#gonna make that boy so delirious in his suffering

[citrine-elephant]

something about leon being fucked up by forces of nature, i tell you.

if this jellyfish/squid/eel thing whatever does have squid aspects....

beaks.

it'd be one thing to be grabbed by a red devil mutant. cephalopod tentacles are terrifying in how strong they are.

but add poison effect? and the power of an electric eel forged in a lab?

if leon was brought in far too close before he could get away, be that rescue or a miracle, that beak could and probably would kill him. but that would be the least of his worries. that would be a mercy.

does he get away with a chunk of flesh torn out? a minor laceration through his tactical gear?

getting out alive would still be hell. sure, a regular jellyfish sting suuucks. get something like the man o' war and... yeah, uh, medical attention!

leon coming out with thick welts and dark circular bruises. small cuts, maybe larger ones. there's options for the next part.

maybe he's conscious. writhing in pain, only to have the slightest graze on the stings, and writhing away as he's reduced to animal instinct. a back and forth of being so uncomfortable and in pain.

maybe, this pain doesn't wane. maybe, it's just the beginning of a long drawn out process. being in so much agony as fire hotter than the center of the sun scorches every microscopic inch of his nerve endings. for days on end. so much pain he's out cold. medically induced, probably. just so he can tolerate being alive by having the trial run of "death" for a bit.

there's many a thing on this planet. there's gympie-gympie for example. manchineel trees. thinking of things that leave you in agony for a long, long time. some insects, some sea creatures. watched some things of people taking stings that were "mild" at first, but then, in time...

maybe even, we could make it even worse. with blisters that form on the worst of the welts. when the swelling comes down, they only seem to grow. infection.

practically on the brink of death, barely escaping the fate of sepsis, whatever entity above, his chosen warden in this purgatory, keeps him alive and intact. no matter how much blood and tears he'll shed. the chosen guard dog needs his trigger fingers working.

he is never going to the beach again.

[ventique18]

~ Sick🌡️ flirting ~

🌸: "Are you crazy? You'll seriously get sick if you don't stop messing around."

Malleus halted the heated kisses he was peppering across 🌸's shoulders, but kept his smoldering gaze unfaltering and true.

🐉: "Do you dislike it?"

🌸: "No... But you're gonna catch my fever..."

🐉: "Then do not think too much. I am not such a common creature to be brought down by a measly cold."

Then he advanced to 🌸's neck, making sure to plant teasing nips that enticed hot shivers on warm skin. 🌸 wasn't sure if the goosebumps were from his cold lips or from the actual cold. His tongue was surprisingly soothing and pleasurable.

🐉: "You do not have to do anything... You do not have to move an inch, even. Simply let me love you."

That accursed tongue did not settle for only the neck.

- The next day... -

🦇: "Oh dear, look at you. You haven't had a fever since you were a toddler. And that was when you ate so much ice cream and suffered from tonsillitis."

🦇, placing an ice pack on the boy's forehead: "Did you eat too much again?"

🐉: "Oh, I ate very well, indeed."

And then the fae prince cackled loudly. Lilia observed him with concern, but shook his head while fetching a fever medicine from the medicine box.

🦇: "My goodness, he's gone delirious."

[nottsangel]

You were speechless. A whole decade passed in your mind before you were able to speak again. "Are you insane!? There is no way..." you started but seeing ron's face fall stopped you in your tracks. "I mean, look, you're nice and everything and you look ok, and I'm sure you're gonna find a girl, but I love fred. I couldn't sleep with you, I'm sorry. I gotta go"

"Wait, wait. Ok, don't sleep with me then, but, can you just, I don't know, talk to me at least. Please, I really need this."

"Uh, ok. We can talk, sure. What about?"

"I don't know, tell me about your day or something."

As you started telling ron about how your day started, you noticed his hand landing over his clothed dick, starting to palm himself.

"Wait, what.. I'm leaving."

"No, no, please, wait, i really need this. Please. Please."

He was basically begging at this point, and you figured you couldn't let him suffer anymore. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, he didn't pay attention in class. You had to help him, or so you told yourself. You began talking about how you took a hot shower this morning, soaping up your body and enjoying the hot water, seemingly working, as ron's erection was already visible and growing. At first you averted your eyes, but then, as you got curious-

"You know... If it were me doing this, I'd take down your pants and keep palming you through your boxers, making sure I'm rubbing your tip lightly, just enough to tease you." He was staring at you now, wide pupils and mouth agape. "Well, go ahead. Do that." You nodded your head at him, signaling to follow your command. Ever eager to please, ron did exactly as you told him. You thought having this kind of power over him wasn't that bad after all.

"Then, I'd give you a lick through your boxers. Well, I suppose we'll have to skip that. I'd press down harder, feeling you press your hips into my palm. Yes, just like that". A wet spot was starting to form on ron's underwear. "Take off your boxers. Good. Now, I'd spit on it", you said as you bent over, letting a generous glob of saliva fall from your mouth directly onto ron's hard cock, eliciting a deep moan from him and a buck of his hips. "Now I'd smear it all over and start pumping in a rhytmic motion, a little tighter at the base and moving my thumb over your tip every time I reach the top, gathering your precum and using it as lube, making everything as messy as possible. Ah, you're such a good boy, following my instructions so dutifully." By now, ron was a moaning mess. You reached over and took his shirt off, making his heart beat faster from the closeness. "I figured it was only fair, since you've seen me naked already. What did you thought about? When you watched me in the bathroom? Did you want to be in there with me?" Ron whimpered as he nodded. "Did you thought what it would be like if it was you touching me instead of myself? Maybe you should have entered the bath with me. Take your time touching me all over, open me up on your fingers and then finally getting to see what my pussy would feel like around your cock. Warm and wet and tight just for you. I could've rode you, so you would have my tits in your face. Do you like my tits?" A strangled "fuck yeah" fell from ron's lips as you unbuttoned your shirt, braless tits spilling out, so you could play with your nipples.

"Fuck, I'm close." "Yeah, you're gonna cum for me like a good little boy? Are you thinking where you would cum if we were fucking? On my tits that you love so much? Inside my pussy? On my face, maybe?" Ron was almost delirious with pleasure. He was going cross eyed, drool gathering around his glossy lips. In the heat of the moment, you leaned across his chest, kissing him, the feeling of your tongue against his enough to drive him over the edge, spraying his chest and abdomen full of cum, some of it landing on your hand in the process. You swallowed his moans while kissing him through his high, all tongue and teeth and messy.

After stepping back, you took one last look at the disheveled state that ron was in. It was... hot. "I'm leaving now. Hope this will suffice. And, if it wasn't clear, this will be our secret. If you tell anyone about this, especially fred, I'll make you regret it deeply." You left the room before ron could say anything else. You were feeling dirty. Fred didn't even cross your mind until the very end. I mean, it was ok if you did this just for ron, right? A selfless act to help him get better, you tried to convince yourself, but the wetness between your legs and throbbing clit were telling a different story. Maybe it was time for you to also help... yourself.

~♣️ (I've been living with this in my mind for a few days but university work wouldn't let me write it. Glad to finally share it)

omgomgomgomg. okay soooo obviously i’ve been thinking about this all a lot the past few days, wondering what the next part would include. however…. this exceeded ALL my fucking expectations ??!!!!!!! this is SO much better than anything that crossed my mind these past few days…. like you really are a fucking genius!!!!!!!!

the fact that she didn’t even have sex with ron but GUIDED him like that… AND WHEN SHE SPAT ON HIS COCK ??? i screamed… ! “yeah, you’re gonna cum for me like a good little boy?” AAAAAA !!!!!!!! she’s such a baddie i love her i want her i want to be her. this was so good so perfect i need a moment to recover

[halsinningiswinning]

Have you got a favourite BG3 headcanon to share? :D

I actually have quite a few, but I couldn't pick a single bloody one. So instead you get a delirious pain fuelled rambling about a few HC's I have~ Some, mind you, are gonna be sexual.

Thank you SM💞 This was a lot of fun!

1 ) Lae'zel is the most likely to earn her Red Wings. Sorry Astarion, but she's built different. His complicated relationship with sex would delay him having that chat I think, but maybe he can take the second place.

Lae'zel on the other hand always seems into her lover, and as a Githyanki would not have the same cultural understanding of menstruation. Why would it gross her out? She's seen her lovers blood before, on rare occasion spilled it herself. Finding out that they just bleed, casually, on a fairly regular basis as a part of their fertility cycles would both amaze and disturb her. We know her opinion on pregnancy and birth, so she'd find the reasoning behind menstruation to be pitiable, but the physical reality of it would be no less fascinating to her. Pour one out for any lover she has who isn't as comfortable with it as she is, because she fully will not understand their discomfort.

2 ) Gale isn't very good at sharing a kitchen. He's all too happy to cook for those he loves, be it romantic or platonic. In many ways it's an act of love and devotion, and it never feels like a chore to him even when he doesn't get much thanks.

He's less happy to have people cook for him, but he's mature enough to step aside. It'd be selfish of him to deny others the pleasure he sees in cooking, so as long as it's not too often he can accept it. Tho, in his youth I do imagine he was a picky eater, and his preference for cooking started there. Boy genuinely felt he was the best cook since he liked his food the best. Genius that one is.

His grace collapses when he's forced to share a space while cooking. Unless you remain out of arms length from him at all times he will make an annoyed little huff every time he sees you. It's not personal, you're just throwing off his groove. If frustrated enough he will simply grab your shoulders and move you out of his way. His ideal form of cooking together is him doing all the cooking, and you simply sitting in the corner talking to him, occasionally trying whatever he presents. It's a good thing.

3 ) Wyll actually has an unhinged story for just about every part of Baldur's Gate. I firmly believe we only got to hear a sliver of his stories in the game. I'm sure he knows not everyone wants to hear every detail, so he only shares what he thinks are the good bits. However, all you need to do to find out more is to ask him if he's been to that location before.

Oh to wander around the city with him on a lazy afternoon.

That fence? He was 12 when he climbed it, fell from near the top. His father was nearly beside himself, but a bush broke young Wyll's fall so he suffered no real injury. Just to his pride.

That tower outcropping? At only 8 years old young Wyll had wandered off, amazed at the view. Curled up in a little window hole, he fully missed the Fist hunting for him. Poor Ulder thought he'd been snatched away. Florrick found him asleep on the ledge, hours after he wandered off.

Keep him talking and you'll get nothing done. Wyll would thrive as a bard.

4 ) I think Halsin has large ebbs and flows in his libido. He's very sex positive, but I don't think that means he's hypersexual. He's had phases of his life where he certainly was, both before and after his drow capture, but it's not his baseline.

On the other hand he's had just as many phases of hyposexuality, sometimes lasting decades at a time. While I've used clinical language, he would not. To him his libido is simply obeying its own natural cycles, even though his highs and lows are more extreme than the average person may experience.

[daresplaining]

Daredevil vol. 6 Annual #1 by Chip Zdarsky, Manuel Garcia, Chris Mooneyham, Rachelle Rosenberg, Le Beau Underwood, and Clayton Cowles

There's a part of me that says I should conserve the few Mike Murdock scenes that I haven't analyzed yet, because who knows when (or if...) we will get more? But it's also nuts to me that four years have gone by and I haven't posted about this scene yet, so screw it, I'm gonna talk about it now.

I've written a bit before about the way this issue emphasizes the concept of Mike barging into pre-existing spaces, observing things that had not been observed before by any pre-existing characters, and ultimately presenting a new path for readers to follow through Matt Murdock's life history. The creative team positions Mike not alongside his twin, but almost in opposition to him, through stark differences in their childhood experiences. Matt loved his father unconditionally, Mike's relationship with Jack was a bit more complicated. Matt tried to stay out of trouble in school, Mike beat up bullies without apology. And then we get this absolute bomb drop of a scene, in which Mike is present where no one was supposed to be, and as a result, is struck with a life-upending revelation that will not hit Matt until years later. This scene stunned me when I first read the issue, because no matter how much Real Boy Mike's story might have diverged from his brother's, I never expected him to have a different experience of this.

Daredevil vol. 1 #230 by Frank Miller, David Mazzucchelli, Christie "Max" Scheele, and Joe Rosen

In Daredevil volume 1 #230, Matt finds himself in a church basement being cared for by nuns after collapsing, near death, in the street. As he lies there, feverish and delirious, he eventually takes notice of a particular nun. Her presence, her smell, and the feel of the cross necklace she wears (which, as seen in the panels above, she ends up giving to Matt) conjure up a long-forgotten memory from the time of his accident. He recognizes this nun as a mysterious woman who visited him in the hospital, as he lay suffering from his newly acquired hypersenses.

Man Without Fear vol. 1 #1 by Frank Miller, John Romita Jr., Christie Scheele, Al Williamson, and Joe Rosen

It is an intimate moment, written almost like a dream; a calming presence in the middle of one of the most nightmarish experiences of his life. Adult Matt pieces together this sensory puzzle, the mystery of this nun, and eventually uncovers the truth: that she is his mother, who he had been raised to believe was dead. This revelation is the start of a long and winding journey through which Matt and Maggie carefully, nervously inch back into each other's lives and begin to build a relationship.

But in the 2020 Annual, this private little moment between Matt and the stranger he will one day come to know as his mother is private no more. It now has a witness, and we the readers have a new, messier perspective on this classic scene. Enter: the brother who wasn't supposed to be there.

In this new version of Daredevil history, Mike spends the night at the hospital, watching over Matt after Jack is forced to leave for work. As Daredevil fans, we have spent plenty of origin retellings and flashbacks inside that hospital room, but Mike stays on a bench out in the hallway, involved but still not fully immersed in what is happening-- an intruder, a spare (I love the detail that he and Matt are dressed exactly the same in this scene). Not once do we see Mike enter that room at any point. The closest he comes to it on-panel is standing uncomfortably in the doorway. And that is how he remains when Maggie arrives and makes her fateful visit: outside, unconnected. When Mike wakes up, she is already in the room with Matt. Maybe she took a moment, as she passed by, to reach out to her other son and he just wasn't awake to notice. We might never know, and neither will he. What matters is that Mike is forced to listen in, and by listening in, he reaches the same conclusion about Maggie that Matt won't until years later. And for Mike, it isn't a gentle, gradual, fever-softened understanding. It is a sudden, nightmarish jolt at the end of a long day filled with sudden, nightmarish jolts.

Mike bears this revelation alone and silently. He could have marched into that room and confronted Maggie. He could have gone in after she left, just to be closer to his brother in this moment of shock and uncertainty. Instead, he chooses to walk away. Later in the issue he reveals to Jack that he has found out the truth, but if the volume 1 continuity has remained intact, we can assume that he never tells Matt. Instead, he carries the burden of this secret knowledge himself, and allows his brother the freedom and peace of mind to not be hurt by the shattering of such a foundational lie.

[messydepressy95]

WIP Wednesday, but like- hours late?

This is an excerpt from the second chapter of ‘Let Me Be Your Shelter’

The trauma ~intensifies~

——-

A warm hand on her face and another resting lightly on her back has her hissing awake. “Hey there, kiddo. Come one, open your eyes for me.” She moans, pressing her face down onto the floor at the far away sound of Joel’s voice. She’s fucking freezing and she thinks her heart has moved from her chest to the middle of her back where it pulses and throbs in a consistent rhythm against the bottom of her ribs. His hand slid away from her face with the movement; now resting on the back of her head, his thumb tracing a soothing path up and down the apple of her cheek. His other hand slides down her back a little, making her flinch and whimper at the contact. She feels it disappear as she finally manages to crack one eye open to peer at Joel’s panicked face. The world’s kind of hazy around him, the light of the bathroom throwing a halo behind his hunched form; only his worried eyes really come into focus. She shifts a little but the slide of her shirt against the hot swollen skin of her back has her pressing her forehead back into the floor as she breathes heavily through the pain. She turns her face and retches onto the floor, the clench of her stomach has her scrabbling for purchase in the rug; she finds Joel’s hand instead, gripping it hard as she whines through her nose. The deep ache in her ribs spreads and deepens. “My god, Ellie. What in the hell happened?” It’s then that she remembers that she’s only in her T-shirt from yesterday and her boy shorts. Well, that’s fucking embarrassing. She can feel where her shirt has been rucked up to the underside of her ribs from her moving, some of the bruising that she just knows has darkened since yesterday and the bottom of her scars, are on display. “Joel? Is she up there?” Tess’s voice filters in from the bottom of the stairs. “Yeah, I’ve got her. Tess, I need you to pull the truck around.” What he needs his truck for she isn’t sure but she’d like to die in peace now, if the universe could be so kind. “You ain’t dyin’, I’m going to grab you a blanket and then I’ve got to get you up off this floor, alright?” She hears his knees pop and the soft grunt of him rising, as she shakes her head. “I just-“she takes a shallow breath in, “-need a moment.” The thought of trying to stand actually makes her nauseous again. He ignores her, boots thudding as he leaves the bathroom and returns throwing a light blanket across her. “I don’t know how far those bruises go up, I’m gonna try and be as gentle as I can, kiddo.” And he is. She feels like he’s handling her as if she’s a sandcastle one wrong pressure point away from disintegrating. It still hurts bad enough to rip a hoarse cry of pain out of her throat. She’s shivering and shaking, head thrown back in agony as the pressure of his forearm against her upper back intensifies. “I know; I’m sorry. We’re gonna get you some help, I promise.” She might be a little delirious, but she swears she hears a wobble in his voice. She becomes nothing but a pulsing ball of suffering as he makes his way down the stairs with her in his arms, barely even registering the slam of the truck door as he maneuvers himself into the backseat with her in his lap. She lets the rocking waves of pain and Joel’s soft murmurs lull her back towards unconsciousness, desperate to not feel her body anymore. Maybe she came out to Wyoming to die from some bruises. ———

I am hella uncomfortable tagging people, but if you see this, please use it as an open invitation to post a WIP.

[farfromstrange]

I love reading sick!reader fics more than anything, but I just had the funniest thought and now I can’t stop thinking about it:

Matt Murdock would be ever the considerate mother hen when his partner is sick, we’ve established that, but I’ve been coughing for the past twelve hours with only five minutes in between fits and they’re so loud, even my mom in the next room just texted me if I’m “suffocating or still alive”. And you can pretty much hear it through the entire building, too.

IMAGINE poor Matt having to live with that for three days until the cold gets better or the medicine starts to take effect… I know he’d take good care of me, but I also know he’d have to resist the urge to run at the ghastly sound of the mucus coming up my throat and whatever’s left stuck in my lungs. Let alone the wheezing breath and the snot I keep blowing into the several tissues around me. Or touching me while I’m burning up like a bonfire? That man is sensitive enough already, he doesn’t need my head to give him third-degree burns.

It would either go something like this (the classic):

“Sweetheart, you’re burning up, your skin is clammy and you’re breathing funny. Did you take any medicine for that cough? Do you need me to get you something for your sore throat? How about a shower, a bath, some soup? Well, even though you don’t want it, I still got you all of that. And now I’m getting undressed and will cuddle you until you can finally fall asleep again. No buts.”

Or he’d completely lose his mind:

“Sweetheart, baby, love of my life, I worship the ground you walk on and I’d do anything for you, but I can’t possibly be next to you when you’re coughing like that. It’s like you’re screaming into my ear. But I’m gonna stay here anyway because your lungs sound funny, you’re hot and your nose is bleeding, I need to make sure you make it through the night. Let me get you some Tylenol and then I’ll just… sit here and wait until you’re asleep. While you quite literally sound like you’re dying. A broken record in my ear. Yup, no worries at all. I’ll just… sit it out. This is not about me.”

And every time I’d cough, he’d shoot up, check if I’m still alive and then he’d put some headphones on to ignore the sound of my body quite literally ejecting whatever virus it’s got. It sounds nasty even to me, so I can’t possibly imagine what it would be like to someone who can hear the Subway moving underneath his apartment, or a woman screaming all the way across the city.

I know he’d love me and take the best care of me even though he’s suffering, but that would be torture on his senses, let alone his worry radar. He’d be so on edge, he wouldn’t even get any rest, but he’d never leave me. He would try to tune it out, but as someone with covid lungs (even though she’s fully vaccinated and had it two times) tuning out the sound of my soul leaving my body is pretty impossible, let alone the sniffling because I can’t stand using tissues anymore at this point because everything’s raw.

So, I love sick fics and they offer me great comfort, but it is impossible for me to stop thinking about this now and I somehow find that funnier than I should. That’s probably the fever talking or whatever.

Poor Matty… He’d go absolutely insane, and he’d be more than relieved when the cough is over and I’m on my feet again.

And if he’s sick? Boy, you need to tie him down and knock him out. He hates being sick and whatever comes with it. The way it feels, sounds and turns his senses into mush. He’s delirious when he has a fever and he acts like a reckless child. You need to sedate him or he’ll actually crawl up the walls (like a cat).

So yeah, that’s that.

[actuallyidontgiveadamn]

Really out of nowhere but I rewatched some of fma03 eps and im gonna rant

I'm just so done with smiling politely saying that fma03 and fmab are both great sorry i cant anymore. Just no

So if you in love with fmab im warning you it probably won't be a good read for you, so feel free to ignore this, block me or idk read this and give it a thought

0. I really dont understand the glorification of manga over anime adaptations. Like people who are making the adaptation are not artists and creators themselves? What makes mangaka better than others and absolutely indisputable, seriously?

1. 'Oh no long introduction and fillers' that actually allowed for Hughes' character development before his death. Seriously if i mention his death among my homies I'll get lots of faces clearly going through some ptsd level flashbacks, it was that impactful. I still need to take a breather when im rewatching before diving into that ep.

2. Nina. Yet again got more time to grow on us and thus aquired higher trauma inducing levels.

3. Ishval massacre and aftermath are WAY MORE VISIBLE in fma03. First of all Ishvalans are depicted as human beings, and not some background, and we get lots more on their sufferings, raids on camps, racism towards them, etc etc etc

4. Scar. Oh boi how do i even go about this. So without raging much about that beefy obviously wrong dude who got 'sense' bitten into him and started working with the oppressing gov in fmab, we have a wronged and tormented survivor of a genocide, who was justified in his vengeance and rage, was depicted as an attractive person of color despite his antagonistic role and was seriously almost cheered on in his actions by the narrartive. His interactions with his people and his moral dilemmas made his character possibly the deepest and most thought out one in the series.

5. The Rockbell doctors being killed by their own government. That's a waaaaay more interesting and damning detail on our government affiliated protagonists than just dumping their murder on a delirious patient.

6. Homunculi had their own will and desires and a way more developed story arc that had a huge impact on protagonists' morals. Being created by the humans who were desperate to bring back their loved ones and both parties are getting tormented by it?? Characters strongly driven by their own goals and staggered by their relations to their creators vs some indifferent goons in fmab. Just compare Sloths and their impact on the stories and protags.

7. Final conflict being a fight with god and his intricate plans in fmab, versus final battle vs a selfish pretty much usual person who had thrown everyone under the bus in pursuit of immortality. Adds so much more desperation flavor. Suddenly your hero journey doesn't end in epic battle for the sake of the mankind, as you would like it to be. It's just to oppose one awful person with too much power and zero care about anyone else. That's raw and that's way more plausible and relatable in our mundane lives.

8. Overall darker tone and themes of the fma03.

9. MUSIC. I dont remember a single track from fmab, but i went really out of my way in my teenage years to find internet access and pirate fma soundtrack and cry listening to it

10. ART. Sorry but don't tell me fmabs flat colors are anything to 03's soft tones and lighting

So yeah sorry, but I'll take the dark and gritty tragedy over just another shounen with doubtful messages each and every time

[malklavian]

just me being salty about new ass-tarion content

what the fuck did they do with ass-cended ass-tarion's new kisses, lmfao. why does the pc look like they're gonna piss themselves in fear when he grabs them and pushes them around, when they should look delirious with horniness and delighted at being his lil b*tch, which they willingly agreed to be. it's like they're trying to convey some bee dee ass em stuff but also actual abuse? but not knowing how to handle it. maybe cuz they're taking on too much at once. it's like they don't even know what they think about ass tarion because yes, that's a very dark route in his romance, but if you as a creator don't know how you feel about it then perhaps just leave it be and think about it some more, don't force it just cause he's popular and fans are thirsty for new ass tarion shit.

like if you're gonna paint it as the EVIL MUAHAHA route for him then what the hell are you trying to convey by making it seem like pc is suffering at his hand by his treatment? by even making this romance route an actual option and actively creating new content for it? trying to teach us a lesson about the cycle of abuse or something? in that case i'm not really feeling it. like, bitch i'm not here to get educated, i'm here to be evil and deranged and toxic with my garbage vampire boyfriend whom i helped ascend by sacrificing 7000 innocent souls, whom i WILLINGLY turned into a sadistic cunt, whom i WILLINGLY follow and choose to love or lust for or whatever, despite having many opportunities to back out. what do you think i am, STUPID? that i thought i could fix him by letting him take part in an ancient ritual to turn him into the most powerful vampire that has ever existed? or what??? especially with an evil durge. dear god. do i even need to explain why. i just don't understand how durge can be canonically into stuff like n3crophilia but they shrivel up like a delicate flower when some vampire pretty boy chokes them a little. not to mention that durge could easily kill him and crush him into fine vampire dust and snort it off a corpse's fucking bellybutton if so they pleased, like hello? this is durge we're talking about? ass-tarion's depravity is NOTHING compared to durge's depravity, lbr. and ass-tarion might be a little cocky now that he's powerful, but he isn't THAT stupid to act too out of line, especially when he isn't even aware of all the possible ways to use his new powers.

anyway... i just think this has a lot of potential and it's not being properly handled. i think they're scared of sending out the wrong message with this route of his romance, but i think people who pursue it are mostly the kind who feels the same way i do. those who think ass-cended ass-tarion is too hardcore would probably back out as soon as he proudly flaunts how evil he has become. i hope they fix it eventually. if they're gonna keep this romance in, they should just go balls deep and embrace how fucked up it is instead of acting coy about it... but then again this game is so damn popular and they're under so much scrutiny, i don't terribly hold it against them. if this game didn't blow up they'd have much more artistic freedom

[guylegoman]

Episode 4 part 1

Have multiple images for each part

Have police chief talk to panda and Scotty about what happened at the abandoned facility

Also have moo and noglas group bring in a escaped con

Have electro attack police chief because she was the one to arrest him

In an undisclosed room with a glitchy tv playing

Reporter: with the continued search for escaped patients captain Vanessa and her department have brought in criminals such as doppelgänger , man-bull and Maxie Zeus, and many others if you have any info regarding an escapee in for the police immediately, citizens are to be advised as there has been a rise in bounty hunters and vigilantes since the breakout

Mystery man: so you became captain huh, doesn’t matter you’ll fry the same

The mystery man then fires a bolt of electricity striking the tv that shows the picture of captain Vanessa

The tv starting to glitch off: this just in the criminal known as the mad hatter is currently in a fight with the previously mentioned vigilantes hopefully they will put a stop to his madness

Latter in the streets of the city

Mad hatter: how dare you wretched fools ruin our tea party

Vanoss: your sick Tetch stay your sister doesn’t want to see you

Delirious: yeah especially when you bring a bunch of guys wearing weird hats

Wildcat: at least there not innocent, I think I saw these guys rob a store a few days ago

Mad hatter: how dare you fools keep me from my Alice

Vanoss: looks like we’re gonna have to fight

A fight ensues leaving Tetch defeated

Wildcat: that’ll show you

Police sirens are in the distance

Delirious: let’s get out of here

Vanoss: agreed

Captain Vanessa and the police arrive and take in the robbers

Mad hatter: ah the red queen and her army of cards here to throw me in the dungeon and keep from my Alice

Vanessa: who did this to you Tetch

Tetch: an owl, a pig and a madman, I’d like to press charges,

Vanessa: those vigilantes, I don’t approve but if they are taking down guys like you I don’t care

Moo and nogla then enter the scene

Moo: what happened we were tracking Tetch when he slipped away

Sorry boys someone beat you to it

Nogla: Man we spent a week looking for this guy

Vanessa: I’m sure you and your friends can catch the next one.

Moo: who are these guys

Vanessa: one of the had been avigilan the for years his name is Vanoss the other two I’m not sure, but I did hear a rumor that it was one the escapees I’d love to stick around and talk but I have a meeting with potential bounty hunters

Nogla: great first these guys and now we’re gonna have another group to worry about

Moo: but I think we found our next case

The mystery man watches from a window contemplating whether to attack her now or to wait to make her suffer

[skulltrashart]

Vamptember Day 8

Funeral / Movie / Unanswerable Questions Story Summary: An old knight returns home at long last and is forced to reconcile with his past. ((OC content, mentions of death and slight violence, existential dread :), ya know the typical sort associated with vampires. Really stretching on how to apply the word funeral here, but I’m gonna do it anyways.))

Vamptember Day 7 // 

Cornwall, 2010

Near a thousand years had changed the lands he grew up on. There was practically nothing left of the stone that had once made up the keep or the fortifications. Restoration efforts had at least cleared away the encroaching wilderness and excavations had unearthed what very well could have been pieces of his own life. While he had hoped that there might be something left, to point out and tell his beloved that ‘this had been where this thing happened’ or ‘we used to do that there’, there was nothing.  Bakari walked in silence beside him, arm wrapped through his own. He had been the one to urge him to return at all, as he regularly returned to Faiyum, his own home. To keep him grounded, he’d claim, but Godwine would have preferred not to stir up thoughts of what he had missed while he was gone in his self imposed exile.  He remembered so clearly promising his young nieces and nephews that he’d return. He had promised the eldest of the boys, Cador and Madern, that he would train them to be proper knights and bring gifts for Lowenna and Rosewyn. In the absence of his own children, he had been a second father for his brother’s and he loved them as if they were his own. Cador had begged to go with him as a squire, but Godwine had refused.  And while he never saw Cador, he had encountered Madern on the battlefield near Jerusalem some twenty years later. Grievously wounded and having been left for dead, his nephew had been delirious when he found him trying to drag himself away from the field while carrion birds circled overhead. It had been one of the few times, he had managed to fight the hunger that rose in him since his rebirth and he managed to help him get somewhere safe, somewhere he’d been found by other crusaders after wrapping his wounds as best he could.  ((Madern would remember this, would recognize his uncle and return with stories that he’d encountered the spirit of his uncle, trapped still on the battlefield helping others that may suffer his own fate. Not knowing his uncle stalked those fields, driven mad by a hunger he didn’t understand for decades.)) “-my dear?” Bakari’s voice cut through the memory and shook him back to the present. “Sorry, I was...lost in thought,” he apologized and cleared his throat looking down at him. He tried his best to give a reassuring smile but it was forced and awkward. There was no way to fool someone who’d been at his side for centuries. “Clearly, you’ve stopped dead in your tracks. But it looks like their are headstones over there?” he pointed out into the gloom of night. The stones were worn with the ages, moss covered and any inscriptions were long lost. There were ropes and flags left by the archeological team, marking where each was clearly. “I don’t think the dig team has been able to identify anyone there with certainty. Records aren’t reliable this far back.” “I can make an educated guess.” He strode towards the site, trying to remember what it looked like previously, where the small chapel had stood in relation to the graves and if the foot path was the same as it had been then. While there was clearly more than previously, the stones were older the closer to the remnants of the chapel. He knew roughly where his family was to be buried, they had been barons of sorts, overseeing a plot land set aside for mining for the King. So a corner was aside for them to be kept close even in death. 

He stopped when he felt chills up his spine, as someone had walked over his own. The headstones, if there had been any at all, were little more than mounds in the earth. Bakari joined him shortly after, tucking the phone away as memory seemed stronger than genealogical records this time. 

It was surreal to stare down at them. To know one of those plots was most likely empty, meant for him. To know that his parents had passed, his brother, his nieces and nephews, their children and so on and he had outlived them all. He dropped to his knees as the weight of centuries struck him. It had been easy to ignore the fact they were gone when he had been miles away and he had never taken the time to mourn, to even acknowledge, that they were dead at all. He knew in his heart that when he returned, if he did at all, they would not be there to greet him, no celebration, no feast, no reunion. He had missed the passing of his mother and father, both had been frail already when he left, he had missed watching his brother’s brood of children grow, their laughter and smiles, teaching them, training them, cheering them on for whatever they did.  Bakari knelt beside him, leaning into him with an arm around him for comfort and he in turn, leaned into that familiar weight.  “This is...a very belated funeral of sorts,” he murmured. “A very sorry one at that. I can’t even leave flowers on their graves.” 

“You can speak to them though,” Bakari suggested. “At the very least apologize for keeping them waiting for so long. Just...talk. I could go take a walk if you’d prefer-” “No, no...I very much would rather you here. I fear if I’m left alone with my thoughts I’ll want nothing more than to crawl into my own grave,” he confessed, shaking his head. “It is...difficult to put into words though and while I know this is your idea and you want me to do this to...I don’t know, what is it that you want me to accomplish here?” “Anyone with a brain can tell you’re fucking depressed, love,” he put blatantly. “And your unwillingness to come to terms with things is certainty at its core. You avoid your own feelings, you *run* from them when you can. And what you just said further proves that. You are a gentle soul and the world has not been kind to you, I get it, but for fuck’s sake, its not a bad thing to let yourself feel something, anything.” Godwine listened but didn’t look at him any longer. He ran his fingers through the grass and let the feeling of the wind blow over him. “I do let myself feel-” “If you’re going to say you feel love for me, or for Abigail, that doesn’t count. That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Bakari let their be a silence for a moment, waiting for further argument. When it didn’t come, he turned to kiss Godwine’s temple, “You don’t have to speak out loud. We can sit here in silence until you’re ready to leave.”

[thatringboy]

GenTan Week 2021 Day Two Prompt: Family

Title: Winter Lunches

Words: 1,874

Warnings: Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: Tanjiro is hiding something from Genya, who intends to not let his partner suffer in silence

@gentanweek

———————————————————————————

“Tanjiro? Has anyone seen Tanjiro?” Genya darted around the Butterfly Mansion. Outside the windows, a steady snowfall was layering the ground with a chilly blanket.

The tall young man stuck his head into a room to see the Insect Hashira looking over some papers. “Excuse me, Kocho-Sama, have you seen Tanjiro? I’ve been looking all over and he’s nowhere.”

Her purple eyes flicked up to him, but she never turned her attention away from her work. The smell of Wisteria blossoms flooded the room. “Oh, he went outside to the estate’s shrine.”

Genya bowed to her and dashed to the back doors of the Mansion. Tanjiro had planned to help him make lunch for the helpers around the estate, him ducking out on a date like this was unheard of. Was he hurt? Did he find something more important than Genya to fill his time with?

He trudged through the thickening snow with a grumble. The cold sucked, it seeped through his clothing and made him damp! Oh, Tanjiro was gonna get an earful for making him go outside in this delirious weather all right!

Genya stomped over to the shrine, but froze in his tracks. He found Tanjiro kneeling at the shrine, head bowed in focused prayer with enough incense burning to warm a small hut. Genya mentally kicked himself. Of course Tanjiro would be praying at the shrine! That’s what people do at shrines! So, who was he praying for? His parents? But that was an awful lot of incense for just parents.

“Tanjiro?”

His partner sat back on his haunches and turned his head over his shoulder with a kind smile. His cheeks and nose were flushed from the cold. “Yes?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean t’ interrupt, but we’re late to starting to make lunch—“

“Oh no, I am so sorry!” Tanjiro panicked and blew out the incense, scrambling to his feet and bowing at the hip. “I lost track of time, please forgive me!”

Genya snorted. “Don’t worry about it, let’s just get going.”

They didn’t speak as they trudged back to the Mansion’s kitchen, but they did hold each other’s hands on the trip back. It was a simple gesture, but Genya didn’t feel the cold at all whenever he had Tanjiro by his side. Despite this, he still wanted to question the red haired swordsman about the shrine, but decided to wait until they got inside.

“So does praying at the shrine make you feel better?” Genya stoked the fire in the stove they were using while Tanjiro set out various ingredients.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like, does it give you peace of mind or something?”

Tanjiro shrugged and found a knife to start cutting vegetables. “A little. It helps to have a way to talk to everyone. Have you ever prayed at the shrine?”

Genya stood up and shook his head. “Himejima-San had one at his estate, but I just never felt comfortable praying. It just didn’t feel right to me.”

“That’s okay, I’m sure your family can feel how much you love them no matter where you are!” His smile was warm enough to melt glaciers.

Genya loved and hated how that smile made him fall apart on the inside, but there was another question at the back of his mind that refused to leave him alone. “So when you say ‘talk to everyone’, who were you referring to? Grandparents? Ancestors?”

The taller boy instantly backpedaled at the way Tanjiro’s face fell slightly. “I-I mean if you don’t wanna talk about it, you don’t have to, I was just curious--”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Tanjiro’s smile was back, but Genya knew him well enough to know that it was forced. The shorter of the two took his vegetables to the water basin to wash off. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Oh right, Tanjiro could smell emotions. Genya found some noodles to drop into some oil, his question still unanswered. He hated how little he truly knew about his partner. What was Tanjiro like before he became a Demon Slayer? Did he have a different personality? Did he lose his parents? How did he treat Nezuko before she became a demon?

“How many people were you praying to to need that much incense?”

“Can we just talk about something else?” Tanjiro’s voice was sharp and defensive, something that Genya had never heard before. It made him flinch.

“Yeah, sure. Sorry, love.”

They ended up working in a silence that hung over them as they finished and passed out the lunches to the busy Kakushi and servants of the Butterfly Mansion. Genya loved the smiles he saw on the faces of all they served, but that happiness faded when he went to Tanjiro again and was brushed aside.

He watched Tanjiro excuse himself to the room he and Nezuko were sharing during their stay with a heavy heart. Had Genya said something to upset him? Well, duh , but what was it he said? He had asked about the amount of incense his partner had used at the shrine and suddenly Tanjiro shut down.

Genya begrudgingly wrapped himself up in a coat and stomped back out to the shrine. The snow had packed over the entire ground, but the incense was still warm and aromatic when he arrived. Tanjiro had left behind no pictures of anyone or any other sign he was there earlier besides the smoking sticks that died as soon as Genya approached.

He trudged back inside, shucked off his clothes and quietly ventured to the Kamado’s room, smiling when he passed Shinobu’s three little helpers carrying warm towels to patients. Genya always considered himself to be good with kids despite his mean demeanor. Of course, there was that one time with Kanata Ubuyashiki, but he had apologized to the small girl after Tanjiro had broken his arm.

Genya snorted at how hostile he had been towards Tanjiro in comparison to their relationship now. A complete 180.

He approached the door to find that it had been left cracked open and could hear Tanjiro whispering to his little sister.

“... remember when Shigeru burned his hands so badly that Takeo had to chop all the firewood for a week? Yeah, yeah, I know it was mean that we laughed at him, but he did grab the coals with his bare hands. Oh, and remember how you and Mom would try to teach Hanako how to use your loom, but she just kept getting tangled in it?” There was light laughter floating in the air that made Genya’s heart swell.

Who were these people Tanjiro was talking about? None of those names sounded familiar to Genya. He pushed his thoughts down and moved closer to the door to hear better.

“Well, it’s time for you to go to sleep. Goodnight, Nezuko.”

Genya pushed himself away from the door to the otherside of the hallway as Tanjiro shut the bedroom door behind himself.

“Hey, Tanjiro, what--”

HIis partner turned around and Genya felt the air leave his lungs. Tanjiro’s cheeks and eyes were red from crying, but he was quickly trying to hide it by wiping his face on his sleeve. “Oh, hello, Genya, how can I help you?”

“Are you okay?”

“Never better, why do you ask?”

Genya frowned, which looked more like a glare, and put his hands on his hips. “I need you to talk to me about whatever the hell is going on with you today. I can’t be there for you if I don’t know how to help.”

“I don’t need help--”

“You’re crying. Just tell me why so that I can find a way to comfort you--”

“Just leave it alone, Shinazugawa.” Genya flinched at the coldness in Tanjiro’s voice, but what really broke him was how another tear slipped down his partner’s cheek as he resorted to Genya’s family name.

Despite his screaming mind, he didn’t move as Tanjiro walked away. He kicked himself for not doing something more. He should have chased after him, held him tight and comforted him despite whatever was going on!

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

He let out a groan and marched after his partner. If there was anyone in the entire Demon Slayer Corps who was more stubborn than Tanjiro Kamado, it was Genya Shinazugawa. He found Tanjiro in the estate’s indoor gym preparing himself for training.

“Tanjiro.”

The red-haired boy chalked up his hands and moved silently to the large rope suspended from the ceiling.

“Tanjiro.”

He wrapped his legs around the rope and started to climb it up to the bell at the top.

“ Tanjiro .”

Genya received no response until Tanjiro scampered back down to the ground and got himself a cup of water to sip. “Oh hello, I didn’t see you there.”

“Bullshit, you smelled me coming through the door.” Genya’s eye twitched. “I thought Kocho-Sama said that you’re not allowed to train alone until you finish healing.”

“It’s a stress reliever.” Tanjiro set down his water and stretched his arms. “Am I not allowed to take care of myself now?”

Genya sputtered. “What? No, of course, but this isn’t taking care of yourself, this is running away from me when I only want to help!”

“Fine!” Tanjiro clapped his hands together, spraying chalk dust in the air. “Today is the anniversary of when Kibutsuji Muzan slaughtered my family, turned Nezuko into a demon and I had to bury the half-eaten corpses of my mother and baby brothers and sister! Happy now?!”

The taller boy flinched again and lowered his voice. “I… I didn’t know… I’m sorry, Tanjiro.”

Tanjiro clenched his fists. “Yeah well, it’s fine. I just don’t want anyone worrying about me. I don’t want to be coddled out of pity because I’ve lost people I loved. There are others who lost more and yet they’re still going, so I cannot afford to let my emotions consume me.”

As much as he hated to make the connection, Genya could hear the voice of Sanemi in his partner. Were the people Tanjiro was talking about to Nezuko his siblings? How many did he have? Did he truly lose all but one?

“Tanjiro, grieving isn’t a crime. I just wish you had told me sooner so that I could show you my empathy. I’m one of the few people in the building who understand what you’re going through. You spend so much time caring about others, let me take care of you.”

Genya stepped towards his partner and pulled him into a hug, glad that he no longer faced any resistance. He put a hand on the back of Tanjiro’s head to hold him closer and kissed the scar on his forehead. “I love you, moron, you don’t have to pretend to be okay for me. So what if you’re a little broken? We can both be broken together.”

He felt Tanjiro start to sob into his chest and squeeze him tighter.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, Genya.” Tanjiro managed to squeeze out a few words over his tears.

Genya kissed his scar again with a smile and slowly rocked him back and forth. “Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

[starbuckie]

𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

challenge: time travel challenge by @justagirlinafandomworld​

prompt: “we’re divorced?” 

pairing: sirius black x reader

words: 5.7k words

warnings: FOURTH WALL BREAK!!(sorry im very excited about that), lots of angst, almost smut(hehe), sirius lowkey has a breeding kink, sirius is an asshole for a bit, the smallest bit of fluff, fix-it, and the same time travel theory as back to the future

summary: an unnatural occurrence lets a woman go back in time to try and change everything she’s known for the past twenty years.

a/n: wow, i normally don’t write for harry potter so this was a nice change. anyways, this is for yvette’s time travel writing challenge, and everybody say HAPPY BIRTHDAY YVETTE! i’m so sorry this is late, it got deleted and i needed to re-edit, but i truly appreciate your friendship and your lovely, amazingly beautiful self, and I’m so so glad that we became friends :)  this fic is not beta-read at all, so if you see any mistakes tell me, but otherwise i really hope you enjoy this fic<3

main masterlist || harry potter masterlist

It still wasn’t over. After all she had lost, more specifically everyone she had lost, and the shitty cycle that she had to call her life, it still wasn’t over. The people she had watched the life drain from, the screams of those suffering from the loss caused by the Dark Lord, and yet life still hadn’t had its fill of torturing Y/N. Grimmauld Place felt empty without the kids, without the Weasleys, but they had gone back to their home and soon enough she would have to as well. Harry had gone back to Hogwarts with Dumbledore, though she’d argued to hold onto him just a bit longer after-

After Sirius had died. 

Time had passed, maybe two or three weeks, but no matter what the woman couldn’t bring herself to get out of Sirius’ old bedroom, simply staring at the ceiling with her tears at bay. Her and Sirius had been a complicated thing, to say the least, a topic nobody had brought up since 1983, when she had banned it. Not as if there was much to talk about after the divorce and Sirius going to Azkaban. After Lily and James had died, after she had fought with Dumbledore for custody of Harry, after she had become a professor at Beauxbatons and moved to France without a second thought. Sirius had been locked up after he’d hurt her in the worst possible way, and Y/N’s heartbroken soul found no other reason to return to England. 

But, she pushed those bad memories to the back of her mind. It seemed so trivial, looking back on it. Not the broken house, of course, that had been his own mistake. But Y/N had many regrets, all of them seeming to revolve around the mischievous black-haired man who she had fallen in love with as a teen. The night it went down, the night their relationship had fractured at the seams and fallen down, was her greatest one however. It had been so stupid, so, so stupid, but they’d both gotten caught up in the moment, and Y/N had let him die without knowing how much she was sorry for that night that they let their fears consume them. 

The cries that she had tried so hard to contain finally broke free from the restraints of her heart. “I’m so sorry, Siri,” she whispered into the air, “I couldn’t save you this time.” As the hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks, Y/N shuffled across the room, letting her feet drag her to the old Black family room, the dark green walls embracing her rainy emotions. 

A little gasp escaped her lips as she looked at the portraits among the wall. The Black family tree was faded along the age-old wall, but what she was really looking for was the burned out image of her raven-haired love. There, right next to Regulus, was a black spot, scorned and scarred by the prestigious family for being a blood traitor. Y/N smiled and traced the burn with her finger, remembering their fourth year when she had accompanied him home for the holidays so he wouldn’t be completely alone in the hellhole he had to call his house. Sirius had snuck them up to this room and spent the night talking in hushed whispers sworn secrets. “I’ll be yours forever, Siri, and I’m sorry for fighting with you. I wish-” she sniffled, glaring at the spot in the wall as she tried to garble out her words, “I wish, I could go back in time, and just fix it. Just me and you, and that stupid night, with the bloody fight about children because you deserve it all, darling.”

“Ah, I think you can.” 

Y/N turned around, her eyes wide with fear. That was not Kreacher’s voice. There stood a younger woman, around nineteen, a scroll of paper and a quill in her hand. There was a whisper of a smirk on her face, brown eyes glittering even in the dimness in the room. “Who the hell are you?” Y/N looked at the door, which was still closed as she left it. She cast her wand out, pointing it at the stranger who did nothing but smile. “How did you get in here? Are you with the Lord?”

“With Voldemort?” The woman simply laughed. “Dude, I’m not with ‘the Lord’,” she added with air quotations. “Also I’m not really even here, so don’t you worry about that. My name’s Malia.”

Malia held her hand out, but Y/N kept her guard up. “You’re American. What brings you here? Are you a muggle?”

“Oh, nope, not a wizard, I’m just the author of this story.” Malia confided. “I’m here to tell you that you can fix this.”

“Fix… what?” Malia just rolled her eyes and sighed, staring up towards the ceiling as she spoke.

“God, did I write you to be hard of hearing now, too? I ought to fix that when I get back.” The woman blankly stared at the strange girl, wondering what the actual fuck she was talking about. “I can give you the chance to go back in time, Y/N. It won’t be for long, it’s really not gonna be interesting for more than two hours at most, but that should be enough time to tell the gang about what’s to come with Voldemort.”

“Like... time travel?” Y/N asked. The only way she knew how to time travel was the time turners. “But all of the ti-”

“Time turners were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve read Harry Potter more times than I’ve said ‘I love you’ to my parents.” Malia smiled. “I’m the author, I make the rules, and my rule is that I’m giving you two hours in 1978 to talk to Sirius so he can fix the emotional fucking mess left behind by J.K. Rowling.”

“Who’s J.K. Rowling?” Malia shuddered at the name.

“A raggedy-ass, transphobic bitch who wrote y’all into existence, but she’s not of importance right now.” She checked the small, rectangular box in her hand, which glowed and provided little light in the darkened room. “Let’s see, it’s currently eleven-forty, so you have until one-forty to find the Marauders and fix this future. It may not be fixed in the books in the future, but if you are able to do it here that’s all that matters.” Malia’s brown eyes were downcast, her bright and loud personality dimming for just a moment before returning to Y/N’s confused gaze once more. “Try not to screw up too much while you’re there, just enough that you defeat the Dark Lord the first time. Tell Sirius all you know and that should be enough for him to fix all the mistakes, but do not under any circumstances let him or anyone else know who you are. I wish you luck, Y/N, it was nice to meet ya in person.” 

And with a peace sign in front of her face, she disappeared into a flash of neon pink light. 

“Bloody hell! Fix my future? Talk to Sirius? If this even is time travel, then how am I supposed to get there- AH!” Y/N’s body felt like it was turning inside out, her guts being torn from her stomach and back into it again. A delirious giggle arose from her lips in the black void she was pulled into, and a soft chatter could be heard, like voices at the end of a tunnel. 

“Blimey, looks like we got ourselves a nutter on school grounds.” Y/N’s arms flailed around, desperately seeking some sort of grounding surface to hold on to when her back hit a rough surface. There was an audible crack somewhere in her body, but she felt so sick that she couldn’t tell where. 

“Are you okay, ma’am? You just appeared from the sky and hit the ground.” Warm, brown eyes met Y/N’s, a familiar mess of black curls resting atop of the boy’s head. Large, rounded glasses sat perched on the tip of his nose, and an impish smile, one she used to know so well before he died, met his lips. 

“James,” she sighed. The boy stared at her strangely, and only then did she notice the three other boys and girls each behind them. Remus, Peter, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, and Alice. 

Sirius.

The sight that met her eyes made her nearly emotional. It had technically been only three weeks since she had seen him, but here was the young boy she had fallen in love with. The one who charmed her with his smart words and witty retorts to her brush-offs, who used to hold her in his arms in the most intimate and gentle ways. His grey eyes sparkled with curiosity, the infamous Marauder mischief swirling within the silvery pools.  

Seeing him so young tugged at her heartstrings, and though she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms and never let go, a small, niggling feeling at the back of her head held her back. Was there something wrong?

“You know me?” Oh right, she was currently thirty-five. Looking around she noticed that she was outside the quidditch pitch, and there were other students, staring at her with widened eyes. No one knew she was Y/N L/N, their fellow schoolmate and probably one of the very few of them that survived the Death Eaters attacks. None of them were aware how it ended, or how it was currently going for them back in 1996, and in this time there was the first Wizarding War going on and they had every right to be terrified for their lives.

James now took a more defensive stance, standing tall and holding his wand out. “Who are you?”

She couldn’t give him the answer, instead letting her mouth gape open as she stared at him with wide eyes. Y/N looked across the grounds for the nearest exit, which was down by Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest. It was her only choice at this point, to hide in the dark, creepy space, maybe just until the students went away so she could find Sirius and talk to him alone. It’d be hard to separate him from the boys, but if Lily were occupied with James it sure would be easy. 

Her younger, seventh-year self didn’t seem to be in the audience, thank Merlin, and with that knowledge, she got up and ran, ignoring her screaming muscles. That time travel really did a number on her. 

As she ran through the crowd, shoving people aside, she heard the students mutter, too much in shock and disarray to stop the crazy, old woman who knew James Potter.

“This is dodgy.”

“Someone ought to tell Dumbledore about this.”

“She kinda looks like Y/N L/N.’

“Don’t insult the poor girl like that, that wonker is ages old.”

“Come back here! Who the bloody hell are you?” Y/N’s heart beat quickly in her chest, threatening to burst out. Only three minutes in the past and it was all going straight to shit. “Stupefy!”

Shit. “No, James, please don’t-“ Her body hit the ground and her eyes closed, the last thing she saw being the pumpkin patch by the hut.

-

“I see you’re awake now, Ms. L/N.” Dumbledore stood above Y/N in the hospital ward bed, his grey beard dangling in front of her face. Her first instinct was to start blaming him for everything that had happened, starting from Lily and James’ deaths to Sirius’, already opening her mouth to call him an old, senile cow, but then she realized that Harry hadn’t been sent to the Dursleys yet, much less been born yet, so none of it would have an effect on him. Y/N’s second instinct was to question how Dumbledore knew who she was in 1978, but her former Headmaster started to speak before she could do so. “I must admit, it’s very courageous, that stunt you just pulled. I don’t think Ms. Louie will be too happy about that.” Y/N sent him a questioning stare. “Malia, the girl you met earlier. Malia Louie.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore, how did you know it was me?” She was dressed in a white gown that went to her knees, and behind him she could see her blouse and jeans folded and clean. Ah, the Hospital Wing. She had brought the boys here more times than she could count in her years at Hogwarts. “I don’t exactly look as young as I used to.”

“Ah, don’t worry Ms. L/N, you’ve kept your good looks quite nicely, even in your older age.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his wrinkled eyes sparkling with joy. “And speaking of young, if you are still worrying yourself about your younger self, you can put that to a stop. I am aware that you are not able to tell anyone who you are, and time travel is exceptionally dangerous if you are seen by the other version of yourself. I’ve already told the students that you were just a stray witch, misguided in your ways and that you were well taken care of. However, I think that brings us to the question of what your intentions are in the past, Ms. L/N.”

“Headmaster, I don’t think I can tell you about my business here. I’ve already messed up by letting the school see me by letting everyone see me, I don’t know why that girl even sent me here, it’s clear that this was a mistake.” Y/N sat up on the headboard, feeling her eyes fill with tears once again. The tall arches of windows let the sun in the room, and she could see the specks of dust swirling around in the golden light. It had to be close to the end of the year for them, maybe sometime around April or May, near the end of N.E.W.T.s at least. She could imagine that it’d be easy for her to get out of Hogwarts for the day, with all the students studying for the stressful exams in the library, maybe she'd make her way to Hogsmeade and walk around or visit Hagrid under a false name to have some tea. He was always open for a nice cuppa with strangers on any free day he had. “Thank you Headmaster, for your kindness, but I really ought to be going. I-it was nice to see you.”

Y/N started to help herself out of the bed, swinging her feet over to touch the cool stone ground. Bones cracked with pain and fatigue, her muscles stretching sluggishly. Merlin, that she was not expecting that much hurt from the fall, but she should have never underestimated James Potter. No one ever should if they want to keep their good mind and sanity. 

Dumbledore handed her her clothes, cracked lips set in a straight line as he nodded solemnly. “I hope you accomplish whatever it is you are here to do, Ms. L/N, but I have no doubt that you will.” With a sly wink, he added, “You were always one of our most ardent and bright students.”

Y/N let herself smile, and with a wave, swiftly brought herself to the door. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

After slipping outside, she ran down the corridors, echoes of her feet ringing lightly behind her. The courtyard proved to be empty and she quickly ducked behind a column and tugged her jeans on hastily, making sure that no professors came walking past. Though the sky proved to be bright and cheerful, a slight breeze carried through, making her fall off balance and fall on the cemented ground. 

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re in need of a little help.” Y/N looked up to the speaking figure, one that she both loved and dreaded to see. 

She gathered herself quickly, her mind running fast and heart beating out of her chest as she tried to get out. “Yes, I am okay, thank you for asking. I think I’ll just get up and going now, I don’t need to take time out of your day like this-”

“I know who you are, Y/N.” 

Y/N came to a full stop, going against her brain that screamed at her to run away. Sirius looked downtrodden, his grey eyes watering despite the small hint of a smirk on his face. Though he was always one for playing around and not taking anything seriously, she knew when it was time to stop pretending and get real. “How’d you know it was me, Sirius?”

“You really don’t look bad for your age, darling.” He offered her a hand to help her up and she took it graciously, eyeing him nearly guiltily and forgetting about her promise to Y/N. But that was useless now, this moment with her first love was much more important. “Also you have the tattoo on your chest. I knew it was you the moment you landed on school grounds.”

She traced his gaze to her left collarbone, where a paw print, just barely visible beneath her low-cut blouse, sat. It was his, or Snuffles’, paw print, and at this point in time they had probably gotten it done about three months before. He had one for her too, a horseshoe for her horse patronus, right on his left side of his chest too. So they’d always be right next to each other’s hearts, as cheesy as it seemed.

But they were dumb, lovesick teenagers, and they acted the part well too. Their love was all-consuming, shagging in under the bleachers at the quidditch pitch and making out under the stars. It was fast, everything was fast, decisions, ideas, classes, all of them under the impression that they had to do everything right then or they’d be dead before they got to actually live. They had dreams of marriage, and a big, big family, obviously so far away from his family so they could never hurt their children’s lives the way they had hurt his. 

They were fantasies, Y/N had known that well enough when she and Sirius got divorced, but it was something that eighteen year-old Sirius Black held close to his heart. No matter how shitty his life got, he was always a firm believer in a happy ending. In their happy ending. 

“How am I right now?” They now stood over the Black Lake, staring into the glittering depths of the water where some mermaids could be seen sneaking peeks at the handsome boy and the strange lady who had fallen from the sky. 

Sirius stared at her questioningly for a moment. “How are you doing right now? I mean, I believe that I should be asking you that ques- oh, Merlin, I’m such a git, you meant your younger self.” Y/N laughed at that, her heart lifting with the goofiness of the old Sirius relieving an ache in her heart that she had had for so long. Not that old (it felt weird to say that) Sirius had been anything less than silly and snarky, but it was never directed towards her. It was nice to have the resemblance of their old relationship back, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. “I suppose that you’re okay. You didn’t see, well, your big moment on the field, but at this point Lily has probably opened her big, fat mouth and told you. N.E.W.T.s are just finishing up, so you’re much more light-hearted than during the study season.”

“I really did have a stick up my arse during exam time, you always told me to loosen up-” 

“Y/N, cut out the small talk, I think it’s okay for me to ask how and what is happening.” Sirius cut in.

So she told him. Y/N had always been upfront with people about everything. Or rather, she had learned how to be upfront with people after her and Sirius’ divorce. Without details of the deaths, she explained how she was sent back into the past to fix it in some conceivable way. However, she did tell him about the fall out. Maybe she wanted him to understand her pain, even though it was a younger him, but she had to admit to herself that it was because she just wanted Sirius, in whatever form life gave her to hear out her grievances and apologies. 

Since her Sirius was dead before she could.

“We’re divorced?” Sirius looked about ready to break down into tears, almost as if the concept of them breaking up or separating was foreign to him. “What exactly did we fight over, Y/N? That doesn’t seem normal for the two of us.” Sirius asked.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t a normal predicament for us. either…”

Sirius slammed the door shut, efficiently pinning her against it with his white button up ruffled up, navy tie hanging from his neck loosely. Y/N’s arms were held down tightly against the oak wood, the sensation of the cold door burning into her rather warm skin making her squeal. Her husband’s tongue worked its way through her parted lips, low groans rising from the back of his throat from the way she moaned in tandem with his hips pushing into hers. Legs wrapped around his tapered waist, the pink, floral skirt Y/N wore rising high on her thighs, revealing more of her flesh to the lust-filled man. Both of their giggles echoed off the hallway walls of their small cottage home, just four miles west of their best friends’. 

As the twenty year-old man threw his wife unceremoniously on the bed, he shed himself of his shirt and swiftly unbuttoned his slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room. Merlin, Y/N looked ethereal laying spread out on the bed, panties around her left ankle, swollen lips parted with short puffs of air leaving them. “You just get right down to business, don’t you, Black.” 

Crawling over his body, his hot breath hit her neck as he growled against her skin. “Could say the same thing about you, darling.” Sirius’ lips made their way down every inch, every curve, nook, and cranny of Y/N’s body, smoothly slipping her clothes off as he did so. Her sweet gasps filled the bedroom, back arching off the bed to meet his chest. “I’m going to put a baby in you tonight, sweetheart, we’re-”

Y/N sat up straight, her eyebrows trained in confusion at her husband. “What? A baby?” 

Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest. “Yes.” He remarked in a clipped tone. “Is that not what you wanted?” 

Her mind recalled her words from earlier that day, as she chatted happily with Lily about the news of her pregnancy. “Siri, I said I may one day enjoy having a kid of my own. Not right now, of course, but later. After all, we only got married a few months ago, don’t you think we should hold off a bit on that? We’re twenty years-old, Siri, there’s so many years for that.”

Rage filled Sirius’ blood like a spreading fire. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much about his anger as it was his hurt and fear. Fear that she had realized how fucked up he truly was, fear that she realized what he had known all along- that she deserved better than him. “So you don’t want a baby with me?”

“I never said I didn’t want that, Sirius, I just said that I’m not ready!” Y/N yelled back. At this point both of them stood on opposite sides of the bed, faces hot with tears. “We’re in the middle of a bloody war, people we know, people we love, have lost their lives, and it is not the ideal environment to raise a child, Sirius! Just because James and Lily are ready to have one doesn’t mean that I am too!”

“When will you be ready, Y/N? When will it ever be enough time for you? When will I be enough for you?” The heartbroken girl tried to interject, but her voice was cut off by her husband’s quickly enough. Sirius climbed onto the bed, holding her chin harshly with one hand. “Tell me, did you ever want to be with me in the first place?”

“Yes, Sirius, of course I wanted to be with you.” His heart hurt looking at the love of his life in tears, but even that was able to melt his cold facade. “I love you more than anything in the world.” 

“Then fucking prove it, Y/N.” With that declaration, he removed his hand from her face and gathered his clothes, slamming everything in their shared room as Y/N quivered, knees ready to buckle on the spot. “I’m going out, don’t wait up for me.”  

As soon as the front door shut, she fell to the ground in tears, the laughter that once filled their home replaced with the sound of her shattered heart. 

Y/N had done her best to not tear up during her explanation of the events that had taken that night, but Sirius' eyes watered, refusing to believe the truth. “No. No. I didn’t do that. Y/N, tell me,” he gripped her biceps with trembling hands, “please tell me I didn’t really do that. I can’t believe that I-I, that I-”

“You were drunk, Sirius, I don’t think you truly knew what you were saying at the time.” She sighed, “But people always say that drunken words are just sober thoughts.” Y/N rubbed her arms, just shivering slightly in the Scotland breeze. “You came back two hours later punching the wall and breaking it, and that’s when I knew that we wouldn’t last.” 

The raven-haired boy’s head started to shake, even more mortified of the actions that his future self, the man he’d be in just two years' time, had done. “I packed up my things, not that there were many, we’d only moved into the house a month before, left, and I sent the divorce papers a week later. It was probably better that way, you would’ve divorced me if I hadn’t done it first.” Y/N had gotten used to telling her sob story to colleagues at Beauxbatons, to her family, but it felt different with pre-divorce Sirius. Of course, she had never thought she’d be in this citation either, so no one could really blame her for feeling weird. “You signed them easily, and my lawyer made sure that I never had to see you again.”  Until Lily and James died.

“Until…” Sirius led on.

“Merlin’s beard, Sirius, you’ve always been able to read my mind. Shouldn’t have doubted it for a second.” He smiled at the sentiment, gesturing for her to continue. “I can’t tell you, Sirius, I hope you can understand that.”

“Why, Y/N, what happens that can be any worse in the future?” Oh dear, Sirius, you really do not want the answer to that question. She needed any way out of this conversation, after all running away was what she did best, and her eyes already searched for several routes to which she could run. Not that Y/N could ever outrun Sirius in his animagus form, but it was nice to have the belief that she could. The boy sensed her distress and grabbed hold of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me, darling, but I have to admit that I am a bit worried, just in the slightest.”

Y/N let herself calm down, squeezing Sirius’ hand and noticing his watch. She had actually given him that watch, gold-plated and dark grey metal, but it wasn’t the beauty of the gift that caught her eye, but rather the actual time on it. One-thirty. 

How had that much time gone by so quickly? She was going to be sucked into the black void of time travel again in ten minutes, and that wasn’t nearly enough time to unload nearly twenty years worth of history onto Sirius. No, he would go insane from that much knowledge, which was exactly against what Malia had advised. 

“I don’t have enough time to tell you everything that happens in the future, Sirius. But what I am about to tell you is vital, absolutely vital for the good of all of us in the future.” Sirius nodded with a serious sort of smile on his face. “Don’t let Peter be Lily and James’ secret keeper. When the time comes that they move away, I’m not going to tell you where yet, do not under any circumstances let Peter be their secret keeper. I know he’s one of our best friends right now, and do not tell anyone about this, but he’s going to betray us in the worst way possible.” 

While Sirius was shocked, he nodded solemnly and ran a hand through his long hair. “I won’t tell anyone, Y/N. Can I fix us, Y/N? I don’t know if you should be letting the key to a happier future rest in my hands.”

“I full heartedly trust that you’ll do some good, whatever the outcome may be. As for fixing us, I hope you can, but depending on what happens we’ll just have to wait and see.” She sighed, “If you want my opinion on it, I think that we both should have waited longer to get married. It was right after James and Lily got married, but we aren’t and never will be them. We both had a lot of growing up to do, so I would take it slowly. Communicate your wants and needs in the relationship and in the end it may not even be us together. But I know you, Siri, don’t let this get in the way of your entire life. The most important part is that you tell James and Lily about Peter.”  

She glanced back up the school grounds where students could start to be seen leaving their classes. “You better get back to the castle, Sirius. McGonagall is going to come for your arse and this time the boys aren’t going to be able to cover for you.”

“If they knew where I was, darling, I don’t even think they’d believe me.” Sirius chuckled.

Y/N nodded in agreement and pulled Sirius into a tight hug. “You can do this, sweetheart, and even if you can’t, it will not stop me from loving you any less. Maybe the future wasn’t meant to be changed, but regardless of whether that is true or not, I know that you will try your hardest, Sirius. Just try not to die, okay?”

The boy was still clutching onto her tightly, his tears soaking her rose-colored blouse. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

With one last kiss on the forehead, she smiled at him. “I know you will, Siri.” 

-

Y/N’s arse hit the floor once again, her spine cracking once again. “What’s the year?” She yelled out, reaching for the walls of the black family room. 

But it wasn’t there. Upon opening her eyes, she saw James, Lily, and Sirius sitting at a wooden table in her old white cottage. A nice tea set, her grandmother’s as she realized later, sat in the center, along with a large stack of letters. “Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you, I’ve been worried sick!” 

Her red-headed best friend scurried over to her, brushing invisible dirt off her shoulders and pulling her up abruptly. James fixed the glasses on his nose, cleaning them off with his striped jumper. “You look a little disheveled right now, Y/N, what ran you over?” 

“You know who she reminds me of right now, Jamie? That crazy witch friend of Dumbledore’s that made her way onto campus back in seventh year.” Lily giggled as she hugged Y/N.

“Merlin’s beard, you’re right!” James walked over to the woman of the hour, ruffling her hair with a smirk on his face. “If you were about twenty years older I’d have no trouble believing you were the same person.”

While Lily and James recalled their memories from the strange woman all those years ago at Hogwarts, Sirius pulled Y/N aside, an arm wrapped around her waist. The warmth radiating from his body was nice, embracing her in a comfort she hadn’t felt in so long.

“I’m going to go ahead and believe that I did something right?” Sirius grabbed her hand, and only then did she notice the coolness of metal sitting on her left ring finger. There sat the single band of gold, a small ruby encased in its plating. She had once joked that diamonds were too overrated, and he went out and got her the most vibrant gem he could find, claiming that it was just like her. But regardless of its shape, size, or type of gem, it was there.

“Yeah, Siri,” Y/N replied with tears in her eyes, “you did good.” 

“Oi, Blacks, stop making out and get over here, we got a letter from Minnie!” James yelled, making both wives chuckle. “Harry’s gotten himself in detention for punching Malfoy again.”

“Oh, thank Merlin, the boy deserves a few more good hits.” Sirius laughed. 

“McGonagall still talks to us?” Y/N asked in amazement. “You’ve got to get me caught up.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ve got all the time in the world.” Sirius gently placed his lips onto hers, and for once in nearly twenty years, Y/N felt at peace. There were no more hasty warnings of the future, no psychotic old men coming after her family, no young girls rushing in to tell her how to fix her screwed up life. Cracked, pink lips moving against her own, his tongue delving into her mouth, and Y/N knew she was finally off the clock.

[dweetwise]

i’ve been kinda quiet while finishing a project over on ao3, but now i’m back with some riconti to share <3

ship: felix x ace (only implied; can be read as platonic if you wish!)

word count: 1640

Someone to Lean On

"—and I thought for sure she wouldn't pick me up! I ran straight into her after being unhooked, but she didn’t even hesitate calling my bluff. Well played, Spirit!"

Felix kept half-listening as Ace rambled on about their latest trial. They were walking back to the campfire together through the fog, having both been sacrificed by the ruthless katana-wielding killer.

It wasn't uncommon for Ace to wait around for him in the plane of nothingness if he didn't survive the trial. Felix had lost count of how many times he'd regained consciousness only to see the familiar, smiling figure calling over to him through the fog.

He wondered if Ace knew how much he appreciated the gesture. The gambler’s friendly banter was always a welcome distraction from the harrowing experience of having every fiber of his being torn to shreds and consequently be reassembled.

But this time was different. Felix could barely make out Ace's words, his own thoughts sounding deafening inside his head despite the silence of the fog. His body didn't feel like his own; it was like the Entity's claws were still twisting and turning around his insides. 

Felix’s feet dragged behind him and when they eventually came to a stop, Ace stopped right with him and patiently waited for their journey to continue. Only once Felix made no move to do so did the Argentine’s brilliant smile falter from uncertainty. 

"Felix?" Ace asked.

"I can't do it," Felix said.

According to people back at the campfire, it had been over a year since Felix was taken into this horrible realm. It felt even longer than that; with nothing in this world but means to make them suffer, Felix was starting to forget the things he used to enjoy.

"Sure you can, champ!" Ace grinned.

Felix knew Ace was trying to be encouraging. He knew he should go back to his play-act, should plaster on a fake smile and brush off his struggles as nothing more than a bad trial, like he’d done countless times before.

But he couldn’t.

"No," Felix said, a surprising determination in his voice. "You don't understand."

“What do you mean?” Ace asked.

Felix wasn’t sure how to describe it. The more he thought about this world and the absolute wrongness of it, the harder it was to pinpoint its exact cause.

He felt lightheaded and almost delirious. It was like he was in a dream; a terrible nightmare that he couldn't wake up from. Nothing in this place made sense, yet all this time he had accepted it as truth. What if it was all a figment of his imagination?

"Is any of this real?" Felix asked.

Ace’s smile made way for a confused frown, and his expression was the only thing in their surroundings that looked lifelike. The unnatural fog surrounding them felt neither damp nor cold, the unending darkness somehow allowed them to see perfectly, and even though there was nothing to guide them they still knew exactly which way to go.

Felix felt his breathing pick up as he only now seemed to realize the vast emptiness of nothing they were standing in. He’d been here countless times before but never fully aware of it, and his heart was racing as he frantically looked around, feeling the terror rising in his chest—

Until a warm hand was placed on his shoulder. 

"Hey, deep breaths," Ace said, turning Felix to face him.

The touch helped to ground him and the panic started to fade as Felix looked into familiar brown eyes. Ace felt real, but how could he be sure?

"It doesn't make any sense," Felix said. "The Entity doesn’t exist. It simply can’t."

Ace said nothing. Whether he was giving Felix space to speak or thought he’d finally lost his mind, Felix didn’t know.

"What if this is just a nightmare? What if I'm going crazy—having some sort of episode from work stress, and I'm really hospitalized in an institution?" Felix said, his frantic eyes finding Ace's. "What if I'm in a coma, or—or I died, and this is all my brain shutting down? What if this isn't real?"

Felix realized he was shaking. Ace looked at him silently; like he was pondering what to say. Felix didn’t think he’d ever seen him look so serious.

Abruptly, the embarrassment hit. Felix broke eye contact and stepped back. Even if he was losing it, he didn't need to drag Ace into this—

"So what?" Ace asked.

"What?"

"If you wake up in a hospital tomorrow and realize none of this was real, what does it matter?" Ace said. "It's not gonna change that this feels real."

Felix was silent, mulling over the words.

"I think that, sometimes, it's best to just take things at face value," Ace continued. "Fucked-up things like the Entity exist? Alright. One of them yoinked us into its world for fun? Sure. Whether we like it or not, right now we're stuck here—might as well try to make the most of it."

"Don't you want answers?" Felix asked.

"What I want is to get the hell out of here," Ace huffed dryly.

Felix couldn’t remember Ace ever talking about an escape before. The gambler had always seemed surprisingly well-adjusted to their predicament, but he should have known that even the most optimistic person would be eager for the chance to find a way out of this nightmare.

"But since that's not on the table, I'll take the next best thing of living to see another day," Ace said. "And if I wake up in a real bed tomorrow and it was all a dream? Even better."

"Have you never thought about it? That this could just be a product of your mind?" Felix asked.

"Briefly, yeah," Ace said. Then he smiled. "But then I remembered how shit my imagination is. No way I would've been able to come up with something like this."

Felix huffed out a dry chuckle despite the situation.

"But it's probably easier for me," Ace said. "I know you tend to overthink things. And with the kind of year you've had? I'm kinda surprised you've adjusted so well."

Felix hadn’t thought about it that way. After the numerous panic attacks and freezing from fear in his first trials, Felix never considered himself particularly well-adjusted to his new existence. He owed most of his meager success to the people around him, always there to lend a hand and pull Felix up when he wasn't strong enough to do it himself.

And most of the time, that person had been Ace.

"I had some help," Felix said, offering a hesitant smile.

"Ah, true—almost forgot about Élodie," Ace grinned. "Must be nice, having a friend like that in a place like this."

Felix didn't have the heart to correct the assumption. Having the familiar face of a childhood friend among their teammates had no doubt been beneficial for both Felix and Élodie while they learned to survive this new world.

But it wasn't Élodie who had been by Felix's side those first months. It wasn’t her encouraging words that got through to Felix when he felt paralyzed from inaction, or her who took the time to involve him in the group when Felix was too lost in his own head to participate.

"It really makes a world of difference, having a good friend," Felix said.

Ace kept looking at him, until his face spread into a bright smile at the realization.

"Well, in that case, can I offer you some friendly advice?" Ace asked.

"Of course," Felix agreed.

"Don't get too wrapped up in the 'how's and 'why's," Ace said. "It's just gonna consume you. And…"

Felix waited as Ace paused in an unusual gesture of uncertainty.

"I'd hate to lose you," Ace said.

He was still smiling pleasantly, but his eyes betrayed his real emotion; it was the first time Felix had seen genuine fear in Ace's eyes. And it wasn't from a brutal mori or the hopelessness that they might never escape.

It was from the possibility of losing Felix.

"Alright," Felix said. "I'll try."

"It's a start," Ace said, his demeanor back to the usual playfulness. "You ready to head back?"

Felix realized he felt much calmer now than only minutes prior. There was still an uneasiness in the back of his mind due to the unspeakable horrors that haunted them on a daily basis, but he felt grounded. This wasn't just about him; no matter whether it aligned with the objective truth, this was their reality.

"I think so, yes," Felix said.

"'Atta boy," Ace said. 

Ace's hand left his shoulder, and Felix immediately missed its warmth. The moment of camaraderie they had shared was exactly what he had needed. Even Ace seemed more at ease, his smile relaxed as he fell into step beside Felix.

"By the way," Ace said conversationally. "If this is all in your head, could I request you make it a little… I don't know, less guts and gore, more flowers and booze?"

Felix chuckled. "I can try."

"Oh, and while you're at it, can you give me one of those makeovers?" Ace said. "Make me like ten years younger? I think I’d look great in brown hair—ooh, and a six pack too!"

Felix listened to Ace ramble with a smile. It would never cease to amaze him how the seemingly lighthearted man could go from joking to serious and right back to silly banter in just a few short moments. Ace was like a bolt of lightning; chaotic in nature and gone in the blink of an eye, but always managing to calm the storm in Felix’s head.

"Ace?" Felix asked, interrupting Ace still talking about his hair.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," Felix said.

Ace’s smile flashed bright and warm in the darkness surrounding them.

"Anytime."

[alovesongshewrote]

If you’re taking requests, maybe something about Doux finding the reader absolutely delirious from lack of sleep? I may or may not have gotten literally any sleep last night and although I managed to get through my morning routine pretty efficiently I FEEL my body just wiping out. I will be comatose within the hour.

Sleep, Darling | Hisirdoux Casperan x Reader

Plot:  you’ve been awake for too long and it is not doing you any favours.  Thank god for punk wizards who care about your wellbeing, amirite lads?  (Also, the pure Irony that this is getting posted at like, 2:40 am where i am, rip me i guess)

Word Count: 2,292

Warnings:  A bit of blood is mentioned in passing, the reader isn’t human and probably has adhd or smthn.  Also, Friends is mentioned, like, the tv show, so that’s a thing!

A/N:   if you look closely, you can actually see me projecting onto this one.  I hope you got some sleep anon.

Tags:   @furblrwurblr @einahpetsyarcip @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05

Time isn’t real.  It’s a social construct made to bring order to the general chaos that is human existence.  That was why you were up at 5 a.m for the second, maybe third, night in a row.  Was it healthy?  Probably not, but you didn’t need sleep, you needed answers.  Answers to what?  Who knows at this point, honestly.

You couldn’t say you were surprised when you finally noticed the late, or early hour.  You just shrugged it off and went “fuck it, all-nighter,” which was fine for the moment.  But time’s a bitch, and that moment was over pretty fast.  By noon, you were ready to collapse.  The three cups of coffee did not help.  Instead, they made you vibrate at a frequency that could quite possibly break glass.  As much as this sucked for you, it was worse for your lovely friend and co-worker, Hisirdoux Casperan.

Now, our boi Douxie was and is madly in love with you, but shhh, it’s a secret.  You also love him, and that’s a secret too.  Neither of these secrets are well kept, and the only reason you aren’t together is general stupidity.  Literally, anyone else who watches the two of you interacting can tell that you're in love.  Hell, half the town assumes you’re together already.  The other half keeps trying to get you together.  It is not working very well.  But that’s all a digression.  What you really need to know is that Douxie loves you and watching you suffer from a lack of sleep was Not A Pleasant Experience.  You were delirious, shaky, and constantly off-balance.  You could work well enough, but it was clear that your health was not in the same zone.

The final straw came when you cut your hand on broken glass.  You’d dropped a cup, and instead of using magic, you’d tried to fix the mess by hand.  That plan did not work, and you received a bloody slash across your palm for your troubles.

“Ah.  Fuck,” you said, thinking you were whispering but instead speaking at a normal volume.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“‘S nothing, I’ve got it,” you did not got it, especially not in this state, and Douxie had the good sense to figure that out.  The blood was a pretty good hint though.

“Oh, fuzzbuckets.”

“I told you, I’m toooootally fine, there is nothing to worry about.”

“Here, (Y/N), let me help you-”

“No, no, this is, this is-” it was then that your sleep-deprived brain decided to cut off your train of thought and replace it with another, more chaotic train.  You stopped talking and just stared at Douxie for a solid minute.  Or at least it felt like a solid minute.  Time isn’t real, remember that.

“(Y-Y/N)?  You alright there, darling?”

“You’re really cute, did you know that?  Like… really cute.  Steve was right, you could be a model.”

“I-”

“Also, just gonna put it out there, I freakin’ love it when you call me darling.  Like, I know you call most people darling, but it makes me feel special.  Don’t ask why, it just does.”

Douxie wasn’t planning on asking why.  He wasn’t really planning on anything.  Your sleep-deprived half-confession had turned him from a capable individual into a blushing mess in less than a second.  You always had that effect on him, but it looked like your exhausted state was giving you a bit of an edge.

“Oh, sorry, I made it weird.  Anyway, do you think if I brewed my next coffee with Monster instead of water it would wake me up?   Because I’m still tired, and it isn’t fun.”

“I- you- I’m-”

“I think I might try it, honestly.”

“Ok, how about you don’t do that,”  Archie said, swooping in, literally and figuratively, to save the day, “Douxie, can you please get (Y/N)’s hand patched up?  It looks quite painful and they’re dripping blood onto the carpet.”

You were, in fact, dripping blood onto the carpet.  That wasn’t good, “Oh, that’s- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fret, just go do something about that hand,” with that, Archie smacked Douxie upside the head in an attempt to snap him out of his flustered state.  It was super effective!

“Ahh, yeah.   C’mon, (Y/N), let’s,,, go,,, fix,,, that.”

“Ok,”  you stood, too tired to protest, and followed Douxie into the back of the bookstore, which was literally just his apartment.  

It was a nice place.  Very cozy, very him.  It made you want to curl up and take a nap, but to be fair, literally everything made you want to curl up and take a nap at the moment.  Regardless, his home made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside and you never wanted to leave it.  Maybe it was the interior decorating, but you knew it was because your favourite person lived there.  What you didn’t know, or didn’t realize, was that you’d just spoken your entire thought process out loud and Douxie heard every word of it.  Once again, the boy was a blushing mess.  If you were awake enough to process things, you would have found it cute.  Or you’d be dead from embarrassment, that one is a bit of a toss-up.

Fighting through his flustered state, Douxie pulled you into the bathroom and collected a first aid kit from under the counter.  While he focused on getting things done, you curled into a ball in his bathtub.  For some reason, your exhausted brain decided that sitting on the edge of the bathtub simply did not Vibe™ but sitting inside the tub was better than nothing, and so you just,,, curled up there.  Douxie was only a little surprised to see you there.

“(Y/N)?”

“D’you remember that time on Friends when Winona Ryder played a closeted lesbian?  That was a fuckin’ trip, man.”

“(Y/N), darling-”

“That whole episode is just- it’s just strange.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Hehe, Stranger Things.”

“(Y/N), love, I need to see your hand.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah, I forgot.  Here,” you sat up, extending your hand out to the wizard.  He took it, sitting on the edge of the bathtub which was fine for him to do, I guess.  Not you though, you were stuck in bathtub jail for sleep deprivation crimes.

You squinted up at his face as he tended to the nasty scratch you’d given yourself.  You didn’t have the capacity to focus on what he was doing, so instead you focused on him.  He was pretty, as you’d said before, but that was always true.  At that exact moment, his brows were furrowed in concentration, his eyes concerned and his jaw set.  His hands were steadier than yours could ever hope to be, especially since you hadn’t been sleeping.  Overall, he looked kind of mad, so you sunk down into your bath-prison, silent and waiting for him to finish so you could get back to work.

Douxie was not mad at you.  He was upset that you hadn’t been sleeping, but he wasn’t mad.  He was just worried for your health.  Your wizard did not appreciate seeing you shaking and sleep-deprived.  He didn’t appreciate it when your current state led you to injure yourself, either.

He wrapped up your hand and gave it a small pat, “Done.  Now, come on, you’re taking a nap.”

His voice surprised you.  It was gentle, calm, not at all angry like you’d suspected.  You found yourself so lost in it that you didn’t realize what he’d said until he said your name, trying to snap you out of whatever haze you were in.

“Oh, wait, what?  No, shit, I have to get back to work-”

“No, you need sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak, I need to go-” you stood and almost fell over.  You probably would have broken something if Douxie didn’t catch you.  You hadn’t exactly expected to end up in his arms today, and despite the heat rising in your face and neck, you were not complaining.

“(Y/N)-”

“I’m sorry, Douxie, I-”

“You need to sleep.  Please, (Y/N), don’t make me use a spell on you.”

You froze for a second before a smirk crept onto your face, “You wouldn’t.”

“I-”

“You wouldn’t use a spell on meeeeee-” the smirk grew into a full smile as you let yourself go limp, forcing him to move his hands to support you better and pull you closer to him.  Was that your plan?  Maybe.  Was it part of a second, bigger plan?  Also yes.

“You wanna bet?”

“Sure.”

“I-” and then he went silent.  There was a moment of tension where you just stared into each other’s eyes, holding your breath to see what the other person would do.  Your gaze fell to his lips as his fell to yours.  For that moment, your thoughts began to wander far out of your control.  Douxie’s mind was also running rampant but in a different direction.  You were right, he thought.  He couldn't use magic on you.  As far as he knew, you were a human.  Just a mortal being who crawled their way into his life and stayed there, improving the quality of it greatly.  If there was even the slightest chance that a spell may have negative side effects, which most sleep spells did, he wouldn’t dare risk it, especially not on you.  He sighed, tightening his grip on your waist, “You’re right.”

“What?”  Oop, plan going sideways, PLAN GOING SIDEWAYS!

“I’m- not going to use magic on you,” he helped you to stand, and moved to take a step back before you grabbed his hoodie and pulled him back to you, ignoring the sharp sting in your hand.

“Ok, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, hang on there wizard boy-” you took a moment to pull yourself out of the bathtub entirely, “You can’t give up that easily.”

“Wha-”

“Come onnnnnn, make it fun, make it exciting.  Put a spell on me or whatever, just-” you went quiet for a second, but for once you weren’t distracted.  Just quiet.  You had to face facts.  Your plan had failed, and now you had nothing but the truth.

“(Y/N)?”

“Just make my brain stop.  For just two seconds.”

“What?”

“Please.  I’m running on a motor and I can’t stop myself.  I haven’t slept and I have no choice in the matter.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Look, just, take away my free-will if you have to.  Knock me out, magic or otherwise, I just want five seconds where I’m not on hyperdrive,” you were standing on your own now, though Douxie’s arms were still wrapped around you and you hadn’t let go of his hoodie, “Please.”

The bathroom was silent for a minute.  It took that long for Douxie to process what you’d just said.  You feared, for that moment, that you’d said too much.  You hadn't.  Not to him, anyway.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“Come on,” he said, picking you up, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet.

“Wait, what!?” your voice was slightly more frantic, surprise lacing through your words.

“There’s more than one way to get a person to sleep.”

“Oh-?”

He didn’t respond to your question, instead, he carried you out the door and into what you could only assume was his room.  You had no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him for dear life until he set you down on the bed.

“Stay here, okay?  I’m going to make you some tea-”

“Wait!” you stopped him, grabbing his wrist as he turned to leave, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, my darling,” he sat in front of you on the bed, “You just need to get some sleep, okay?”

“But what about-”

“I’ll cover your shift, you don’t need to worry.”

“I-”

“Just rest, for now, love.  Please.”

“Ok,” your words were a whisper, something that Douxie could only just hear.  The next thing though, he didn’t have to strain to hear at all, “Yeah.  I meant what I said earlier, by the way.  You’re so pretty, it isn’t fair.”

He laughed at this, at you, finally seeing some humour in your shenanigans.  He relaxed now knowing that you may actually get some much-needed rest.  He stood, kissing your forehead and tracing the side of your face with a hand, rough from guitar strings and 900 years of sweeping.

“Worry not, love, you’re pretty too.”

“Hey, wait-”

“Don’t ‘hey, wait,’ me.  You are.  Now lie down, I’ll be back in a second.”

A smile crept onto your face as you followed orders.  Your emo wizard man thought you were pretty.  And he cared enough about you to let you sleep during work hours, in his home, no less.  You let yourself relax into the bed, grinning once again.  It smelled like him, like thyme and peppermint, lemongrass and sleep.  It was nice, comforting.  You could only vaguely think of Douxie as your brain finally took a fuckin breather.  It was everything you needed, honestly.

By the time Douxie came back, you were long gone, lost to your dreams and finally asleep.  He sighed a smile that matched yours on his face.  He placed the cup of tea on the bedside table before grabbing a blanket out of his closet and draping it over you.  You looked so peaceful.  Good.  You deserved some peace every now and then.

He took the cup and left you, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes as he did.  After making his exit, he placed the still-hot tea on the counter, disregarding it for now before returning to the bookshop.

“How are they?”  his familiar asked, tail twisting in concern.

He gave a final fond look at the door before returning to business, “They’re just resting.”  And for once, you were.

[kyoomiii]

♡ Sick days [hcs]

- ✎ characters ❝ kageyama, ushijima, kenma and tsukishima ❞

- [ trigger warning(s): none other than maybe one curse word ]

- ⚘ genre ❝ fluff ❞

❝ in light of the current situation i hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. we can get through these tough times together. (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ❞

-kyo  ♡

Kageyama knows something is wrong the moment he wakes up that morning, the irritating tickle in the back of his throat and the sudden heat that engulfs his body confirms his suspicions, but even so he refuses to let it bother him, pushing even the thought of being sick to the back of his mind as he departs for school.

Though unfortunately, the day passes agonizingly slow for him, and by the time it finally ends he had managed to fall asleep in almost every single one of his classes prompting multiple scoldings from varying teachers which only heightened his pounding headache. 

Even so, he brushes it off with mild annoyance as he changes out of his school uniform and into his practice attire, a small pit of dread forming in his already aching stomach knowing you’d be there waiting for him, and that you’d definitely notice his odd behavior.

As he enters the gym, the familiar squeaking of shoes almost sets his mind at ease, a trickle of relief flowing through him as he basks in the success of hiding his condition and that surprisingly, you were nowhere to be found. However, the moment is short-lived once he spots Hinata, who squints in his direction as if he had grown three heads.

“What are you staring at boke.”

“Nothing… I guess you just seem a bit- weird today.”

“It’s fine- I’m fine! Let’s just practice already!”

But throughout the entire practice, his vision only seems to get hazier, and his head only seems to hurt more as his tosses become less and less consistent, resulting in snickers from Tsukishima, and more shouts from Hinata, until eventually he just collapses in a pile of sweat, an overwhelming ache shooting throughout his bones,  and at this point he no longer cares about the current activity, all he wants is you.

“Crap- Kageyama! Someone get y/n”

And much to his relief, you come in rushing soon after his collapse, Sugawara having moved him into a slightly more comfortable position prior to your arrival.

“y/n…”

“I’m here Tobio… You’re gonna be alright, your sister is here to take you home.”

It was almost scary how lifeless he seemed. Slumped in between Sugawara and Daichi, barely conscious as you run your fingers through his damp hair. The club is visibly startled as it takes a total of all the third years and Tanaka to haul the setter into his sister’s car as a result of his protest.

“No... Want y/n…”

The little whine that leaves him has you flushed, cheeks burning red as you simply nod, scooting into the backseat with him as he deliriously snuggles close to you, a violent shiver running throughout his body despite his unbelievably hot temperature.

The ride back to Kageyama’s house is relatively silent with the exception of the occasional groan or whimper from him. A wave of worry floods through you as you help his sister move him into his bed.

“I’m really sorry y/n, I have to get back to the shop, so can you please do me a favor and watch Tobio for a few hours?”

“I-Uh- Yeah.”

And like that it’s just you and Kageyama, who looks just as bad, if not worse than before the car ride. He’s shivering like a leaf as he curls closely into the blankets, face contorted into displeasure.

“Tobio…”

With a gentle caress to his sickly pale skin, you stand up to leave, a feeling of guilt swelling in your heart at the thought of leaving Kageyama alone, even if it were just a little bit of time as you quickly return with a damp towel to press to his drenched forehead.

He looks almost too peaceful as he relaxes into your touch, the cloth that’s pressed against his skin easing his discomfort all the more. His eyes flutter open, squinting to look up at you.

“I’m okay y/n.. I’m not sick.”

You’re almost in disbelief, and you would smack him for being so reckless if he weren’t so ill.

“You are. Why would you lie about that?（￣□￣；)”

But the gentle grin that stretches across his face disposes of any harsh feelings you may have for his lack of thought in regards to consequences.

“Thank you for taking care of me y/n…”

“Of course Tobio… Now get some rest… Boke.”

It had hit him like a brick. One moment he was fine, sitting in the corner of the gym before practice began, game in hand as some of the members shuffled about setting up the net, and the next he’s suddenly feeling a sort of dizziness in the back of his head.

It was all too familiar, the dizziness followed by an instant ache in his body as he slumps against the wall, eyes darting across the gym in fear of being noticed.

His game is slowly forgotten, as he dies repeatedly, unable to truly concentrate on the task at hand, due to the level of discomfort brought by the heat of his hoodie, but the almost painfully aching shivers that plague his small form convince him to keep it on.

He wishes you were here as he begrudgingly stuffs his game back into his backpack, unable to continue staring at the pixelated screen that has slowly but surely made him more dizzy than he was feeling moments ago. However, the thought of bothering you sets a pit of guilt at the bottom of his stomach, so he stays silent, suffering quietly as the other boys draw closer to finishing setting up. 

In less than three minutes, Kenma manages to fall asleep, legs hugged closely to his chest as he tries to make himself as small as possible in the confinements of his clothing. The gentle tap against his shoulder wakes him up. Kuroo looking over him worriedly, his usual smirk replaced with a frown.

“I’m calling y/n-”

“Please don’t…”

“Not an option.”

Kenma doesn’t have the energy to protest, his already low levels dropping even lower as he drifts between being conscious and unconscious. 

He doesn’t even realize you’re there until the familiar comfort of your touch lingers on his burning hot skin. The warmth makes you recoil in shock, much to his noticeable dismay. He looks so small and vulnerable as Kuroo helps you haul him home.

“Please take care of him y/n…”

And upon Kuroo’s departure back to school to finish the remaining practice, it’s just you and Kenma, who in this current moment has decided to burrito himself in his covers, the little lump that he’s created shivering harshly.

The sight makes you frown as you gently run your fingers over the fabric that he is using to shield himself. You had heard that Kenma would often get fevers after exerting himself when he was young, but everyone, including him had thought he had grown out of that phase. With a sigh, you stand from your spot at the edge of his bed, sending one last glance back before making your way to the kitchen to prepare something that would be easy to eat in his condition. 

As you stir the pot of rice porridge which seemed to be the easiest and quickest option, a small thump resonates throughout the relatively quiet house. A surge of worry filled you as you hurriedly set the stove to low, rushing to see what had caused the commotion. 

To your surprise Kenma lays in the middle of the hallway, his blankets still wrapped snugly around him as he wiggles his way into the living room. The image would be cute if said boy wasn’t currently suffering from a fever.

“Kenma? What are you doing out of bed?”

His response is so quiet, so delicate as you help him onto the couch.

“Missed you...:”

A soft smile graces your lips as you place a chaste kiss to his burning forehead. 

“I missed you too. Let’s get some food and medicine in you and we can go to sleep yeah?”

“...Okay…”

The lull of silence passes between the two of you as you return to the pot in the kitchen, you were sure that Kenma had fallen back asleep…

“I love you y/n…”

“I love you too Kenma”

Morning practice was something that Ushijima never missed out on. He was always there bright and early, dressed and ready before anyone else, including Tendou, who despite sharing the same dorm with, refused to get up at the butt-crack of dawn like his odd roommate. So when the rest of the team gathers, with Ushijima nowhere in sight, there’s a certain uneasiness that settles amongst the Shiratorizawa volleyball club.

“Where’s Ushijima-san… He’s never this late.”

“No idea-”

“Don’t you share a room with him Tendou-san…?”

“...Who told you that? ｢(ﾟﾍﾟ)”

“You did? (´_ ` ﾒ)”

Your mind zones out of the conversation, stuck on a certain ace who was more dedicated to this sport than anyone you had ever met, something you had learned to love about him. The fact that he wouldn’t show up like this was just-strange…

“You guys get started, i’ll go find him.”

“Okay here’s a key~ But if anything-”

“Tendou Satori!”

And with your cheeks flushed red, prominent glare on your face you head off to the boy’s dormitory, ignoring the glances of curiosity as you practically stomp your way through the halls.

Softly you knock on Tendou and Ushijima’s dorm room, only to receive silence. There’s a slight hesitancy to your actions as you slowly unlock the door.

“Toshi?”

You call once more only to be met with the soft breathing of an unconscious Ushijima. The sight is something that is truly a shock, Ushijima Wakatoshi NEVER missed practice because he slept in.

There’s a feeling of worry that settles in your chest as you approach him. Kneeling down you run a hand through his dark brown hair, the heat radiating from his skin causing a frown to form on your features. Gently, you shake his shoulder, calling his name once more.

“Wakatoshi?”

And like sleeping beauty, his eyes flutter open revealing deep pools of dark olive. His mind is a haze, eyes bleary as he looks up at you, and it’s then you notice the gentle flush of pink that tints the tip of his nose and both his cheeks.

“y/n…?”

His voice is hoarse, throat scratched dry, most likely from a coughing fit as he gazes at you confused.

Your frown deepens as he attempts to sit up, visibly wincing before he eventually gives up, body going limp as he lands back on the mattress with a slight huff. 

“It’s okay Toshi, just relax today, I’ll take care of you.”

To anyone else Ushijima remains stoic, however, knowing him as well as you do, you catch the slight upturn of his lips, and the small shift of emotion in his eyes as you press a soft kiss to his forehead.

A sigh leaves you as his eyes flutter shut once more, your lips purse as you call the main office notifying them of Ushijima and your absence, followed by calling Tendou who doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but nevertheless delivers the message to the rest of the team, and lastly a call to a restaurant for some soup that would be easy on his stomach.

As soon as you finish all your calls, your attention is turned back to Ushijima. His face is scrunched in slight discomfort as he grips tightly at the blanket covering his body, and it’s then you catch the slight shiver the ripples through him.

Ushijima is a man of muscle, his body runs warm like a furnace, but in this moment he can’t help but feel unbelievably cold, despite the burning heat of his skin. So silently, as you take off your blazer and bow tie, folding it neatly and placing it on his desk, you crawl into his bed beside him, holding him close.

He stops shivering, cuddling closely to your body.

“...S’warm...”

“Don’t worry- I’m here.”

And you swear you could see the faintest smile ghost his lips as he settles in to your touch, basking in the much needed heat.

“Thank you y/n...”

Tsukishima could feel the oncoming sickness brewing in his system a day before it decided to smack him in the face. He’s not exactly surprised either, there’s always been this schedule since he was young which consisted of him being perfectly fine and healthy most of the year, and then dying for about a week somewhere in the winter months.

And after years of experiencing the same cycle, he’s become somewhat prepared to deal with whatever may come. Unfortunately though, he was not prepared when the flu decided to make its appearance as soon as his parents and Akiteru were out of town, leaving him to suffer alone.

With that being said, he wakes up one morning, feeling like absolute crap. His throat feels raw and scratchy, his body aches so badly that it just hurts to move, and his head is pounding so hard that he’s sure his brain has become mush.

He barely finds the strength to text you and Yamaguchi that he doesn’t feel very good, and then to his parents who unfortunately won't be back for a little while longer..

Immediately, the text has you worrying, Tsukishima NEVER missed school, and the fact that he decided to skip today meant that he was most likely really sick, and to top it off he was alone, with no one to check up on him, the thought alone put you in a state of mild anxiety.

As a result you spend most of the day with your thoughts scrambled, unable to focus as your mind constantly drifts back to Tsukishima, who has not texted you since that morning. 

You’re so anxious to see him that as soon as the last bell rings you practically rush to his house, using the spare key he had lent you in case of an emergency. 

Your steps are hurried as you enter the house, placing all of your stuff off to the side, then quietly making your way to Tsukishima’s room only to find him knocked out cold, sprawled on his bed cuddling close to a dinosaur comforter (something his mom got him when he was five, but doesn’t use unless he’s in need of real comfort).

The sight makes you smile softly as you set foot into the room, padding softly across the floor as to not wake him. His blonde hair is tousled and messy, some strands sticking to his sweat drenched forehead. Strewn across his bed is an assortment of empty water bottles, and beside his bed sits an empty teacup. 

It’s then the realization strikes you that he probably hasn��t had anything to eat since the day before, the thought making you frown as you brush the stray hairs from his forehead, a kiss being placed against the burning skin instead. 

Upon making your way into the kitchen, you begin to make a simple soup, something that would be easy on his stomach, but would still taste okay to eat. You don’t even notice Tsukishima opening the door to his room waddling out, bundled in his dinosaur comforter until a small thump can be heard from the couch. 

Once you finish the soup, you scoop up a small bowl before walking over to Tsukishima who lays on the couch staring blankly at the wall, he can’t seem to find the energy to make an snide comments, rather he’s just kind of grumpy and quiet mentally cursing life.

“Kei, I made you soup.”

“M’ don’t wanna eat… I’m too tired.”

“If you don’t eat you’re not going to get any better…”

He groans as you help him sit up, making sure to keep the blanket around him so he’d be at least a little more comfortable. When you get him settled you place the bowl in his hands, watching as his eyes squint at it.

“Something wrong?”

“...”

“Oh my god Kei, stop acting like a baby I didn’t poison it.  (；¬＿¬)”

“I don’t know that. ρ(￣ﾍ￣ ﾒ)”

It takes a minute for him to finish, but once he does he’s immediately curled up on the couch behind you, back facing you as you opt to begin today’s homework.

The room falls quiet for a moment, until the sound of shuffling fills the air, next thing you know Tsukishim has joined you on the floor, slithering his way into your lap until his head is resting on your thighs.

“Wow, who knew you could be so soft Kei.”

“- Shut up.................... Thank you for- everything. ( ˵¯͒＿¯͒˵)”