferable. “Shut up and raise your arm. We should check your temp.”
“I didn’t hear a no,” he sings, but he does as he’s told, letting you place the instrument under his pit before securing it in its place. As you two wait to check it, you take the bowl and leave to get a damp towel for his forehead. By the time the thermometer beeps, his forehead is already sporting the white cloth you had wrung out, and you two were helping the time pass with light banter.
You check the result. 37.8°C.
He’s okay.
“That’s pretty good.” Satori’s eyes are trained on the instrument as he speaks. “It was 38.3 this morning. Guess I just needed you here, hm?” He waggles his brows. “I knew you were my good luck charm.”
Your hand lands on his stomach with a quiet ‘smack.’ He knows it’s a playful hit, but that doesn’t deter the soft groan that leaves him. “Stop abusing me when you get shy.”
“I’m literally not,” you say. Both of you know it’s a lie. “Anyway, you’re okay now, so go to sleep.”
“Can you sing me a lulla–”
“Over my dead body, ‘tori.”
Your boyfriend can only sigh in defeat. “Okay. Fine.” But, refusing to back down without a compromise, he snakes his fingers up your palm so they can intertwine with yours. “Stay with me like this, then. You’re not allowed to leave.”
Amusement dances in your eyes as you look at him. “This is holding someone captive, you idiot bastard.”
“Idiot and bastard? You’re hurting my feelings.” He’s mumbling now, slowly sinking into his much-needed slumber, but he’s still awake enough to tug firmly at your hand to bring it closer to him. “You knew you were stuck with me from the moment you entered that door.” One of his eyes peeks open to meet your gaze, and a cheesy smile tugs the corner of his lips. “Now stop playing and let me sleep. I have a fever.”
Again, he makes you snort. Where did all this energy come from? “Go,” you say, laying your head on the bed as you watch his open eye close once more. “Sleep well.”
“Don’t leave.”
“I won’t damn it.”
When the rainy season transitions to hell on earth, your brain does its best to find any reason to like it. No matter how deep it digs, it finds nothing except a sea of complaints: it’s too hot, too loud, and people still get sick in the summer.
But you’re with Tendou Satori on a free Tuesday, with the AC on and his hand around yours.
In certain instances, summer can be tolerable.
Okayu – Japanese rice porridge, commonly eaten when one has a cold, is recovering from an illness, or doesn't have an appetite (SOURCE).
content: fluff. established relationship. set in japan. reader is a lil mean (it's just their dynamic). "only idiots get sick in the summer". nursing him back to health. wc: 1.6k
notes: this is for @hobieist’s 1k event, “FUN IN THE SUN”! congrats on ur milestone.
It’s mid-July in Japan and the weather outside is, for lack of a better word, scorching. The rays of sunlight that pierce through the trees and filter through your blinds are most certainly unwelcome. While you usually like the sun on your skin, an exception is when summer arrives.
When the rainy season transitions to hell on earth, your brain does its best to find any reason to like it. Beneath the fact that it’s too hot to frolic on a beach and the heat brings a misery that overpowers the cadence of the cicadas, there sits a glowing justification:
Summer means fewer colds.
But, of course, a single call is enough to shatter that little sense of hope you’ve come up for yourself.
“... Seriously, ‘tori?”
“Okay, sweets, I know what you’re going to say! Something about how only idi-”
“Idiots get sick in the summer. Yes.” You cut off the red-haired boy with an exasperated sigh, pressing your phone against your ear as you fold the rest of your laundry. “I told you not to lick that pole. It probably had a whole city of germs.”
Knowing Satori so well, the pout now plastered on his face was practically audible. A soft groan sounds from the other end of the call. “I know, ‘kay? You haven’t kissed me in, like, a week.”
You snort. “And now that you’re sick, you’ll have to wait two to three business days more, at least.”
A loud gasp meets your ear, followed by a whine from your boyfriend. “Baby!” His voice becomes a slight rasp as it goes an octave higher, and it almost makes you feel bad for teasing him so much.
“You brought this upon yourself, ‘tori,” you add with a roll of your eyes, and while he can’t see you, you know he can sense the action. “You and your bad decisions.”
After a while of shuffling sounds, his blanket-muffled reply comes to you. “I know… ‘m sorry.”
Neat piles of folded clothes sit in front of you, eliciting a pleased breath from your nose. You put the call on speaker and set your phone on the bed. “I’ll come over, okay?” You’ve begun moving to put the clothes in their rightful places. “Don’t strain yourself, or you’ll get a punch when I see you.”
“Won’t that be counterproductive?” Satori asks with a playfully hurt tone, his voice still muffled.
“Huh, that’s a big word.” You say, disbelief coating your reply. “Must be worse than I thought.”
As another whine resounds from your phone, you simply chuckle.
[✧]
Well, truth be told, you didn’t think it would be this bad.
Tendou Satori had a habit of exaggerating. Sometimes it’s endearing, but other times it gets on your nerves. So, for your sanity, you’ve decided that nine times out of ten, he’s probably spewing hyperboles in hopes of getting your attention.
Now, however, you regret brushing off his earlier complaints.
“What the hell happened here?” You ask, placing down the bag you had brought with you. The floor of his room had comic books and paper strewn all over, more so than usual, and a lonely, empty cup of ramen sat on his nightstand. Underneath a heavy, yellow blanket was your boyfriend, whose eyes were a little glassy and cheeks flushed a soft red.
A cough answers you, followed by a hoarse voice. “Normally, I would clean up before you come over… but I can’t move right now.” Satori grins sheepishly at you. “Is it gross?”
“Extremely,” is your immediate quip. “But never mind that. You look like you’re roasting under there.”
“No, I’m not. It’s cold.”
You roll your eyes. “I can see your sweat, ‘tori. Any more, and your cough will get worse.” Immediately, you move to take the blanket off of him, ignoring his refusals. “Plus, if you keep burying yourself in there, you’ll dehydrate yourself — or have a stroke. I don’t want to carry your corpse.”
Through his pout, he speaks while wrapping his arms around his now exposed (clothed) body. “Come on, sweets, nothing’s going to happen. You’re such a worry wart.”
“One of us has to be.” As you fold the blanket, you gesture for him to sit up. “I brought you Okayu* and ibuprofen. Take the capsule as you eat.”
He musters up the strength to get into position with a grunt. He hunches when he sits, almost comically, and his sniffles are loud with the gurgle of fresh mucus. The red hair that’s usually gelled up and away from his face now droops and mats with sweat, and when he coughs, it produces a booming sound, enough to echo and bounce off the walls.
He was going through it.
“Thank you.” He mumbles his words as his eyes follow your movements, watching you take out the porridge, a blister pack, and bottled water. “And sorry. I know you didn’t want to get out of your house.”
“Yet you got yourself sick anyway.” A sigh slips past your lips as you hand him the spoon you snagged from his kitchen earlier. You pass him a few tissues as well. “Here, blow your nose, then eat. I’ll clean this pigsty while you do.”
Satori does as he’s told, throwing the used tissues before chowing down on his meal. The taste entices a happy sound from the boy. “You’re so harsh, baby,” he says, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth. “It’s not that messy.”
“It’s messy enough. And slow down, you’ll choke.”
He gives you a salute. “Yes, boss.”
As he continues eating, you take care of the mess on the floor, gathering the comic books and paper, respectively. One of the perks of dating your best friend is knowing the layout of his room by heart. So, your movements are sure and quick, and soon enough, everything is in order. You've gotten rid of any trash you found while cleaning and even set the AC to the ideal temperature to combat the heat from outside.
Perhaps a “best lover” award is in order.
After a while, you ask Satori if he’s finished with his food. A nod answers your question, along with the sight of a cleared bowl, a missing capsule, and a bottle three-quarters empty. Relief washes over you. After all, he’s still got an appetite.
“You gotta stop worrying so much,” he says, his reassuring gaze set on you. “It’s just a little fever.”
Your brow quirks at that. “Which you probably got after licking a germ-infested pole. You think I’m going to overlook that?”
With a crooked smile, he looks away. “If you could? Please?”
“No.”
“What if your kiss is the only cure for this cursed illness?”
You sit by his bed, a thermometer in your hand and an unimpressed look on your face. “What, like Sleeping Beauty?”
“Yeah,” he rasps, laying back down. “Except I’m the Feverish Hottie.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to die.”
A grin tugs at his lips. “But you agree, right? That I’m hot?”
Your cheeks grow a little warm. How insufferable. “Shut up and raise your arm. We should check your temp.”
“I didn’t hear a no,” he sings, but he does as he’s told, letting you place the instrument under his pit before securing it in its place. As you two wait to check it, you take the bowl and leave to get a damp towel for his forehead. By the time the thermometer beeps, his forehead is already sporting the white cloth you had wrung out, and you two were helping the time pass with light banter.
You check the result. 37.8°C.
He’s okay.
“That’s pretty good.” Satori’s eyes are trained on the instrument as he speaks. “It was 38.3 this morning. Guess I just needed you here, hm?” He waggles his brows. “I knew you were my good luck charm.”
Your hand lands on his stomach with a quiet ‘smack.’ He knows it’s a playful hit, but that doesn’t deter the soft groan that leaves him. “Stop abusing me when you get shy.”
“I’m literally not,” you say. Both of you know it’s a lie. “Anyway, you’re okay now, so go to sleep.”
“Can you sing me a lulla–”
“Over my dead body, ‘tori.”
Your boyfriend can only sigh in defeat. “Okay. Fine.” But, refusing to back down without a compromise, he snakes his fingers up your palm so they can intertwine with yours. “Stay with me like this, then. You’re not allowed to leave.”
Amusement dances in your eyes as you look at him. “This is holding someone captive, you idiot bastard.”
“Idiot and bastard? You’re hurting my feelings.” He’s mumbling now, slowly sinking into his much-needed slumber, but he’s still awake enough to tug firmly at your hand to bring it closer to him. “You knew you were stuck with me from the moment you entered that door.” One of his eyes peeks open to meet your gaze, and a cheesy smile tugs the corner of his lips. “Now stop playing and let me sleep. I have a fever.”
Again, he makes you snort. Where did all this energy come from? “Go,” you say, laying your head on the bed as you watch his open eye close once more. “Sleep well.”
“Don’t leave.”
“I won’t damn it.”
When the rainy season transitions to hell on earth, your brain does its best to find any reason to like it. No matter how deep it digs, it finds nothing except a sea of complaints: it’s too hot, too loud, and people still get sick in the summer.
But you’re with Tendou Satori on a free Tuesday, with the AC on and his hand around yours.
In certain instances, summer can be tolerable.
Okayu – Japanese rice porridge, commonly eaten when one has a cold, is recovering from an illness, or doesn't have an appetite (SOURCE).
