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suddencolds · 3 days ago

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of painkillers and lenience

...hello! 😭 I wrote this way back in April; it's been sitting in my drafts ever since. Chronologically, it takes place shortly following Atypical Occurrence.

I wasn't sure if I was ever going to post this. I suppose it's more a character study than a proper romantic installment :') but it's an exchange I'd been wanting to write for a long time.

you can find everything I've written in this universe here!

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Summary: Yves comes down with something. His best friend wonders where Vincent is, in all of this.

—

Perhaps it’s merciful that it’s on a Sunday that Yves wakes up with the slightest tickle in his throat.

Yves has an idea what it means. He’s had the flu enough times in his life to know that it comes on quickly. Maybe if he attempts to sleep it off, he’ll have a better time over the next few days.

Or maybe not. He cancels his Sunday plans, goes through his itinerary. There’s a slew of emails he’ll have to send off, a handful of meetings he’ll probably have to reschedule for this coming work week. He’ll need groceries, too, to last him the week—ideally something that won’t take too much effort to make. Resting now seems like it’d be a waste of time. Best to get everything over with before the illness has a chance to properly settle, he thinks.

He really does mean to stop by the grocery store. It’s perhaps just the timing that doesn’t work out as planned. Between figuring out how to reschedule everything that’s coming up with work—figuring out who he can ask if he needs to reallocate any of his assignments to anyone else, rearranging things for clients, and getting all the paperwork in order—all of it takes him nearly two hours. He wanders into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, finds himself having to turn aside to cough, notes the unpleasant sting in his throat when he turns back around.

It’s not terrible yet, but he feels distinctly off. His head feels a little heavy, and everything he does feels strangely—sluggish, maybe. Like he can’t quite manage to be as efficient as usual. Judging by past experience, he’s probably going to crash in a few hours.

He can already feel a headache brewing. Staring at his computer screen probably hasn’t helped with that. If he takes something for it, it’ll probably be at least tolerable when it gets worse.

He opens the medicine cabinet, rifles through the couple bottles and the first aid kit he has stashed in there.

Right. He’s out of Advil.

It’s no matter. Just a quick grocery trip, then—he can grab the rest of his groceries while he’s at it. Yves shuts the bathroom cabinet, grabs his wallet and keys, and makes it all the way to the doorstep outside when the wave of dizziness hits him.

All of a sudden, he feels a little lightheaded. Heat crawls up under his skin, prickling and unpleasant, as if something in him has cranked up the heat generation to the max—but that can’t be right, because he’s shivering inexplicably in the wake of it. He leans his weight back against the wall, squeezes his eyes shut.

Fuck. He probably should have gotten groceries first, before sorting out everything for work. Perhaps going out on his own now would not be the wisest.

He heads back in, locks the door, and—after some thought—calls Mikhail.

Mikhail picks up on the second ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Are you busy?” Yves starts, but the words catch on his throat, and he has to stop immediately to muffle a cough into his elbow.

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “It depends what you’re about to ask me for,” Mikhail says.

Yves swallows. Shuts his eyes. He doesn’t like asking for help, but he doesn’t think he’ll be in any state to be doing this on his own over the next few days. “It’s not that urgent. Just if you have time,” he says.

He can almost feel Mikhail rolling his eyes on the other end. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.”

Yves laughs, startled. “I promise I’m not bleeding out. Just—do you think you could run to the store and get me some Advil?”

There’s another, longer pause on the other end. “Any time is fine,” Yves says. A part of him already regrets this. “If you’re busy right now—”

“I’ll be over in a few,” Mikhail says. Then the line goes dead.

—

He doesn’t remember drifting off, but when he wakes, it’s to a knock on the front door.

The knock is just for courtesy, of course. Mikhail is one of a few people whom he’s permitted the privilege—or the burden, perhaps—of having a spare copy of his apartment key.

Yves opens the door anyways.

There, in the windy April weather, Mikhail shuts an umbrella and leaves it dripping at his feet. “You look even worse than you sounded over call,” is the first thing he says.

Yves blinks at him, surprised. “Did I really sound that bad?”

In lieu of answering, Mikhail just looks at him, scrutinizing, the corner of his lip ticking downward. “What is it? An injury? A migraine?” When Yves shakes his head, Mikhail presses forward to pick a stray lint ball off of Yves’s shirt. His hand makes contact with Yves’s shoulder, and he frowns.

Before Yves has a chance to explain, he feels a tickle—not the first, today, and certainly not the last—surface. It’s irritatingly difficult to ignore, more irritating still when he finds himself forced to turn away, to duck into one arm—

“hHehh-!’ hEHh’yyiISCHh-HHEEW!”

The sneeze is rough enough to scrape against his throat. He coughs tightly into his raised arm.

“A cold,” Mikhail says, with a frown. “But usually you don’t take Advil for colds. Wait—don’t tell me this is something worse?”

Yves winces. What is he supposed to say to that? “The Advil was all I needed,” he says. “Thanks for making the trip. I owe you one.”

“No, I’m sure of it now,” Mikhail says. “If it were only a cold, you would’ve driven out to get this yourself.”

“It probably isn’t,” Yves says, neglecting to mention that he knows exactly where he caught this. “Thanks for bringing these. I’ll take the next couple days off. I—”

The next sneeze sneaks up on him. He ducks into his sleeve again, taking another step back.

“hHhEH’iiDzzsCHH-yYew!” The sneeze sends a burst of pain through his temples, and for a moment, he’s glad his face is too deeply buried into his sleeve for Mikhail to see.

“Does Vincent know?” Mikhail asks.

The question catches him off guard. “What?”

“That you’re apparently unwell enough to ask me to pick up Advil for you.”

Yves doesn’t like where this conversation is going. “I told you not to come if you were busy.”

“It’s not a problem,” Mikhail says. “But if you’re sick, shouldn’t he be over here, taking care of you?”

“He’s had a really busy few weeks,” Yves says, which is true, but simultaneously might be true at any point during the year. He clears his throat. “I - coughcough - wouldn’t want him to catch this.”

“So he doesn’t even know,” Mikhail says.

…Perhaps Yves should’ve thought of a more convincing excuse. Mikhail isn’t the type of person to drop an issue after he’s raised it, and Yves had, perhaps, neglected to think about how—for all Mikhail does to appear casually disaffected—he’s one of the most perceptive people Yves has ever met. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“What are you talking about? He’s your partner. I’ll text him,” Mikhail says. It’s then when Yves recalls that Mikhail probably does have Vincent’s contact—exchanged before their trip to France, so that he could text them all to coordinate the rides to and from the airport.

“Wait,” Yves says, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. “Don’t. If you text him, he’ll - snf-! - feel obligated to come.”

Mikhail doesn’t lower his phone. “I’ll just ask him to drop by,” he says. “You can talk to him about it when he gets there.”

But that won’t happen—can’t happen—because Yves knows that if Vincent were to see him like this…

I’d feel terrible if you caught this, he’d said. He’d sounded so upset over it. How can Yves, after all his reassurances last week, admit to him now that he’s faring badly enough to need someone to look after him?

Besides, Vincent probably has enough on his plate already. Yves knows enough to know that in their line of work, taking time off almost always means being swamped with assignments upon return.

“Please don’t ask him anything,” Yves says.

Mikhail looks long and hard at him. He looks as though he’s trying to puzzle something out. “Did you guys get into a fight, or something?”

“No,” Yves says. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then, if you’re on good terms, why are you so resistant to the idea of him coming over?”

Yves squeezes his eyes shut, and then opens them. He can think of a dozen more excuses to field away the questions—that isn’t the hard part. Mikhail has always been good at seeing through his bullshit, but if Yves has to steer this conversation to a close through sheer willpower, he thinks he can do it. But then again—

Maybe it’s fine, he thinks, if Mikhail knows. For better or for worse, Mikhail is his best friend. Yves knows that if he asks him to keep his mouth shut about this, he will.

“Vincent is my coworker,” he says, slowly.

Mikhail’s eyebrows creep up. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yves says, with a cough. “He is just my coworker. Nothing else.”

The alarm that flashes across Mikhail’s face is unmissable. “You two broke up?”

And there it is—another crossroads, where Yves thinks the easiest course of action would be to reshape the current lie into a simpler one, to keep the trappings of their fake relationship intact. With anyone else, it would be easier, that is.

Yves says, honestly, “We were never together in the first place.”

“But you went with him to France,” Mikhail says, confused. “Not to mention, to Margot’s new year party, and then to Joel and Cherie’s housewarming. Are you telling me—”

“That was all an act,” Yves tells him, and waits for this information to register. “There is nothing between us that’s real. That’s the reason I haven’t called him.”

The recognition settles on Mikhail’s face. Then he laughs, a little disbelieving. “You’re really not dating him? Why would you lie about that?”

“Do you remember Margot’s party?” Yves asks. It seems like the right place to start, after everything. “Erika was there with Brendon. And I was bitter, and—to be honest, jealous—and I wanted to show her I was fine. So I asked Vincent to go with me.”

“That was months ago,” Mikhail says.

“It was easier to just keep up the act, after that.” Yves says. “Easier to have him accompany me once a month than it would have been to stage a proper breakup. But obviously, this is all temporary. I just haven’t figured out when it’s going to end.”

Mikhail is quiet for a moment. Yves looks past him, at the staircase that leads down to the first floor.

“You’ll be fine, then,” he asks. “If you two break it off.”

“Of course,” Yves says. “I know it’s going to happen someday.”

“You won’t be upset at all?”

“What is there to be upset over?”

“From the way you spoke to him, I really thought there was something there,” Mikhail says.

“He is a good liar,” Yves says.

“Maybe so,” Mikhail agrees. “But you are not.”

He says it so calmly, it barely registers as an accusation. But Yves hears it, loud and clear.

“Vincent is attractive,” Yves says. “Anyone with eyes can see that. That’s all there is to it.” it feels wrong, even as he says it. Yves has always known Vincent to be attractive—that much hasn’t changed. But he knows that the feeling in his chest when he sees him at work, in the break room, or at lunch—the unusual ache—is a little more than that.

“Margot’s party was at the end of December,” Mikhail says. “It’s April, now. Margot wouldn’t tell you this, but since I don’t like withholding my feelings from you, I will.”

Yves waits—waits for Mikhail to tell him how all of this has been unduly dishonest, how Mikhail doesn’t appreciate having been lied to.

But Mikhail doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says: “If you’re still intent on keeping this fake relationship up…” Here, he meets Yves’s eyes, a little sternly. “You should think about who you’re really doing it for.”

It’s only for convenience, Yves wants to say. Now that we’ve set things up already, it’s merely the path of least resistance. But that isn’t quite right, is it?

“Don’t worry about me,” Yves says, trying a smile. “Vincent and I have talked this through already. Whatever happens with our arrangement, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Mikhail says. He pockets his phone, and then hands Yves the bottle of Advil. “Sorry for the interrogation, then. If you believe it to be fine, I trust you.” Perhaps that’s the worst part of it. Mikhail has never been the type of person to stay quiet about any foreseeable problems, but Yves knows that his agreement now is not a tactical retreat, nor is it an acknowledgment that it’s not worth arguing over something they won’t agree on. Mikhail is dropping the subject because he really trusts him.

Yves just doesn’t know if that trust is justified.

Mikhail turns on his heels, steps delicately past the hinge at the bottom of the doorframe.

Yves clears his throat. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Mikhail nods. “Feel better soon. If you need anything other than Advil, just give me a call.”

Then he’s gone. Yves shuts the front door behind him and wonders just what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snzfic #i wrote the majority of this on 4.21.2024 😭 initially with the intention of writing much more #(atypical occurrence part... 3?)#but i think it feels most fitting to just end it here :') that is what i have the stamina for in any case #i feel the need to apologize for how short this is + for the fact that vincent is entirely absent #you can maybe see why i hesitated for almost 7 months before posting it #a couple notes:#mikhail (yves's former college roommate and current best friend) is mentioned in the first installment i ever posted #but he shows up most substantially in foreign home #i am fond of their friendship dynamic... is it obvious? 😭#yvverse #my fic

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sturnswrites · 2 days ago

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the couples menu

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

⤳ fluff

⤳ you and chris have been best friends for forever, but after an unexpected comment at your favorite diner, you both start to question how you really feel for each other.

---------------------------------------------

The diner buzzed with its usual evening crowd, the clinking of utensils and hum of conversation creating a comforting background noise. You and Chris had been coming here for years, ever since high school. There was something safe about this place—the worn vinyl booths, the sticky tabletops, the flickering neon sign outside that read “Best Pie in Town.”

Chris sat across from you, lazily stirring his Pepsi with his straw, his head tilted as he listened to you recount the latest chaos from your day.

“And then,” you said, waving your hands for emphasis, “he just walked away! Like he didn’t just spill an entire coffee on me. No apology, no offer to help. Just gone.”

Chris leaned back in the booth, shaking his head. “That’s wild. Honestly, I think you scare people sometimes. Maybe he thought you were gonna yell at him.”

“I do not scare people,” you protested, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh, you definitely do.” He smirked, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Chris!”

“Hey, I’m just saying. You’ve got that whole fiery thing going on. It’s intimidating.”

You huffed, crossing your arms, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you as they twitched upward.

“Anyway,” he said, leaning forward, “did you at least get a new coffee?”

“Of course. I wasn’t about to let him ruin my day and deprive me of caffeine.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your heart stuttered at the casual endearment, but you quickly brushed it off. Chris had always been like this—teasing, affectionate, comfortable. You had been best friends for, well, forever. It didn’t mean anything… right?

Before you could spiral too much, the waitress appeared at your table with a laminated menu. She was probably in her forties, with kind eyes and a warm smile that felt like an invitation to trust her.

“You two are just the cutest,” she said, placing the menu between you.

You blinked, glancing at Chris, who looked equally confused. “Uh, thanks?”

“I thought you might like to see our Couples Special,” she continued, gesturing to the menu. “It’s perfect for lovebirds like you.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Couple,” Chris finished quickly, holding up his hands. “We’re not a couple.”

The waitress looked between the two of you, clearly unconvinced, but she just smiled knowingly. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

She walked away, leaving you both sitting there in stunned silence.

Chris was the first to break it, a laugh escaping his lips. “Well, that was… something.”

“She thought we were a couple,” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Can you blame her? We’re here all the time, we’re laughing, having a great time. We probably do look like a couple.”

You stared at him, your heart doing that annoying flutter thing it had been doing lately whenever he was around. “You’re not seriously saying we should just go along with it.”

“I’m saying,” he said, picking up the menu, “ten bucks off dessert isn’t a bad deal.”

“Chris!”

“What? It’s practical. Plus, free dessert.”

You groaned, but you couldn’t help laughing. He always had a way of making things light, even when your stomach was doing anxious flips.

The rest of the meal went on mostly as usual, though you couldn’t shake the lingering tension from the waitress’s assumption. Every so often, Chris would catch your eye, a small smile tugging at his lips, like he was amused by the whole situation.

When the bill came, the waitress gave you another warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hope you two have a lovely night.”

Chris thanked her, his voice smooth and easy, but you felt like your face might catch fire.

Outside, the evening air was cool against your flushed skin. You walked side by side toward Chris’s car, the silence between you heavy but not uncomfortable.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, stopping just short of the car.

You turned to face him, your pulse quickening at the serious look on his face. “What’s up?”

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his gaze flicking to the ground before meeting yours. “Can we talk about tonight? The whole ‘couple menu’ thing?”

Your stomach twisted, heart beating faster and faster. “What about it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, letting out a small laugh. “It just… it got me thinking. About us.”

Your heart was pounding now, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “What about us?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, don’t you think it’s weird? Like, why does everyone always assume we’re together?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I guess we spend a lot of time together. People just assume.”

“Yeah, but I mean, I think it’s more than that,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s the way we are around each other. We laugh, we tease, we’re comfortable. I don’t blame people for thinking we’re a couple because… sometimes, I think about it too.”

You froze, his words hitting you like a tidal wave. Your voice came down to a whisper from the shock you were feeling. “You… what?”

He sighed, his breath visible in the chilly air. “Y/N, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Years actually. And tonight just made me realize I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel something for you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

Your breath caught, your heart hammering in your chest. “Chris…”

“I get it if you don’t feel the same way,” he rushed on, his voice tinged with nervousness. “I just… I had to tell you. Even if it messes things up, I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I can’t keep moving on wondering what could be between us.”

You stared at him, your emotions swirling in a confusing mess of shock, joy, and fear. Finally, you took a shaky step forward. “Chris, I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I feel the same way. I think I’ve been in love with you for years, and I was just too scared to admit it. I’ve tried so hard to move past it because I never wanted it to be the reason that I… lost you.” as you swallowed hard unsure of what he was going to say next.

His eyes widened, hope flickering across his face. “You mean that?”

You nodded, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah. I mean that.”

Relief washed over him, and before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

“I was so scared I’d ruin everything,” he murmured into your hair, placing a soft kiss on top of your head.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look at him. “If anything, you made it better.”

He smiled, his eyes shining as he leaned his forehead against yours. “So… are we a couple now?”

You grinned, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “I guess we are.”

“Good,” he said, his voice steady. “Because I don’t think I could ever let you go.”

And just like that, everything between you and Chris fell into place, as if it had been waiting for this moment all along.

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still don’t really know what I’m doing but this was fun to write 😛

⭒ margot

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader

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taurasiscntybun · 2 days ago

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But we’re roommates! Pt 2

-College DT x nerdy reader

-18 plus minors DNI

-Warnings: Adult language, anxiety, internalized homophobia, descriptions of foreplay, virginity kink

-2,800 words

Diana’s POV

I shove my headphone over my head, my hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, the curls threatening to escape. 50 cent blares in my ear as I cross through the hallway of the dormitory.

“Distracts me?” I mutter to myself. I don’t understand my weird ass roommate, it’s rare she actually talks to me, even rarer that she comes close. Maybe it’s for the best, if she knew the thoughts I had about her I'm sure she’d never speak to me again.

“Distracts me?” I mumble again, I’m stuck on that, it has to fucking mean something. Why would it bother her if I’m in my sports bra? I wish she wouldn’t walk around in her goddamn tank top and shorts, well not really, I think her thin sleep shirt is my favorite thing she owns. I let out a groan as I picture her, the thin fabric stretching over her tits.

“Fuck” I mumble and shake my head to clear the thoughts. If only she knew how distracting she was, I keep my music blaring so I don’t notice her. I already know today is going to be a waste in class. Not that I give two fucks about my English class, as long as I get a C I can keep my scholarship and keep playing basketball. I should care more, I’m the first in my family to go to college; I’m not gonna flunk out or some shit but I’m happy with getting by. I hate my English class the most, what the fuck am I learning by reading Beowulf and Pride and Prejudice? At least my roomie helps me with English, she’s so smart. I turn up the volume on my mp3 player, keeping my mind from drifting to thoughts about my nervous baby bunny. I wave to a few people as I walk through the green, I don’t know everyone but since my face was on the fucking school magazine everyone seems to know me. Finally I get to one of the biggest buildings on campus, it’s on the other side of the fucking campus from my dorm but at least most of my classes are here. I glance down at my watch and swear under my breath, I’m like five minutes late.

“Miss Taurasi, you do know class starts at nine, correct?” My professor says, a smug look on his face.

“Yes sir, I got held up this morning.” I reply and flop down in my seat, pulling out my notebook.

“It’s five minutes, can he fucking chillax?” I mumble under my breath as he drones on about the oral history of Beowulf. I should be paying attention, I should be taking notes, but I can’t stop thinking about my fucking roommate. The way my hands fit perfectly around her waist, her touching my shoulder, her soft voice saying I’m distracting plays over and over in my head. It means something, it has too; why would my sweaty body be distracting to her? I look up from my blank notebook, realizing.

”Fuck, she’s attracted to me.” I mutter without thinking and a few heads turn my way but I ignore them. Now all I want is my classes to be over so I can get back to my dorm.

“Oh god, shit.” You say and run your fingers through your hair. Your classes start a little later in the day, back to back history classes then humanities. You stare at Diana’s unmade bed and replay your conversation. You had admitted she was distracting, you’d said her body was distracting.

“God she’s gonna think I’m some lesbo weirdo.” You mutter and pace the small space.

”No.. no.. it’s normal to be distracted, she’s hot.” You try and reassure yourself but it doesn’t work, you know deep down that the feelings you have towards Diana aren’t platonic. You want to feel her big hands on you, her lips, her everything, you want to be consumed by her presence. She’s gorgeous, a mix of strong muscles and soft curves that make your mouth water.

“Don’t be weird, it’s fine, it’s fine.” You dress quickly, a tank top and loose cargo pants and hurry out the door for class; your mind clouded with anxiety with before class.

The rest of the day goes by in a droning bore, your classes blurring together as your stomach tumbles in anxiety. When your last class leaves you bolt for the door and race across campus to your dorm. Diana’s day ends before yours but she has practice so it’s fine.

“Calm down, calm down, its fine, she’s at practice and I’m sure she doesn’t even remember what I said this morning.” You mutter as you fit the key in your dorm room door. You swing it open and yelp as Diana looks up at you from her bed.

”Finally you're home, I didn't know when your last class ended.” She says and stands to come closer.

”No it’s Monday, your math class lets out at four and your practice starts at four-thirty, why are you here? It’s five?” You say and shake your head.

“You memorized my schedule?” She asks and cocks her head to the side, her hair is down for once and the dark curls bob as she turns her head.

”I..I..I wanted to know the times you wouldn’t be here, for.. for studying.” You stammer, still standing in the open doorway. Diana gives you a wolffish grin and takes another step towards you, she’s in touching distance now but she feels much closer, her large statue looming.

”Oh yes because I’m so distracting right?”

“Y..your music and..and..” You stammer but she cuts you off by grabbing you and pulling you into the room, the door clicking shut and locking behind her.

”We dont need to have this talk with the door open.” Diana says in a hushed tone, her hands still on your arms.

”And I know, you find me walking around in my sports bra very distracting right?” She taunts, her thumbs rubbing up and down your bare arms, leaving goosebumps along your skin.

”I..I..”

“Why does my body distract you Baby bunny?” She whispers, drawing you even closer.

”I’m not the genius you are but could I be distracting you because you find me hot?” She’s standing so close now you could count the freckles across her face, she looks down at you with a serious expression, something you're not used to. You look up at her slack jawed and you know you're blushing but you can’t stop. You try to think of something, anything to say to her but your mind is drawing a blank.

”Y..yes you..you are pretty but..but lots of g..girls are pretty.” You stammer and try to pull away but her grip tightens to nearly painful.

”Do you look at a lot of other girls?” She whispers and searches your face.

”I..I mean a normal amount, everyone notices pretty girls right? I mean you notice pretty girls right?” You answer nervously and look down. Diana moves one of her hands from your arm to under your chin and she tilts your head up gently to look at her.

”Oh yeah, I notice pretty girls, all the time, but then again I don’t notice boys.. if you understand what I mean. I definitely fucking notice you. You think I’m distracting? Baby I can hardly think when you're around, everything comes out in a rush of word vomit when you look at me with your big eyes.” She’s leaned down to you, your air mingling as her eyes dart from yours to your lips.

“Do you feel the same way baby? Am I right?” Diana says, her tone so hushed its barely audible over the roaring in your ears. The room feels too small, Diana too close, you can’t breathe let alone think. As if she can read your thoughts she takes a step back and lets go of your arms, raising her hands in surrender.

“Tell me I’m wrong, tell me to fuck off and I’ll never bring it up again, I’ll even wear a shirt all the time.“ Her eyes search your face and you can see the quiet vulnerability in her face. You’re frozen, not able to deny how you feel but not knowing what to say either. Diana looks at you concerned and then a look of understanding crosses over her face.

“You’re new to liking girls aren’t you? Or rather new to admitting it to yourself?” Her tone is soft and her gaze warm. She sits on her bed and pats the place next to her.

“It’s ok, everyone’s been there.” You take a tentative step towards her, trying to think of anything to say.

“If you don’t say anything cause you’re scared of rejection, don’t be.” Diana says in a hushed tone and you sit, she immediately puts her hand on your thigh, nothing scandalous just resting on your knee but it was enough to get your blood heating.

“I don’t know why I feel this way about… about you.” You say softly and turn to look at her.

“Are you attracted to me? Do you get distracted by my body because it turns you on? You don’t understand why I affect you… it’s nothing I did baby, you just like women.” Diana says and grins, her touch on your thigh turning teasing as she traced patterns on your inner thigh; the calluses on her long fingers leaving goosebumps under your pants.

“It’s ok, I feel the same way, I want you baby, fuck I want to kiss you all the time, I want you to come to my games in my jersey. I want to devour you.” Her tone dropped as she spoke and she squeezed your thigh for emphasis on the last part. You let out a hushed whimper and she moved closer, her hand moving up your thigh.

“You gotta say something babygirl, I’m not going to keep touching you unless I’m sure you want it.” She starts to pull away and immediately you feel the loss of contact and speak before thinking.

“No please keep touching me. Fuck I want you to touch me please.” You admit and she grinned.

“Thank fuck.” Diana groans and doesn’t give you a chance to respond before pulling you in tight, her lips crashing into yours. You freeze, your body locking up under the foreign touch.

“Come on baby, let go, let me show you how I good I can make you feel.” Diana says and kisses down your neck.

“Don’t think, just feel; you want me to keep touching you? Well I want you to touch me too, give in baby.” She almost begs and her soft suck on your pulse point makes you come undone. You melt against her, and pull her down for another kiss. Your kiss is clumsy and unpracticed but passionate; Diana’s hand comes up behind you and tangles in your hair, tilting your head back as she takes control. She slows your kiss, her mouth moving against yours with practiced ease.

“God you don’t know what you do to me.” Diana practically growls and pulls away a bit.

“Talk to me baby.” She begs and strokes your back.

”Im sorry I..I’m not good at this at uh talking about stuff.” You manage to say and she grins.

“No apologies baby, you don’t need to try, just be you.” She kisses down your jaw and you gasp.

“O..Ok” you say in a breathy tone, collecting yourself a bit.

”I like you, i really like you in a way I haven’t liked another girl before and I didn't know what to do or how to act because i didn't want you to think I’m a freak but then that meant you needed to stay away from me because my like brain stops working when you're around.” Your words tumble out a fast long sentence and Diana pulls away to process your words.

“Firstly I dont think you're a freak, I’m actually super fucking happy that you have feelings for me because fuck I’ve wanted you since you walked into this dorm all wide eyed and excited the first day.” She smiles and pulls you close again, this time in a tight hug, Diana was successfully breaking your walls down, bit by little bit. She waited until she felt you relax in her embrace to speak.

“When you see me walking around in my underwear what are you thinking baby?” She whispers against your hair, her tone low.

”I..I..” You start to stutter in response.

”You tell me and I’ll tell you what I’m thinking when I see you in your cute little pajamas.” She teases, moving her head down to whisper in your ear.

“I..I think about your body and.. and how much I like it and want to touch you. I..I think about your boobs probably too much and your uh sweaty sports bras hide little.” You admit and pull away again, sitting next to her. Diana raises her eyebrows in question.

”My…boobs?” She asks and looks down at her somewhat flat chest.

“Yes yes I think about them all the time, every time I see you without a bra at night or when you walk around after practice. God Diana were you not doing that on purpose?” You ask, you're softening, feeling more comfortable with her now that your crush was out in the open. Diana laughs and shakes her head incredulously.

”I honestly just started dressing in here because it seemed to annoy you and you look so adorable when you're mad but you weren’t mad were you? You were horny?” She hooks a finger in your belt loop and tugs you towards her, forcing your body to angle to her. You blush and look down at your hands in your lap.

“Nah baby dont get shy on me now, you were just telling me how much you like my boobs.” Diana’s hands cover yours and you tilt your head to look at her.

“Do you wanna see ‘em baby?” Her voice drops to a whisper and she looks down at you with heat in her gaze. You suddenly realize yes, you’d very much like to see her boobs and the rest of her.

”Yes, Diana I..I want you.” You say in a shaky tone and bite your lip. She lets out a groan in response.

“Ok , you can have me but fuck that means I get you, I get to really know you, you gotta let me in.” Dianas words came out in almost a plea, she needed you as much as you needed her right now.

“Yes I promise Dee you can-“

”Don’t call me that.” She cuts you off abruptly and you look at her in confusion.

”But everyone calls you that?”

“Yeah but you aren’t everyone and you’ve never called me Dee, I uh I like that you're the only one that calls me by my full name. To everyone Im Dee or DT but you have always called me Diana.” She brings your hands to her lips and kisses across your knuckles; you're left breathless by the reverence in her touch.

”Diana I promise I’ll be myself, I want you, I don’t want to hide from you anymore.” You admit to her as she kisses your knuckles again.

“Thank god baby, now I want to touch you, I want to touch you everywhere, can I?” Diana asks softly and drags her big hands up your arms.

“I wanna show you how much I like you.” Her thumbs hook under the thin straps of your tank top and pulls them down your shoulders.

”I..I dont know what to do, i.. I’ve never..” You stutter and she groans low in her throat.

”Fuck are you telling me you're a virgin?” Her thumbs move in small circles on your shoulders as she looks down at you predatorily.

“Y..yeah I uh have never with uh anyone.” You say quietly, a touch embarrassed.

”But you want me to touch you right? You want me to make you cum dont you baby bunny?” She asks in a raspy tone, dipping her head to kiss down your neck.

“Y.yes Diana p..please.” You say and let your head lull to the side giving her more access.

“Mhhmm you're so beautiful.” She said against your skin, one hand fisted in your hair to gently lean your head and her other hand wandered up your body, teasing at the hem of your shirt.

“Diana please I..I want you to make me cum I… I want you.” You whine and arch your back into her touch, your body automatically knowing what to do. Diana chuckles against your skin and places one more kiss on your pulse point before pulling away.

“Ok baby but first I need you out of these clothes.” She leans down and starts untying your sneakers, her long finger moving deftly as she undoes the knot and slips the shoe off you.

“Lay back, lemme take care of you.” She says softly and kisses your inner ankle sending a buzz of heat through your body. Diana repeats her actions with your other shoe then stands.

#diana taurasi #wnba x reader #women’s sports #lesbian #fanfic #wbb #lgbtqia #uconn wbb #wnba requests #diana taurasi x reader #theyre so silly

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spinnysocks · 2 days ago

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mini kiburi x ushari fic :3

Every muscle in Kiburi's body ached. Scar just had to call a meeting after he, Janja and Reirei had their tails handed to them by the Lion Guard for the thousandth time.

The only positive thing about the sundown meeting was Ushari. While Scar berated them as usual, the snake gave the crocodiles the benefit of the doubt - they were being sent on nearly every mission lately and were likely overtired, of course they couldn't fight as well. The firey lion didn't like to hear that coming from his second-in-command, but it was better than having to hear his prolonged reprimanding.

“Tomorrow morning, you will attack Mbuni Woods, where there will be less backlash from the Pridelanders.” Scar announced. He set his gaze on Kiburi, then looked at Ushari who gave him a nod. “Kiburi, you and your float can rest, as long as you fight better.”

The crocodile leader stood tall. “We crocs can fight just fine. We won't lose next time.”

“You better. Now, all of you go and prepare for tomorrow… And I don't want to hear any excuses again.” The ghostly lion threatened before disappearing into smoke.

Kiburi sighed deeply and let his eyes close for a second. He hadn't been allowed to sleep properly in who knows how many days. The news, although extremely small and insignificant, was a relief for him and his float.

“Kiburi?”

He opened his eyes and glanced to see Ushari slithering towards him. They were the only two left in the volcano now. The atmosphere was strangely peaceful for once.

“I thought you might fall asleep there.” The cobra was joking, but there was something more in his voice that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Kiburi turned to face him, feeling every sore muscle as he moved. He stared back at Ushari, for once in his life unable to think of a comeback due to his fatigue. “I should get back to my float before they start thinkin’ we’ll be on tomorrow's mission.”

He began walking down from the volcano’s ledge, each step slower than usual. Ushari caught up and matched his speed.

“I’ll accompany you.” The snake insisted in his ever-so-casual tone. Kiburi continued walking as he considered it. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to have company but he had to play it off.

“Don’t you need to return to your hollow for the night? It's getting dark.” As they exited the volcano, he looked up at the darkening sky where stars were beginning to show. At least it was a pretty night.

“I slept during the day. Scar usually has his best schemes in the middle of the night.”

Kiburi snickered. “Sure. What I meant was, why are you escorting me? I'm not some weak, pathetic animal who needs protection.” The words came out his mouth a little ruder than he intended.

“Of course not. You're the farthest from that… when you're not falling asleep on your feet.” Ushari responded, smirking as Kiburi snapped his weary head back up at the comment.

The crocodile leader stopped. “So you are here to protect me—”

“Relax. All I'm doing is making sure you don't walk into a rock on your way.”

The pair resumed walking. Kiburi smirked slightly. “Sounds like something my float would do. They’re a bunch of fish-for-brains.”

Ushari watched the expression on his face closely with curiosity. The crocodile barely ever smiled, but it was nice when he did. “But you like them?”

“Like them? Ha! They're my only friends.” The somewhat sad response sounded positive coming from the crocodile. Maybe it was just the fatigue.

The cobra raised an eyebrow at him, a smug smile on his face. “Am I not your friend?”

Kiburi looked back at him with a blank face. “...I like you enough. For you to be my friend, I mean.”

“I assumed we already were. Perhaps making friends with crocodiles is different from snakes. Although, a crocodile liking me is high praise to me.” Ushari hissed.

Kiburi glanced away, refusing to let the sudden redness on his face be seen. Even in his sleep-deprived state, he wouldn't let himself be uncharacteristically flustered. He could play it cool.

“Another reptile respecting me is high praise to me. I liked you from the moment we met.”

Ushari chuckled. “Not enough to be unspoken friends?” The hint in his voice was just like that of their first meeting — smooth and casual and yet producing so many feelings in the crocodile.

Kiburi dared to look at him again — if he was brave enough to fight, then he was brave enough to look at Ushari's face. “Oh, I don't think we're friends, Ushari…”

#i impulse wrote this based on a generator prompt abt helping a sleep deprived person to bed who confesses to the one helping them <3 #in all honesty i meant to write more but i think this is a good cutoff #hope ya like it tho :]#oh man i haven't written propery shippy stuff in so long #sure i wrote the reirei and goigoi snippet but doesn't really count #like this is pure proper otp stuff hehe #this is for the kibshari nation /silly #< i keep saying that bc i genuinely love this ship im so happy tehe /pos #spinny writing #kiburi x ushari #tlg outlanders #tlg #the lion guard #gayreptiles #*drops this and runs away*

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dykedvonte · 3 days ago

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what’s your opinion on how the story of mouth washing would change if Jimmy was captain instead of Curly? Like, if Curly was co captain instead of jimmy, maybe out of pure luck on jimmys part or jimmy had sweetend up to the higher ups in pony express? Sorry if someone’s asked this before, but I think it could be pretty interesting

I think it would be more interesting because I feel like Jimmy would be a different Captain than Curly was through being the perfect worker.

Like I assume he climbed the ranks similarly but the reason he's a bit untouchable is either through black mail or turning a blind eye in a way the company likes. Perhaps he was needed to testify for a case against them and he offered to make them look better. Maybe he'd be loose on procedures that help them cut cost and keep morale up in the worst way. As long as he can do what he wants with that sort of power attached he's their perfect little black sheep.

He'd still crash the ship though, them going bankrupt, likely all the wrongdoings he's committed outside of yknow, assaulting Anya, no longer being covered up and hushed. They can't help him and the story of a Captain that abused his powers for years finally coming to light, headed by the rape of a subordinate. I think the biggest difference is he's genuinely trying to die this time, like I think his ego would be way bigger because his wants were slightly actualized. I think he's reserved in canon because he's still just a nobody with nothing to really control, but here? There's no one above him on this ship and in his mind at all, no Pony Express anymore, he's basically a god.

I feel like as for the others its a but interesting. I honestly think Curly would be a lot happier with the lack of responsibility but just as concerned and possibly more scared of Jimmy. He has to do even more placating because knowing Jimmy, he'd take his anger out on the rest of the crew just to make Curly feel worse about it, he's conditioned in a way where Jimmy makes all his mistakes as Captain feel like Curly's fault. I think Anya would still confide in him and due to this sort of "clarity" (not having the weight of everything on his shoulders) he's be more keen to listen and cover her. He's still not exactly confrontational with Jimmy, he's well aware what the Captain does have access to with the scanner... but maybe in that, when Anya hides the gun he lies for her and says he misplaced it while tidying up the cock-pit. Jimmy can see through his lies but is at least satisfied Curly won't directly call him out still. However, he loses it a bit more now knowing his best friend, the person he gave a nice cushy position to, isn't fully on his side.

I imagine Jimmy gets caught in the crash either because the door jams, sort of a ironic pin in the final statement of how drastically his luck turned or he underestimated the time he had to escape, representing his lack of understanding in true consequence. The message is slightly warped in that it's more about silent opposition as with an inherently bad leader, we'd have it framed as the crew being conflicted in what we would only assume is a botched but successful mutiny, only to see how bad Jimmy was. Going from the post-crash to show Jimmy as a worse and worse leader as it ultimately shows ways to help victims silently and that agency doesn't need to look like bravado. A flip on how every man was ultimaly a bystander in Anya's suffering. Still, it's mostly them covering or helping Anya do more for herself as it is just as, if not more dangerous for the men to create a dynamic that puts her directly into his ire/sights by being openly hostile. It's a good tactic to create outs for victims vs charging in when you know they will most likely be retaliated against directly.

Like her asking Swansea to keep the axe, Curly hiding the gun or Daisuke always trialing her so she's never alone.

I feel like the atmosphere of the game is totally different too. There's something somber in the pre-crash sequences obviously but you can tell everyone was relatively doing fine under Curly's leadership until Jimmy decied to be a homicidal rapist. With Jimmy it's inverted, like the respite after a storm. Anya is still pregnant unfortunately, but seeing as Jimmy is stuck in medical and can't do anything anymore, it's the first time she'd breathing. It's labored and not refreshing but it's easier than in canon, her relief makes it seem likes she happy, helping with the twist. Daisuke is a lot more aware, more shaken about things because he was more involved. He's thinking more about his idea's of keeping things kosher and letting the smile fade, makes him seems a bit more dreary that helps with the twist, as if he's guilty.

I think Swansea is relatively the same, though he's a lot more open of his condemnation of Jimmy, saying he was awful and being a bit to mean that makes it seem like it's too intentional and Jimmy couldn't have been that bad. Curly is most interesting because he's still just a little torn up about it. I don't think he'd take the title as Captain, more so just do things that fit the role as a distraction. His best friend turned out to be this horrible monster. Maybe he was always this monster and he just never got to see. Maybe he saw and was to scared that he'd be a monster to him... more of one at least. He feels an immense guilt that makes it hard for him to have a total disdain for Jimmy and he hates it.

There's a lot I could say on this but I'll probably make an even longer, what if post ladder when I've had time to stew on it.

#god it like him being captain changes a lot because he would be bad but in a way where the currutpion is so natural you dont even realize #he was bad until you get the pre crash sequences and grrrr ill be thinking about this thanks anon #mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #curly mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #anon #ask

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yandere-paramour · 2 days ago

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So Noelle, being to a degree emotionally reliant on knowing that darling is safe and that her apartment is a sanctuary. How is she handling having that mental construct violated? Like say for example there's a break in and the apartment is robbed, darling isn't hurt or anything just that perception of having a safe secure place violated in some way. c:

GREAT Question, I was excited to answer this one.

First, let's explore the logistics of this. By the nature of her wealth and status, Atalanta has a trusted and experienced security team to protect her at all times. Since she was hired, Noelle has had security around her too, both because Ata likes her and because she is a potential risk. If Noelle is kidnapped and tortured for information, Montclair secrets could come out and that's a huge problem. So there is at least 1 security guard following Noelle around/Guarding her apartment at all times. A potential intruder would have to break into the building, get in the elevator, somehow know the apartment number, get past the guard, and then get into the locks. Noelle is no fool, she has taken precautions to protect both herself and Darling.

If someone managed to do all that, Noelle would be downright hysterical. Like she would have a mental breakdown, and Darling isn't even hurt in this scenario. If Darling was hurt, she might go on a rampage. For now, she is able to tone it down to just a simple mental breakdown.

You have never seen Noelle like this, and you will never see it again. In fact, very very few people have seen Noelle like this (Odette, her mom, and a few stepfathers). Noelle is a very, very calm person. She doesn't raise her voice or show any extreme emotions. You could be psychotic and she would calm you down slowly and gently, wrap you in a blanket, and hold you close as you slept.

But this is more than she can handle. This is violating her sacred space. She has carved out one space in the entire fucking world and some jackass has fucking defiled it? She can't have one damn thing? What did she fucking do in her past life to deserve all this?

You're not fucking staying here tonight. Noelle sends you with a security guard to a hotel room Atalanta arranged; she'll catch up later tonight. She has to do something first. You can try to protest but she's not in the fucking mood and you are going to listen and go. She's actually a little scary, she always speaks kindly to you.

You wait anxiously in the hotel for Noelle to come back for about 2 hours. When she finally comes, she is back to her normal loving, doting self, stroking your hair and lamenting about how scared you must've been and how brave you were and how she is so thankful you are safe and sound. She brought your favorite stuffed animal and some clothes for the two of you. She seems the same, only a little sweaty. After she showers, she cuddles you to sleep, then gets up to get her laptop and try to rebuild your lives.

The next day, Noelle allows you (after a lot of begging and pleading on your end) to go get some more essentials. When you get back through the kicked-in door, you are shocked. The place looks much, much worse than it did when you saw it last. The expensive glass vases and trinkets Noelle decorates with are shattered on the ground, the paintings clawed, the TV seemingly kicked in. The place looks ransacked, and your mouth drops open. You know Noelle would never be negligent enough to not leave someone to watch the door, and nothing sentimental seems hurt. All of your possessions are safely intact and pristine. Only... only the expensive things are destroyed... only the things that can be replaced.

"What-" You don't even know what to say, "What happened here?"

"What do you mean, Darling?" Noelle cocks her head at you, confused, "The burglars did this; it was like this when you left."

"No-"

"You're mistaken, my love. This must be such a great shock to you. Let's get your things and we can go back to the hotel room and rest. I'll even order some of those cookies you like."

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4thegadiesandlentlemen · 6 hours ago

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BANGER POST AGAIN !!!

I both hate and love the ambiguity. Because I'm tryna think back to Bjorn (who lived an incredibly short life omg) but the difference is he was brain dead and couldn't fight back. The retired characters aren't. So he must've found a way to keep them steady??

And omg??? How he'd feel WHEN he dies??? I didn't even think of that. But that is honestly such a good point.

Now everything past this point I'm just assuming things again

Wayne loves life and I believe it's because of the free will he gets. Death would mean the end to all that possibility and fun shit to do. He seems like the kinda person to make his own meaning to life than find one (to me, at least). I don't think he'd think about his mortality too much cause he just lives in the moment. He doesn't think about the future or past, he just goes through time as it is. Wanna add on more to this but my brain's overheating.

First death was blunt. No torture, no build up, no nothing. He was led out and just bled??? He also said help me even though he was in THAT state.

I'm spewing shit here but maybe he was begging cam to save him. (And I think he might've asked Robin to help? I forgot so I won't talk about it until I reset☹️) I believe Wayne knows Cameron is Wayne is a pussy when it comes to confrontation so when Cam dies from an allergic reaction he caused, I doubt Wayne called for help with the possibility of Cam snitching. Then Cameron just comes back lol and they're back to pranks. Clearly he wants to live. He has a little hope that Cam would bring him back. And he does?? In short, the death was just that so Wayne had faith he'd be resurrected.

Second death, he does an oopsie and talks to justin. Then we see him help captive looking half dead and talking about how there's more people. Hear me out, what if Justin saw the retired cast get made into clones? I mean not literally. I don't think the captives would be kept in the same room as the one Justin would be experimenting in. He might've either seen how they struggled or possibly heard something (which also feels unlikely yk Justin might get soundproof walls or like uhh tranquilized them? (Sedated? Chloroform? Put them under anesthesia?What's the word?) idk I have too many thoughts on this).

The way Wayne looks is awful I can't even lie. No one can tell me he wasn't stressed out of his mind. But he's just been kept there? He either died by a bullet or by becoming Justin. But those deaths wouldn't just be quick. They had build up. And he might've lost hope and it didn't matter which way he got out of the situation, he just wanted to get out. So when he dies, he'd feel relief. But I'm still clinging onto the idea he doesn't want to lose his life so I'd think he'd so conflicted.

Then he's just brought back by the guy who saved him the first time. The same guy who killed him. Just brought back to suffer. Bitchy husk as a man I hope you don't come back. ( If he does I'm actually gonna be so pissed even though I love him mwah. Let him rest! )

I hate that I'm so invested in this.

AAAAAAAAA JUSTIN CASE UPDATE??? WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID HE JUST POST RHE SPOILERS TO THE NEXT INSTALLEMENT OF THE STROY RIGHT THERE INSREA DOF BEING LIKE YEAH IM DOING IT IM KILLING CAM RN FUCK ME (ron intended)

anywayssssss

nathaniel is dead, not very skibidi sigma of him at all but i’m not too surprised, cam’s been trying to get rid of ol’ nathan for a WHILE (besides, look at his last name. it was inevitable)

cam added a mary sue self insert oc that’s basically a god into the cgcu who’s summoned by racism and sexual jokes. damn.

i get the ending and it’s alright, but also seems anticlimactic. like cam shows up and tells justin “dude you’re a fictional made up character on the internet you’re already immortal 💀” and justin’s like “oh fr then ig i’ll stop” which isn’t that satisfying at all. i don’t like that ending the discord’s ending (ask me for an invite link if ur interested in the server, we’re all very cool) is much better since yk. it has actual character development.

personally? i don’t like this ending much and i am unsatisfied. it might be better if he actually posts it but i still don’t like it much. if only…….i finished the goddamn animation……..ughhh

also……….max? whipping it out? right there? cam you better film this part or else /hj

#trying to remember when justin explained how he made clones.#did he inject something or???#also just read the fic u recommend and lord it has me tweaking i need more case studies (from gus specifically)#cameron gender #idc what anyone says even if it's canon Wayn didn't go through torture #He did in my mind idcc just LOOK AT HIM???#one foot in the grave.#i wish people could look into my brain and see all these cool ideas #i wish i could look into YOUR brain becuase thia is brilliant #like towards his death? he would feel like a weights been lifted off his shoulders but not really get why #he gives me vibes of idk what’s going on with my feels im just gonna ignore it and hope i feel better #<<<these tags omg you're so smart #like seriously you have so much intelligence #i might've gone a bit off topic somewhere #nothign brings people together like a hostage situation #maybe he talked with the others about their own lives #maybe they tried to find a reason for it all #idk #how long has justin been doing this #I feel like I'm just repeating points omg #give me an 5k word assignment and it's straight bulshit for twice the needed amount #i actually did that with less words and i got good scores for writing a lot #i miss when it was that simple

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snixx · 6 months ago

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ok gonna practice my tamil reading skillz now by trying to read the signs as I go down the street let's go:)

#at least Something i can do here even if the rest of coming here was a total waste #comprehension practice! yay!!!

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seventh-district · 5 months ago

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#Seven's Public Diary #vent #vent post #cw vent #cw vent post #can i go more than a fucking week without having my cptsd triggered again? pLEASE???#me and my haywire nervous system can't ever catch a fucking break i swear to god #at least i managed to get the Matt fic posted before that happened and ruined my night #literally three minutes after i hit post. something has to happen IRL and ruin my slight good mood. sigh. anyways #my chest still feels tight but my focus is coming back i think. lets hope the rest of the night is uneventful #anyways. uh. positives. got the Matt fic posted on here And Ao3! yay. after working on it the last two evenings it's officially done #i know i put way too much effort into my fics especially ones that will get very little readership but eh i can't help it #time spent doing something you enjoy is never time wasted or however the saying goes #uh oh. the stress injury in my neck is starting to feel tight again. that's probably not a great sign #i should try to relax. been sitting at my desk too much recently and my back's mad abt it too #i would unwind with some Genshin exploration grinding or smthn but that's just more desk sitting time #so hm. animal crossing in bed it is then #watch me say that then spend the next 3 hours on tumblr #i cant help it i want to update my pinned posts and fill my queue up some more #and i have some drafts to work on... still need to finish that Sun & Moon appearance guide for ES #maybe i'll pull an all-nighter. i need to fix my sleep schedule again. like badly. but then i risk a migraine. aaggghhhhhh #anyways this has been Venting and Bad Decision Making 101 thabks for coming to my TED talk #oh hey look at that i got a like on the Matt fic. mood slightly improved. thank u whoever u r <3

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talkorsomething · 5 months ago

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genuinely tried to Be Asleep for like two hours this time and just couldn't. I think i'm cursed [unwell]

#100% секретный дневник левы НЕ ЧИТАЙ #feels pretty much like the first night i got sick (remember that breakdown? lol) except this time i have Overcome the illness #mostly anyways.#but yeah i'm just. augh. not only do i have to deal with literal nightly thoughts of sh now i can't even sleep?!#my curse of Hearing Things immediately working against me the moment i can't hear things clearly #cause ... now i REALLY don't know whats going on #like i know it's not my business and shouldn't be my business but a) i live here and b) i have to hear it either way.#just ... yeah. now that we're probably as settled in as things are gonna get i REALLY do not feel like i'm meant to be here #not in general; as in this physical actual space. there's no thought that something should be made for all of us since they have work #& i ... well i do but [redacted]. so it's the work i make for myself mostly. but yeah so it doesn't matter if nobody sees me eat breakfast #(dont care about that anyways) and it doesnt matter that nobody sees me eat dinner (maybe i care A Little ok) because the whoooole rest of #the day is nebulous Lunch Time. and oh boy let me tell you. i'm not having that either #cause uhm. 'you can eat our food' only means so much until money comes into the equation #like BOY if i thought i was messed up about that before let me tell you: it has become Worse #i dunno. i try to have good days and yet the moment its Asleep Time i am someone completely different #like ... it's like seasonal depressiom but WORSE because theres SUNLIGHT and i LOVE SUNLIGHT #no yeah i think that's exactly the sort of thing i can liken it to now that i think of it #cause i always have like... seasonal issues when it starts gettin dark around 4-5ish range. except right now its summer so its NOT #wish i knew how to really be normal. then maybe at least if i wouldnt have good music making material i could like. meaningfully contribute #to my existence as a roommate #'i'm doing great' says man who is somehow Still Not #relatedly i think my next public facing breakdown is either gonna be about this still or about spinning in the pride parade. time will tell #....i can hear them AGAIN i know why IM up why are THEY #/bangs on wall Go To Sleeeeep leave me alone to also sleep T_T #that's ... that's a joke by the way i'm not doing that. i do feel more tired now so maybe i will have somewhat restful sleep. hopefully

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alexiroflife · 5 months ago

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jjk men when you aren't feeling well but try to hide it...

"hello! i was wondering if you could write an angst but w comfort fluff headcannon w the jjk men? i was thinking reader has an injury or is sick but she hides it, but they find out. it would be great if you can, but if not i totally understand. your writing is amazing!!!" -anon

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

satoru gojo: (sprained ankle!)

you're fucked.

you know you are the moment you go to pick yourself up from your boyfriend's hardwood kitchen floors and wince in pain in reaction to the pressure in your left ankle.

you hiss, immediately stumbling back to a sitting position. You look over your outstretched foot to find that your ankle is rapidly swelling, and you curse under your breath.

this is so inconvenient. of all times to injure yourself, you of course had to a day before an important mission. you never handle injuries very well. you are always so quick to brush them off, or at least be in denial about them because you can't stand the thought of feeling helpless or incapable.

especially not when satoru gojo is your boyfriend, who unfortunately knows you far too well to overlook something like an injury to your ankle.

damn. what are you supposed to do? satoru will never let you out of his sight, let alone allow you to go on this mission if he finds out about your injury. as much as you love the way he looks after you, you're not in the mood to accept the fact that you may not be able to walk for a few days without his help.

you try to stand again, stubborn with determination. you grip onto the countertop and rise slowly on your able foot, then lean to press your injured foot down slowly. okay... not so bad! Maybe you can add just a little bit more pressure, and-

"fuck," you curse, sharp pain throbbing through your foot the moment you try to walk. You lift your leg immediately and whimper, leaning your body against the counter. "god dammit," you pout.

you should ice it, you think, but icing it will only make the injury more real. maybe it's not so bad, right? maybe if you just sit down for a bit and push it to the back of your head, it will go away?

you know it's not smart, but truthfully, you don't have the time to worry about a stupid ankle. you're sure you only irritated it. with some rest, you'll be fine.

you hop your way up the stairs with your hand gripping the railing tightly to your shared bedroom and ease yourself into bed. you decide you'll take a nap while you wait for satoru to come home, ignoring the simmering pain in your swollen ankle.

"babyyy!"

you wake suddenly to the sound of satoru's voice singing through the house. you jump and immediately hold in a whimper of pain when you accidentally shift your foot beneath the covers. you can tell solely by the lack of mobility in your ankle that it's, unsurprisingly, gotten worse.

you panic, moving quickly to prop your back up against the headboard. you fix yourself in the most normal possible position you can without agitating your foot, and you turn to the door with an innocent expression the second satoru bursts through with a beam.

"hey, pretty," he walks in and immediately crouches over the bed to wrap you up in a hug. you cringe as his lips meet every crook of your face, his body enveloping you in warmth. "missed you so much today," he sighs.

"missed you too, toru," you wrap your arms around his back. "how was your day?"

"same old same old. the higher-ups only get more annoying each day, if that's even possible," he grumbles into your ear, slumping against you. "what are you doing cooped up here all by yourself? you taking a nap?"

"yeah, I just woke up," you tell him with a hefty exhale, his lips meeting the crook of your neck lazily as he nuzzles into you. "you wanna take one with me, you big baby?" you giggle.

"god yes," satoru agrees. "but first, I'm starving. did you eat while I was gone?"

"nah, I waited for you, toru."

"well, you normally cook, baby, I was waiting for you."

you momentarily freeze and he pulls back reluctantly, not before dotting one more kiss to the crook of your jaw. you had completely forgotten about making dinner, but seeing how you couldn't even walk, those cards were off the table.

he looks down at you with his arms propped on either side of your figure on the bed. your ankle continues to throb, and while you try to hide the pain that you are currently in by shifting ever so subtly beneath him, his sapphire eyes catch the twitch in your brow and the motion of your body beneath his blindfold.

"not that I care if you cook or not. obviously you were tired..." he trails off. "you okay?"

fucking hell, damn those six eyes.

you nod despite yourself, keeping a soft smile as you brush your fingers over satoru's hair. "yeah, of course. just tired like you said. I'm sorry about dinner, it slipped my mind."

"don't you dare apologize," he ducks down to kiss your cheek loudly. "we can go out to eat. make it a date before your big mission tomorrow, yeah?"

you internally deflate. the idea sounds amazing, but going on a date would mean getting up, getting dressed, and walking out the door. you're unfortunately physically incapable of doing any of the above at the moment.

satoru watches the way your shoulders slump and your lips part as if to protest, and he tilts his head in slight confusion. "...or not..." he says slowly.

"sorry, toru, it's not that I don't wanna go, i just don't have the energy..." you excuse pathetically.

satoru's face tells you that he doesn't buy your words, but he complies nonetheless. "that's no problem, baby, we can order in instead."

you sigh and nod with a gentle smile. "that sounds great."

"someone's feeling real lazy today, huh?" he teases, hooking his finger into his blindfold to peel it from his face, revealing his bright irises gazing curiously down at you. "you sure you're just tired?"

"yeah... why?"

"i'm just askin," he says. his eyes dart over you one more time before he pushes himself up with an exhale and tugging at your arm. "come on, let's go to the living room to order."

why the hell does he want to move around so much?!

"um- why can't we just order here?"

a smile quirks on Satoru's lips as though you've made a joke. "cause, we'll be downstairs once the food gets here," he says.

you pucker your lips slightly and tilt your head. "can't we just eat it up here and you can go get it?"

gojo's eyes are now slim with suspicion as he pulls himself back over to you. "i mean, of course i can but you never eat takeout in bed, we always cuddle downstairs and eat."

"I'm tired, can't i change it up today?"

"you know i have no problem doing what you want and pampering you baby," satoru starts slowly. his eyes dash to your legs, and he suddenly notes that he has not seen you bend them in the few minutes he has been home. in fact, you had been rather stagnant instead of running up to clobber him when he entered the room, whether you were previously asleep or not. "but you're acting a little weird."

"no, I'm not," you deny adamantly. you have always been a poor liar, but in the face of Satoru Gojo, your lack of talent in the arena only proves to be more prominent. "you think too much, you know that?"

"you think so?" he raises a brow at you, a hint of playfulness remaining though it is steadily fleeting the longer he examines you. "you think i'm thinking too much if i feel like you're lying to me?"

you press your lips together tightly. "...yes."

"hm," he nods. "come here for a second, pretty," he requests, stepping back a bit to give you room to stand. "just real quick, then you can lay back down and I'll get us that food."

"why do you want me to stand?"

"i wanna give you a big hug," he opens his arms widely. "c'mon, give your loving boyfriend a hug. you'd never deny me that after such a long day."

"come hug me here, then," you roll your eyes, turning to look the other way as heat overtakes your body.

"i want to hold you and pick you up," he argues, knowingly. "just stand and walk to me for one second."

"no."

"no?!"

"no, i don't want to."

"don't want to or you can't?" he accuses, face falling along with his arms. he moves to sit at the edge of the bed beside your legs, resting a hand over your uninjured one. "why can't you get up?" he asks, this time a tad more serious.

"i don't feel like it, satoru, god," you murmur in annoyance, growing agitated with his swiftness to notice that something is wrong.

"don't 'satoru' me, baby, you're the one not telling the truth," he says. "what's wrong with your legs?"

"nothing."

"then stand up."

"no, satoru. stop telling me to stand."

"i will if you tell me what's wrong."

"nothing's wrong!" you shrug harshly, crossing your arms and suddenly taking interest in whatever is outside of the bedroom window. satoru stares at you intently for a moment then back down at your covered legs.

he gazes harshly between the two, pondering, before reaching over to rip the comforter upward to reveal your bare feet. you gasp slightly, jerking to stop him, when your swollen ankle is revealed.

his brows immediately angle and he leans to hastily look over it. "(y/n), what the hell?! what happened to your foot?"

you grow embarrassed suddenly, moving to brush his hands away. "it's not that bad, stop," you say, going to move your leg to the side when you hiss sharply.

"not that bad? baby, your ankle's the size of a golfball!"

"satoru, you're being dramatic."

"what happened?" he asks, concerned. "did this happen while I was gone?"

"it's fine, relax."

"(y/n)," satoru begins sternly. you can tell that you've pinched a nerve. "i'm about to lose it if you don't tell me how this happened and why you were trying to hide it from me."

you frown. "But-"

"Now."

you hug your arms around yourself with another meek shrug. "it's humiliating..." you murmur.

satoru softens slightly. "baby, humiliating? i'm worried about you getting hurt."

"yeah, but-" you sigh and close your eyes, your emotions suddenly getting the best of you. you hate feeling small and weak, as though you can't handle yourself, and you swear every time you injure yourself or get sick, it's the worst possible thing that could happen in the entire world. "i don't know. whatever."

"uh uh uh," your white-haired boyfriend tuts, leaning over the smooth his hand over your leg comfortingly. "it's not 'whatever.' i know exactly how you are. you can't fool me. is this about your mission tomorrow?"

"it's not just about the mission, toru, i just don't- i hate it when i can't do stuff on my own."

"you don't have to tell me something i'm already well aware of." you give him a look. "don't look at me like that. i know you like the back of my hand, and i especially know when you're uncomfortable."

"i get it, toru," you frown.

"why the attitude, hm?" he asks, leaning over to prop his elbow on the other side of you, his body resting against your lap as he peers up at you gently. "it's okay to get hurt- well, no, it's not okay for you to get hurt because it makes me wanna die, but you get what I mean."

your lips twitch in amusement momentarily, leading satoru to grin widely.

"there's that pretty smile."

"it's just-" you huff. "it was such a stupid thing... i rolled my ankle stepping down from closing the cabinets and when it started getting worse, i thought it was so dumb that something so small did that to me so i left it alone. now it's probably twisted, and i just feel really..."

"you're not weak," satoru interjects urgently. "if that's what you're saying, which i'm pretty sure you are. you're far from what i would call weak."

"still. it still made me feel weak. and i'm supposed to go on that mission tomorrow, and i don't know what the hell i'm gonna tell yaga-"

"forget the mission."

"...satoru, i can't just-"

"you can and you will. you have an injury, baby. you can't walk. it's okay, i'll talk to yaga and he'll get someone else on the assignment while I take care of you."

"but the fact that you even have to do that because i was clumsy!" you shake your head and look down. "it's so ridiculous. and i knew you were gonna worry..."

"of course i'm gonna worry, (y/n). no less than you'd worry for me."

"but you're you."

"so? do you worry for me any less because of that?"

"i mean... i know you're always gonna be fine, but... yeah, i guess."

"you guess?" satoru scoffs. "to think, my girlfriend doesn't care about me..."

"oh shut up," you nudge his head away. his grin remains, face turning back to you as he captures you in his soft gaze. "obviously I worry."

"then, there you go," satoru says. his free hand runs over your hip. "i know you can handle yourself just fine and that you're strong as hell, but whether you're going on a mission or stubbing your toe, I'm worrying 'cause i love you."

you pout slightly. "I love you too."

"i know," he beams, kissing your thigh. "so stop with that. as if you'd ever be weak for getting a little boo boo."

"yeah, but now you're not gonna let me do anything," you whine.

"is there really such a big problem with that?" satoru smirks. "try hiding an injury from me again, and you really won't be able to do anything. now let me see."

he pushes himself up to round the edge of the bed. he kneels down and cradles your foot in his hand delicately, fingers grazing the area of swelling. his brow angles. "can you move it?"

you shake your head slowly. "not without it hurting."

"in all seriousness, baby, you need to take better care of yourself. why didn't you ice it?"

"...i wanted it to go away."

"and you walked up the stairs after rolling your ankle?!"

"i wanted to get into bed!"

satoru lowers his head. "what am i gonna do with you? you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."

"it's really not that serious. i just need to rest it a bit and then I'll be fine-"

"i'm gonna go cook you some dinner, okay? then we can eat in bed and cuddle, and then I'll run you a hot bath later."

"satoru, i just said it's not that serious! please don't go burning down the house because of my ankle. we can literally still order food," you try to convince him, but the blue-eyed man is already on his feet, by your side, and kissing your lips.

"not another word. you're practically dying, now, i have to look after you."

"toru-"

"i'll be right back, i'm gonna grab you some ice and a pillow for your foot."

"satoru!"

but when you call him, he's already zooming out of the room and down the stairs. you sigh and plop your head back against the headboard with a soft smile. as humiliating as you find it to be injured, you can never say that gojo doesn't do everything he can, if not excessively more, to look after you when you are.

suguru geto: (cold!)

shit.

you step into the bathroom for the umpteenth time today to blow your nose, clearing your searing throat as you do so with a groan.

something in you knew this morning that you were coming down with a cold when you woke up to that dreadful scratch in the back of your throat, but the idea of getting sick physically ails you more than actually being sick does.

you're far too busy today to be weighed down by some common cold. you're in between meetings at work as you toss another tissue into the women's trash. You have paperwork to finish filling out by midnight, and you have to pick up the girls later from daycare.

how can you be sick of all things?

you know it's likely because you run yourself ragged more often than you need to, and suguru always tells you to slow down and take a breath, but you rarely listen to him. your life moves at a quick pace, constantly on the run from one task to the next, and you truly do not feel that you have the leisure of giving yourself one second to rest.

you're on the verge of earning a new promotion, and you need the money. you need the opportunities, and the accomplishments to care for the family you've built with geto. just as suguru works tirelessly to manage his cult, you work tirelessly to keep a living for yourself.

you're proud of the work you have done, truly you are, but at times it feels as though you are amounting to nothing, chasing promises of a higher position that have yet to come. despite the haziness of the path ahead, you push harder and harder each day.

suguru hates it, how you drive yourself to the brink of insanity day in and day out, but you can't help but be an overachiever. you can't help but work hard for those who may not even deserve it.

and now, of course, you're sick. you can feel your temperature spiking, your nose is stuffy, and your head is pounding. you want to go home and curl into bed, but you have responsibilities to fulfill. just a few more hours... then you're home with geto, with the girls, safe in bed just to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow.

you jump when your phone suddenly rings in your pocket. you pull it out to see your boyfriend's contact, and you straighten yourself up as best as you can to make it sound as though you aren't struggling to breathe through your nostrils.

"hello?"

"hey, babe, how's work going?" suguru's soothing voice echoes through the phone and you sigh, clinging to the comfort his tone provides. you miss him. you want to go home already.

"it's good," you lie. "i have a few more meetings. then some paperwork to finish, but I'll be able to get mimi and nana on time."

"actually, i called to tell you not to worry about that. i got finished up here with the group pretty early, so i'll be able to get them later."

you're relieved that you won't have to expose the girls to your germs in the car. "okay, thanks for letting me know. you need me to pick up some food on the way home?"

"no, we're gonna make pizzas later. the girls have been dying to try it making it from scratch forever, so i'll take them to the store once i get them."

"...oh. okay..." you nod. "there's nothing else you need me to do then?"

"just to come home in one piece," suguru says. "i'm trying to take some stuff off your plate, (y/n). you've been exhausted, and you can't tell me otherwise."

"sugu, I'm fine," you dismiss him, only to turn your head into your elbow to muffle a cough. you forget to mute the call when you do so.

"what was that? are you okay?" the dark-haired man questions quickly. "you're not sick, are you?"

"no, no," you deny fast, voice slightly hoarse. you clear your throat quickly. "something was just- stuck in my throat. but I'm fine. i'm not sick."

suguru's quiet for a moment, and you chew on the inside of your lip while you wait for him to respond. you know it's impossible to fool suguru, especially when it comes to matters regarding you or the girls, but you can't handle him worrying over you right now. his concerns would only bring you back to reality, pulling you from this cycle of overworking you've fallen into. you need to keep going. You can't stop, and if suguru knows you're sick, he will make you stop.

"suguru? you there?" you finally say.

"oh yeah, i'm here," he responds rather quickly, and you internally curse yourself. "what time do you get off?"

"uhhh..." you think about it for a moment. it's 3:30 now, and technically you only have an hour and a half left, but since the girls will be picked up by Suguru, you realize you can finish your paperwork in the office. "today's kind of a long day... so I probably won't be home until... 7?"

"(Y/n)."

"i know, i know, but listen, i just have to finish up this paperwork. that's all."

"weren't you just gonna do it at home?"

"well, yeah, but since you're getting the girls, it's kinda easier for me to finish it here..." you start mumbling lowly, knowing that whatever explanation you give is not one that suguru will willingly accept.

"babe, please just come home at a normal time today. you can't keep doing this to yourself."

"i promise it won't be past 7. i swear. just let me get this done, and I'll be home."

suguru releases a hefty sigh, and you can picture him rubbing his thumb against his forehead in stress. "7 o'clock, (y/n). i mean it. if you're so much as five minutes late, i'm coming over there myself with rainbow dragon."

you chuckle softly. "i promise it won't get to that. i'll be fine, alright? i'll text you when I'm headed out."

"okay. I'll see you in a bit."

after your meetings had ended, your cold symptoms grew worse. your coughs were more frequent, a pile of tissues were stacked at your cubicle, and the glare of your computer screen felt as though it was burning a hole into your already aching head.

you feel miserable, and as luck would have it, your boss placed a new stack of papers onto your desk to finish filling out before you went home on his way out of the door.

you're alone in the office now, surrounded by excess assignments, and you can hardly breathe through your nose. you check the time, and its thirty to the time you told suguru you'd be home. you groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

you're tired. your bones are aching. you want to be with the girls, you want to be home, you don't want to do this anymore. you're so burned out, it hurts, and you want to cry and collapse face-first onto your desk at the same time.

just then, your phone lights up with a message from suguru. you open it eagerly to be greeted with an image of the girls beaming up at the camera in the kitchen, hands covered in tomato sauce as they display them to the phone. beneath the photo, suguru types.

we miss you :(

you break, placing your phone down and shielding your face in your hands as the tears flow. god, you miss spending time with them. you're hardly home anymore because you've been so busy with work, and you're yearning to be held by your boyfriend, to hear the girls laugh, to sink into the bed combined with your deteriorating physical state makes you feel worse.

you miss having a life.

you don't know how long you spend crying in your empty office before your body shuts down on you completely. the energy you exerted shedding tears in addition to your long days at work send you into a deep sleep. before you know it, you're knocked out with your cheek pressed against one of your unfinished papers.

the second you failed to answer Suguru's text, he knew something was wrong. he calls, and calls, and calls after twenty minutes, but you don't answer. He wastes absolutely no time in calling up manami to look after the girls before trekking out of the house to you with rainbow dragon, just as he promised.

he's prepared to break a window when he sees the janitor leaving the building. he takes the opportunity to swoop in through the doors after grumbling something about his girlfriend being inside, before making his way up to you.

when he reaches your office, he finds you lying in the only occupied cubicle. His eyes go wide as he studies your slumped figure, walking slowly to where you're seated. he notes the tissues and cough drop wrappers crowding your space, then the tears that coat your lashes when he kneels down.

"jesus, (y/n)," he murmurs, swiftly getting to work and clearing your desk of all your trash. when he's done, he crouches by you again and runs a hand over your back. "baby, wake up for me. come on," he coaxes softly.

you stir, face tightening in discomfort. suguru sees the bags under your eyes and his frown deepens. Eventually, you wake with furrowed brows, adjusting your blurry eyes to the sight of suguru gazing down at you worriedly.

"sugu...?" you mumble weakly, only to be interrupted by a few coughs that rack your chest. suguru's heart aches.

"i knew it," he sighs, eyes hardening as his hand strokes over your warm forehead. "why don't you listen?"

"what are you doing here?" you grumble, picking your head up slowly. you're greeted with a retched reminder of your headache, and you wince, pressing your hand to your head.

"we had an agreement, remember?" he reminds you, and you slowly recall. you move to grab your phone and the time reads 7:15. "i wasn't joking."

"suguru..."

"stop," he immediately cuts you off. "look at you, (y/n). you've made yourself sick."

"it's just a- a cough," you murmur, rubbing your irritated eyes harshly.

"that's bullshit, baby," he tells you rather firmly. "i don't know why you're trying to hide this from me when i knew something like this would happen. we're going home."

"no, wait, Suguru, i didn't finish my paperwork yet."

"do you think I give two shits about your paperwork?"

his tone comes off rather harshly, and both of you notice. he blinks his eyes tensely and readjusts himself, attempting to reel in his anger. his anger for you, over your lack of care for your wellbeing, at your fucking boss for letting you work yourself like this.

"you've been killing yourself for weeks, (y/n). i won't let you anymore. this is the last straw."

"hold on," you urge. suguru looks down at you, befuddled. "i really can't just up and leave my work behind like this. I'm sorry, I can't."

"what's more important to you, (y/n)? being healthy or working yourself to death?" he proposes, almost pained by the latter. "if you cared about your well-being, you would have asked for an extension or at least had a conversation with your dick of a boss about doing this another time. anyone can see that you aren't feeling well, and someone who cares will tell you that enough is enough."

"don't make me do this, suguru," you whimper. suguru's face relaxes when he sees your eyes glossing over. "don't make me stop. I can't stop."

"baby," he curls his brows, holding your cheek in his hand as he kneels before you. "why are you doing this to yourself?"

"b-because, I have to..."

"no, you don't. i've been telling you this for years, you don't have to do this."

"but I need to make something of myself. i have to keep going. i can't just quit, because if I do, then what will any of this have meant? why have i been doing this?"

"you're breaking my heart, baby," suguru exhales. "this job doesn't define you. i see how hardworking, smart, and strong you are. i see the effort you put into everything you do. i see the commitment in your heart. i see it everywhere, all the time, and that is one of many reasons why i love you so much."

your lips wobble as you look into his hazel eyes as his voice and words melt you into his palm. you've been moving so fast all this time, you've been trying to prevent yourself from falling into suguru's warmth, which has always had the power to make you do anything he says.

"but I can't stand to watch you make yourself sick because you think there's more you need to do. this isn't good for you. you know it isn't."

you nod, red nose flaring as you sniff. "i know," you admit.

"so please, please take a break. i'm literally begging you. you need to come home and rest. i'll take care of everything else, just come home. lay down. come back to us. to me."

your shoulders jerk as a few tears drop from your eyes. "sugu, i can't do this anymore," you finally give in. "i don't even feel like myself. i just want to go home."

"then let's go baby, come on," he stands and takes you with him in his arms, pressing your body to his as he holds you. you sink into him, your exhaustion and your sickness finally crashing down over you. "i'm gonna fucking kill your boss," he murmurs into your hair.

you laugh weakly against him, closing your eyes. "later. just take me home, now. please."

"yes ma'am," he nods, kneeling down to pick you up into his arms. you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest.

"m'gonna get you sick," you mutter.

"we can be sick together," he chuckles. "the girls and I can make you some soup. they've been obsessed with cooking lately," he says, leaning over to shut off your monitor before carrying you off to the elevators.

"that picture of them you sent earlier made me so sad. I miss you guys so much."

"i'm sorry baby, i didn't mean to upset you that much. i was only trying to guilt you a little into coming home early."

you slap his shoulder pathetically. "asshole."

"i know, i'm sorry," he kisses your head. "gonna get you all better in no time."

kento nanami: (low iron!)

you have always been a little anemic, and of course that never really posed as a terrible challenge for you until you ran out of iron supplements.

it is your responsibility undoubtedly to keep track of when you run out and when you need to restock, but recently, you've found yourself neglecting the habit.

you never did like taking iron pills, or any supplements for that matter. you feel as though they take too much out of your daily life, as though they're a burden to your existence, and the harder you think about it, the less inclined you are to keep track of it.

it's been about three weeks since you last took your iron, and while you would like to say that you have improved significantly, you would be lying.

perhaps the first few days of not taking your supplements was fine, but as time droned on, the symptoms kicked back in rather quickly. you are extremely tired all the time, you feel lighter on your feet as if you are going to pass out at any given moment, and your hands and feet are ridiculously cold though it is now the summertime, and the weather outside thoroughly contrasts your body temperature.

you're in denial about the changes, of course. you want to be able to feel fine without the crutch of your pills, but the reality of the situation is that you don't, and it's crushing you for some reason.

what's crushing you more is that you know how disappointed nanami will be to find out that you haven't been being responsible in stocking up on your supplements. he would normally keep track of when you run out in addition to you, but he's reeled it in a bit over the past few months because you wanted him to trust that you can handle taking care of something that you've managed all of your life, so he did.

and yet, here you are, trying to hide the symptoms of your iron deficiency that are only proving harder to veil. nanami has already asked you a few times if you are feeling okay over the past few weeks, therefore you know that he suspects exactly what is happening, but you brush him off each time.

"i'm good, honey," you'd tell him. "just had a long day. what about you? how are you feeling?"

you feel like shit lying to him, but you're afraid of being truthful for some reason. he would scold you, and you'd have to resort to the aid of your only weakness all over again.

god, why can't you just be normal?

you've even tried to ween off of the strict iron-sufficient diet that you've been on practically all your life because you feel like you have something to prove, especially in this world of jujutsu. how can you be a sorcerer with low iron? how can something so smell render you so weak? it's pathetic.

you don't want to think about it, in truth. you want it all to just go away. you want to be fine, to feel fine without eating certain things constantly or taking those damn pills, and you try to force yourself to, but it only grows worse the longer you hide it.

you stumble into your home after a long day of teaching and press your back to the door with a sigh. you know nanami won't be home for another forty or so minutes, so you kick your shoes off, go grab a water, and plop down on the couch.

you feel so tired. you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, leaning back. this is stupid, you think. you're being stupid. just reorder the damn pills.

but something stubborn within you refuses. something within you that must prove you can push past this.

you decide to watch some tv to distract you as you wait for nanami to return home. he suggested cooking for you tonight, so you rest until you hear him walking through the door.

"hi honey," he greets. you turn to smile gently at him as he rounds the corner. your cheeks pinch with happiness, your current turmoil momentarily forgotten when you see your husband approach. you go to stand and walk into his open arms, just like you normally do when he comes home.

you put the remote to the side and shoot up. your mind is occupied only by nanami as you move toward him, but you see his face drop and your vision turns upside down, and suddenly, you're falling.

kento is quick to react, ducking down impressively to catch you in his arms before you can hit the ground. you collapse into him, head dizzy and breath suddenly gone.

"sweetheart?! (y/n) are you alright? are you awake?"

you groan, shifting in his strong arms as they cradle you securely. when your vision regains focus, you're staring up at nanami's worried face, your body resting over his lap. you blink rapidly before realizing what just happened.

"oh shit," you whisper.

"(y/n)," nanami says your name again, caressing your cheek sweetly. "are you here with me now?"

"y-yeah," you nod, moving to sit up and press your hand to his chest. "i'm alright."

"absolutely not," he stops you immediately, pressing against you to lay you back down on his lip. you frown, looking up at him. "don't even try sitting up like that right now."

"kento," you start, growing worried by the tense look on his face. "i'm okay, really. i just sat up too fast."

"i know," he affirms, his thumb still smoothing over your skin. "and care to tell me why that alone is making you pass out?"

you can't find the words to respond as you stare at him, likely as guiltily as you feel. he hums knowingly.

"right," he sighs. "(y/n), how long has it been since you've taken your iron?"

and there it is. the very question you had been dreading.

"...i'm not sure what you're-"

"don't. really, don't," he interjects firmly and you shiver, rather unfamiliar with this side of your doting partner. "i'm still trying to adjust to the fact that you haven't been truthful with me. the least you can do is tell me how long it's been."

your heart drops. "kento..."

"i'm not in the mood for stalling, sweetheart. go on. out with it."

the sternness of his voice hardly matches the way he is holding you and stroking your cheek, but nevertheless, you feel awful. you avert your gaze and shrink into yourself. "three weeks."

"three?" he repeats incredulously, and you nod in shame. "i knew it had been over a week, but three, (y/n)?"

"i know," you mutter.

"why? after you told me not to check after you, to trust that you'd take care of yourself," nanami questions. "this is why i tried to help you. i know it can be a hassle sometimes, and forgetting is one thing, but to deliberately stop taking them when you know how much i worry about it... when you know how important it is for you?"

you bite hard on your lip and look away, brows curling. nanami notices immediately and softens himself, leaning down closer to you.

"my love," he starts. "i don't mean to upset you, but this is very upsetting to me."

"i know. i know, i'm sorry..." you whimper.

"but not because it's about me, (y/n), because it's about you. and you've been hiding this from me, of all things. i don't understand."

"i just didn't wanna take them anymore, ken," you say quietly.

the blonde furrows his brows. "you didn't want to take them? have you not been taking them for years?"

"i have but that's the problem. i'm a sorcerer now, and..." you exhale. "the point of being a sorcerer is to not have anything weighing you down, and this weighs me down."

"if anything, (y/n), not taking the supplements weighs you down more."

"no, i just mean- all of it, the whole iron deficiency, i hate it," you confess. "i'm tired of relying on something to be strong. i'm tired of being tied down to this. i wanted to see if i could overcome it, but i can't. i'll always have this problem, and it sucks, ken," you ramble. "if i could go without taking these pills and still do my job like i always have, then just maybe.... maybe i could be better. and i could prove that i... i don't need those stupid pills, or the extra greens, or the- whatever. just all of it."

nanami looks down at you rather sadly. "i had no idea you felt this way."

"i haven't always felt this way. it's just lately, i don't know, i feel pressured to go beyond."

"darling, your iron-deficiency doesn't make you any less talented than other sorcerers."

"i know. i mean, i should know, but i can't help but feel that way."

nanami presses his lips together, smoothing a knuckle over your cheekbone. "i'm sorry you feel like this."

"it's not your fault, ken. and i shouldn't have kept this from you, i know. i'm sorry. i just felt humiliated by it."

"there's nothing for you to be humiliated by," he reassures you. "your deficiency is no different from any of us having to feed ourselves or drink water in between missions to keep ourselves alive. it's a necessity, and though we are sorcerers, we live off of necessities to keep ourselves physically and mentally able to work. you have a responsibility to yourself. just like the rest of us. just because your iron's a little lower doesn't mean anything about who you are as a sorcerer."

"...i never thought of it like that. i've just been thinking of it as a burden."

"it's only a burden if you view it that way. you are a grade one sorcerer who i have watched climb the ranks effortlessly since we were in high school, all the while with an iron deficiency that you have always taken supplements for. that never stopped you," he says. "the problem comes in when you don't keep up with yourself and take care of those needs. just like how i'd be unable to work if i decided to skip my last few meals and drink less water."

"that makes sense," you mumble, capturing his soft brown eyes with yours.

"good," he nods. "(y/n) you can't neglect your needs like this."

"i know."

"i'm being serious. i'll start checking behind you again if i find out that you're not doing what you need to do to take care of your body."

"i know, ken, i'm sorry, i-" you stop yourself and shake your head. "i just let my insecurities get the best of me."

"then, let me handle taking care of your insecurities. you handle taking your supplements. do we have an agreement?"

you nod slowly. "yeah. we do. i'm sorry for lying again, ken."

"please don't do it again," he sighs, ducking to kiss your forehead. "but i know you wouldn't lie to me about anything else, and that you hiding this was solely out of fear."

you slowly move to sit up, and this time, kento helps you very gradually. he guides you back to sit on the couch and cups your face gently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "i'll go order some more iron and then get started on dinner. alright?"

you hum with a soft smile. "alright. i love you, ken."

he returns your loving smile. "i love you more, sweetheart."

choso kamo: (broken finger!)

it had fully been an accident.

you should have been paying more attention to what you were doing and at the same time, so should have panda.

it really was an honest mistake. you were standing in the doorway as everyone left the classroom, your fingers clutched around the frame as everyone filed out. you were asking around if anyone had seen your boyfriend, and yuta mentioned that he saw him with yuji earlier that day.

you thanked him, and just as you were about to pull your hand away, panda, who was the last out of the room, slammed the door shut behind him thinking you had already moved out of the way.

but you hadn't.

the door flew into your index and middle fingers and you screamed bloody murder. the cursed corpse as well as his classmates whipped their heads around, and to panda's horror, you were knocking your forehead against the wall with tears in your eyes as your fingers trembled in the doorframe.

"(Y/N), HOLY SHIT I'M SO SORRY!"

you hadn't expected panda to actually break one of your fingers, but you give the freak credit for his unnatural strength. you later find out that yuji and choso had gone out to grab food for you when you see a text from your boyfriend pop up asking what flavor ramen you want the second you learn that shoko will not be available until late tonight.

for the time being, you're given a finger splint and pain medicine as though you aren't freaking surrounded by jujutsu sorcery.

and god, did it hurt! like, really, really hurt. your fingers are throbbing, and the one that isn't broken is bruised and stained with some blood. you wish you could be angrier at panda, but his groveling before your feet on his knees eases your frustration a bit. after all, it hadn't been on purpose.

you're sent home and you are given no choice but to wait until choso returns, and you're... nervous. choso never handles the ailment of his loved ones very well. his spiritual and physical connection to his brothers wellbeings' often causes him to lose his mind every time yuji gets accidentally punched in the face during training, and when it comes to you? well, choso is just the same if not somehow worse.

you remember one time you got a papercut and winced when your finger made contact with soap. choso was quick to your side, grasping your wrist and looking over your hand as though it had been severed off.

one thing you have come to know in your relationship with the brunette is that he would (and has) killed someone for the sake of the people closest to him. he does not mess around when it comes to his family, and he certainly doesn't mess around when it comes to you.

and while you think he can be a bit excessive with making sure you're alright when it's hardly necessary, it's first and foremost endearing, and it only makes you realize that he will go ballistic the second he finds out that someone broke your finger.

he doesn't naively think that you can never go unharmed, though he would be incredibly content with the notion if it were plausible. he's familiar with scars, wounds, fights, and battles, and he knows you're in the very center of it just as much as he and his brother are. but still, he hates it when you're hurt. he wants to protect you as best as he can, or to at least prevent you from suffering any more than a sorcerer already has to suffer. he only wants you to be safe.

so to prevent him from having a heart attack, you decide it's better if he doesn't know about the incident. when you answer his texts before heading home, you mention nothing about your poor finger in hopes of him not finding out at least until after you're healed.

that plan of yours, however, fails when choso comes barging through the door three hours earlier than you expected him to return. your eyes go wide from where you sit on the couch, and you have no time to even go to hide your fingers behind your back when choso marches up to you, agitated.

"uh-" you're cut off when he grabs your arm gently and lifts it into the air, your taped crooked finger showcasing itself to him. you press your lips together at how poorly the plan to conceal this from him has failed. "cho-"

"were you gonna tell me about this?" his violet eyes fly to yours in a fury, and you're almost stunned by how aggravated he looks. his voice is calm, low, but his face is wrecked with concern and almost betrayal.

"...i was, but i wanted to wait because i didn't want you to freak out..." you say slowly, watching him softly. "like you are now..?"

"that's not fair, (y/n)," he frowns and you furrow your brows. "that's not fair at all."

"woah, hold on... are you mad at me?"

"i don't know," he answers you honestly, looking between your face and your trembling hand. "i'm... upset."

"who told you about my fingers, love?"

"yuji got a text from yuta," he tells you, moving to sit down on the space beside you with your hand still cradled in his. "he said that panda was begging me not to kill him, and this was after i had talked to you."

"oh..." you sigh. "okay, yeah, i can see how that looks."

"why didn't you tell me you got hurt? and pretty badly too? where's ieiri?"

"she won't be back on campus for another hour," you explain. "i didn't want you to worry, cho, i figured i'd just tell you after it was better, but..."

"why would you try to hide something from me?" he asks you, suddenly sounding hurt. it's clear on his face that he doesn't understand why you would conceal something as important as your health from him, whether it was small or not. you tell each other everything, and that shouldn't have stopped now of all times because you don't want him to worry.

"i didn't know you'd get so upset, cho, honestly," you tell him. "i-" you stop when a sharp pain shoots through your fingers and you gasp. choso's face drops and he gently sets your hand down to his lap, panicked.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes. "shit, you must be in a lot of pain."

"it's nothing i haven't experienced before," you try to reassure him, giving him a tight smile.

"why does that matter?" choso drags his brows together. "pain is pain. i don't like when you feel any of it."

you melt. "i know. i know you don't, i don't like when you feel any of it either."

"so don't... keep stuff like this from me, (y/n)," he says sternly. "please, i need to know. i don't have the same connection to you that i have with my blood brothers, but i'm still connected to you all the same. when you hurt, i hurt."

"i get it cho, i'm sorry," you nod bashfully. "i wasn't trying to make you mad. i just don't like it when you're stressed out."

"i'm always stressed out," he says flatly, and you raise your brows with a halfhearted smile.

"yeah, i know. so why stress you even more?"

"i'd rather be stressed about you if i'm stressing about anything," he says, looking over your face as the hardness in his gaze washes away. "you know you're everything to me."

"i know, baby," you push out your bottom lip, pressing your free hand to the side of his cheek and leaning in to kiss him. his ears burn when you pull away, and he sighs heavily.

"don't offend me by trying to hide stuff like this. it won't work."

"i'm sorryyyy," you giggle and choso grumbles incoherently under his breath.

his gaze goes back to your fingers and his brows curl. "how the hell do you slam a door on someone's hand?" he hisses.

"it was an accident, cho, he didn't mean it."

"i know, and i shouldn't really be angry at him but i can't help but be irritated because you're hurt..." his fingers graze the tape. "how bad does it hurt?"

"cho, it'll be okay."

"that wasn't my question."

you roll your eyes at his attitude with a soft smile. "it hurts as much as a broken finger would."

"right. sorry," he murmurs.

"you're okay, love, you don't need to apologize."

"i still wish i- nevermind," he refrains himself from discussing how he wanted to be there to protect you from such an unpredictable occurence. "is there anything i can do to help you feel better while we wait? do you need anything?"

"ummm," you try to think. "actually, could you grab a new pack of ice from the freezer? and... the snacks you got me earlier."

the brunette's face brightens slightly with the thought that he can do something to help ease your pain as you wait for shoko to return to the school.

he nods in determination, carefully sliding your hand into your lap and kissing your cheek before hopping up to run to the kitchen. he returns with the items you requested, placing the snacks down beside him and lifting the bag of ice over your hand.

"like this?" he eases the bag down and you wince, nodding.

"mhm. yeah," you strain out. choso watches your face sadly, hating the fact that you're hurting.

"i'm sorry for getting upset," he mumbles. you turn to look at him curiously. "i just love you a lot."

"i love you more, cho," you smile gently, leaning your head against his shoulder. he sighs, resting his chin atop your head as he ices your hand. "and don't worry, i get it. i won't try to hide injuries from you anymore."

"i really hope so."

"now can you pass me those chips please?"

toji fushiguro: (knife cut!)

toji is going to absolutely kill you, and you are dreading the moment he does.

he has always told you not to touch his weapons. even if you see any of them lying around his place because he never bothers to clean up in between jobs. his one rule when you're over is to leave them alone and to let him handle them when he gets back. he doesn't care how much you protest, he doesn't care that you want to help him pick up after himself.

no touching. that is all he asks of you.

and of course... one afternoon when he's out sorting out some finances with shiu and one of his knives is glaring at you from where it lay on the kitchen table, you can't help yourself.

you don't really think anything is going to happen. after all, you're not a baby, nor are you an idiot. you know how to handle a freaking knife and you know where to put it, and yet, somehow, you allow your arrogance with the task to distract you. you're not handling it as carefully as you should be, and the second you hear the keys jingling outside the front door, you panic.

the blade, naturally, fumbles in your grasp, and swipes through the air, over your palm, and to the carpet. you jump, stepping away as quickly as it falls. you feel a sting in your hand and look down to see the fresh gash stretching over your skin. you gape as blood slowly simmers from the wound, befuddled as to how something like this even happened so quickly.

you have no time to clean it when you hear the key inside the lock. you hurriedly pick up the knife with your unwounded hand, place it back on the table where you first saw it, rip a napkin from said table to press to your bleeding palm, and clench it into a fist just as the door opens.

toji immediately greets you with a raised brow, jade eyes eying you oddly as he steps in. "the hell are you gettin' into?" he asks, confused by the way you are standing against the wall when he enters.

you're quick to move into his space to distract him from the vision of his knife and from looking any further downward from your face. you lean up on your tiptoes, normal hand on his forearm as you kiss his scarred lips. "what do you mean?"

"why were you just standing there like that?"

"can't I wait by the door for you to come back?" you bat your eyelashes, and toji grunts, gazing down at you with lidded eyes as his hand comes around the small of your back. "i'm just happy to see you."

"you take a pill or somethin', doll?"

you glare at him. "now why would you ask me that?"

"you're just acting a little too nice, that's all."

you scoff. "i don't know what you're talking about, i'm literally always happy to see you."

"yeah, but i was gone for thirty minutes and you never make a show of it like this."

"why are you making it sound like i don't show you love? you're the one who's mean all the time," you retort sassily.

a smirk captures toji's lips as he ducks down to kiss you again. "that's more like it," he murmurs against you. "still ain't answer my question though."

"i literally did. i told you i was waiting for you."

"sure," he says, unconvinced. his eyes drag down your body and momentarily go to your fist when you swiftly wrap both arms around his neck, pulling him down to crash your lips into him once more.

his brows narrow and as you kiss him, and you can feel the blood on your hand seeping through your napkin. you curse internally, lowering your hand back down behind him as he pulls away.

"not that i'm against this," toji starts, voice dangerously low against your mouth. "but it feels like you're tryin' to distract me from something."

"why would i be doing that?" you ask gently, looking up into his piercing eyes. he hums, dragging himself away from you. he grabs your chin softly and tilts your head left and right, looking over your face. "what are you doing?" you ask.

"lookin' for whatever you're hiding."

"i'm not hiding anything, toji."

"uh huh."

shit. it's never a good sign when toji doesn't even try to pretend to believe anything you're saying, and the way he's looking over your face let's you know that he at least suspects you've done something to yourself that he should know about.

you keep your fist to his back as he looks over the rest of your body with a rather relaxed expression, which only means that he doesn't suspect you touching any of his weapons. yet.

you have to keep his attention away from the knife on the table so that he doesn't figure it out.

"can you stop messing around already? i wanna go take a shower," you try to say, but toji doesn't listen.

"turn around f'me."

"huh?"

"huh?" he mimics you, looking at you unimpressed. "turn."

you suck your teeth. "i hate when you get like this."

"and i hate when you lie, now turn."

you grimance. you can't turn around with him looking down at your hand, and you're sure by now that the napkin you hold is coated red. your eye twitches in that moment when you feel a line of blood drip down your wrist.

god dammit. you're so dead.

nonetheless, you try to keep your palm facing inward as you slip it from his back and turn over your left shoulder, which connects to the uninjured hand. the second your back is to him, you bring your bloody hand in front of you.

"yeah, no," you hear toji gruffly say. your heart hammers in your throat and you know what's coming next. he moves around you to wrap his hand around your wrist and tug at it.

you cringe, allowing yourself to accept your fate when he pulls forward your balled up hand.

"open."

"can't we just-"

"open."

you sigh heavily, slowly peeling open your palm to reveal the red-stained napkin balled in it, the line of blood rushing down your inner arm, and the slice that stretches across your hand.

toji's eyes blow wide, and before he asks you anything, he throws his head over his shoulder to locate the knife that sits on the table. "are you fucking kidding me, (y/n)?" he growls, turning back to face you angrily.

"okay, let's not act like this is so crazy!" you immediately defend, throwing your other arm up. "you leave your shit lying around all the time!"

"and every single time, i tell you that i'll take care of it. what the fuck, do i have to go child-proofing the house now because of you?"

"if you would just be more mindful of how you leave your space, you wouldn't even have to worry about shit like this! you shouldn't even have knives lying around in the first place."

"i'm a grown man, (y/n), i know how to avoid cutting myself with the weapons i use daily."

"you're being a prick."

"oh baby, you must not know me because i'm about to be worse," he grunts, eyes heated with fury, and you frown.

"toji, come onnn, it was an accident."

"what do i always say about my weapons, (y/n)?"

"i just wanted to help you put it away, is that so crazy?"

"what. do i say. about my weapons."

you deflate slightly, uneased by the rate at which toji is growing angry with you. "...not to touch them."

"so why the fuck did you touch them?" he growls, picking up the napkin in your palm and tossing it over his shoulder. he looks over your wound and clenches his jaw. "fucking hell, (y/n)."

"look, i'm sorry."

"shut the hell up and come on."

despite his rage, he leads you to the bathoom with surprising care.

when you arrive, he flicks on the light with his free hand and swipes up a cloth from under the sink. he turns to you, pressing it down to your wound to stop the bleeding. once it seems like it's done, he puts the cloth down and turns on the faucet. "put your hand under," he orders, guiding it to the cool water nonetheless.

the water hits your open wound bitterly and you jump, watching the blood run through the drain as toji washes your arm as well.

"sit," he nods over to the bathtub, shutting off the faucet.

you oblige mutely, shuffling over and holding out your hand. you sit slowly on the ledge of the tub and watch as toji shuffles through his cupboards for a bottle of peroxide, some bandages, and ointment. you dread what is coming, for you know your hand is gonna sting like a bitch.

toji thuds over to sit hunched on the closed toilet lid, leaning over to grab your hand again. you stretch your fingers out and he sighs, shaking his head. "so fucking hard-headed," he murmurs.

you watch him screw open the bottle of liquid.

"go slowly," you plead.

"it's gonna hurt all the same, doll," he tells you, and you pout. "you should listen next time, then maybe you wouldn't have to go through this."

"shut the fuck up."

toji clicks his tongue, glancing at you momentarily before leaning down and holding the bottle over you, grasping your wrist loosely with your hand above his knee. "keep still."

the peroxide comes flooding out of the bottle and onto your hand, bubbling instantly over your gash. you whimper, tensing your body and scrunching your eyes at the sting.

"i know," toji mumbles, smoothing his thumb gently over your wrist. "you're alright."

your fingers dig into your thigh as it continues to burn. toji leans over to put down the bottle and continues to caress your arm, lowering your hand to his lap. he blows over your palm slightly as the peroxide dries, and you eventually open your eyes.

"not so bad," he tells you. he leans himself back to reach for a new cloth then pats it around the gash, drying your hand and your arm. he reaches back again for the tube of almost empty ointment he found and twists it open, squeezing it over your wound. "shit, hold on," he stops. he lets you lift your hand as he rushes to wash his own before coming to sit back down at hold yours on his leg again, now with bandages in hand.

you watch him gently as he works the bandage over you with such attentiveness, a dip in his brow proving his focus. you suddenly feel guilty for making him worry.

"i'm sorry," you finally say again, this time with more meaning.

toji's green eyes snap up at you amidst his wrapping. "yeah?"

"i really was just trying to help you. didn't mean to stress you out."

toji sighs, pausing his movements to look you in the eye. "you need to be more careful. i tell you not to touch my stuff because it's not your responsibility. obviously i know you can yourself, but some of my shit's really dangerous and i don't want you gettin' hurt," he gestures to your hand. "it could've been a lot worse, but still."

"if you don't want me touching your weapons, toji, you should probably clean them up more," you quirk a brow and he exhales loudly.

"i'm seeing that now, yeah," he says. "i'll be more careful if you are. don't need my doll getting a bunch of scars 'cause of me, now."

you smile softly. "yeah. i won't touch your stuff anymore, i promise."

"...how about instead i just... teach you how to handle 'em the right way?"

you perk up. "really?"

"i don't see why not. i'd rather you know how to use some of it than see you scrape yourself up because you don't know how to hold a knife."

"don't be a smartass."

toji smirks, continuing with his wrapping of your hand. "i mean it. i'll sit down with you sometime to show you."

"...how about after we're done here?"

"don't fucking push it."

ryomen sukuna: (fever!)

you wake up in a cold sweat, shivering.

you groan in displeasure, rolling over, slightly discombobulated. it can't be any later than 7 am, but you are boiling hot. you press your hand to your forehead and curse. you're sweating profusely and you feel incredibly lightheaded.

you don't even have the energy to get up, but you know that you need to take your temperature. you shudder, carefully shuffling out of bed and wincing as every brush against your skin feels like the stab of a thousand pins and needles.

you lethargically make your way to your bathroom, the cool air hitting your neck and sending you into a fit of shivers. you cling to yourself, teeth chattering, and reach into your cabinet for a thermometer. with half-open eyes, you pop it under your tongue and make your way back to your bed, bundling up in your blankets and curling into a ball.

it feels like hours before the beep resounds, and you slowly lift it from your mouth to read the little digital numbers.

102.4. perfect.

you shudder in pain, tossing the thermometer to the side and nestling your face in your pillows. you feel like absolute shit, but you can't bring yourself to do much else. you need medicine, water, a cool compress, but none of those things you have access to currently.

you close your eyes as your mind swarms, body throbbing and shuddering with chills though the last thing you need is to be cuddled under the covers. you think maybe it will go away if you get some rest. maybe you just need to relax, to take some time in bed. you'll let sukuna know when-

shit! sukuna.

there's no way in hell or on earth that sukuna will allow you to go untreated if you tell him, but god, you don't feel like letting him know. despite his likely haste to make sure you have everything you need, you can only imagine the snarky comments about your fragility, your strange body, your vulnerability that he''ll spout.

you don't want to hear it. you don't want to hear any of it, because you're sure that if you do, you'll start crying. you're already worn down, clearly, and the last thing you need on top of a fever is your boyfriend joking about your weak state.

you elect to stay in bed and tell sukuna you'll see him another time if he pesters you today.

which of course, he does.

a whirlwind of alarming dreams that you almost thought were hallucinations are disrupted by the persistent buzzing of your phone on your dress. you groan, reaching out a shaky hand to blindly grab the device and answer the call, pressing it to your ear with no knowledge of who you're speaking to.

"yes?" you croak.

"can't answer a telephone call the first time it rings?" sukuna's voice thunders through the mic, and you lift your brows.

"kuna?" you try to say his name normally, despite the constant chatter of your teeth.

"who the hell else would it be?"

"sorry... i was asleep."

"at this hour?"

"...what'dy'mean?"

"jesus, woman, it's 2 in the afternoon. why the hell are you still in bed?"

you reel momentarily at his words. 2 pm? it was just 7 in the morning! have you really been sleeping all this time?

"oh..." is all you can manage to say before a chill wracks your body again. you cringe, curling into yourself and holding the phone away from you.

"oh?" the king of curses repeats. "what is the matter with you?"

"n-nothing," you respond quickly. "i guess i was up late last night. i was c-completely knocked out..." you tremble.

"last night you told me you were going to sleep early because you were tired, you brat."

fuckkkk.

how could you have forgotten about that? you hadn't been feeling well last night, which is likely the reason why you feel so much worse today, so you turned in early. "i- couldn't fall asleep until later, though," you mumble.

"you are attempting to deceive me," sukuna grunts. "care to explain why?"

"m'not, kuna," you sigh halfheartedly.

"what exactly do you take me for?"

you're really not in the mood for this. you're aching at this point, and you can tell your body temperature has only risen. you're so weak. you can barely even process the fact that you're on the phone, and you can't handle sukuna's attitude. not if he's not going to help, which you automatically assume that he won't.

"i'm going back to bed," you say softly.

"what do you mean back to bed?!" sukuna fumes. "seriously, what the hell is the matter with you. you sound ill."

"i'm not i-ill."

"then why do you keep stumbling over your words, woman?" he questions, his voice mellowing out into a steady intensity. "what is it now? your monthly plague? whatever you people call allergies?"

this is exactly why you don't want him to know. he handles these things too crudely, as if it's a burden upon his existence. "y-you ask too many damn questions."

"i wouldn't have to if you answered them. now talk."

"i'm fine, sukuna. i'm just gonna go back to sleep."

"you hang up this phone, i'm at your door in two seconds."

"that's impossible."

"try me."

you know he's serious, but you don't have the energy. you can't stay on the phone with him any longer, trying to speak like nothing's wrong. it's cold. so cold, but you're so hot. you're probably drenched in a pool of your own sweat, but you can't feel it. you want to sleep. you just want him to let you sleep.

your vision grows dizzy as you stare ahead, brows arching in discomfort. you think you press the end call button, but you can still hear his voice picking up in urgency... is he shouting? are you even on the phone anymore? you aren't sure.

your vision suddenly drifts into inky blackness as the phone rests beside you on your pillow. the last thing you are aware of before you slip into unconsciousness again is banging at your front door.

sukuna bursts into your apartment mere minutes after you stopped answering him on the phone. he looks about ready to kill, crimson eyes wide and pupils shrunken as he breathes heavily, looking all over your apartment.

he's stomping to your room and throwing the door open when he sees you laying in the bed. "(y/n)!" he barks, searching for some response from you, but all he recieves or nonsensical murmurs.

he moves quickly to the side of your bed and grabs at your shoulder, turning you over to find your sheets drenched and your face tight with discomfort. he falters, heart jerking at the sight. "...the fuck?"

he presses a hand to your sweat-drenched face and furrows his brows in concern. you're hot. too hot for the temperature of a human being, and you're sweating like crazy, mumbling things under your breath in your sleep he can't even hear.

"the fuck did you do?" he grumbles, starting to internally panic. he scrambles to remember what this could be. he knows of plague, of pestilence, so maybe you're suffering some form of that?

hell, he can't tell. not from a glance. he's not even sure if he knows how to help you. you're entirely too hot for him to brush this off like it's nothing, and you passed out in the middle of speaking to him.

he looks over and sees the thermometer on your sheets and leans over to pick it up. the screen reads a high number, which he assumes is the temperature of your body. curious himself, he prods open your jaw and tucks it into your mouth, pressing the button the way you had shown him when you had the flu to reset the time.

"come the fuck on," he growls as seconds tick by before it beeps, and he pulls it from your lips to read 104.7.

he doesn't know how far it is from your usual temp, but he knows it's high. too high.

he's quick to dial uraume for some more information, and the second he hears that you need immediate medical help, he's picking you up and making a run for it without even thinking that uraume can likely help you.

when you wake, you're blinded by nauseating lights blaring down overhead. "ugh," you groan, feeling light and disoriented. you turn your head to the side and blink, to find sukuna's face staring directly at you rather harshly.

you jump slightly, startled. "what-?" you start, scrunching your eyes to adjust to the sight before you. "sukuna? what are you..." you trail off when you realize that you aren't in your house, nor are you at sukuna's estate. instead, you're in a hospital bed hooked up to a series of fluids.

your eyes go wide as you sit up suddenly, only to be hit with a sudden dizzy spell that sends you leaning back into the bed.

"don't move," he orders, and you turn to him in confusion. never would you have expected to see the day that sukuna sits in a chair beside you in a hospital.

"why are we... what happened?"

"apparently you had a high fever," he answers harshly, fist-propping his chin up over his leg. "too high for you to be seen in my care, and too high for you to be lying in bed as though nothing was wrong."

your heart sinks. "how high?"

"when we got here, tipping past 105."

"...are you serious?"

"i had to come bust down your door to make sure you were alive. i put you on an empty roller downstairs because these fucking dumbass doctors can't see me and i had to get their attention so they could notice you. yes, i am serious."

he sounds pissed. and you hardly want to think of what he means by ‘getting their attention.’

"what do you have to say for yourself? for daring to lie to me? for pretending like you weren't on the brink of a much worse fate?"

"...i..."

"you're so lucky you're unwell, girl, because you don't even want to imagine the things i would do to you as punishment for putting yourself in such a ridiculous situation," he growls. "all you had to do was tell me and i would have taken care of it before it got worse."

you blink, almost dumbfounded. you still aren't all there, but you can tell that your fever has gone down significantly. you're no longer sweating and fewer chills wrack your body. "...huh?"

"did that fucking fever scramble your brain or what?" he fumes, eyeing you sharply. "you should have told me."

you part your lips slightly as you look at him. "honestly, sukuna, i didn't think you'd really... i don't know-"

"care?"

"no, not care. i just didn't think you'd handle it well. i didn't even handle it well myself."

"you believe me to be incapable of tending to sickness?"

"no, i just thought you'd like... not take it seriously."

sukuna's eyes darken, and you realize that you may have said the wrong thing. "in what reality would i fail to take any threat to your health seriously, whether you are frail or not?"

"see, that's what i mean. you always have to slip in something about me being frail."

"because you are. as a member of your species. look at where you lay currently," sukuna grimaces. "that is not an insult to you, it's an observation. it's an insult, however, to everyone else who isn't you."

you relax slightly. "then you were actually worried?"

sukuna scoffs. "why the hell do you think i'm sitting in a human hospital with your sick ass right now? i thought we were past you believing i do not concern myself over you."

you suddenly feel foolish, having forced yourself to suffer in your isolation and simultaneously made sukuna, of all people, worry over you.

"hm. feeling foolish, are you?" he says, reading your mind.

"shut up,," you whine, only to clutch your stomach suddenly with a groan. sukuna sighs as he gently eases your head back onto the pillow.

"i told you not to exert yourself. you give me a headache."

"kuna," you mumble.

"what?"

"can you... take me home?"

sukuna raises a brow. "home?"

"to your place," you clarify. "i don't wanna be here. i just want to be with you. want you to hold me."

"you're such a needy thing," he exhales, toying with a strand of your hair as he leans over and gazes gently at you. "you have medications you need to take."

"then bring them with."

"and if you get sick again? you've only been here ten hours."

"ten?!" you exclaim.

"you were very ill, (y/n)."

you groan. "ten is long enough. i hate hospitals. take me home. i feel better anyway, and if i get worse, i’ll just go to uraume."

sukuna sighs, standing slowly. "after i get these tubes out of you without further damaging you, i will take you home," he says, looking over the IVs that you're hooked up to.

you close your eyes tiredly and nod in acceptance. "okay," you murmur.

he grunts. "let me find some damn instructions.”

"kuna," your hand weakly reaches out to catch his wrist and he stops, turning to look down at you.

"what is it?"

you open your eyes to look up at him fondly, exhaustion welling in your gaze. "thank you."

the king of curses clenches his jaw. he smoothes ahead over your now warm forehead and leans over you. "don't do some shit like this again."

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