>> |
12/18/11(Sun)19:29 No.32464713 File1324254599.png-(329 KB, 600x548, 4.png)
>>32464648 I write ficlets of soppy shit from time to time.
You’ve been in bed all day. It’s a loathsome cold, the kind that isn’t dangerous or feverish, but a sickness that just makes you feel like complete crap. But she’s there to give you everything she can to make you feel better, like lots of chicken soup and orange juice, the only remedies that can help cure the nuisance. But you still feel cold. The covers are warm, yet you can’t stop shivering. You ask her that she turn the heater up, and she quickly complies, only to discover that the confounded thing isn’t working. She becomes visibly upset and unsure what to do, while you gently console her and tell her you can manage without it. She then has an idea, however. She walks over to bed, peels off the covers, gets in, and wraps herself around you. You protest and warn her that she’ll become sick too, despite the joy you feel from her close presence. She obviously doesn’t care about contagion, and she moves closer and buries her head in your chest. Feeling nice and warm now, you wrap your arms around her. Tingling happiness from the feeling of her warm body flows through you, and you whisper to her your thanks and how much you love her. She responds with a loving gaze and a sweet kiss on the lips. Content, you nod off to sleep with your head in her pink hair. |