#cause I was full on sobbing and that’s not an exaggeration lmao

[motherraid]

I can’t find any rules so if your uncomfortable plz feel free to ignore this but I recently found out that when a afab person sits on someone else lap, they can feel the *throb™*

So I’m currently thinking what would Sebek do if during the Masquerade s/o fem!reader ended up sitting on his lap and he felt the throb. What would he do? Would he get hard or would he wonder what it is?

Can I be ✨🎀 anon plz? If you do those kinds of anon thingies lol

Omg of course???!?!?! It's been so long since I've taken an ask from a named anon what you're so nice 😭😭😭

AND YOU HAD TO PULL A SCENARIO FROM MY FAVORITE EVENT TOO ILY

((Grinding, manipulation/gaslighting(??), boners (lol), slight exhibitionism(?? If you squint i think) more big boy words and can't really think or anything else as a description, IM SORRYYY I NEED CHARACTER EXAGGERATION IT'S AN ADDICTION))

Well, well. Back to lap sitting. It seems you all have a certain taste.

Boring answer is he feels it, gets embarrassed, and asks you to get up before he even begins to feel anything. He'd probably offer you his seat and walk off to find another seat he can sit down in. He's red faced, but that's it.

Fun answer?

I believe that Sebek WILL know where it's coming from. I'm sure he has some knowledge in sex ed or smth and if he doesn't, he's still very smart. He can make the connection and what was causing it easily. And when he looks up at you in concealed confusion, he can tell by your nonchalant expression that you aren't doing it on purpose. He assumes it's a natural thing that you shouldn't be ashamed of. So, by that logic, if you feel something hardening under your ass, surely you can understand that it's just natural, right? It's nothing to freak out over, I mean, who wouldn't get hard when there's such a darling sitting in his lap?

And who could possibly have known that something as simple as a pulse could be so alluring?

I mean, if we're talking sweet ol classic Sebek, he'd probably be aaaaabsolutely mortified. His immediate reaction would be to politely tap you on the shoulder and ask you (in the quietest voice he's ever had in his life) to stand so he can use the restroom. He won't even make it to full erection by the time he's flown from the room lol. And as soon as he makes it into semi-privacy, you won't see him for a good while. Well, at least until he can either will his erection to die or pathetically rub one out in a restroom stall like a loser (lmao). Most likely the former. His pride wouldn't allow him to do something so humiliating. If someone heard or caught him whimpering while he spazzes with his dick in his hand mid orgasm he'd truly never show his face in public again.

If you two are in a relationship then maybe he won't be so quick to run away and pitifully consider jacking off to the feeling of you throbbing in his lap- wishing he could feel your throbbing while deliciously stretched around his dick and welcoming every inch deeper into your warm cunt until either he runs out of inches or you run out of space.

No, no. He may just steadily place both hands on each of your thighs and bury his face into the back of your shoulder. Or the crook of your neck depending on how tall you are.

("Please... Just stay here for a moment. I swear that I'll let you up soon.. But for now I need you to stay put... and try not to move too much." )

And uhm.. Mk so you know it's not a Duke post without some sort or freak in there, and I just can not write something without going feral about it and the only way I can go feral about it is if I exaggerate his character so PERVY SEBEK

So if you somehow had managed to sit down in his lap and he feels his zipper area becoming a bit uncomfortable, you'd better have a strong will. The absolute degrading filth this boy will spew into your ears will either have you grinding into his crotch and begging him for more or trying to muffle your hurt/confused sobs. Best believe he ain't going nowhere, and neither are you for your little stunt. Sure, you may not have been intentionally trying to arouse him, but you are the one who insisted on using him as a seat when there are plenty of places to rest. That must have been what you wanted, huh? To see him all red faced and bothered? You probably like seeing him breaking a sweat, lip between his teeth and digging his digits into the underside of the seat. You must loove making him horny. It's like you get a kick out of it. Is it funny for you? To see him in agony?

Well, two can play at that game. Don't even bother acting surprised when he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you tight to his chest. He might wait for a person or two to pass out of view before his tongue sneaks a quick swipe against your earlobe. His breath is heavy on your neck while he nuzzles his face into your hair. Thank the Seven for the loud(ish) music echoing off the walls, or else anyone a good few feet from you would be able to hear him groaning in your ear. All while one of his hands slowly slides towards the inside of your thigh and gives it a good squeeze.

And don't even think about saying anything. It's all your fault, you know. You just casually decide to sit in a guys lap and act surprised when he gets hard? Just like your enticing second heartbeat, an erection is something that can not be helped sometimes. They can happen anywhere, and every guy can agree to that. So what will it look like when you purposefully sit in his lap, throbbing against his thigh with your ass sat firmly against his crotch? Did you forget you're in a school of boys? They'd understand him in a heartbeat. Some may even say you did it on purpose. You'll only embarrass yourself. So stay still, stay inconspicuous, and stay silent.

Let's be honest, though. He's hanging on by a thread. He's just so embarrassed that you've managed to get him this vulnerable and he's taking that out on you. You feel so warm and smell soo good. It's taking every ounce of restraint to hide his gasps and grunts from the spread crowd around you both. Trust they can't be concealed from you, though. You can hear everything. Not to mention feel everything. It's impossible to ignore him spreading his legs a bit and slowly rolling his hips into you.

If he's miserable and desperate, he'll make you feel even worse. Unless you'd rather sneak away and give him the blow job he deserves for putting up with you. Lend him you pussy for a while and he might even spare you a lecture about public decency once this trip is over. (How hypocritical.)

And he's lying. Of course you'll be getting properly disciplined when this is all over. A hands-on lecture is a must. Best not to worry about that now, though. Just enjoy the moment. He sure is.

("I should have known better than to humor you. To think I actually believed you might have been behaving decently for once.")

[savetheupholstery]

Did I start sobbing when Violet came out to Harper? … yes yes I did absolutely. It is trans day of visibility and fellas I am VISIBLE..especially visible while sobbing in front of my Mom and sister….b u t It was really amazing to see non-binary representation that felt /real/, Violet has struggled with their identity and their past identity as Gabrielle (especially with Madia) seeing them discover their identity in relation to their past and current life, especially with regards to religion and what it means to them, it hit really hard.

And their conversation with Harper is one that I’ve had before, seeing that on screen? Actually saying Violet is non-binary specifically (not just, “I don’t identify with male or female, I don’t know what I am” “that’s okay we’ll figure it out together” and leaving it, which while is still representation and great there’s just something different about them /saying/ it) With Harper immediately accepting Violet and using their pronouns, introducing Violet to the /world/

I think it’s the first time I’ve a character explicitly state they are non-binary and use they/them pronouns-at least in a show I’ve watched.(because I know that they exist in ones I haven’t)

[super-secret-sick-fics]

LOL I’m the one that requested a sakuatsu fic unless more than 1 person did so kinda perfect😭 -person that gave feedback

Request:

Hii! Could you write a sakuatsu fic where atsumu wakes up in the middle of the night from food poisoning after they went out to eat and sakusa takes care of him? Thank you!!

Well you’re in luck! I got super carried away w this one lmao.

It ended up being a little more about Sakusa than I intended, but I hope it’s still kinda what you wanted!!

Sakusa is probably v ooc as well, but lowkey I hc that he completely lets his guard down in front of Atsumu and is a major touch-starved simp.

Here it is!

I love you: a Sakuatsu sick fic

Pairing: Sick Atsumu, caretaker Sakusa

Word Count: 3,446

Warnings: vomiting, swearing (probably)

———————————————————————

The ending credits of the movie Sakusa and Atsumu just watched rolled slowly down the screen, some sappy love song playing in the background. Sakusa picked up his phone to check the time and was briefly blinded by the bright screen. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and checked the time.

It was only 10:30, but the lump that was his boyfriend was attached to his side heavily, informing Sakusa that Atsumu was fast asleep. He pinched his eyebrows together in confusion.

He and Atsumu had the day off tomorrow, so they decided to spend their evening at a nice restaurant and then snuggled up on their couch watching a movie and sharing a bottle of one of their more expensive wines.

Atsumu buzzed with excitement all week, seeing as it was their first date night since the regular season started. Sure, they lived together. But most nights, they either stayed late for extra practice, or were too tired to really do anything but watch Netflix and order take out. Tonight was a big deal for the couple.

Which is exactly why Sakusa was so thoroughly confused at that moment. Atsumu was a night owl by nature and didn’t usually go to bed before midnight most nights (a schedule adjustment that did not come easily to Sakusa when they first moved in together). That, coupled with how much looked forward to their evening, should mean that he would still be wide awake right now. Not drooling on Sakusa’s shoulder.

Sakusa placed a hand on his boyfriend’s forehead. Maybe he was sick. In which case, Sakusa would need to call Osamu to come help take care of his brother. (He’d come a long way with his fear of germs, but he still struggled with sickness. Even if it was Atsumu).

He frowned when his temperature didn’t feel any warmer than usual. He pursed his lips and, somewhat relieved, shrugged off his concern. It wouldn’t be totally unbelievable that Atsumu was simply exhausted. They had been traveling so much for their games and practice had been pretty grueling the last few weeks. It could completely make sense that his fatigue caught up with him on a night they could thoroughly relax.

“Atsumu,” he shrugged his shoulder and Atsumu’s head bobbed up and down with it. However, his boyfriend did not wake up.

“Atsumu,” he tried again, “hey wake up, baby. Let’s go to bed.” He brought his hand up to gently pinch the sleeping boy’s cheek. Atsumu’s nose and eyebrows scrunched up and he blinked several times before peering up at Sakusa.

“Mmmm” he sat up and rubbed his eyes, “what time is it?”

“It’s only a little after 10:30,” Sakusa answered and Atsumu turned to him. His face was paler than usual, noticeable even in the dim lighting provided by the TV. Sakusa’s concern returned immediately.

“Are you alright? Why are you so sleepy?” Sakusa asked as he took one of Atsumu’s hands in his own. Atsumu yawned.

“Not sure. Just got real tired all of a sudden and musta fallen asleep. Probably just ‘cause we’ve been so busy,” Atsumu brought their joined hands to his lips and pecked Sakusa’s knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Omi. I know this was supposed to be a special night.” Atsumu said as he cuddled into Sakusa once again. Sakusa wrapped an arm around Atsumu and fiddled with the ends of his hair. Within a minute, he heard Atsumu’s breathing slow down and felt his body relax more fully. He frowned again.

“Oi, come on.” He tugged on the piece of hair he was playing with and Atsumu whined.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said again. Atsumu groaned, but sat up. A moment later, he squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply.

“Really, babe. Are you alright?” Sakusa questioned, his worry increasing. He put a hand on Atsumu’s back. Atsumu opened his eyes and nodded.

“Yeah. Just sat up too fast. Got a lil dizzy.”

“Okay,” Sakusa hesitated. Atsumu clearly wasn’t going to admit that something might be wrong, so he let it go.

The two of them stood up and Sakusa surveyed the coffee table in front of them. Empty bowls from the ice cream they had earlier as well as their empty wine glasses and the empty wine bottle stared back at him tauntingly. He sent Atsumu off to bed with the promise of being in right after he finished cleaning up.

Normally Atsumu would offer to help, but he simply nodded and slowly stumbled his way to the bathroom.

By the time Sakusa finished cleaning up and got ready for bed, Atsumu was already passed out, curled up in the blankets.

***

“—lease. Omi, wake up,” Sakusa jolted awake when a sharp pain crossed his shoulder. He looked up to see Atsumu sitting up, slightly hunched over. His heavy, slow breathing the only sounds in the room.

Sakusa sat up and turned on his bedside table lamp. When he looked back at Atsumu, his worry from earlier returned with ten times the intensity.

Atsumu was bent over, his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach. His shoulders heaved with heavy, shaking breaths and his face was pinched and shining with sweat.

“Atsumu? Baby? What’s wrong?” he questioned as he scrambled to sit in front of his boyfriend. He cupped Atsumu’s face in his hands and gasped at the heat he felt.

Atsumu opened his eyes and tears immediately rolled down his flushed cheeks. Sakusa’s chest tightened. No, no. He could not be sick. His hands pulled back and he felt himself start to move away from Atsumu.

Every instinct he had told Sakusa to get away. But he couldn’t do that. Atsumu needed him right now. There was no waiting for Osamu. He needed to help him right then. He could fight through his fears to help his boyfriend. Sakusa moved back towards Atsumu.

“My head is pounding, but my stomach hurts worse, Omi,” Atsumu choked, “it hurts so bad. I feel so sick.” He slowly closed his eyes again and brought the back of his hand up to his mouth.

“Are you… do you think you’re going to be sick, baby?” Sakusa asked nervously. Atsumu nodded quickly. Sakusa cringed, but did everything in his power to keep himself rooted to his place in front of Atsumu.

“Okay,” he forced out past the knot in his throat. “Okay. That’s fine, Atsumu. Let’s go to the bathroom, alright?” His voice was shaking, but if Atsumu could tell, he didn’t show it. His only response was a fast shake of his head, his eyes still glued shut, and a small heave.

“Not—“ he heaved again, “no. Can’t move.”

This was Sakusa’s worst nightmare.

He scanned the room and got up quickly. Atsumu started whimpering.

“Hey, no, no. It’s okay,” Sakusa reassured when he sat down by Atsumu once more. “I was just going to get a bin, see?” He placed their trash can in Atsumu’s lap with trembling hands.

“Aren’t ya going to—hnng— call Samu?” Atsumu asked, staring down into the trash can. Tears hit the plastic with gentle plops and Sakusa felt his heart break.

Atsumu knew even in his current state that Sakusa was not mentally equipped to handle this situation. He knew that Sakusa would much prefer for Osamu to be taking care of this situation. It made him feel horrible.

“Not right now. It’s late. I can call him in the morning. Right now, I’m more worried about you. I’ll be okay until then. I promise,” he stated as confidently as he could. Atsumu looked at him, fever-glazed eyes wide and teary. His bottom lip quivered before he nodded gratefully.

The next few minutes were painful for both of them. Atsumu winced and whined as cramps tormented his stomach, the occasional gag or airy burp popping up. Sakusa’s own anxiety was trying to fight it’s way to the surface, but he tried with all of his being to push it down. This was his boyfriend. The man he loved. Osamu would not always be a call away to come and care for his brother.

Finally, with a terrible wretch, Atsumu doubled over the trash can and vomited painfully. Their dinner, dessert, and the wine from earlier making a less than pleasant reappearance. Sakusa wanted to run away, but instead, he put a hand on his boyfriend’s sweaty back and rubbed small circles between his shoulder blades.

“There you go, baby. It’s okay,” he swallowed his own nauseas when Atsumu vomited again. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Atsumu panted over the trash can, his eyes wide.

“Kiyoomi, it hurts so bad. Please make it stop,” he cried before a belch brought up more vomit.

“I wish I could, Atsumu, I’m so sorry you’re hurting. It’ll be over soon hopefully.” He said gently.

Atsumu was starting to get more frantic as the vomiting continued. His body wasn’t giving him any reprieve. Painful heaves and body-shuddering wretches seemed to be plaguing him non-stop. Deep burps brought torrents of puke into the nearly half-full bin.

“I don’t—huurlp— please, Omi—blrg—“ he was dry heaving and full on sobbing now and Sakusa was growing more and more concerned as it didn’t seem like Atsumu was getting any oxygen.

“Oi, Atsumu,” he tried to get his attention, “hey, babe. Listen to me. You’re making it worse. You need to breathe, Atsumu.” He moved the trash can away and sat in front of his boyfriend again. Atsumu’s eyes were wide in panic and his chest heaved as he tried unsuccessfully to take in any air.

“C-can’t—“ he gasped.

“Yes you can. I promise you can,” Sakusa reassured, holding Atsumu’s face in his hands again. He brushed back his sweaty bangs soothingly and started taking deep, over-exaggerated breaths. This was how Atsumu helped Sakusa through anxiety attacks, so the wing spiker was sure that he knew what was happening without needing an explanation.

Within a few minutes, Atsumu had calmed down and was breathing mostly normal again. He was still crying, but that was okay. Sakusa could handle that.

“See? You’re fine. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen, okay baby?” Atsumu nodded. His eyes were drifting closed and his entire face was slack with exhaustion.

“Lay down. I’m going to go replace the bag in the bin and get a few things to make you feel better, okay?” Atsumu simply nodded again and curled into their sheets.

Once Sakusa was in the bathroom, he replaced the bag in the trash can, placing the old one in the tub for now. He scrubbed his hands in the sink for probably too long and then put the lid down on the toilet and sat.

He looked down at his trembling hands and took a deep, shaky, breath. He did it. He helped Atsumu. He needed to continue helping until the morning when it was reasonable to call Osamu. He could do it. He loved Atsumu. That was more than enough reason to try as best as he could to put his own anxieties aside for now.

After he collected himself, he went back to their room, the clean bin, various meds, a thermometer, and a glass of water in his hands. Atsumu was still lying in a tight ball, but his eyes were wide open, staring at nothing in particular. They rolled to look at Sakusa when he found his spot by Atsumu again.

He ran his fingers through Atsumu’s hair once more and Atsumu sighed. It was peaceful for a bit, but Atsumu’s gurgling stomach interrupted the quiet. The setter groaned.

“Still feeling bad?” Sakusa’s eyebrows furrowed and his lips pulled together in a tight line. Atsumu only nodded again. Sakusa didn’t like how quiet he was being.

“Well, sit up for just a minute. Drink some water and take some meds, and then we can lay down and you can get some sleep.” Sakusa commanded and helped his boyfriend sit up.

Atsumu smiled gratefully at him and did as he was told. Even looking as sickly as he was, Sakusa still found him incredibly beautiful.

“I’m sorry, Omi-Omi. I know you’re probably pushing away a lot of anxiety right now,” Atsumu said as he laid back down.

“Yeah,” Sakusa chuckled forcefully, “but I love you,” he smiled. He wiped down Atsumu’s sweaty face with a wet rag he brought with him. Atsumu didn’t respond, but when Sakusa looked at him again, he was crying.

“Thank you,” was all he said. With that, Sakusa laid down beside Atsumu, the trash can within reaching distance, and pulled his sick boyfriend into his side. Atsumu tensed for just a moment before relaxing and cuddling into Sakusa’s side.

***

Sakusa woke with a start again not even an hour later at the sound of retching coming from behind the closed bathroom door. He trudged over and opened the door, leaning against the frame.

There was his pitiful boyfriend, face resting on the toilet seat (gross). His face was slack and he panted heavily. Sakusa sighed and shook his head before moving to sit beside Atsumu (on the bathroom floor—gross).

“What are you doing, idiot? Why didn’t you wake me up?” He pulled Atsumu towards him and settled the sick boy in his lap. Atsumu shivered and curled into himself.

“It’s okay, Omi-Omi,” he breathed, nuzzling into Sakusa’s thigh, “I can handle it, I’ll be okay.”

Sakusa’s irritation flared up. What a self-sacrificing idiot.

“Atsumu, don’t do that,” he nearly snapped.

“Omi?” Atsumu whimpered, his eyes wide as he looked up at Sakusa. Sakusa huffed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, but don’t be so stupid okay? You’re my boyfriend. Like I said, I love you. I want to help.” He ran his fingers through Atsumu’s hair.

“But I don’t want you to push yourself into doing something I know you’re uncomfortable with,” Atsumu replied. His voice was raspy and there wasn’t any snark behind it like normal. It made Sakusa unreasonably annoyed. He hated that Atsumu was feeling so bad and was still putting Sakusa first. But then again, his selflessness was why he fell in love with the cocky setter in the first place.

“And I don’t want you to push yourself when I know that you’re uncomfortable already. You’re more important to me than anything else. I’ll be fine. Thank you. I love that you’re willing to accommodate my anxiety, but please. Let me help you.”

Atsumu started crying again, his eyes wide and his mouth trembling.

“Why are you crying, dumbass? If you throw up on me, I don’t think I’ll be able to back up my words.” Atsumu shook his head.

“No just...thank you, Kiyoomi. I love you so much,” he cried and sniffled. Sakusa chuckled and wiped away Atsumu’s tears.

They chatted idly for a while about mindless things. Sakusa almost believed that they were in the clear and Atsumu would be okay.

At least until the setter shot up from his lap, nearly head-butting Sakusa in the process.

“Atsumu?” the wing spiker asked tentatively.

Atsumu answered by throwing himself over the toilet followed by a wet burp and a slurry of vomit splashing in the toilet. He remained in that position for another minute, sputtering and heaving, nothing more than bile coming up.

Sakusa grimaced. Atsumu turned and placed his cheek on the toilet set, tired, foggy eyes gazing back at Sakusa.

“Poor baby,” he soothed, wiping off Atsumu’s mouth with some toilet paper. Atsumu whimpered.

Sakusa washed his hands and turned to leave the bathroom. He came back a few minutes later with their pillows and comforter.

Atsumu had moved to leaning against the wall, his head tilted back and arms wrapped around his knees. A steady flow of silent tears rolled down his flushed cheeks and Sakusa dropped everything he had and rushed to his side.

“Atsumu? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asked, thumbing tears off his boyfriend’s cheeks. Atsumu opened his eyes and sobbed.

“I’m sorry, Omi. I j-just feel s-so bad,” he took in a shuddering breath, “and— and I thought you left and that was fine, b-but I also wanted you to s-stay even th-though that’s selfish o-of m-me,” he cried. Sakusa shushed him gently and pulled him into a hug.

“It’s okay. Don’t feel bad about that. I already told you I’m not going anywhere,” he stroked Atsumu’s hair.

“I just went to get our pillows and comforter. I figured,” he continued, “I figured it’d be best to stay in here and I wanted you to be comfortable.”

Atsumu pulled back to look at Sakusa.

“You’d sleep on the bathroom floor with me, Omi?”

Sakusa chuckled, “yeah. Unfortunately that’s how much you’ve changed me Miya Atsumu.”

Atsumu gave him a wobbly smile before he gagged and turned back to the toilet to puke again.

Sakusa’s nose scrunched up, but he rubbed Atsumu’s back up and down as he threw up again.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped repeatedly in between heaves. Once his body gave him a moment, he sat back and shivered.

“Looks like this is going to go one for a while,” he whispered, hoarse.

“That’s alright,” Sakusa smiled, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Atsumu’s only response was to start heaving again.

***

The two of them sat at their breakfast table, Atsumu in much too good a mood for having kept Sakusa up half the night. Sakusa held a cup of coffee in his hands as the freshly-showered Atsumu nibbled on some toast. He was still pale, but he looked much better than a few hours ago.

Sakusa’s entire body was heavy and his mind exhausted from the lack of sleep and fighting off anxiety all night.

Atsumu woke them up a few more times in the night to be sick, but around four in the morning, seemed to be down throwing up for a while at least. The two of them collapsed into their bed and didn’t stir again until about two in the afternoon.

By the time they woke up again, a lot of the color returned to Atsumu’s face and his fever was broken. He told Sakusa his stomach was still crampy and felt hollow, but he didn’t feel nearly as miserable as he did all night.

“Must’ve been the chicken from the restaurant,” Atsumu shrugged after Sakusa questioned what could possibly have made him so sick, only for him to be nearly completely better a few hours later.

“What do you mean?” Sakusa asked. Atsumu shrugged again.

“Looked a little pink.”

Sakusa could have smacked him.

“Then why on earth did you eat it?” He questioned, glaring daggers at the imbecile across from him.

“Because Omi-Omi,” Atsumu rolled his eyes, “I thought I was being paranoid. The lighting in the restaurant was pretty dim, ya know?”

“You’re such an idiot. Please just trust your instincts next time,” Sakusa offered him a long-suffering sigh. He stood up and Atsumu followed him with his eyes.

“Where ya going?”

“To shower and change the sheets and sleep for the rest of the day.”

“I’ll change the sheets, Omi,” Atsumu stood up.

“No you should rest. Even if it was just food poisoning caused by your own thoughtlessness, you were still sick and we still have practice tomorrow.” Sakusa yawned and pecked Atsumu on the top of his head before making to leave again. He was stopped when Atsumu grabbed his wrist.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Omi. I know it wasn’t easy,” he stared at Sakusa, his eyes wide and earnest. Sakusa blinked at him for a second before he smiled.

He placed a hand on Atsumu’s still-clammy cheek and leaned down to give him a lingering kiss on the lips. When he pulled back Atsumu smiled gracefully at him. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Can’t just kiss me like that, Omi-Omi. Ya made me pretty dizzy there. I’m still recovering, ya know,” he laughed weakly.

“I told you. I love you,” he smiled. Atsumu smiled again and looked at Sakusa lovingly.

“But you’re an idiot.” Atsumu’s face immediately dropped into a pout. Sakusa pecked his lips once more (now that he knew it was food poisoning, so not contagious, it was fine) and made his way to the bathroom.

“Mean, Omi!” He heard Atsumu shout.

And when Sakusa finished his long, warm, cleansing shower, he came back to his room to an already made bed with fresh clean sheets, the corners tucked in exactly how he liked it and he felt his heart swell.

And yeah. He really loved Atsumu and that always gave him plenty of strength to combat his own anxieties.

[marigoldbaker]

adapting

ao3

He should place some sort of advertisement in the paper. Wanted: Childcare for Potential Vampire Slayer; Emotional Support for Watcher.

(in which giles and buffy adjust to living on a hellmouth. well. mostly just giles)

lmao remember when i was talking about how this fic was going to be angsty? that fell tf apart. it has angsty parts but it’s a short fluff piece; one more of these & then i think we might get to some Actual Plot Things!

tagging @theforestlesbian as always <3

Giles had been in Sunnydale for two days when he nearly got jumped by a vampire on his way back from the grocery store, and it was then that he started considering that he'd made a pretty serious mistake coming to an active Hellmouth just to get away from the Council monitor. Keeping Buffy in his care was definitely not as important as keeping Buffy alive, and living here alone with no one to take care of Buffy if anything happened to him was most certainly a bad idea, which was why Giles was panicking at two in the morning and couldn't go to sleep.

Buffy was awake, but not because she'd been crying. Giles, wanting to remind himself of the one certainty in his life, had picked her up and out of her crib while he paced around her bedroom. She seemed somewhat upset by his anxiety, and kept on making concerned little whimpering noises that didn't really alleviate Giles's stress. He should place some sort of advertisement in the paper. Wanted: Childcare for Potential Vampire Slayer; Emotional Support for Watcher.

"You," he said to Buffy with some exhaustion, "need some sort of reliable care that isn’t me, because sooner or later I'll probably get murdered by some sun-resistant vampire. It's California, after all. I expect these people can withstand five thousand bloody degrees of heat even after they’re dead." He bounced Buffy in his arms, trying to distract himself. "I'd give you back to the Council if they weren't likely to just lock you in a room and set up a few magical wards to make sure you don't die before you get Called—"

Buffy began to cry.

Giles felt more than just a little bit horrible for passing his worry to Buffy. Part of him wished he'd just stayed at his desk job in the Council, never mind the shame he'd have brought on his family for not accepting a Potential when offered one. Maybe then Buffy would at least be with someone who could keep her safe, if not happy.

But Giles hated the thought of Buffy being alone—that was why he wanted her to have the chance to meet other children. She was such a social butterfly, always smiling and laughing at complete strangers, and Giles knew that the Council didn't approve of Potentials as mischievous and charismatic as Buffy, and who better to take care of her than someone who had dealt with mischievous, charismatic people on a daily basis back in college—lord, was that only seven years ago? It felt like so much longer.

"Shh," Giles murmured, bouncing Buffy in his arms. "Hush now, dear, everything's all right."

It wasn't, really, but he certainly shouldn't be worrying Buffy. Giles did wish there was a manual for rogue Watchers trying to secretly raise a child instead of prepare a Potential, something with affordable resources and self-help tips. It would be a niche sort of book, certainly, but it'd be better than whatever the hell seemed to be going on with him right now.

Buffy had stopped crying, but she still looked upset. Giles took her tightly curled fist in his hand and hummed an old song his mother might have sung to him, once.

 There were two daycares within Sunnydale city limits, and both were absolutely out of the question when it came to finding safe and affordable care for Buffy. One was two blocks away from a location where new vampires seemed to enjoy going to spend time, and the other had a two-hundred-dollar entrance fee and was located in the distastefully wealthy section of Sunnydale that Giles was trying his hardest to avoid.

Putting an advertisement in the paper did next to nothing except make Giles panic even more about the possibility of the Council finding it and asking questions he wouldn't be able to answer without incriminating himself and losing Buffy. Adding to Giles's panic was his worry that he was creating a negative home environment for Buffy anyway with all this worrying. He couldn't believe he was even thinking this, but he very much missed Los Angeles.

Growing more and more desperate, Giles decided to check out the two-hundred-dollar daycare. He could always dip into his emergency funds, if need be. Perhaps just a little time, enough for him to figure out something more permanent and definite.

"Hgb," said Buffy from her car seat. She'd started to vocalize a bit more precisely as of late, though nothing amounted to an actual word just yet. Currently, she was chewing on the arm of the small cloth doll Giles had bought her back in Los Angeles. She had grown incredibly attached to that doll, even more so than her old baby blanket.

"Right," said Giles with nervous determination, and pulled into the parking lot of Bright Smiles Daycare. In Giles's opinion, that name better suited a dentist's office, not some ridiculously overpriced daycare full of tiny children with extremely wealthy parents.

After getting out of the car, unbuckling Buffy from her car seat, and picking her (and the doll) up, Giles locked the car and surveyed the daycare from outside. It looked quite nice, it was in the part of town that seemed to have quite a lot of mansions, and it was well protected by a solid brick wall with a mural featuring many eerily smiling children painted near the gate. Giles wondered how desperate for childcare parents had to be in order to walk their children past these small painted goblins every day.

Then again, he thought, I seem to be rather desperate myself at this juncture.

"Welcome to Bright Smiles Daycare!" gushed a young woman standing at the door. She was holding a small child in her arms that looked perhaps Buffy's age, if a bit smaller. "You must be Rupert Giles! It's always a pleasure to meet a new member of the Bright Smiles family!"

Stepping into the perfectly symmetrical hallway and neatly organized artwork, Giles was very vividly reminded of the cult he'd had to join as part of an intelligence-gathering mission for the Council. He held Buffy protectively to his chest (Buffy, of course, was at this point very involved with babbling to her doll and didn't really notice) and stepped closer to the woman, inquiring, “Do you, um, have anything to eat?”

“Oh, of course!” said the woman warmly. "We have snacks for you, applesauce for your daughter—"

"Oh, she's not my—" Giles began reflexively, before remembering that he was trying to seem relatively normal to this perfectly nice young woman. "allergic to applesauce," he finished awkwardly. "Which is perhaps very good if that is what you have."

Buffy, taking advantage of her close proximity to the first child her age she’d ever met, threw the cloth doll at the other baby as hard as she could.

"Buffy," said Giles, mortified.

The doll bounced off the other baby’s face, and the other baby began to cry. The woman, whose expression had suddenly changed, said awkwardly, “Cordelia’s parents make very generous donations that help finance most of this daycare. I’m terribly sorry, but if your Buffy doesn’t get along with her, Bright Smiles might not be the best fit for you.”

“No, this is just her way of saying hello,” said Giles helplessly. “I think.”

Buffy was watching Cordelia with a sort of scientific interest. Cordelia seemed wholly unaware of the fact that she was being observed, too focused on crying as loudly as possible.

“I’m so sorry,” said the woman again, “but Bright Smiles can only afford to take on well-behaved and well-mannered children.”

Giles had accounted for the fact that he might not be all that good at finding Buffy a daycare. He hadn’t considered that Buffy might not be all that good at daycare in the first place, and it was very difficult to understand, particularly after spending so much time with Buffy. Buffy was excitable and sweet and, well, perhaps a bit rambunctious, but she was most certainly a lovely young girl that any daycare would be lucky to have, and—and he was still just standing here, not saying anything. “Well,” he said finally. “I’ll just search elsewhere, then. Good day to you.”

“Mr. Giles, we can perhaps discuss—” the woman began, but Giles was already turning and hurrying out of the daycare.

As soon as they were outside of Bright Smiles, Buffy began to wail. Giles turned and saw the woman, struggling with a still-sobbing Cordelia in her arms and Buffy’s doll in one hand. “I really am sorry,” she said apologetically. “We’re just a very exclusive place. We can’t afford—”

“Yes, thank you,” said Giles exhaustedly, and took the doll, handing it to Buffy. Buffy sniffled and stopped crying, going back to her usual pastime of chewing on the doll’s arm. “I expect we’ll need to look elsewhere, at any rate.” Turning, he hurried to the car, unlocking the door and placing Buffy into her car seat before climbing into the backseat himself.

“You’ve made my life very complicated, you know that?” he said softly to Buffy. “It’s rather impressive. You’re quite small, and yet you’ve caused nearly as much upheaval as Eyghon.” This was quite a exaggeration, but Giles just liked talking to Buffy. As of late, she rarely ever paid any attention to him while he talked, and it was strangely endearing. She lived in her own very happy little world.

Giles leaned back into the seat, thinking. It wasn’t just that Buffy had made a bad first impression, it was that he didn’t want Buffy to be in a place where he constantly felt like he was walking on eggshells. He didn’t want Buffy’s daycare to be dependent on how much money he could shell out to cover any misbehaviors, and he got the distinct sense that this was the sort of place that catered to the rich part of Sunnydale. All the parents who wanted an exclusive experience with only the most well-behaved children.

“I feel a bit bad for that Cordelia girl you threw your doll at,” he said to Buffy. “That sort of place seems as though it might not be the kindest.”

“Pshhh,” said Buffy happily.

Really, Giles thought, he needed some guidance, and there was only one resource in which he’d nearly always found consistently good advice.

 Buffy, sitting on the sofa with her beloved cloth doll, watched Giles with a large smile as he entered the room with the third box of books. Giles smiled back, feeling more than a bit reassured by the fact that someone seemed to have steadfast faith in him, even if that someone was a six-month-old who wasn’t well-behaved enough for daycare. “Daycare is rubbish anyway,” he informed her. “I didn’t go to daycare, and look how well I turned out.” He considered this, then winced. “Well. There are plenty of other people who didn’t go to daycare and turned out just fine.”

Buffy held out the cloth doll to Giles.

“Oh—” Giles placed down the box, crossing the room to take the doll from Buffy. “Thank you,” he said very seriously. He knew it was a bit early to start on good manners, but there was a parenting book he’d read recently that said encouragement was extremely beneficial to a growing child. Besides which, he did appreciate the gesture; Buffy didn’t give her doll to just anyone. Buffy did throw her doll at just about anyone, but giving her doll willingly was reserved for only Giles.

Tucking the doll into his front pocket where Buffy could still see it and know it was being taken care of, Giles turned back to the books. He’d brought along a few copies of Watcher journals that the Council had gifted to him, as infant Potentials weren’t generally all that common and the Council seemed to think Giles could use some frames of reference. Giles had been mostly ignoring them out of spite, but quite frankly, he was getting desperate. Perhaps among one of these books he might find some kind of a solution, some Watcher who softened to their Potential and wanted a better life for them.

But after a good two hours spent researching (or, more accurately, one hour spent researching, half an hour spent playing with Buffy—she was such a sweet child, and Giles didn’t want her to feel neglected—and half an hour preparing dinner for the both of them), Giles really hadn’t found anything of use. The Watchers’ diaries were dispassionate and disinterested in their charges, and Giles had the strong sense that these had been specifically selected to encourage a similar mindset for him.

It did make him very aware of one thing, though. These Watchers never really seemed to mention any sort of community or resources, instead putting a specific emphasis on how solitary their lives had become. One Watcher boasted that his Potential’s first encounter with another child didn’t take place until she was eight years old, and even then it was under incredibly controlled circumstances.

“The system is broken,” Giles informed Buffy, and was unexpectedly reminded of Ethan, both of them sprawled in the grass talking lazily about burning the world down. Giles had been frightened, he realized, by what had happened with Eyghon, stumbling to distance himself from rebellion so that no one would ever get hurt again. Choosing to raise Buffy the way he thought would be best was a sideways way of rebelling against the Council without really rebelling against the Council, and it still didn’t really address the actual problems he was creating with his careful approach. He had no real way to make sure Buffy wouldn’t go to another Council operative in the event of his death, no contacts he trusted, no community to fall back on, and he still felt as though impulsive, rebellious behavior was the absolute wrong way to go.

Buffy made a small whining noise and stretched a tiny hand toward the doll in Giles’s pocket. Turning, he absently handed it back to her, but she grabbed plaintively at his hand instead.

“Hello,” said Giles tiredly, managing a smile. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.” He sat down next to her on the couch, thinking. He couldn’t at all handle the idea of hosting some neighborhood get-together to meet people; pretending to be a single father for a long period of time would be difficult when faced with cheerful Americans eating his food. All he really wanted was someone he could reliably count on to take care of Buffy if anything happened to him—

The solution to his problems occurred to him quite abruptly. “Idiot,” said Giles to himself, picking up Buffy and making sure to add for her benefit, “Not you, dear, you’re very smart and let no one tell you otherwise.” Carrying Buffy down the hall to her bedroom, he placed her gently down in her crib before hurrying back to the living room to find a pen and paper.

 “You’re not serious.”

“I assume you received my letter?” said Giles cheerfully.

“We did. We’re calling to inquire what on earth would make you think legally adopting the Potential would be a good idea.” Travers’s voice was clipped and irritable. “That sort of thing makes placing her with another Watcher extremely difficult in the event of your demise. It would be significantly different were she British, but there is only so much we can do in regards to the American legal system.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” said Giles, who was feeling thoroughly proud of himself at the moment. “I simply feel that—well,” here he dropped his voice a bit dramatically, “I’m of the mind that it also makes things more difficult for any family member to step in. You don’t want just anyone swooping in and claiming guardianship of a Potential, Travers, do you?”

On the other side of the room, Buffy noticed a dog outside and started shrieking with delight.

“What on earth is that racket on your end?” Travers demanded.

“Television,” lied Giles, making a shh motion to Buffy (who, as usual, happily ignored him and pressed her hands up against the window while she stared at the dog). “Listen, Travers, I’ve been doing a bit of digging,” this part actually wasn’t a lie, “and this particular Potential has quite a few relatives in this area. I’d move, but I’m taking my research responsibilities quite seriously.”

“Mr. Giles,” said Travers, “tread carefully.”

Giles winced. That didn’t bode well. “I’m sorry?”

“These constant changes in your approach to training your Potential are giving me doubts,” said Travers. “I will support your request to adopt the child and pull a few legal strings, but only because you claim that there is danger of a relative ‘swooping in.’ I hope you understand that you make any more requests and we will conduct a very thorough investigation.”

Giles felt almost dizzy with delight. He did feel awful about using Buffy’s relatives as though they were pieces in some horrible game of chess. But he’d be able to make legal arrangements that would keep Buffy out of the hands of the Council in the event of his death, and that was truly comforting to him.

Buffy, meanwhile, was still very distracted by the dog, which was chasing a squirrel. “Go!” she shouted suddenly, and Giles nearly dropped the phone. “Go go go!”

“Mr. Giles?”

“Go!” Buffy crowed, and hit the window as though watching a high-speed chase.

Giles stared, eyes wide, and a slow, proud smile spread across his face. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Good day, Travers.”

“Good day.”

Giles waited for the click of the receiver before crossing the room to scoop Buffy up. She uttered a whine of protest, peering over his shoulder at the dog and the squirrel. “Go,” she informed Giles sulkily, which did make it a bit unclear as to whether she knew what she was saying was an actual word.

Giles chose to believe that she was just trying to be mysterious. “Yes, it did go,” he agreed. “But you can’t hit the window.”

 To celebrate their small victory, Giles decided to take Buffy on a walk to the nearby park. She’d been mostly cooped up since the daycare incident a few days ago, and he thought they could both do with a bit of fresh air. Besides which, he was more than a little bit proud of the high-quality stroller he’d gotten for Buffy, and he wanted to see if it worked as well as advertised.

Buffy was always very happy about getting dressed and going outside; she was a very sweetly cheerful little thing. Carefully buttoning Buffy’s tiny sweater, Giles lifted her up and into the stroller, tucking her doll in with her. “Now, if we meet any new children, kindly try not to throw things,” he instructed her.

Buffy smiled. It was very clear that she had no qualms about throwing things.

They lived in a refreshingly shady part of Sunnydale. Giles was not at all fond of the sun that the town’s name advertised, and very much missed the chill of England. Buffy very clearly loved the sun, but was willing to settle for the breeze and shade that the many trees in their neighborhood allowed. It was pleasant, Giles had to admit, and very lovely to walk with an excitable Buffy in her stroller (who had just seen a pigeon and was babbling happily in its direction) without all that many plans for the day. It felt like the sort of break he needed after the panic of their first week in Sunnydale.

“Do you suppose things will settle down?” Giles asked Buffy, stopping the stroller to peer down at her.

Buffy gave him a very irritated look, crossed her arms, and said, “Go.”

“You’re quite a demanding little girl, aren’t you,” said Giles affectionately, and went back to pushing the stroller.