#*lightly hits head* this boy would get bugged so bad so fucking fast

[the-weeping-dawn]

(questions from the Companion Tav ask game I reblogged from you) for Ilztun again!!

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Raise

Being a nosy shit about other people in the party since he can't himself anymore

He wants to know things. If you find yourself in a long dialogue and question chain, you're going to get the odd little approval through it. Like he doesn't want the necronomicon but he'll be disappointed if you don't at least go through the quest...He at least wants to see what it does.

Cats.

*gestures to the teif children* as a companion he's has at least one non-romanced ending where he adopts those little shits.

Lower

Trying to push into his business too quickly. From the wrong direction/without certain story prompts passive checks

He's generally against most evil route options, he can be talked into them, he'll argue it, but even as someone who can easily be pushed worse, he tends towards looking at bigger picture which honestly just comes into conflict with the game's evil route.

...Honestly I feel like he's got some wild player approval morality after a point, possibly takes being romanced but it's the fun thing about him generally being someone very used to doing as he's told by someone in his life, can fall into this pattern so easily when he's not forced out of it by narrative....

Do I just have a pile of exception cases for near every situation it just shows stronger in how he's less likely to disapprove of a player he mostly likes/trusts with it mainly being specific cases where he's going to say something? Quite possibly

That said he by default sides with the Emperor and regardless of above would need a lot to be talked out of that, and likely one of the opinions he can't have moved until end choices. I feel like this is going to end up being reflected most in lost approval so it goes here.

Completely shutting down considering tadpole.

He's going to have questions/concerns about drow and the absolute...he cannot be convinced out of these.

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

...Lae'zel I'm so sorry someone's getting into shit with you with the only peace you get being in act 2. He's a lot worse if she's siding with Orpheus, but he's gonna be on edge with her no matter what in act 3. That said, he's only avoiding getting into his own knife fight because he knows he cannot win and is probably on alert for him having been open about being very pro-killing people in their sleep at some point...

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

The obvious is Sylfiel, friend he left menzo with and has been living with pre-game, who within fic I've been slowly working on is basically an additional party member upon she and Ilz reuniting in act 3, though she actually tends to be more main/Gale plot attached there, with Ilz as a companion I'm not even quite sure the role she'd end up playing while he's a companion. ...there's a second I could see showing up at Moonrise but again, he's a good lore source for both necromancy and illithid beyond just reading every single book you can touch. I'm not sure.

[princesskokichi]

kokichi’s birthday with is s/o

I PRAY YOU WERE READING FOR READING BECAUSE UHM 3K WORDS BABIIEE :D i got excited i’m so sorry

i found myself at 2k before i knew it and tried not to drag on for too long, but as you can see, that didn’t happen. so now there’s just this really long post about kokichi’s birthday and i’m kind of in love with it ngl

i don’t think i necessarily did the request either, i think i did a lot more omg i hope that’s alright with you kokichi simp anon 

also he is slightly aged up here !! by three to five years at least.

his personality is a lot more chill here because he’s not in a killing game which stretches his lying habit to an extreme to keep him afloat in his lies

in this he’s just kind of a slightly rude mouthed tsundere boy ?? and i vibe heavily with older kokichi - mod kokichi

- his birthday this year was such a treat

- honest to god he will likely never forget this birthday for as long as he lives

- and the weirdest thing is that ??? not much even happened that day

- but at the same time it was like everything was happening

- you typically go all out on his birthday by planning elaborate surprises later in the afternoon to blow him away

- and it works every time

- but this birthday was a little different, and a lot more subtle

- he woke up with you right beside him in bed, sleeping peacefully with your arm lazily wrapped around his waist like you two normally slept

- you were so stunning, even when wearing his faded old tee from a band he used to like and your mouth slightly opened with a bit of drool

- he was tempted not to move because he knew you would halfway wake up

- and he just knew that once you woke up and remembered his birthday, you wouldn't be able to fall back asleep and would insist on waking up with him

- he did find it a little odd that you were asleep still though

- usually, when something exciting is happening, you have trouble falling asleep and become a very light sleeper

- so for you to be as deep asleep as you were, it was certainly uncommon

- even though it was his birthday and his inner child wanted the attention on him immediately, he let you sleep

- very VERY carefully, he slid off and away from the bed

- trying really hard to step lightly so the floorboards didn't creak under his feet

- he left you in the bed while he went to brush his teeth and start his morning doing whatever he wanted

- it wasn't often he had a morning to himself, since you usually woke up before him

- he really didn't know what to do without you to fill his morning with your horrible morning breath and low voice as you mumbled

- so he opted for walking around the house, inevitably going into the kitchen

- and then he saw it

- a very tiny but elaborately designed cake, with his birthday and name written in your handwriting when you tried to write fancily

- his heart swelled a little inside as he walked up to it and read the card you'd made for him out of really nice looking origami paper

- " happy birthday baby! i hope today is the best birthday ever. i don't have a lot planned, but i still want to make it super special for you. you deserve the entire world, and i know one day you'll get it because the king always gets what he wants ! i love you so much kokichi, and thank you for being my crazy perfect little boyfriend. -s / o "

- you'd drawn a chibi of him and you together snuggling on the side with flower crowns

- ah, flower crowns were something that you taught him how to make on your third date together

- he hugged the card to his chest, holding onto as if it were his lifeline

- he noticed a yellow sticky note hidden poorly behind the cake, picking it up

- " p.s. don't think i've forgotten about your gift ! you have to find it tho, its somewhere in this house. your hint is that we had our first kiss there. that was so hella awkward, wasn't it ? But to be honest, i couldn't stop thinking about it for days,, - s / o "

- he just stood there for a moment, trying to think about that day

- he had taken you to his apartment because you had tripped and hurt yourself at the park

- you looked just as beautiful back then as you did now,,

- you had teared up slightly because there was a lot of blood, even though the cut itself wasn't that bad

- after he had you bandaged up on the couch in the living room, you and him decided you would spend dinner together

- when it was time to leave, you sat on the couch, while he was joking around and standing on the table next to it so he could be tall

- he had warned you beforehand that if you didn't move, he was going to jump and kiss you

- you took his bluff and didn't budge

- he freefalled, letting gravity hit you with the reality that he wasn't lying

- yeah, right there on the couch while you were sitting, he kissed you for the first time

- out of shock, you had disconnected the kiss and leaned back, surprised and touching your bottom lip

- kokichi remembered being able to see the cogs in your head turning as you sat there and stared at him for longer than a minute

- and then you'd grabbed his jacket, pulling him close to you and reinitiating the kiss

- did your actions that night make god frown ?

- yeah, probably

- but, even now, when thinking about he couldn't help but get a little red in the face thinking about it

- you'd only ever been that bold a few times in this relationship

- and each time was because he either teased you relentlessly over stupid, romantic stuff

-or it was a new point in the relationship that you were more than ready to reach

- s / o : " ah, mornin' baby, how do you like ? "

you scratched the back of your head lazily, more than a little content to rest your head on his shoulder, no matter how far down you had to bend to reach it

- wrapping your arms around his torso, you smiled a little at the sticky note in his hand

- s / o : " i totally forgot i did that. "

- kokichi : " you've done a lot of lame things that sound like they come out of a bad romance movie, but this is probably one of the most cheesy things you've ever done. "

- s / o : " do you like it ? "

- kokichi : " yes. yes i do. but you're going to have to do better than this because i already figured out the first hint. "

- s / o : " what is it ? "

- kokichi : " the couch, duh. you had been so horny like woah close your legs we'd only been dating for about four months. "

- s / o : " i was horny for love, not sex. there's a difference. it wasn't my legs that i opened, it was my heart, dumdum. "

- kokichi : " PLEASE DON'T CALL ME DUMDUM YOU KNOW IT MAKES ME CRY - "

- you let go of him, laughing softly

- s / o : " once you find your present, i'll let you have a bite of cake. "

- kokichi : " a bite ? what's going to happen to the rest ? "

- s / o : " i baked it so it's mine, duhh. "

- you flicked his forehead, to which he lowkey cutely flinched back and put his hand over where you hit

- kokichi : " you're on my nerves today, you know that ? "

- s / o : " well, someone's gotta annoy the annoying one. "

- FUCK HE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU -

- kokichi : " i'm just going to finish this quickly so i ruin your plan of keeping me busy all day. "

- s / o : " since you're so smart, i dare you to try to find it in twenty minutes or less "

- you set a timer, and watched as he scrambled to find all of the clues to find the last hiding spot

- yeah, it would have been easier for him to just search the entire house, but then what's the fun if you can't play the game ?

-  he decided to indulge you

- he was having fun lmao

- after he went to the couch, he found the sticky note that asked him where they got caught having a,, moment,,, by your parents

- " heyy, kokichi !! remember that time wE were making out and my parents walked in because they were visiting ? i hated it !! do you remember where that happened ? i do !! - s / o "

- against the refrigerator, of course

- he passed you in the kitchen

- you were sitting at the table, just watching him with such amusement

- s / o : " you're always throwing me for games. now i understand how it feels to be in your shoes. "

- kokichi : " oh haha, you suck at being me. "

- s / o : " do i ? then why is there only ten minutes left for you to find your gift ? "

- kokichi : " no way. "

- s / o : " yeah, seriously. you're horrible at this game. "

- kokichi ignored you, checking the refrigerator for another note

- didn't see a sticky note on the front, but the moment he opened it, a bright yellow sticky note glared at him

- " kokichi !! Do you remember when you gave me the promise rings ? it was such an out of character thing for you to do, i was wondering if there was something wrong with it at first and was hesitant to put it on. and now i sleep with it on. ahh, it feels like we're already married, doesn't it ? - s / o "

- kokichi looked back at you as you sipped on your morning drink

- s / o : " gosh, kokichi, i just wanna say that you are the cutest person in existence, so thank you for that. "

- kokichi : " uh-huh. now tell me where the next clue is. "

- s / o : " you're just so,, ugh ! i love how much of a snuggle bug you are. "

- kokichi : " you're not helping your case. i may just sit here and listen to you being cringy. "

- s / o : " do you think me telling the truth embarrasses me ? pitiful. "

- kokichi : " no wait go back to complimenting me. "

- s / o : " aaah, you're so cute !! and thoughtful in your own way. very unique too. the perfect mix of stupid and reasonable. "

- kokichi : " the compliments are starting to get really backhanded. "

- you both stood there for a second, staring at each other and giggling under your breath

- he leaned over quickly and kissed your cheek, escaping fast

- but not fast enough

- you caught him by the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him back into your space, kissing your boyfriend on the lips

- when he pulled away to breathe, he looked completely disheveled, and all he wanted now was to stay in your space

- s / o : " go on, find the gift. "

- kokichi : " no. "

- s / o : " then you'll just randomly find in in the coming week ? "

- kokichi : " yeah, pretty much. i'm boooorrrreedd, so do something to entertain me. "

- your arms were pleasantly resting on his hips, holding him in place as he watched you smile

- s / o : " no ! go find the gift. "

- you leaned into him, giving him another kiss on the lips, but this one was a peck and didn't last nearly as long

- kokichi whined. and he whined LOUDLY, but you were unmoveable in your resolve

- so eventually he had to give up and follow through with your plans

- kokichi : " oh, what's the time ? "

- s / o : " you still have eleven minutes left. "

- kokichi : " that's not possible. "

- s / o : " it is if you're a liar. "

- you did his little pose where he puts his finger over his mouth like " shh " and laughed, watching your boyfriend go from totally in love to Hella Annoyed in a matter of moments

- he headed into the bathroom where he had " proposed " to you with those promise rings

- you had been in the shower, ironically humming the tune to " say you won't let go " by james arthur

- so what's the best thing to do in this situation ?

- scare the crap out of you by singing with you and then pretend to propose, of course !! :D

- the plan worked perfectly, you had been successfully scared the crap out of and hella surprised

- you had admitted to him that you knew he wouldn't propose yet, but that the rings were an incredibly sweet gesture, even if they're presented in a comical manner

- you two both wear them every day as if they were real marriage rings

- at first it bothered him that he even had this idea, because it was such an,, adult step in the relationship

- but, as he thought about it, he realized that he was actually getting older. that these kind of things are,, normal of adults, right ?

- plus, he did want to marry you one day

- he really REALLY thought you were the one for him

- turns out, yeah, they are

- on the backside of the curtains, there was the final sticky note, which had nothing more than a heart on it

- after searching the bathroom up and down, he came back to you with his eyebrows knitted together

- kokichi : " unless toothpaste is the present, then i don't think you finished the game. "

- s / o : " yes i did, i gave you all of the hints you need. promise. "

- he stared at the notes in his hands, wondering what kind of stupid you were to think that they were finished

- and then he saw it, staring him right in the face

- B E D

- he gave you that smug look of " i know what you did, but i figured it out "

- and rushed to the bedroom

- but before he could get in, the bell rang on your timer

- s / o : " you didn't make it to the time love, i'm sorry about that hehe. but go. go find it. "

- kokichi looked through the bed, just to find a small box on your side of the bed

- he opened it to see a little pendant with both of your names in japanese and birthstones on a small silver chain

- it was dainty, and cute

- wow he was in love with it, and he didn't even really like necklaces that much

- s / o : " i know you once told me you didn't like necklaces that much, but it was either that or get something a stereotypical guy likes

- kokichi : " i think this is perfect, s / o. and you're right, i don't like necklaces, but fuck guy-things, that stuff is always weird. "

- after you put the necklace on him, he smiled gratefully

- s / o : " so, cake ? "

- kokichi stopped in his place, debating on it heavily, but opted to tackle you down onto the bed

- he wrapped his arms around you, not planning to let you go anytime soon

- kokichi : " not to be gross or anything but cuddles sound much better than cake. cake is for losers. "

- he did, indeed, have a piece of cake later into the day

- before that, you two ended up taking a nap together like that on the bed

- you were more than content to cradle your boyfriend and whisper soft, gentle words

- he genuinely sucks at staying still while cuddling, so he tries to fill up time before he got sleepy

- he would talk to you about whatever popped up into his mind

- which was usually how the world domination plan is definitely going exactly how he plans it

- starting with winning your heart, and then winning the worlds' hearts

- or kissing everywhere from your neck to your bellybutton

- just anywhere he could get his hands on, he would kiss you

- at the end of the day, this was his favorite birthday

- just spending time with the one he loves most and having them love him back in reciprocation

- you always made sure he was well cared for, but this was overdoing yourself

- he wanted to thank you, but didn't really know how to do so

- luckily, you understand him better than he thinks you do

- and you know that look on his face when his eyes are half-closed

- and he's got a smile on his face that he doesn't even realize he has

- that he's happy, even if he doesn't explicitly say it out loud to you

- you let him snuggle into your chest, hoping he could hear your heart

- his eyes began to get heavy, and as he listened to your gentle voice sway him into sleeping

- he really started to think about things, albeit in a half-asleep manner

- he'd grown up, and has since stopped lying as much just for a joke

- he wasn't exactly going to give up his boyish charms no matter how old he is by any means

- partly because he was so damn short it would seem weird to people if he didn't act like what he looked like

- but he was learning how to act like his age

- because he's growing emotionally as well as physically

- he's getting better at trusting people, and letting them know the true kokichi instead of a lie he fabricated to feel better behind a mask

- kokichi is learning that there are people out there that genuinely like to talk to him and want to be around him

- like you, his perfect partner,

- his partner that he plans to hold like this till death do them part, his angel, and saving grace,

- and the person whom he loves no matter how old he gets.

[miss-choco-chips]

Home

Four times Tim just wanted to go home, and one time he’s actually there.

(  @animemangasoul I think you’ll like this one)

(I was listening to Home by Machine Gun Kelly X Ambassadors & Bebe Rexha while I wrote this. Might have cried a little. I regret nothing)

----.----

His mom is holding his hand, a rare occurrence. Were he in a more… stable state, he’d squeeze the moment for all it’s worth.

But the coldness of fear had his heart in a ice-like grip, and the scenery around them did little to appease him. Nothing, not even the warmth of being held, could keep him from shaking.

-I want to go home -he whispers in his mother’s ear when she picks him up in her arms. Safe against her body, he thinks he can feel his heart melting a bit around the edges where panic had frozen him over.

Mom tightened her hold, eyes leaving the crying kid and his dead parents for the first time in a long time. He feels how one of her hands drops its place under his leg to pat his back, more comforting than he ever thought she capable of.

-Yes, we are leaving now. Jack? Bring the car over, we’ll wait here.

She doesn’t lower him until they are back at the manor. Then, his parents retire to their rooms, both to rest and prepare for their trip to the Bahamas the following morning. 

Tim shivers all night long, yearning for the warmth he was too distracted to appreciate a few hours ago, back at the circus.

This wasn't what he meant, when he asked to go home. He just wanted to feel safe.

----.----

This… wasn’t what he expected. To being caught, that is. Specially by his hero.

Jason (Robin, call him Robin, don’t you dare slip up, he can’t know you know!) is looking down at him, hands on his hips. He’s doing his best to look stern, but the short shorts, pixie boots and unconscious thug at his back ruin the effect of his glare.

Tim, camera held tightly as it’s been for the last couple of minute since the man came out of the shadows to try and steal it from him, distractedly thinks Batman should get on that, teach Robin his famous loom. He’s feeling starstruck, more than fearful.

-It’s too late for a squirt like you to be out. Streets are dangerous, no’ne told you? Specially ‘is parts o’the city -the young vigilante drawled, accent thicker than Tim recalled from back at the gala when their parents introduced them in passing. Not that Jason would remember.

-I… I’m not a squirt, I’m ten -he finally blurts out, wishing he could smack himself the second the words leave his mouth.

-Children should be on bed at this time.

He does his best to calm his erratic heart, and canalizes all the sass on his pint sized body to arch an eyebrow- Hypocrite much?

Robin growls, but Tim can tell he’s doing his best to hide a smile.

-I can leave you here, you know.

He knows Jason is bluffing, looking for a reaction, but the mere idea still makes his barely calming heart kick into overdrive again. The scare of a few minutes ago was too fresh on his mind. He already knows he won’t be going out again soon, not until he could plan a new route to photograph his idols while traveling only by rooftop, to best avoid the scum of the city.

-No, wait… please -he moves forward, hand taking a handful of cape, as if that could stop the vigilante if he actually was planning to leave.

Jason took the chance to wrap him on it like a little blanket, picking him up in his arms like a baby.

-Don’t worry, shortstack. I’m taking you home so I can be sure y’er actually following your bedtime.

Feeling a little braver in his hero’s arms, he fired back- Don’t have any.

-Whatever, you lil liar.

-It’s true. You can ask my parents… that’s it, if you’re willing to go into my house for a chat. Masks are in bad taste though, you’ll have to take yours off.

Truthfully, both his parents are away on business. Not that he needed to know about the bluff.

This time, he didn’t bother to hide his amusement, letting his barking laughter come out.

-You little shit. I’m not giving you my secret that easy.

Tim just shrugs, painting his most innocent smile. It’s difficult to keep it in place when Jason asks for directions, and then drops him at his bedroom’s window.

The giddiness of meeting his hero can’t quench his disappointment when he watches Jason’s back as he leaves. 

A little, childish part of himself had believed, hoped (with all the innocence his heart had left), that when Jason said ‘take you home’, he was talking about his own. 

----.----

He’s training as hard as possible. His body, shaped by the multiple teachers he hired through the years, hurts in a way he never thought possible, and has been like that ever since he first went to the training mats to face Bruce.

He knows the pain is necessary, what he learns there could be the difference between life or death (his eyes never fail to go to Jason’s suit, his altar, where he, as his whorshipper, would always go ask for strength and courage), but it's hard to remember his purpose for being there when he goes to bed each night with aching limbs.

Still, he endures.

This last week has been both harder than any other, and the best he’s ever had. The first, because a full on out gang war had forced him, Dick and Bruce to work overtime, going out every night for twice their usual hours (thank god for spring break). The second, because to save time and strength, he’d been allowed to stay the night at the manor with them.

He can’t believe how nice it is to have breakfast with someone. Sure, they have it at like three pm, but still. The pained body was so, so worth this.

When they caught their last perps, all tied up and pretty for the GCPD, Tim was simultaneously absolutely beat and the happiest he’s been.

Batman puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, saying ‘let’s go home, Robin’, and he thinks for a moment he’s dreaming again.

He actually sleeps a bit, on the Batmobile trip. Beyond tired, feels his body being raised and then lowered again in a soft surface, something warm over his chest, and then lights out again.

When he wakes up the next morning, he’s at Drake Manor. The breakfast table is empty, the hallways colder than he remembered, and he wishes last night had actually been a dream. It would hurt less, if it had been all in his imagination; instead, he has to live with the knowledge of being so close, yet so far.

Not for the first time, he wishes ‘home’ were a different place.

----.----

He sighs, dropping his suitcase uncaringly. Anything important is on his phone anyway, who gives a fuck. Certainly not an overworked seventeen year old kid who’s just getting back after a long day. 

The place was clean, spacious and with a modern decoration style he kinda likes. The mechanic fishes certainly give it a nice touch, and the underground nerd cave he built for himself is the cherry on top- bottom, whatever.

It’s a nice house. A place he made for himself, to come back to. With scanners that automatically alert him if some sneaky ninja plants a bug, or a snoopy family member was sniffing around for his toys. He knows everything that happens here, in this little kingdom he built from scratch.

Of course, there are some itty bitty problems with it. Not the layout itself, that one was a dream came true, and no security issue either: all of Ra’s thwarted attempts at having his people breaking in confirmed how tight it was.

But, for some reason, the thermostat didn’t seem to work. It was always way too cold. 

The soundproof walls were good at keeping his secrets under wraps, but they also made it seem so unnaturally quiet, it gave him the creeps.

No table in sight. Not that he needed one, he shrugs. Lunch he eats outside, at the office. Dinner is a quick thing, a sandwich while he gets ready for patrol or some other snack while he types away at his computer. Breakfast… he doesn’t know why, but he never feels right when eating it, so he skips it more often than not.

Sighing again, he falls face first into his absurdly pricey couch. Blindly patting the coffee table until he finds the blanket he always keeps there, he thinks about taking a lil nap. He didn’t sleep last night (or the one before that), so it feels like he’s earned this break.

Decision made, Tim takes his phone out of the secret pocket in his coat and selects the app that makes background noise. He always sleeps better with it.

Yeah. This is a nice, comfortable place.

Too bad it’s not home.

-I just want to go home -he whispers to himself before letting unconsciousness claim him. 

If asked, he’d said the break in his voice was a yawn and not a sob.

----.----

When he wakes up, it’s to noise all around him. That alone puts him on guard so fast he would have pulled a muscle, if he were anyone else. As a Bat-trained vigilante though, he just tensed before opening his eyes to analyze his surroundings.

This… wasn’t his place, where he distinctly remembers falling asleep, face down on his couch. 

This was Titans Tower. Was he losing track of time? Had he been on a fight and got hit on the head? 

-Hey, you’re awake -Kon’s head poked out of the kitchen area, smiling as he floated all the way to where Tim was lying, on the living room’s couch.

The sight of his friend was enough to loosen his muscles. Still unsure but immediately comfortable he sat up straight and looked around. He could hear Bart and Cassie bickering on the background, probably the kitchen, Greta’s laughter coming to him from the same place, and those were Anita’s shoes and Cissie’s backpack near the elevator.

The first two and Kon, he could get. They were all Titans. But the three girls? They were retired, so what…

-Hey, boy wonder, let your brain take a break. I can hear you thinking from here and it’s giving me a headache -the super joked, landing by Tim’s side and poking his forehead lightly.

-That’s because you never think, you aren’t used to it -he fires back automatically. Then, a slow blink-  What are the girls doing here? What am I doing here? Last thing I remember I was… at the Perch. Sleeping.

-Yeah, and what a deep sleep that was. Been pulling all nighters, haven’t you? -his best friend shook his head, beyond giving Tim a disappointed look. They knew each other way too much to be surprised by their respective bad habits- you didn’t even flinch when I wrapped you up in TTK and flew you here. And about the girls, I told Cassie and Bart I was gonna pick you up, and they decided to make a thing out of this and went to bring them here, just to hang out. Like back in the days, you know?

The mention of their Young Justice times never failed to give Tim a heartache, but this time it just made him feel warm. 

He tried to look stern, but the smile he could feel growing on his lips against his will probably ruined it.

-But why did you? Bring me here, I mean.

Kon tilted his head, visibly confused.

-What do you mean? I heard you. You said you wanted to go home.

Something deep and frozen inside him abruptly melted, like it was hit by a flamethrower. The intensity brought tears to his eyes, body shaking uncontrollably as he bent over himself, hands clutching the opposite arm tightly, as if trying to hold himself in one piece.

Kon’s arms were around him in an instant, worried shouts piercing his ears as he plastered the smaller vigilante to his chest, unthinkingly helping him keep his broken pieces together. The warmth from his best friend’s body served as a welder, and Tim could finally breathe without the fear of breaking apart.

-Tim? Fuck, what’s wrong? Are you okay?! Here, dude, I got you.

-Kon? What is i- fuck, what did you do? Hey, Tim!

-Rob? Oh my god he’s crying, why is he crying!

The voices came closer, surrounding him from all directions as multiple hands touched him in an attempt to comfort.

It was too much, too warm, too bright.

He hoped it’d never end.

-I just…

Everyone stopped talking. His voice was broken by sobs, but he sounded happier than they had ever heard him.

-I’m just happy I’m finally home.

[exsqueeze-me]

Bardock sfw alphabet plzz

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He's not ridiculously affectionate, but he does have his soft moments. He will let you hug and dote on him all you want, but unless you are alone, he won't reciprocate. He's much more affectionate when it's just the two of you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Honestly, if you're his best buddy, you're probably his favorite training partner too. He's always up to spar with you. He's also super protective. Folks better think twice before messing with his training buddy.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He's absolutely a secret cuddle bug. He will never in a million years admit it to anyone, but he loves holding you close to him for hours on end.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He's not really into 'settling down'. He can't cook to save his life, so I wouldn't let him anywhere near a kitchen. He also is shit at cleaning. Like, he will try, but its gonna look just as dirty as it was before once he's done.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would just up and leave. If he's at the point where he is ready to call it off with you, then he's not going to give you any sort of warning. You'll just wake up one morning and it'll be like he was never there in the first place.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He will bond you, but that's about it. He won't do the ceremony no matter how much you pester him. He sees no point in it.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

It depends on his mate. If his mate is strong and able to handle him being a bit rough around them, then he will be. If his mate is frail or substantially weaker than him, he's not gonna take any chances hurting them.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes hugs, but not in public. If you hug him in front of anyone, he won't really stop you, but he might groan and complain a bit. In private, hugs usually either turn into a cuddling session, or they turn into something a bit dirtier.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He doesn't really say it. He would rather show you how much he loves you. But if you say it to him, he'll give you a gruff 'you too'.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Foaming at the mouth. He won't make a big scene about it in public, but you can see the rage building. If he gets the chance, he's gonna make them think twice about flirting with his mate again. You're also in for the ride of your life when you get home.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He might give you a soft kiss every here and there, but usually kisses with him lead to the bedroom.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He definitely wants kids with his mate. But beware that he's gonna want to train them to fight as soon as they can walk. He'll hold off if you tell him to, but he won't be happy about it.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's a clinger, so you aren't getting up til he gets up. Even after he wakes up, he's gonna keep you there for a bit. He's a soft-ish boi in the morning.. mostly.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Honestly, he's just ready to get to sleep. If you and him aren't fucking before bed, he's just gonna pull you in his arms, close his eyes, and tell you goodnight.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You actually might never know a lot of things about him. It's not that he's unwilling to tell you, it's that he just doesn't feel like its necessary. He may tell you if you ask, but he won't really outright tell you much.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He's patient, but it's not really one of his virtues. He can deal with quite a bit before he loses his shit, but it depends on the situation.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He tries to remember certain things, but if it's not really important, then it dosen't really stick. Like, he won't really remember your birthday, but if you or someone else brings it up, he'll take you out for the day and let you enjoy yourself.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Probably the day he bonded you. He doesn't do things like that lightly, so it was a pretty big thing.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

If anyone or anything gets a hair up their ass and decides to try and hurt you, they're not gonna make it too far. Bardock is ready to blast that ass real fast. Noone is getting to you unless they get past him first.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Not much. He might toss you the occasional gift, but its usually something like Saiyan armour or the head of a recently killed enemy. Ya know, romantic stuff.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His protectiveness and possessiveness come at a price. That price being he's gonna be aggressive with anyone he doesn't know. If he hasn't been introduced to them before and doesn't know if they're okay, he doesn't like them.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Honestly couldn't care less. Like he's hot and he knows it, but he also doesn't care about appearances. In his eyes, strength and loyalty are all that matters.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

It depends. If he's claimed you as a mate but hasn't bonded you yet, then he can move on with his life pretty easy. If you were bonded, then it would be a hard hit. He wouldn't outwardly show it, but he would be a tad more aggressive to anyone he crossed paths with after that.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He absolutely adores having his tail pet. Like, he had to trust you with his life to let you near it, but once you get the opportunity, don't waste it. If you pet the fluffy appendage just right, you might hear him purr.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Dishonesty or disloyalty. He just doesn't want to be around people he can't trust. He hates having to constantly watch his back against the people that he should be able to call comrades.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He's probably hella nice to sleep with tbh. He clings to you and snores softly. But it's not, like, bad. It's more like a soft, consistent white noise.

[angelicthor]

billion dollar man - part 6

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary:  after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship, smut, slight angst, mentions of ptsd

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist

a/n: feedback is always appreciated! 

It had been a few weeks since you had signed the contract at Tony’s apartment and your relationship with him had officially began and you were honestly loving every minute of it. The stress of money worries no longer affected you; all your bills were paid on time, you never went into your overdraft anymore, and Tony had even paid off your remaining student debt, although that was after you had given him one of the best blowjobs of his life.

His words, not yours.

Tony’s head fell back against couch as he buried his fingers in your hair, stuttering out curses as your head bobbed up and down his hard cock, tongue laving attention to his sensitive head and lapping up the beads of pre-cum gathering on the tip. Your hand pumped the base that couldn’t fit in your mouth, both working together to bring Tony closer and closer to his end.

His cock started to twitch in your mouth signalling his impending orgasm but before he could paint your tongue with his cum, you pulled off of his length, hand only slightly gripping him leaving him completely on the edge as you grinned up at him from between his legs.

Tony’s head snapped up from where it was resting, fingers tightening in your hair to try and bring your mouth back down on his cock and groaning when you refused to move. He stared down at you incredulously, unbelieving what you had just done to him.

“You can’t be serious?” He panted out, brows quirking as you offered him a saccharine-sweet smile.

You giggled as you pressed soft kisses along his length, “Just trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

You brought Tony to the edge five more times; tongue tracing every inch of his hot cock that it could reach, your saliva coating his entire length and dripping down onto his balls, the prominent vein on the underside of his cock pulsing with his desperate need to find release and Tony was a complete mess above you.

His shirt was unbuttoned but still on, giving you a clear view of his chest and stomach that were shinning with a light sheen of sweat, his trousers and boxers were tugged down to his thighs, enough to free his cock to you and you hadn’t bothered discarding them the rest of the way once you had what you wanted. His normally warm brown eyes were lost to his blazing black pupils, the lust burning so hot within them you felt yourself melt at the sight, his bottom lip swollen and red from where he had been biting down on it in an attempt to hold in his cries.

After deciding that he had been pushed far enough, you took him back into your mouth, lips tight around his throbbing cock as you pushed yourself down until he hit the back of your throat, sucking harshly as he released on your tongue, letting out a guttural groan as his hips lightly thrust into your mouth as you licked him clean.

You pulled off his softening dick with a pop, licking your lips as you crawled onto his lap and nuzzled into his neck, pressing gentle kisses there and feeling his hammering heartbeat under your lips. Tony lay spent on the couch, limbs limp as he came down from his high, letting out a satisfied sigh when your fingers started to trace patterns on his chest.

“Best. Head. Ever.” He exclaimed through ragged breaths, a dopey grin on his face as he ran a hand through his tousled hair.

You woke the next morning with a pleasant ache present in every muscle of your body; after Tony had recovered he had lifted you from his lap and practically sprinted to his bedroom to return to favour, keeping you awake until the early hours of the morning – not that you were complaining of course.

The sound of your phone ringing brought you out of your sleepy daze, reaching over to answer with a groggy voice and wondering who the hell would be calling you this early. Your confusion only mounted when the person on the line informed you they were from the federal student aid, confirming with you that your remaining student debt had been all paid off, clicking off and leaving you speechless as you processed what had just happened.

 It wasn’t just the fact that money was no longer a worry anymore that you had to get used to, no, you had to adapt to the whole new lifestyle you were leading. Before you met Tony, you’d struggle to fill your fridge and now you were dinning out most days at some of the most elite restaurants in New York City, all your clothes were now designer, and you frequently frequented high-end beauty salons, normally with Natasha.

Your budding friendship with Natasha had come as a bit of a shock to you, for Tony and the rest of his group of friends it had come as a down-right scandal but you honestly couldn’t care in the least, Natasha was fast becoming one of your closest friends, regardless of your rocky start, and you treasured her dearly. She could go from recommending a new shade of lipstick, to giving you sex tips, to giving you unparalleled life advice all in one breath.

Whenever Tony was busy with work and you were bored out of your mind waiting for him, you could always count on Nat to whisk you away to an impromptu nail appointment or facial session. If you were ever stressed, then she’d take you to the best cafés to order coffee and work through whatever was bugging you.

And this new-found friendship worked both ways too, of course; whenever the wedding planning got too much, you’d be there to help her work through her ideas. If condescending businessmen tried to talk down to her, you were there to hold her back from doing something regrettable, shooing them away with a flick of your hair and a final jab at their expense.

You’d discovered that Nat had trouble trusting people – which was probably why everyone else was so shocked at your budding friendship with the redhead – but she trusted you and in that trust, she had found a true friend. Honestly, part of you believed that before you came along Nat was lonely, sure she had Sam and the rest of the boys but she didn’t have a girlfriend who was there for her through thick and thin, something you thought she secretly craved.  

Every one of Tony’s friends had been nothing but welcoming to you; Sam was unbelievably funny, his never-ending banter with Bucky the source of many of your happy-tears but he also had such a sweet-side to him and you could see why he and Nat worked so well together. They complimented each other perfectly; bringing out what the other tried to hide from the rest of the world.

Steve was a perfect gentlemen, there was no doubt about it, but once he came out of his shell you saw just how reckless he could be, always up for doing the most ridiculous stunts with Sam and Bucky.

Like the time they decided to have a diving contest into the rooftop pool at the Gansevoort Hotel. From the top of the poolside bar that was over 20 feet high. Whilst they were still in their suits.

How they had even gotten up there was a mystery to you but you and Nat were literally forced to talk them down, all while Tony complained that you should let them at least try as he stood there with his phone out ready to capture the footage.

Bucky was, well, Bucky. A huge flirt if ever you’d met one – much to Tony’s annoyance – but something didn’t feel sincere about it. Not in a bad way of course, just like he was trying too hard to come onto you, especially when there were women falling at his feet left right and centre. But with a jawline like his you couldn’t really blame them. You figured that he continued his incessant flirting with you just to get a rise out of Tony, not that you minded; usually after Bucky had spent an evening loudly complimenting every single thing about you, Tony would drag you back to his place and fuck you so hard you’d forget just who the hell Bucky was.

That was definitely one the most amazing benefits of this relationship; to say Tony Stark was skilled in the bedroom was most certainly an understatement. The man seemed to have a never-ending list of skills: his tongue, his hands, his lips, his cock – you were certain he must have been crafted by some sort of sex-crazed doctor Frankenstein who only used body parts from the most skilled porn stars in the world.

And his stamina, Tony may have been slightly older than you but he sure as hell wasn’t slowing down any time soon. You were certain that you’d never been more sexually satisfied in your whole life than you had been this past few weeks and part of you worried that he may have gone and ruined you for every other man out there, but that was a problem for future you.

Of course, there were some downsides to this arrangement; you found yourself often in the spotlight of trashy gossip magazines and Babble Babe who were doing everything to try and pick yours and Tony’s relationship apart, they commented on every tiny detail about you and sometimes it got a little much, your insecurities would make themselves known and you’d need to be reminded by Tony or Nat just how wrong they were, that it was just trash journalism that only made sales by how malicious they could be.

Not only was paparazzi and sleazy journalists a common occurrence for you now but Wanda still hadn’t warmed up to the idea of you and Tony, even though you repeatedly told her everything was going great between you. Wanda was only looking out for you, you knew that, and after your last boyfriend you could understand why she was being so protective, especially considering Tony’s reputation.

She was simply scared that a day would come where all this would blow up in your face but for the sake of your friendship, you’d both agreed to let the subject drop. However, whenever you came back to your apartment after a night at Tony’s and ran into Wanda in the hall as she made her way to work, she was always unsuccessful in hiding the worry shinning in her eyes.

Wanda’s concern wasn’t the only thing you had to grow accustomed to, as much as you told yourself it wasn’t your place, you couldn’t help the nagging voice in your head that told you something wasn’t quite right with Tony. Whenever you two went out he was all smirks and one-liners, keeping up his Tony Stark reputation for being the smartest man in any room and laughing at every joke told to him but as you were starting to spend more time just the two of you, you were beginning to see that there was something he was hiding.

Regardless of how early you woke up, Tony wouldn’t be anywhere to be seen, you began to wonder if he slept at all and if the growing circles under his eyes were any answer, however long he did manage to sleep wasn’t enough.

Then there was the time you were watching some movie about a bomb disposal unit in the Iraq war after a lazy day spent doing not much together; the moment the first explosion sounded on screen his relaxed composure became completely rigid and you could hear his heart racing where you head was resting on his chest. That gave you all the indication you needed to realise that Tony had not yet recovered from the attack in Afghanistan but you didn’t want to push him on the matter, what worried you the most was he wasn’t talking to anyone about it – not Happy, or Pepper, or Rhodey, or a therapist.

It was when he flinched at the second explosion on the screen that you asked him to turn the movie off, telling him it wasn’t your kind of thing and you were kind of bored. If he knew what you were doing, he didn’t let on, instead quickly turning the tv screen off before leading you to his bedroom.

Unlike most of your exploits with Tony, this was less about passion and more about comfort, the way he clung to you as if you were the only thing grounding him and you couldn’t help but want to protect him from everything outside of his bedroom walls.

 You walked backwards into the bedroom, Tony’s arms wrapped tightly around you as he buried his face in your neck littering kisses there, working his way up to your lips before stealing your breath away in a desperate kiss. When the need for air became too much, Tony pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

You could see the slight furrow in his brows, the distressed look in his eyes as he pulled you even closer to him.

“Please.”

That simple plea muttered against your lips was enough for you to completely surrender yourself to him, you’d do whatever you needed to in that moment to make sure Tony would be ok, even if that meant he only felt better for even a few temporary moments.

He stripped you from your clothes, his joining the pile only seconds later before he pushed you back on the bed, crawling on top of you and wasting no time in thrusting into your wet heat, hips rolling against yours as he buried his face in your chest. Your back arched as he drove you closer and closer to your end, hitching your leg higher on his waist to open yourself more to him, clawing at his back as you moaned out your pleasure.

His cock repeatedly hit that spot inside you that made you see stars and you came with a shout, pulling him over the edge with you as you clenched around his cock, his hips stuttered into yours a few final times before his cum filled the condom, feeling the vibrations of his groans against your breasts as he did.  

Neither of you moved as you came down from your highs, Tony staying firmly put on top of you and you soon realised that he didn’t want to pull away from you, so instead of moving you began to trail your fingers up and down his back with a featherlight touch, noticing how tense the muscles were there even though he’d just orgasmed.

You were curling his short strands of hair around your fingers when you heard his even breathing and noticed that he had drifted off to sleep, you joining him shortly after, the weight of Tony still laying on you an odd comfort.

When you woke the next morning, Tony was in the kitchen pulling food out of the various bags he’d had delivered and as cheery as ever, acting like last night hadn’t happened at all and you knew that the rare moment of vulnerability was not something he wanted to dwell on or see repeated and so you went on like he did: as if it had never happened.

 You shook the thought from your mind as you checked over the package that had just been delivered to you, courtesy of Tony of course. You two had to attended yet another banquet tonight but he had told you he had something special he had wanted you to wear and that it would be delivered today along with your copy of the contract you’d signed.

Filling the document away with all your other important files, you moved back to the pink box on your coffee table, the silky bow begging you to pull on it an unravel yet another gift Tony had bestowed to you.

Even with all the money Tony paid you monthly and the fact that all your outings together were paid by him, Tony still showered you with gifts; jewellery, clothes, spa-days, anything and everything you could possibly think off. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought Tony liked spoiling you.

Pulling he lid off the box and throwing it aside, you saw a pair of black panties inside, a note placed on the top that was obviously from Tony.

Wear these tonight – no cheating. T x

No cheating? What the hell did that mean?

Your brows furrowed when you plucked the panties from the box, confused at how heavy they felt until you realised just what he was planning, feeling the bulge of the vibrator that was secured in the crotch. You checked the box for the remote and coming up short figured that he must have kept it with him.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you pondered over the possibilities that tonight could hold, heat burning your cheeks as you shook your head in disbelief. Of course he would plan something like this.

You took the panties into your room, throwing them on the bed for later as you went to shower. Tonight was most certainly going to be a long night.

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

[sickjoonie]

can we pleaseee get a fic about that taekook hc where they binged on fast food and got food poisoning together?

this was taehyung’s greatest idea. no other ideas would rank even close to the brilliancy of this.

jungkook was currently devouring his meal, eating at a pace that might be a bit concerning. the lone worker at the restaurant kept eyeing them in concern. jungkook mentally praised taehyung for his genius brain, his taste buds in heaven.

it was currently 3AM and the two were sat in a 24 hour fast food restaurant. they were also cheating on their diets by way too many calories to count.

jungkook didn’t give a single fuck. he was a growing boy (he was 21) and his body needed the calories. he was sick of balanced meals and counting every calorie he had.  when taehyung woke him up and told him his idea, jungkook had gotten up at record speed.

across from him, taehyung moaned as he took another bite of his food.

“i think this is what heaven tastes like,” jungkook remarked between mouthfuls of food.

taehyung nodded in agreement. compared to their current regulated diets, this was a huge step up. nothing was portioned or organic. instead it was all grease and carbs and things that they probably shouldn’t be eating, but would eat anyways.

the two quickly polished off their food, leaving empty cartons and food stains. jungkook leaned back against the chair, resting a hand on his stomach. he sighed, satisfy with his sacrifice in his diet. he was quite full; his stomach was bloated and he was thankful that he was only wearing sweatpants.

across from him, taehyung burped, his own stomach just as bloated and full as jungkook’s.

sneaking out to cheat their strict diet was totally worth it, jungkook concluded. they should do it more often, in his opinion.

the two sat in silence as their stomachs slowly began to settle. jungkook could feel a food coma coming on, his eyes beginning to droop. he heard taehyung laugh from across the table as he yawned, his body suddenly reminding him that it was very early in the morning and he should not be awake at the moment.

“come on sleepyhead, let’s get you home,” taehyung teased, gathering up their garbage.

jungkook helped him, his body feeling like it was loaded down with weights. he sleepily followed taehyung out the restaurant, clinging onto his arm for support. he let taehyung guide him back to their dorm and eventually into his bed.

taehyung helped him in bed, pulling the comforters over jungkook. before he was even fully out the door, jungkook had fallen asleep.

-

normally, it took a lot to get jungkook up. when he was sick, it was pretty much impossible to get him going.

so when seokjin shook him awake a few hours later and his stomach gave a startling cramp, jungkook had no plans to move. he shoved seokjin’s hand off his shoulder and curled up on his side, hugging his stomach.

“come on, let’s get going jungkook,” seokjin urged, pulling back the blanket.

the cold air hit jungkook and he winced. still, he refused to move. he stayed curled up and clutched his stomach. it was as bloated as when he had first left the restaurant. he felt a pressure in his chest before giving a sickly burp.

“oh fuck,” seokjin winced, “not you too.”

jungkook instantly felt guilty, both for sneaking out and then waking up with an upset stomach. he whimpered. “i’m sorry hyung.”

seokjin quickly soothed jungkook, brushing his hair out of his face. “no need to apologize, kookie. let’s get you moved to the living room, okay?”

jungkook really didn’t want to move, but he also didn’t want to be any more of an inconvenience. guilt was now eating at his stomach alongside the pain. so he let seokjin drag him feet and guide him down to the living room, each step sending an uncomfortable wave of nausea rolling through his stomach.

when he got to the living room, he saw why seokjin had sworn when he found out jungkook was sick.

there on the end of the couch, curled up in a ball with yoongi standing in front of him and hugging his stomach, was taehyung. jungkook felt his heart drop, knowing what had happened.

it was the food they had ate only a few hours ago.

jungkook made a beeline for taehyung, not needing any guidance from seokjin. taehyung looked up at jungkook, his skin pale and face puffy. neither said anything, but both knew what went unspoken. taehyung shifted so jungkook could lay his head in his lap, still keeping an arm wrapped around his stomach.

“i’ll grab another trash can,” jungkook heard yoongi say. jungkook closed his eyes and hides his face in taehyung’s thighs, involuntarily whimpering as a particularly strong cramp seized his stomach muscles.

seokjin frowned at the two sick maknaes. he checked their foreheads for temperatures, but couldn’t feel any. if it wasn’t a bug, what possibly could it be? they all ate the same food, wouldn’t they all be sick if it had been bad then?

yoongi returned with a second trash bin, settling it next to the first one brought out for taehyung. just in time too, as jungkook could feel his stomach contents fighting to come up with each breathe he took. he was slowly losing against the inevitable.

seokjin moved forward, bringing one of the trash cans with him. “come on, kookie, you need to sit up. i don’t think taehyung will appreciate you being sick in his lap.” he pulled jungkook up, holding the trash can nearby just in case the movement proved too much.

jungkook swallowed back bile as he sat up, staring hard at a single spot on the wall. he felt seokjin push the cold metal of a trash can into his hands.

next to him, taehyung leaned over his own trash can too. he had a feeling once jungkook was sent over the edge, his stomach would be gone too. he didn’t fight the feeling, instead hanging his head directly over the trash can, staring down the meager contents inside of it. he had started hiccuping, his body hinting at what was to come.

minutes passed agonizingly slow. seokjin waited, ignoring the chaos of the other members who were scrambling to figure out their new schedule.

jungkook gave a loud burp that quickly turned into a heave, his face disappearing into the trash can. it was loud and unpleasant; seokjin could feel his own stomach drop in sympathy.

it was no surprise that seconds later taehyung started puking too.

seokjin rubbed jungkook’s back, letting yoongi take care of taehyung. the maknae had always been a violent vomiter, his whole body reeling with the force of it.

jungkook felt like he was being put through hell, at least his insides were. he could barely catch his breath between rounds of vomiting, his lungs aching for air. his throat burned and his eyes were watering from the acid. if he could go back and undo their trip to the restaurant, he’d do it in an instant.

jungkook was left panting, choking for air when his stomach stopped producing vomit. unfortunately, a loud retch from taehyung set his stomach off once again and he was left dry heaving.

by the time the two had managed to get their stomach settled, the other members had come in and namjoon had brought them waters. their new schedule had finally been planned out.

after rinsing out his mouth with the water, jungkook collapsed against taehyung, his body quivering from all the vomiting. his stomach still felt like trash. he felt taehyung squeeze his hand.

looking up at their hyungs, it was obvious that whatever news they got wasn’t good. jimin looked two seconds away from crying and namjoon had a dad frown on his face.

“they won’t let any of us stay back with them,” namjoon broke the news. “we all have to go to practice as soon as possible. they said they can’t afford any more of us missing practice; one of us was bad enough.”

seokjin was furious. “someone needs to take care of them! can’t we reschedule something?”

namjoon shook his head. “we argued for a good thirty minutes on this, hyung. they won’t budge.”

seokjin was about to fight back when jimin spoke up. “the best we can do is give them everything they need to care for themselves. i know we all wanna stay behind and care for them but…” jimin trailed off, looking more upset by the minute.

seokjin knew not to push it and risk making jimin cry. he obviously had tried to convince them to let him stay back and failed.

jungkook groaned, burying his face in taehyung’s shirt. his stomach felt horrible and he imagined taehyung’s didn’t feel much better.

“we’ll watch over each other, right jungkook?” taehyung’s voice was raspy from vomiting.

jungkook nodded, though he didn’t feel quite like he could take care of taehyung at the moment.

taehyung’s hand came up to rest in jungkook’s hair, pulling lightly at the strands. the sounds of the other members rushing to get everything done so they could leave faded to a dull buzz of background noise, jungkook too focused on how nauseas he was to care about what was happening.

“if anything gets worse, text us, okay? we’ll find a way to get home,” jimin instructed them before leaving to get in the van.

hoseok walked up to them, the last one to leave. “aish, you guys look terrible.” he gave both of them kisses on their hair, rubbing jungkook’s back a little. “i hope your tummies feel better soon. i’ll come home as soon as i can.”

with that, hoseok left the room. the two were alone for the first time since the chaos of the morning began.

jungkook could hear taehyung’s stomach gurgling. taehyung’s stomach only ever got talkative when he was sick, so it was no surprise to him that he could hear it so clearly.

jungkook felt taehyung’s chest rise and fall with a sigh, followed by a quiet moan.

“it was the food we ate, wasn’t it?” jungkook mumbled.

“i think so,” taehyung agreed, hand on his stomach. “my stomach hurts so much, kook ah. i didn’t know food could make me feel so sick.”

jungkook groaned in agreement, feeling his own stomach cramp. “we ate so much too, ugh.” he grimaced then belched.

“i just wanna sleep until my belly decides to be nice again.”

jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, adjusting so he was even closer to taehyung. his arms hugged his stomach, one hand rubbing slowly over it. the silence was filled with sickly gurgles and burps from the both of them, their stomachs never quite settling down.

jungkook managed to drift off a bit, concentrating on the pattern of taehyung’s breathing and warmth against him.

-

jungkook woke up and instantly started gagging, startling himself awake. he scrambled to get upright before he was keeling over a trash can, coughing and gagging as his stomach revolted.

he felt his whole body shake with exertion as he vomited. his senses still felt half underwater, having been dragged so abruptly out of sleep. he coughed in between retches, trying to catch his breath and steady himself.

when he finally managed to calm down, he noticed that taehyung was gone. confused and lonely, jungkook willed what literally energy he had left to drag himself down the hall to the bathroom.

on the floor against the cold tiles, taehyung was curled up and staring dismally at the toilet. his eyes moved to jungkook, but otherwise he didn’t move.

“i didn’t wanna wake you, so i came here to puke,” taehyung explained.

jungkook sat next to him, reaching over and grabbing his hand. “i woke up vomiting and you weren’t there.”

taehyung gave a tiny smile, barely noticeable pass the haze of pain. “sorry, kook ah. my stomach’s really been giving me problems.”

“do you think you’re gonna vomit anymore?” jungkook wasn’t sure if he could handle being in the same room if taehyung started throwing up again.

taehyung hesitated, but eventually nodded. “i think i’m done, at least for now.” he slowly sat up, one hand keeping to his stomach.

“let’s go back to the couch then, it’s much more comfortable there.” jungkook helped him stand up, wincing as his stomach protested at the movement. they made their way slowly back to the living room, both of them cautious over their sensitive stomachs.

taehyung laid down and opened up his arms. jungkook gratefully settled in them, hiding his face in the crook of taehyung’s neck.

“promise you won’t get sick on me?” taehyung teased, his hand gently tracing up and down jungkook’s back.

jungkook hummed. “no promises.” he was only half joking; his stomach was being quite unpredictable at the moment and he didn’t know whether it would settle or send him for another round of vomiting.

taehyung didn’t say anything, feeling about the same. the presence of each other, even if they were sweaty and sick and generally not feeling good at all, helped calm the other. the thought that taehyung was getting sick alongside him oddly enough made jungkook feel more calm.

taehyung’s hands switched to playing with the hair on jungkook’s neck, massaging lightly to help the tense boy. jungkook gave a small, content sigh in appreciation of the gesture and how good it felt in contrast to everything else.

his body jolted with a loud hiccup. jungkook winced at the movement, feeling his stomach stir and gurgle in warning. his body didn’t seem to care about the warning his stomach was giving, instead causing to hiccup repeatedly.

taehyung couldn’t help but find it adorable. he should have probably been concerned that jungkook might puke, but it was hard to think about that with how small and cute jungkook’s hiccups were.

“you’re too cute, kook ah,” taehyung whined, patting lightly at the younger’s pack.

jungkook hiccuped and groaned. “shut up, i can’t help it.”

“i know. it’s still cute though.” he paused. “do you feel like you’re going to vomit?”

jungkook’s stomach felt restless, but it would stay put for the time being. that was all jungkook needed in the moment. “no, not right now.”

taehyung relaxed a bit at that. he wasn’t nauseous, but his stomach was cramping horribly.

jungkook shifted a little, moving so his face was rested over taehyung’s heart. his body felt shaky, exhausted from the vomiting. “think i’m gonna try to nap again.”

“same.” taehyung yawned, eyes falling shut. “i’m so tired.”

jungkook hummed in agreement. he could hear taehyung’s heartbeat through his shirt, steady and comforting to him. he followed the beat in his mind until he drifted off, forgetting about his upset belly.

-

jungkook stirred slowly from his sleep, slowly becoming more and more aware of how nauseous he felt. taehyung was still warm underneath him and he could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, indicating he was still asleep.

jungkook stayed painfully still. he didn’t want to throw up again, not after how violent it had been. yet his stomach didn’t care; there was something bad in it and it wanted out.

jungkook sat up and brought a trash can close, dangling his head over it. he stared at the trash can and waited for the inevitable, feeling his stomach gurgle.

he gagged and brought up saliva, spitting it in the trash can. he could hear himself breathing heavily, trying to work through the nausea. he heaved, but was unproductive in bringing anything up.

he bent over more, grasping onto the edge of the trash can before dry heaving some more. nothing was coming up; his stomach felt empty and sore, yet still nauseous.

a warm hand rested on his back. taehyung had been woken up from his retching. he was about to apologize before he heaved once again, bringing up stomach bile.

jungkook spat into the trash can as the nausea resided, deciding that the fight wasn’t worth it anymore. tears had formed at his eyes.

“you’re okay, kookie. just breath,” taehyung comforted.

jungkook sat in the same position, unsure of where his stomach was going. slowly, he leaned back and eventually nestled himself against taehyung. he groaned, closing his eyes.

“we are never going there again,” jungkook whined. “my stomach is trying to kill me.”

taehyung nodded in agreement. “it wasn’t worth the pain.” his hand moved to under jungkook’s shirt, rubbing softly at the bloated skin there.

jungkook relaxed under taehyung’s touch, moaning as he worked over his sore belly. “how are we gonna explain this to the others?”

taehyung shrugged. “we could tell the truth. i think getting food poisoning is enough of a punishment that they’ll leave us alone.”

jungkook wasn’t too sure about that, remembering the last time seokjin had caught him breaking his diet. the eldest hadn’t let him live down even now. “i think seokjin would kill us, but only after we’ve finished being sick.”

taehyung huffed out a laugh. “he would, he’s that extra. maybe jimin will save us, take pity on us and our poor bellies.”

“i’m glad you’re here, at least,” jungkook shyly admitted. “i would have been much worse without you.”

taehyung smiled, but it melted into a wince as he gave a sick burp. his hand moved from jungkook’s stomach back to his own, grabbing at the sore skin.

jungkook felt a pang of sympathy. he reached his own hand over and gently pushed taehyung’s hand away, replacing with his own and returning the favor of rubbing his belly. taehyung was much more vocal about it, giving soft groans as jungkook eased the ache.

“thank you, kook ah. i don’t know what i would have done without you,” taehyung murmured.

jungkook smiled. “we’ll get through this together.”

-

(they did in fact end up admitting what had made them sick. seokjin had forgiven them, but only after the two made him his favorite food and made him cheat on his own diet).

[forestwater87]

Campbell's crew was legendary. And she'd heard stories of his closest associates.

The strange old man who'd had a million-dollar bounty on his head for the last 21 years, who with a bad eye and a missing hand was somehow unkillable.

The little boy who always seemed to be in the right place at the right time and for not a second longer. He'd never been identified successfully, so everyone called him Ghost.

The bodyguard who stayed plastered to Campbell's side, who never seemed to speak. Gwen had laughed when she'd first heard he was known as the Platypus, but no one else had.

And David Ethan Greenwood. Davey to his friends.

Gwen Santos had been following him for three days, and she still didn't know why anyone would bother paying to kill him.

She'd been following him for three days, and she still didn't know why anyone would bother paying to kill him.

Hell, he'd almost done her job for her at least twice. First he'd tripped over his feet and nearly catapulted himself down a set of stairs, only managing to catch himself by clinging to the railing and scrabbling against the wall with his feet like an overturned bug. Barely ten minutes later he'd rushed into traffic to rescue a pigeon that didn't seem able to fly; he'd then sat down on the sidewalk and fed it scraps of his lunch for almost half an hour until it hopped away.

Gwen pushed up her sunglasses, leaning against the side of a bus stop and flipping through her notes. Possible informant, she'd been told. Strong connections to Campbell. Regularly seen with high-level CC associates. Function unknown.

She didn't make it a habit to familiarize herself with the gangs in Lilac; mercenaries who played favorites didn't stick around long, and in general the less she knew the better. But it was hard to avoid Cameron Campbell's crew, they were everywhere; they'd all but locked down the drug and weapons markets for the entire city — and according to rumors, most of the eastern seaboard. (Fuck, the gun in her jacket pocket had come from Campbell's people.)

And she'd heard stories about his closest associates.

The strange old man who'd had a million-dollar bounty on his head for the last twenty-one years, who with a bad eye and a missing hand was somehow unkillable. (Gwen herself had taken a shot at the bounty when she'd first moved to the city, young(er) and cocky and fresh off a heist that had left her armed to the teeth. She'd escaped with a broken wrist, some cracked ribs, and a scar that sliced through her left nostril and twisted her lips into a permanent snarl.) Hook was Campbell's right-hand man, had been since the explosive birth of the crew.

The little boy who always seemed to be in the right place at the right time and not for a second longer; if there was a heist or shootout, inevitably it would come out that someone had noticed a child wandering around just a few hours earlier. No one could ever say what he'd done, exactly, but he was always there and then gone just as fast: a flash of golden hair, a bright neon jacket and light-up shoes. And yet he'd never been identified successfully, in pictures or lineups or security cameras (the eye was drawn immediately to those clothes), so everyone called him Ghost.

The bodyguard who stayed plastered to Campbell's side, who never seemed to speak — no one knew if he even could — and whose eyes were always hidden by locks of mangy brown hair, except for a beak-like nose that overwhelmed the rest of his face. Gwen had laughed when she'd first heard he was known as the Platypus, but no one else had; stone-faced, she'd been told that he hid poisoned spikes on him at all times, and that a kick from him would leave her writhing in agony and fevered delirium for days after — if she was lucky.

And Davey.

David Ethan Greenwood, the only member of Campbell's crew that was a complete mystery. And yet everyone knew his name, his face, the daycare he worked at . . .

He was so vulnerable, exposed, yet the other gangs didn't seem to touch him. Gwen had asked around when she got the assignment, and none of her contacts had ever had a hit on the kid. As far as anyone knew, he'd never been marked for kidnapping or as a hostage, not even a mugging. For all anyone knew he had nothing to do with the crew. No police record (not even as an eyewitness), nothing except for the fact that he was just sometimes there, chatting with Hook or playing cards with Platypus in one of the CC-owned bars. More than anything he seemed like Campbell's dog, bounding along at his side with stars in his eyes, feeding the man's ego with unconditional adoration.

No one knew what information Greenwood had about the crew. No one knew why they had anything to do with him, or he with them. And when she'd pressed them, no one knew what caused that invisible halo around him that kept him untouched, why such an obvious victim had never been victimized.

Gwen didn't know, and she didn't particularly care. She just knew that his head was worth $10,000, and she could do a hell of a lot with that money.

She glanced at her watch. It was just after 6 p.m., and Greenwood was predictable as the sun: said goodbye to the children at 4:30, locked up the daycare at 5, and took a long, meandering path along the trash-strewn shore of Lake Lilac, watching the sunset before hopping on the bus home, taking the stop about twenty feet away from where she stood.

And there he was. He waved at the bus driver like he did every day, then hurried into the corner store across the street to pick up ingredients for dinner.

It was convenient, his routine. And astoundingly stupid. It was like he wanted to be killed.

Once he was in the store, she abandoned her position and strolled into the small courtyard between his apartment building and the townhouse next door. Pretending to admire the flowers — which she'd watched David lovingly tend each morning before work — she waited until the street was clear, then vaulted over the chain-link fence and slipped in through the never-locked back window.

Campbell treated his pets well, Gwen had to admit as she picked the lock to apartment 2A. This certainly wasn't the swankiest part of Lilac, but it was far nicer than a glorified babysitter should be able to afford. Especially this glorified babysitter, who she'd once seen give money to 8 different hobos on his walk home. And then when he was out of change, he handed the 9th his sweatshirt!

Must be nice, she thought, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. His apartment was clean and relatively bare, knitted afghans and embroidered pillows splashing color on the ultra-modern furniture. Resisting the temptation to snoop through the rest of the apartment — Greenwood would be home in 5 minutes and 20 seconds — she settled against the wall next to the door, pulling out her gun and inspecting it thoughtfully.

She was a fan of guns, as a general rule. They didn't require much athleticism, and there was something elegant about being able to pinpoint a spot on someone's body and with a flick of her finger watch it bloom into gore. But they were also loud and messy, and at close quarters more of a hindrance than a help. With a disappointed sigh, she put it away and drew a knife from her sleeve. The gun had been more of a security blanket than anything, a comfort to make up for the fact that she'd had to leave her sniper at home. Without it she felt strangely naked.

Naked and way, way too close to the target.

Gwen preferred to kill people from a safe distance. It was cleaner that way. But this apartment had no good stakeout points near any of the windows — she guessed Campbell had picked it for that very reason — and she tried to avoid taking targets out in public, partly because she wasn't the best sprinter and partly because concealing a gun as long as her arm was a lot harder when everyone in the vicinity was panicking and calling the police — or worse, allied gangs.

Her body tensed as she heard the sound of footsteps, humming, the jingling of keys in the lock.

There he was. Right on time.

The door swung open and she followed it, staying in the darkness until he was fully inside. The second the door closed, she threw herself forward, slamming him in the throat with her forearm and driving him against the wall with a dull thud. With her other hand she stuck the tip of her knife into his ribs, ignoring his weak, pained whimper. "Okay," she growled. "Someone wants you dead. Why?"

She should've just slit his throat. But she was curious.

Besides, no one had ever accused her of being good at her job.

Greenwood was breathing in short, desperate pants. For a second she thought he was trying to shake her off, but quickly realized he was just . . . shaking. "I — I don't — um —" He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing, and she let up on his neck enough so he could talk more easily. "I didn't say thank you to a waiter last week. Maybe I made them mad?"

She was used to targets insulting her, screaming, begging, crying. Rarely did they go for humor. "You think this is fucking cute, you piece of shit? You get that I was paid to kill you, right?"

"N-no ma'am! This is a very un-cute situation!" He swallowed, a movement she could feel against her arm. "And while I know that you need to do your job, I-I hope maybe you could . . . m-maybe reconsider . . . I don't have much money, but, well . . ."

Once again she couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. She had to admit, it threw her off. "Christ, hold on," she muttered, ducking her head and shaking it to remember how she'd gotten into this situation and what she was supposed to do about it. It didn't help that he was staring at her with these wide green eyes and lightly flushed cheeks, his mouth falling open slightly as he struggled for breath. "I, you — fuck . . ."

This was why guns were better than knives.

"Ssssomeone wants to hurt me, right? And you want to know what I could've done to deserve it?"

She glanced up at him, incredulous. "Are you trying to help me assassinate you?"

"I don't know!" he whined, flinching at the bite in her voice. "It's just, I, ah, know how annoying it is to lose your train of thought, and — and you seem like a nice lady, so . . ."

"Nice?"

"Given the circumstances," he clarified. "C-could I just —" Before she could stab him in the wrist, he reached over and flicked a switch, flooding the room with buttery light. "That's better!" he chirped with a smile, one that fell immediately when she hissed at the glare. "Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am, I should've warned you —" He drew his arm back, his watch catching on her arm with a pinch hard enough to draw blood; she winced but didn't pull back to inspect it. She'd looked like enough of an idiot so far, and the last thing she needed was for her target to think she was weak enough to be distracted by a little pinprick.

He stood patiently while her eyes adjusted. "Did you just annoy Pikeman into wanting to kill you?" she muttered, more to herself than to him.

"Edward Pikeman? That's who asked you to . . . ?" He frowned. "I thought we were on good terms."

Gwen was uncomfortably aware of how much better she could see Greenwood now that the light was on. With a groan she pulled away, so suddenly he slumped back against the wall, and slipped her knife back into her sleeve (keeping her other hand on the gun, just in case). "How do you even know Campbell, anyway?"

He had his hands on his knees, taking relieved gulps of air. "He took me in when I was 9!" His expression turned hopeful. "Is . . . is that all you needed? Because I don't have a lot of information, but I'm sure he'd be happy to speak with you . . . Would you like some tea, ma'am?"

Yeah, this wasn't one of her finest performances. "No, no." She ran her free hand through her hair with a sigh, feeling like she was trying to capture her scattered thoughts with a butterfly net. "I'm gonna kill you, I'm gonna take my money, and I'm gonna get the fuck out of this fucking piece of shit fuck town."

It was a good plan. A smart plan.

She just had to . . . well, do it.

"Move and I shoot you," she muttered dully. God, she had a headache, one that pounded through her skull and crowded at the corners of her eyes with each thudding heartbeat. In fact, it'd started to creep into her vision, a soft decaying blackness that . . .

She pulled her arm up, noticing that it moved with dreamlike slowness and left colorful trails in the air, and finally took a closer look at where he'd gotten her with his watch. A bead of blood wiped away to reveal a small round hole that looked remarkably like a bee sting.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

The son of a bitch had poisoned her.

The next (and last) things she was aware of were hands hauling her into a sitting position and Greenwood's voice: "I'm sorry, sorry! I didn't want to have to do that, but I promise you'll feel better when you wake up . . ."

[cyb-by-lang]

OSF AU - All the Little Children (5/?)

Part 5: Wherein an uneven fight is had and Garp is still a shitty grandparent.

Content warnings: Garp being a shitty grandparent (specifically by fist-fighting a panicked pack of preteens).

This is stupid.

Ace watched, his limbs locked in place.

The two weird kids just dove straight at Gramps even though he was so much bigger and stronger and faster than anyone else Ace had ever met. One of them had wings and the other had claws and fangs and both of them had weird pets, but they’d never win.

This is stupid.

Ace’s hands clenched on his pipe.

Whenever one of the strangers would get knocked away or through a tree or into the air, the other would cover the hole they’d left. Naruto would make copies of himself like it was nothing, trying to pin Gramps down so Fairy—Fū, her name was Fū— could break his nose or something. Either way, she just got punched and bowled ass over teakettle and it didn’t make a difference.

Sabo was tugging on his arm. Luffy had a death grip on his shirt.

And Ace couldn’t move away.

This is so fucking stupid!

One foot landed in front of the other, and the next thing Ace knew, he was running right for Gramps. Luffy and Sabo were right behind him, because they always were and took cues from him even when it was a bad idea. This was a bad idea. This entire day had been a bad idea and he had the scratches to show for it.

“DAMN IIIIIIT!” Ace heard himself scream, even as he dashed in and planted his pipe squarely in the hollow of Gramps’s knee.

The old man grunted and flinched, but not for long. The next thing Ace knew, he was flying backward and rolling across the forest floor. He got to his feet almost instantly, half-surprised that he still could. Normally, Gramps hit way harder.

And just for a second, he stared at his pipe.

Ace had never landed a solid hit before! Sure, the fox monster was chewing on Gramps’s leg and keeping him from responding to everything, but that was a clean hit!

“YAAAAAA!” Luffy hollered, landing on Gramps’s back to no effect whatsoever. If the little bug worm hadn’t been spitting silk in his ear, Luffy wouldn’t have landed on Gramps at all. He was just too fast.

“Eat dirt, you shitty old man!” screeched a new monster, small and yellow-brown with spots. It tackled Gramps’s other leg and wrapped its little arms around it, still making a ton of noise. “HOW DARE YOU HIT GAARA! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL EAT YOU FROM THE TOES UP!”

Right above the little caterwauling thing, Sabo jammed his pipe into Gramps’s elbow to throw off a punch and almost made Gramps fall down from overbalacing.

“I told you three to run!” Naruto shouted, in between more of his copies being punched out of existence over and over. He grabbed Ace’s shirt collar and tried to shove him away from the fight. “Get out of here!”

“This isn’t even your fight!” Ace yelled back in his face, “You should’ve run, too!”

“I’m really bad at running!”

“SO AM I!”

At that point, the tone of the fight shifted. Sure, Ace found some common ground with the guy who threw an animal in his face—which was kinda weird, but that wasn’t the bit that was important. Instead, tons and tons of sand ripped its way out of the ground and changed the whole clearing into something straight out of the big beaches on the edges of Dawn Island, where Ace usually didn’t go. None of their feet sank into the sand, but Gramps was trapped almost up to his knees before he threw Luffy and the little animals off.

Then a shape showed up, forming right out of the sand into the shape of a person who stalked right toward the fight.

“Stop. Attacking. My. Friends,” hissed the creepy redhead kid from last time—Gaara. His nose was a mess, worse than Ace remembered from his own fight with Porchemy, but he was still up after what might’ve been one of Garp’s punches. Freaky as hell.

“QUIT TRYING TO KIDNAP MY GRANDSONS!” the old man replied a voice that shook leaves from trees.

For a very long second, no one said anything. Everyone was frozen mid-punch or mid-flinch, or maybe mid-bite as far as the little animals went. Naruto’s jaw hung open, as did Sabo’s.

Then the orange fox said in the flattest tone imaginable, “…What.”

“That might be more convincing if you hadn’t hit that one,” said the green grub, waving its little nubs in Ace’s direction. “You’re pulling our tails, aren’t you?”

“Practically the first rule of heroism is that you don’t hit kids!” Fū said, with those orange wings buzzing like a dragonfly’s. “How can you claim to be anyone’s grandpa when you’re doing that?!”

And to Ace’s shock, Gramps actually let Luffy climb down. And didn’t instantly punch anyone. Instead, he faced down this girl less than half his size, her hands on her hips, and he crouched until he could speak directly to her face.

“I,” Gramps said, slow at first, “AM TRAINING THEM TO BE STRONG MARINES!”

“BULLSHIT!” Naruto bellowed, standing shoulder to shoulder with Fū, between Gramps and Sabo and Ace.

Luffy shot around the sand ring, propelled by Gaara’s weird power, until Sabo could grab onto him. He took a deep breath and his rubbery chest swelled up before he shouted, “I DON’T WANNA BE A MARINE! I’M GONNA BE A PIRATE!”

Ace almost pinched Luffy’s ear and pulled on it, for all the good it’d do. Even if he was serious, he didn’t have to say that to their demon Gramps’s face! He was half-tempted to cuff him over the head if he thought it’d work. But it was already out and in the air and oh boy.

They were dead.

The next few minutes were pure hell. Gramps shook off the sand and the silk and everything else keeping him stuck in place, throwing punches like there was a quota and he was behind. Ace ended up face-down in the dirt with a knot on his head in the first thirty seconds of the new fight, with Sabo sprawled across his legs. Luffy might’ve hit the ground a little later, but Ace was too dizzy to notice anything afterward.

When Ace could move again, it was afternoon instead of mid-morning and his stomach was growling like a tiger was lost in it. He sat up despite the awful headache, pressing a hand gingerly to his swollen forehead. With a hiss, he pulled his hand away and tried looking around.

The forest was a lot flatter than he remembered. The nearest trees were smashed from about Luffy’s height on up, turning the place into a stump-littered hazard zone.

“We have a live one!” said a voice that was way too close, and Ace flinched before he realized it was coming from the same green grub from before. It sat next to Sabo’s groaning face, then said, “Or two.”

Within four seconds, the fairy-girl flew out of the remaining trees and landed lightly next to him. Aside from her hair being a little messed up and her clothes being ripped in places, she didn’t look any different than before. Before Ace could ask her how, she was poking and prodding at his injuries and his face.

“Hey, hands off!” Ace managed, though his voice was a little weaker than before. He was still exhausted and bruised and she wasn’t helping.

“It’s okay, Ace,” Fū said, finally settling for bracing his shoulder with her hand. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Ace still leaned away from her. Somewhat sullen, because he couldn’t give up, he stammered, “D-don’t go thinking this—that stuff—makes up for what your friends did.” Wait— “Where’s Luffy?!”

“He’s with Naruto and Gaara,” Fū said, which really wasn’t as reassuring as she thought it was. Probably. “Can you walk?”

“’Course I can!” Ace said and shoved himself to his feet even though he swayed when he got there and his vision turned black for a bit.

“Then I’ll carry Sabo,” Fū said, and she picked up Ace’s best friend like he didn’t weigh anything so she could carry him on her back. The worm that traveled with her was already climbing up her leg by the time Ace could think of what to say next.

“What’re you gonna do with him?” Ace demanded, though she wasn’t flying away. As long as she walked, he could keep up.

“You, and me, and him, are all gonna find a place to sleep this off,” Fū replied, letting Ace walk ahead of her. “And then your asshole grandpa invited us for dinner.”

“The hell?”

“That’s what Naruto said,” Fū said in a darker voice. She sighed. “But as long as he’s hunting, he’s not beating anyone up. So it’ll have to do for now.”

“Why do you care?” Ace asked finally, frustrated. What did this crazy girl want? “If you’d just run, we’d be fine. He’s never trying to kill us for real.”

No one ever acted nice without wanting something.

Ace knew where he stood with the bandits, because they didn’t care if he fell down a ravine and died and the feeling was mutual most of the time. He put their lives in danger just by existing, so he got it, even if he hated it.

Sabo was different, because they’d needed each other and Ace wanteded someone to share his dreams with. Sabo was the first person Ace had ever tried trusting, and it had paid off enough that he could try again. Over years. At the beginning, though…

Luffy—Luffy was easy to read. He was so fucking lonely he’d grab onto anyone—but he’d chosen Ace. Had chased Ace off cliffs and over rivers and all the way to Gray Terminal, where he’d nearly died even worse than ever. Ace had almost left him, even knowing what Porchemy was like.

Fū asked, “Is it really that hard to believe that I just want to do something nice?”

“Everyone wants something,” Ace replied coldly.

“And I want to do something nice,” Fū said, smiling like there was nothing wrong in the world.

Ace looked away, grumbling, and they walked on.

[sarah--writes-blog]

Your fics are so good! If it's not too much to ask, can you write a pic about a stomach bug going around in the castle of lions and the only one not to catch it is Hunk, so he has to take care of everyone?

Mother Hen Hunk

A/N: I had a little too much fun with this one. Everyone got their own individual symptom along with the classic throwing up. This ended up being six pages. We in it for the long run boys.

Hunk let out a deep breath and started another round around the castle. Part of him felt very lucky to be the only one without the stomach bug. He wasn’t cooped up in a small bathroom or huddled under five blankets in bed. But in a way, that would be better than what he was doing now. He could relax and wallow in his own pity instead of experiencing everyone else’s.

With all the teetering supplies stacked on his arms, he hit the button on the door with his elbow and stepped into the princess’s room.

“Princess?” Hunk called out, thankful that the doors closed on their own, “I brought that weird fluid you wanted from the kitchen. I think. I can’t read Altean, and there was more than one bottle of weird blue liquid, but this one seemed right?”

The Yellow Paladin approached the bed where Allura sat. Her skin was fading from it’s normal color to blue, then yellow, then all across the visible spectrum. Her stomach wasn’t nearly as affected by the bug as her Altean abilities were, but she had still thrown up enough to cause concern.

The mice helped Hunk set everything down so he could deliver the bottle. Allura accepted it with a small but grateful smile.

“This is the right one. Thank you, Hunk.” She cracked open the lid and took a few sips. Almost instantly, her hue-shifting skin settled back to its normal color. Hunk’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he sat down next to her.

“How is it having your first human illness?” he asked, “You must’ve had something similar to this on Altea. You guys look pretty dang human.”

“It’s...not very desirable. But it seems easier for me and Coran than the other Paladins.” she sighed. Hunk smiled lightly.

“It’s not supposed to be desirable.”

“We did have something similar on Altea. Except we didn’t purge from our stomachs, but from our lungs. It was easier than this.”

Hunk frowned, “That sounds worse that stomach flu. That sounds like drowning over and over again.” He brushed the comment off. Maybe drowning was easier on Altea. Somehow. Hunk tried not to think about it too much.

“Well, it should be over soon. Stomach bugs usually only last a day. Any longer, we might start using the healing pods. If they decide to cooperate, of course.”

Allura wasn’t listening. She was pressing the back of her fist to her mouth, teeth clenched tight, trying to keep something down. Hunk placed a warm hand on the small of her back.

“Breathe through your nose. Deep breaths...” He soothed, bringing up a trash can with his other hand. He had witnessed his friends throwing up so many times in the past 24 hours that he found himself not getting nauseated at the action.

Allura took the advice to heart and breathed as best she could. Within a few minutes, she swallowed hard and removed her fist from her mouth, “I think I avoided it this time...”

The paladin grinned, “Good. Maybe you’re getting better.” He set the trash can back down, “When all of this is over, I’m going to make everyone the best Earth food I can with what we have left. You guys will love it.”

The princess settled herself back down on the bed, skin brightening to a magenta color, “It’s no wonder you pilot the Yellow Lion. You put the needs of others above your own. You should rest, you’ve been at this for hours.”

“I can’t, Princess. I have a whole bunch of stuff to deliver to the others,” Hunk glanced at his pile, dreading carrying it through the rest of the castle, “Will you be alright for a while?”

Allura closed her eyes and nodded. “The mice have been very helpful.”

“Okay. I’ll be back soon.” Hunk gave Allura a small pat on the back and gathered up his pile of supplies. He was sure that he could hear her lightly snoring before he left.

Coran was not nearly as composed as Allura.

“I can’t believe I caught a human virus! This is a disaster! And all the healing pods are down, and all the paladins have caught it too! What if Zarkon attacks us right now? We’d all be doomed!”

“Coran-”

“Hunk, you’ve got to be able to defeat Zarkon on your own! You have to pilot all the lions at once and form Voltron and take him down while we all fight for our lives from this horrible illness!”

“Coran-”

“After all I’ve been through, I’m going to die from a petty human disease and then be obliterated by Zarkon into ashes!”

“Coran!”

The red-haired Altean finally shut up and looked at Hunk, eyes desperately void of hope. Hunk put down all the stuff once more and picked out a washcloth soaked in cold water. “You’re not going to die from stomach flu, and Zarkon is not going to attack us. You’re overreacting.” He placed the cloth on Coran’s head, forcing him to lay back down.

“This is so much worse than Sick Lung. We use to cough up fluid from our lungs on Altea! We’d fill a bucket with the stuff at least twice a day!”

Hunk rolled his eyes, “I’ve heard. Just...don’t think about Zarkon, or Sick Lung, or anything. Just lay down and try to sleep. Did you keep down that water I gave you earlier?”

“Fortunately, yes.”

Hunk breathed a sigh of relief. He may have snuck a dissolved sleeping pill into the water just to keep Coran from using the coms system to summon him. He really didn’t handle the stomach-flu-fever combo very well. With consultation from Allura, they both decided it would be best if Coran slept the rest of the way through the illness. She directed him towards the right drugs, and thankfully Coran kept it down.

“Alright. I’m going to check on the rest of the paladins. Please try to sleep. You’ll feel better with rest.”

“I suppose you know more about Earth illnesses than I do. Very well. I’ll try to rest.”

There wasn’t much trying involved before he was sacked out on his pillow, a small puddle of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. As quietly as possible, Hunk took the rest of the gear and headed down to where the paladins slept.

“You’re sure Pidge was alright with you stealing her heating pad?” Shiro asked. He didn’t put up much of a fight, though. His voice was strained not only from the torment of near consistent vomiting but also from pain. Cramps had seized his stomach and latched on like his Galra-tech arm - refusing to let go. That is, until the warmth of the heating pad touched his skin.

“She said it was fine. She’s not having cramps like you.” Hunk replied. Shiro smirked a bit.

“How did you get out of this, Hunk? You’re usually the one with an uneasy stomach...”

“Not sure. I’m just glad I did. Everyone’s having a really hard time, and I kind of feel guilty that I’m not.” he replied, taking the opportune lull in the vomiting to trash the bag of sick and re-line the can by Shiro’s bunk.

With the heat increasing, Hunk could see the relief cross the Black Paladin’s face as the cramps faded away. Part of Shiro knew that the cramps would come back the moment he started throwing up again, but for now, he cherished the calm before the storm.

“Survivor’s Guilt is a bit of a bitch, huh? You wish you were the victim, and that almost feels worse. You felt bad that you made it out but it feels worse to want to be in a bad situation,” Shiro’s eyes fell to his metal hand, “You’d give anything to just turn it back and put someone more capable in your shoes.”

Hunk blinked a few times, “Shiro....it’s just a stomach bug.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry...”

The Yellow Paladin put his hand on Shiro’s shoulder squeezing it in comfort, “You did the best you could in your situation. I don’t think I could have done any better. I don’t think anyone could’ve.”

The Black Paladin didn’t respond.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit! You saved Matt from a fight he couldn’t win, you got out alive, and now you’re the head of Voltron! You made it out! No one could’ve done all that but you!”

Shiro cracked a bit of a smile, “I don’t think you quite understand Survivor’s Guilt or at least how to fix it. But thank you, Hunk. It means a lot.”

That was good enough.

Hunk spent some extra time with Shiro, comforted by not being the only one in charge. They joked about how awful Coran was when he was ill, and how he wouldn’t last a moment on Earth. But the laughter died down when the pallor of Shiro’s face turned pale.

“Gonna be sick again?” Hunk asked. He knew all too well the signals of one of his friends about to get sick. Each had their own little telling signs. Shiro’s was simply going pale and quiet. He nodded and shifted so that his legs fell over the side of the bed and his elbows propped the rest of his body up on his knees. Hunk handed him the bin and waited patiently.

It only took one gag for Shiro to bring up the water and crackers Hunk had forced into him. It came up easily, flowing directly from his throat into the trash. The bitter scent of bile made Hunk’s nose wrinkle, but he stayed close nonetheless. It was over just as quick as it had started, and Shiro handed the trash can back.

“Fuck....” he muttered, rinsing his mouth out with some water and spitting it back out into the trash.

“You can say that again.” Hunk scoffed. Shiro nodded and settled back into his previous position. He winced as the cramps returned, a feeling too familiar. He clicked the heating pad’s temperature up one notch.

“You should check on the others...”

“You’re alright?”

“I’ll be fine. Just wanna get some rest before I do this all over again.”

With a now much more manageable pile of things, Hunk left Shiro’s chambers, making sure to turn out the light before the door closed behind him.

Where Shiro was similar to Allura, Lance was similar to Coran. Less energy and panic, but still similar.

“Hunk, the room keeps spinning....”

“The room’s not spinning, Lance. You just got up way too fast.”

Lance ducked his head into the toilet bowl and let out another sickening belch, “Didn’t wanna get sick in bed...”

“Yeah, but look at you now.”

“I hate it when you’re right...”

Hunk leaned back against the countertop as his friend burped again, this time letting up more vomit. He didn’t think there was such a thing as a graceful vomiter, but Shiro proved to be much more composed than Lance when heaving out his guts. The Blue Paladin coughed and gasped, barely getting enough air before another wave sent his head ducking back down.

Hunk returned to his now dwindling pile of supplies and brought Lance back a blanket, draping it over his shoulders. All Lance had complained about all day was how cold he was. Hunk had checked his temperature - he didn't have a fever - but he still shivered and whined. Hunk was used to Lance complaining, but not in such a pathetic fashion.

“It's so cold...” he muttered after finally coughing up the rest of the bile. Hunk gave up trying to reason with him a long time ago and helped Lance to his feet.

“I know. I brought you lots of blankets, and we'll get you settled into bed so you can warm up.”

“Is it colder since we're in space...?”

He wasn’t delirious, there was no fever. The bug was just making him more stupid than usual. Or at least it removed his filter. The Blue Paladin was wicked smart when he needed to be, but the rest of the team really wondered how the brains of a sharpshooter could sometimes be so daft.

“No, it's colder ‘cause you're sick, Lance. I'll see if I can turn the heat up, but it's all written in Altean.”

Lance slipped under the covers and curled in on himself, “Thanks, Buddy...”

Hunk methodically draped each blanket over his shivering friend. The thermostat was indeed written in Altean, but red still meant hot and blue still meant cold. He pushed the red symbol a few times and vowed to check back soon to make sure the room wasn't on fire.

Now with only two bottles of pills left, Hunk made his way to his second-to-last patient, praying they wouldn't be as difficult to deal with as the others. 

To Hunk’s surprise, Keith was sitting up in bed, and not just because he was about to puke. He was studying his bayard with hazy eyes and took little notice of Hunk when he first walked in.

“Hey. I brought those Altean antacids you wanted. You sure you wanna try them? We don't know how they affect humans.”

Keith nodded and took the bottle, “Anything would be better than- urrrp...than this...” He stuffed two of the pills in his mouth and swallowed them dry, trying not to let his face go as red as his weapon.

Hunk quickly found out that when Keith got even a remotely upset stomach, he got hiccups. And after all the hiccups passed, the extra air would come up and leave the Red Paladin a moody, embarrassed mess. They were now in the second stage, and between the hiccups and the stomach bug, the burps showed no signs of stopping.

“It's really okay, Keith. Everyone's just doing what they can to deal with this bug. Shiro even had me steal Pidge’s heating pad ‘cause he was getting stomach cramps. I don't think keeping all that down will help you feel better.” Hunk advised. This earned him a cutting glare from Keith.

“It'll help.”

“We don't even know what Altean medicine does to humans-”

“It'll help!” Keith clenched his jaw and swallowed back another pocket of air. Hunk sighed and gave up trying to convince him otherwise.

“Fine. How's your nausea?”

“Getting better. Like I said it would.”

“But it's only been-” Hunk cut himself off, “Nevermind. Can I have some of the food you stole from the space mall? I'm tired of food goo.”

Keith’s eyes widened a bit, “I didn't steal any-” He stopped and swallowed again, and Hunk didn't bother to listen to his lie.

“Come on, I saw you do it. And it's not like you'll be eating it anytime soon.” Without waiting for a yes, he looked under the bathroom sink to find Keith's stash of reasonable food. He pulled out a bag of what looked like chips, popped them open, and threw one in his mouth. They were definitely not chips, but they tasted infinitely better than the goo.

Hunk reentered the bedroom to find Keith with a much different demeanor. He was biting down on one of his knuckles with his other hand on his stomach protectively. An audible gurgle rang through the air, and Keith's face blushed almost the shade of his lion.

The healthy paladin sighed, and took Keith by the arm, “Come on. Bathroom, now.”

Keith didn't throw up while sitting in front of the toilet, but it took a whole lot of convincing from Hunk for him to let the extra air up. Hunk was just about ready to start hitting his back when Keith finally relaxed. Each burp threatened to bring up something more but never did. They just left him blushing and out of breath, unsure of what to say. Lucky for him, Hunk spoke first.

“Damn, you really had a lot in you. Did you chug a liter of soda since the last time I was here?”

“Not- huulp helping, Hunk...” Keith spit out. But Hunk still wanted the bit of satisfaction he deserved.

“Feel better, though?”

There was a pause, but the Red Paladin nodded in defeat, “...a lot better...”

A small smile grew on Hunk’s face as he offered a hand up. Keith took it and stumbled back to bed.

“Why would you do that to yourself? You knew they weren't helping.” Hunk asked once Keith was sitting back in bed. Keith avoided eye contact and didn't give a direct answer. Hunk rolled his eyes and grabbed the last pill bottle, along with the rest of the ‘chips’.

“Just promise me that once I leave, you'll burp like a normal person? Don't make yourself sick any more than you already are.”

Ever so slightly, Keith looked up and nodded. As Hunk turned to leave, he caught a faint “Thank you, Hunk...” before the door closed.

The last room was uncharacteristically dark and quiet. Pidge’s light was usually the last to turn off, staying on long past when the others were asleep as she tinkered away with schematics and Altean tech. But now, her room was dead quiet and almost completely dark.

Hunk took care to close the door quickly behind him, trying not to let in the light from the hallway. “Hey Pidge, you awake?” He whispered. There was a shift in the sheets on the bed.

“Mmhmm.”

“How's your head?”

“Bad...really bad...gets worse every time I throw up...might be a migraine...”

Hunk wanted nothing more than to pull his friend into a huge bear hug. Their size difference allowed him to do that. Pidge would sometimes get migraines back on Earth, and he knew how bad they could get. But he didn't touch her, for fear of making it worse.

“I got the Altean painkillers. I'd be careful, Keith had a bad reaction to different Altean meds.”

“I've taken these before. Thank you.”

Fumbling in the darkness, Pidge downed the pills with a swig of water and settled back into her bed. “How is everyone else doing...?”

“Not much better than you. Coran finally passed out, and Lance won't stop shivering. But Shiro thanks you for the pad, he really needed it.”

Pidge’s voice was muffled by her pillow, “If he keeps it for more than a few weeks, I'll bleed on everything he owns.”

Hunk chuckled but found a bit of fear in that statement. Pidge didn't make empty threats. He remembered how she managed to install an eject button linked to his bed after he took the last Balmeran cookie she laid claim on.

“How's your stomach doing?”

“Haven't puked in a while...might be on the other side of this...”

Hunk nodded, and gave her hand a small pat as gently as possible, “You can probably sleep the rest off. I'll be back to check on you later.”

“Thanks, Hunk....you're the real savior of the universe, dealing with all of us.”

Hunk picked up his food, and made for the door, “Well, someone has to. Get good rest, Pidge.”

“Mmm.”

Hunk closed the door carefully behind him. Once it was shut, he took a deep breath and allows himself to slip down the wall and finish the rest of the chips. He closed his eyes, took another breath, and stood. He had another round to make.

[kaiunkaiku]

Sickdays #4: Stress

Date: January 11th (late)

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn

Characters: Gokudera Hayato, Yamamoto Takeshi aka my the OTP

@sickdaysofficial @sickandvomiting

A/N: This fandom. This ship. I will go down. I love torturing Gokudera.

Gokudera is hands down the most stressed person Yamamoto has ever encountered. They’re nineteen years old and he’s had two ulcers, insomnia for years (probably before they even met five years ago) and a serious painkiller addiction (thank God that’s over), and Yamamoto is fairly sure the other boy is well on his way working himself into a mental institute.

Gokudera is also incredibly stubborn and constantly pissed off, so there's not much Yamamoto can do to help. His options are limited to rubbing shoulders, having sex and making sure Gokudera doesn’t skip meals or sleep, and though he knows Gokudera is grateful for those, he wishes he could do more.

At times, an opportunity presents itself in a form of some awful bug attacking Gokudera’s virtually non-existent immune system. For someone who holds his ability to work in such high regard, Gokudera gets sick ridiculously often. Yamamoto himself caught a cold maybe two or three years ago and hasn't been sick since, but Gokudera is confined to bed at least five times a year and often more. He never gets just colds, no, Gokudera Hayato gets the flu, a random stomach bug no one else gets, the flu again, then he collapses from overwork and spends a week not being able to lift a finger, then he has tonsillitis and then it’s the ulcer’s turn again.

It’s not like Yamamoto is surprised to wake up to his boyfriend falling out of bed and vomiting on the floor. It’s not the first time and it probably won't be the last, but it doesn't make it any less worrying. Yamamoto rolls to Gokudera’s side of the bed and drops to the floor next to him. Gokudera is in a loose fetal position, arms around his stomach, coughing and retching up water and half-digested pills. Aspirin, Yamamoto would say if he had to guess. And nothing else, absolutely nothing else, and Yamamoto realizes that either Gokudera hasn't been eating again or he’s thrown up after his last meal. Neither of the options sounds particularly pleasant.

Yamamoto is pretty sure that Gokudera isn't fully aware of what’s happening. His eyes are wide open but there's a dazed, glassy look in them. Definitely feverish.

Gradually, the fit comes to an end, but Gokudera makes effort to move except for curling up a little tighter and reaching for his head. A whimper gets Yamamoto moving, too - it’s the single sound he hates the most on this planet, beating the pained screaming and the exhausted screaming and the hurt screaming and literally everything else ten to zero. Yamamoto’s hands find Gokudera’s frail shoulders and lift him up to lean on his chest. Gokudera’s breath comes in short, labored gasps as he slumps against Yamamoto and then pulls his knees to his chest.

“That bad, huh?” Yamamoto asks, voice soft and empathetic. He’s seen this before, but it doesn't make it any easier. Slowly, he starts rubbing circles on Gokudera’s stiff shoulders, lightly at first. Gokudera barely nods, instead bringing his long, scarred fingers to massage his temples. There are some new scars, again, and in the t-shirt Gokudera is wearing Yamamoto can see the burn marks along his forearms. The clock on the nightstand is showing nearly five in the morning.

They spend a while on the floor, silent, until Yamamoto gently nudges Gokudera up and tucks him into bed. He cleans up before turning Gokudera’s alarm clock off and going back to sleep himself.

When he wakes up a few hours later, Gokudera is fast asleep and looking more peaceful than Yamamoto has seen him in ages. He plants a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead - the fever is definitely still there - before getting up. It’s a Saturday so they don't have much to do, but he wants to catch up on a few things and maybe check on their newer members, though most of them are older than him. Schoolwork is also calling, because apparently you can't escape university even when you’re a core member of one of the most influential mafia families in the world.

It’s nearly noon when Gokudera, true to his flame, storms into Yamamoto's office. He’s livid and upset and it crosses Yamamoto's mind that maybe he should have woken him up in the morning after all, but then he starts noticing other things too. The disheveled state of his hair, the way his shirt is buttoned wrong, the dark shadows under his eyes against the ghostly pallor of his skin. The fact that his hands are shaking.

“What the fuck, Takeshi!” Gokudera hollers from the door that he just threw open. His voice is raspy and breath short, and he leans on the door frame heavily. Yamamoto scrambles up from his desk and hurries to Gokudera. “Didn't bother to wake me up, huh? And you turned my fucking alarm off? I have work to do,” he snarls as Yamamoto gets close enough.

“But Hayato, you're sick. And you needed the sleep, you haven't been getting enough,” Yamamoto tries to explain as calmly as possible. He doesn't step as close as he’d like to, because if Gokudera is feeling confrontational he’ll get pissed by anything, including Yamamoto's superior height. “You were up most of last night, too.”

Gokudera grits his teeth in irritation.

“Do you think that I do it willingly? Do you honestly think I enjoy staring at stacks of paper and tutoring snotty grade schoolers all day?” He takes a step forward, right into Yamamoto's personal space, and cranes his neck enough so that his turquoise eyes are staring right into Yamamoto's brown ones. Yamamoto takes a step back in turn.

“Well guess fucking what, I don't! But nobody else is doing it, so someone has to!” Gokudera takes a step back, himself, before starting to walk a circle. His arms are flailing in frustration, and Yamamoto decides that maybe it's best for him to let him have his rant.

“I mean, thank God for you and the 10th for doing your job, but we have a fucking ten-year-old and then we have the lawn-head and then we have fucking Hibari, don’t even get me fucking started on him…! Oh and we have new members and I have university and… then…” Gokudera’s steps slow down with his speech until he stops completely, eyes staring listlessly at nothing as if he’d just forgotten what he was talking about. Yamamoto frowns.

“Takeshi, you know,” Gokudera starts again, voice suddenly feeble and high-pitched. He swallows convulsively and his face goes even paler, alarming Yamamoto who quickly walks up to the shorter boy. “I don’t… I think, I… I’m not…”

“Hayato? What is it?” Yamamoto asks, trying to keep himself calm. He places his hand carefully on Gokudera’s forehead, and Gokudera leans onto his touch. Not surprising, Yamamoto tells himself, considering that the fever feels quite impressive.

Gokudera’s hand reaches for Yamamoto's wrist, gripping it tight. Yamamoto seeks Gokudera’s other hand to hold, intertwining their fingers. Gokudera is shaking and swaying on his feet.

“I’m gonna pass out,” Gokudera announces in a thin, airy breath, just before his eyes roll to the back of his head and his grip goes slack. There’s a moment of terror when Yamamoto thinks he’s gonna fall and hit his head and he won't be able to catch him in time, that somehow he’ll fuck this up really bad.

Yamamoto catches him before he’s anywhere near the ground. His reflexes are unrivalled among the majority of the population and surpassed by very, very select few people and he knows that, but somehow, when it comes to Gokudera, he still doubts himself at times. He has this overwhelming need to protect him, and sometimes Gokudera makes it damn hard. And it's ridiculous, really, because Gokudera is perfectly capable of holding his own on the battlefield and he’s terrifyingly intelligent, but his utter neglect of his well being in favor of getting three people’s work done is astounding.

He gets Gokudera on the floor with ease and turns him on his side. In just a few seconds, thank the gods, Gokudera blinks awake, sluggish and a little disoriented.

“You're staying in bed today,” Yamamoto declares as soon as he's sure Gokudera is actually conscious. His tone leaves no room for questions, but Gokudera tries, anyway.

“Am not,” he grumbles, sitting up slowly. The movement isn't kind to him, but he tries to ignore it to the best of his ability. “I have work to do and it’s not gonna do itself.” The genuine distress in Gokudera’s voice over paperwork hurts Yamamoto's heart, because the fact that Gokudera still feels the need to validate himself through his accomplishments is just sad. It reminds him so much of when they were in middle school and Gokudera was ready to throw his life away in a fraction of a second just to prove himself and his loyalty and ability. The fourteen-year-old Gokudera Hayato who had absolutely no interest in keeping his own life if dying meant he could be useful.

He still sees that sometimes.

“You'll be able to do it better when you're healthy, okay? Hey, I’ll take some of your paperwork, yeah? And you go to sleep.” Yamamoto's gentle voice, admittedly laced with a little bit of his flame, tends to work miracles. It does nothing to alleviate Gokudera’s obvious anxiety over the matter.

“No, you don't get it, I have a schedule --”

“I know you have a schedule.”

“-- and I’m so behind on it and --”

“You're not, by the way.”

“-- then there’s, there’s, wait, what?”  Gokudera’s eyes snap to Yamamoto at the speed of light.

“I’ve seen your schedule, okay?” Yamamoto explains. “And I promise you, you're not behind. I know you like to do everything a few days ahead, but you can afford to take a day off.”

For a moment, Gokudera’s posture goes defensive, but it deflates quickly. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and seems to finally succumb to his exhaustion, and Yamamoto sighs in relief. He hates arguing with Gokudera, even more so when the other is this stressed. He knows Gokudera hates it, too, which makes him hate it even more. He’s never really understood why two people who hate fighting fight.

“Okay,” Gokudera breathes. “Okay. But you're carrying me back to bed. I don't... think I can walk back.” He admits it with a rather embarrassed voice, averting his eyes as if he thought it was somehow shameful. Yamamoto resists the urge to start telling him how there's nothing to be embarrassed about and it’s just a two of them.

“We can work with that,” he says instead. Slowly and steadily he drags Gokudera up, watching out for signs of dizziness gonna-pass-outs. The change in altitude drains the color from his face, but Gokudera bites his lip until he’s safely in Yamamoto's arms.