#i didnt even post this on ao3

[poundstonaira]

Solid Silva ABC NSFW headcannons

A/N - this is from 2021 and I barely published it anywhere lol. I dunno I used to be obsessed with this guy now he's just... meh 🫤 and disclaimer : this is cringe

Word Count: 1000 on the dot

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Knowing the secret freak Solid probably is, he’d probably keep his junior inside of you while cuddling after y’all have done the deed. He doesn’t care.

If he feels disgusting or uncomfortable, he’ll probably order some maids and servants to prepare a bath for you and him. In the bath, he would hug you and whisper to you some comforting words. 

“You did me so well… you deserve a treat for next time.” 

“Mhm…” 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you: Your hands. The silver-haired could let out a random grunt just thinking about holding your hands while you are screaming his name underneath him, being plunged by his shaft.

On him: His eyes. You can’t help but just stare into his big, baby blue eyes most of the time.  They are just so addicting to look at regardless of what he’s doing. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Solid doesn’t like using condoms. With that being said, he feels more pleasure and enjoyment when he can actually feel your insides when he isn’t being covered by anything.

 So he’ll nut in you, on you, or in your mouth. As long as his cum is near you, he doesn’t care. 

Basically, if you don’t wanna get pregnant please get some birth control. <3

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes to see if he can try and suck himself off. He seems big enough to do it. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s experienced (in his own way). He has been with other women before you. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anywhere he can your face and hold your hands. (Missionary, cowgirl, etc) 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s pretty serious about this. This is probably one of the only times he can express his love for you to you without anyone around. He has you all to himself.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Pretty well groomed down there. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It’s an equal balance between lust and love. For Solid, it’s not just about him feeling the absolute ecstasy of feeling you, it’s about him showing his love for you and just breathing you in. 

“Y/N… I love you so much.”

“Ah…  I love you too…” 

“Heh…” 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

5 times a week. He’s one horny bastard. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink, edge play, praise kink, degrading kink. Shall I elaborate more? 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom. Like I said before, he wants the moment to just be you and him and no one else to interrupt.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Hmm…

Liking ice cream in a suggestive way could have him bricked up. Praising him if he does something well. Him seeing you eat makes him drool (he’s thinking about you sucking him off).

Solid would lose his mind a bit if you were to let out a small groan while making out with him in his bedroom. From there, he’d carry you and just take you from there. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Though he is a spoiled brat, he wouldn't do anything that you wouldn’t be comfortable with. He wants to be sure that the enjoyment is equal and isn’t one-sided. His needs wouldn’t overtake yours.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s more on the giving side, he just loves seeing your reactions at every move he does. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on his mood.

If he’s mad: R.I.P that pussy aye. He doesn’t care for your pleasure at that point. 

Sad: He’d go slow and rough, with A LOT of moaning from him. 

Regular: Fast and sensual

Drunk: Bye bye

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t mind that at all. 4 a week. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is a heavy risk taker. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This little horny bastard could go for 4 hours max, and maybe around 4 arounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does use toys on you. Only you though, he just wants to see how you would look being pleasured by them. A satisfying sight to see for him. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Look at how he treated Noelle. He’s not nice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s loud. He moans so much and its uncontrollable. The amount of moaning and whimpering he does when you’re riding him is crazy. He whimpers like a little bitch. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He wouldn’t say this to you for the sake of his ego but he wants you to peg him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

From his outside appearance, his body lacks muscle and fat. He looks relatively bony and all the meat and muscle has to go somewhere…

I would say 7.8 inches?  

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High as a kite. I don’t think Solid could spend a whole week without sex. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Men usually fall asleep first because they are letting out more energy after they ejaculate. So Solid would probably fall asleep on your chest as you would just stare at him with dreamy eyes.  You would also run your hand through his hair while he’s asleep.  

[introspectivememories]

was it casual when i sat in your lap in public? was it casual when i said "recently my heart is crying because you're leaving"? was it casual when we decided how your last name would fit with mine? ("yuki tsunoda-gasly" / "no tsunoda, only gasly" / "yuki gasly?") was it casual when we sang adele's "someone like you" together at your going away party? was it casual when i knew it was you just by touching your ass? was it casual when i knew it was you by smell alone? was it casual when "will you miss me?" / "for 2-3 minutes maybe" / "i'll take that. even if it's just 2-3 minutes, i'll take that"? was it casual when that bus was completely empty and we still sat right next to each other, all the way in the back? was it casual when i picked you up multiple times so you could dunk a basketball? was it casual when i begged to come over to your house multiple time and then you finally let me and we cooked fried rice together? was it casual when we played christmas twister together and i said "your big eggplant is touching my ass"? was it casual when we were pressed up against each other on a scooter going two miles per hour? was it casual when-

[fireheartpages]

other plans | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader chapter one. series masterlist summary: everyone has their demons, you just chose to run from yours. straight to basgiath war college. and definitely not towards the grinning tall, dark, and handsome marked rider that seemed too kind to be in a hardened place like the rider's quadrant. word count: 2.1k ish notes: second person pov but i give the reader a nickname (that i stole from dirty dancing) and a last name bc i'm not using y/n and i want this to be readable. she/her pronouns used for reader. this has been stuck in my head and i thought i was gonna combust if i didn't get it on page. and it's all together hovering somewhere around 7k words so im gonna split it up and post it all within the next few days and then have the whole thing available on ao3! i haven't written fanfiction in at least a good six months, and i've never written for fourth wing, so bare with me a little--i tried my best. i have a chronic attachment to side characters with little to no page time. half of this was written while wine tipsy and all of it was proofread while wine drunk, so we die like men

Bodhi has never seen someone walk across the parapet so easily.

He's never seen someone make a dance out of it. As if it were a show, a production. Your feet are so confident, so sure with every step, every placement that you would make it to the next. It's pouring rain and windy as all hell, and yet you make the parapet look like a children's balance beam.

You land right in front of him, and by the time your eyes meet his, he's already decided that he needs to know everything he possibly can about you. The instant your focus lands on him, he's obsessed.

Garrick has other plans.

"Name?"

"Baby," you say, and Bodhi blinks. "Marho."

Garrick is downright gawking at you. "Baby?"

Something that sounds much more like a name and not what an infant is called slips out on a laugh, and Bodhi can't help but trace the lean lines of your neck. Holy shit. If he thought you were pretty before, it was dwarfed to the sound of your laugh. The sun had to fight for space when you smiled.

"Sorry. Childhood nickname, I forget I have another one sometimes."

"Did your parents nickname you after a hooker?" Garrick asks, jotting your name--the true one--on the roll.

"Did yours raise you to be a dick?" you ask, not missing a beat, and the boy's gaze snaps up to you. If Bodhi had been looking anywhere else, his would have too, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of you since the moment you stepped foot onto the parapet. He felt his brow shoot up, lips parting on a huff.

He bursts out laughing.

You don't move. Don't take your eyes from Garrick, from staring him down, until he tips his head in inclination and gives something that sounds like an apology. It's Bodhi's turn to be the subject of your scrutiny now, and as your eyes trace his shape, shifting with the weight of your gaze and his laugh, he senses more than sees the moment you note his rebellion relic. Your face doesn't shift, but it's as if a proverbial file is created and tucked away into the archive of your mind.

You didn't say anything else as you walk away from the two boys, but Bodhi tracks you as you go. Tracks your movements, as you weave through the crowd with a practiced grace, how your hair moves as you take the stairs down and out of his sight.

He's almost sorry to see you go. But he's determined to see you again.

Bodhi snatches the roll sheet from Garrick as parapet comes to an end, scanning to make sure he has the name correct. He marches up to Xaden, and only pausing for a moment to consider how stupid this is--he literally doesn't know a single thing about you--before throwing your name into the space between them.

"I want her in my section."

"Don't you have better things to do than flirt with children?" Xaden asks impassively.

"She's not a literal baby."

"I'm aware of that," he responds, sounding exasperated. "You're an Executive Officer, Bodhi. Do what you want."

Except Dain Aetos has other plans.

You made friends. You stand with the Sorrengail girl and another he didn't recognize, tucking loose strands of hair back into her coronet braid. What type of person fixed the hair of someone they'd just met? You, apparently.

You're in Second Wing. With Aetos and Sorrengial and the other girl. This is fine. Something about you didn't scream "secret rebel" the way wanted it too.

And then Xaden transfers your squad to Fourth Wing. He had sent Bodhi a glance as he put the squad in Flame section--not Tail--and Bodhi could see there was some sort of ulterior motive behind the decision. It did also mean you weren't under his direct chain of command. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing

Fraternization is frowned upon, not forbidden, after all.

Not that you would be fraternizing. After all.

But, challenging you would be a terrible idea. Terribly adverse, fatally cataclysmic, and ill-fated.

And all of those words mean the same thing.

He would stay clear, watch you from afar, and maybe, maybe work up the courage to talk to you outside of parapet. Possibly.

His confidence needed some serious shaping. Since when was he afraid to talk to someone? A pretty someone, to say the least. He was a gods damned dragon rider. He wasn't afraid to talk to you. He was just... hesitant.

Yeah. That. And he did not need a challenge to break the ice.

Emetterio has other ideas.

He calls your name, then Bodhi's, and Bodhi is pretty sure his heart stops in his chest.

You don't look frazzled or scared, just curious as you study him from head to toe. He guards himself as if you were an intruder in his mind, an Inntinnsic slipping in to spill all his secrets. Except you're an unbounded first year that hasn't even developed a signet, and instead that's just you. He's building up walls just to look at you. You and those bright, keen eyes.

Emetterio calls it, and you're off. Except neither of you move. You pace around, and it's a stand off. You cock your head, and Bodhi tries every trick in the book: the fakes out, glances quickly off to the side, purposefully stumbles--and you're unfazed. Completely and utterly unfazed.

He can't make the first move. He can't hit you--

Suddenly, his feet are out from under him, and he's staring at the ceiling, and you lunge, reaching to pin him to the floor. He reaches out and catches the elbow you throw, but before he can even make contact, you twist, sliding underneath him, and suddenly you're behind him.

You're fast. Really fucking fast. And suddenly, Bodhi has his work cut out for him.

You kick out again, going to the back of his knees, and he recognizes the move, thrusting his body forward to keep control and twisting before he lands, kipping up so you're eye-level again.

Your first catches his nose, and blood goes flying. He makes the mistake of bringing his hands up to cup his nose and it leaves his core exposed. You take the opportunity to land a knee in his gut, probably bruising a few ribs in there, and he doubles over, the wind having been knocked from him. Holy shit, he needs to get at least one hit in. This was getting embarrassing.

He swings blindly, and you dodge--but you don't grab his fist. And you had the perfect opportunity to. You were fast, and your reflexes were quick, but you didn't know how to end this. The realization crashes into him as you swing again. A lot of force, but no follow-though, giving him the perfect opportunity to deflect, pushing your fist and forcing the follow-through until you were swinging behind him with his hand around your wrist and then he was bringing you to him, one of his arms gripping one of yours across your neck, and the other twisting your other behind your back. Like this, your body was flush against his.

You struggle, kicking out, but it was all too easy for him to get your feet out from under you. You weren't small by any means, but Bodhi was bigger, and had a year of training over you. Your feet kicked out, and all he had to do was lean back to incapacitate you. You gave a frustrated grunt that so heavily affected him that he almost dropped you to make sure you were okay before he realized where he was and what he was doing.

"Finish her without making a fool of yourself, please," Cuir chimes in, probably sensing his hesitation and near-miss, and Bodhi sends an eye roll he hopes she can feel, since he doesn't have the brain space to say anything back, with your body pressed against his and the current task at hand.

He twists and take you both to the ground, pinning both your hands above your head, and taking a leg beneath his foot, balancing on a knee. You let out a sharp huff, and he's mesmerized by the way your nose scrunches up in determination. Your free leg goes to knee him, and he takes the hit, leaning into it before transferring your hands so they're both pinned between one of his, sliding one hand down your hip and to your thigh, holding it to the gourd before you can knee him again. He has a free knee to hold him up, but not without giving leverage to one of your legs. So he's pressed against you, hip to hip, face to face.

"Yield," he says, begs, because he can't hold this for long, and because if you figure out just how much you affect him, you'd win this thing in a matter of heartbeats.

"No," you grind out, thrashing. He's spread thin: his wingspan practically encompassing your body, giving you leverage to wear against him. He worries for a moment, a flash of the bruise he could leave on your thigh going through his mind, and two thoughts overtake him at once.

One, that he doesn't want to hurt you. And that while it may be inevitable with where you two stood, he wanted to try and eliminate the possibility as best he could.

Two, that he would leave bruises all up and down your thighs if he ever got the chance to get between them.

And the combination of the two of those thoughts loosened his grip on you, giving you the opportunity to roll away.

"I did not choose someone this negligent," Cuir snaps, and Bodhi panicks, and now you're pinned underneath him again, his front pressed to your backside, and it's a true plea when he breathes, "Yield."

"No!" You squirm, and fuck stop doing that--

"Get yourself together!" Cuir snaps, and Bodhi sucks in a sharp breath.

"That's enough," Emetterio says, pinning you with a look Bodhi would pick dragon fire over. "Know when to quit, Cadet Marho."

"No!" you yelp. "If this were a real fight, no one is calling the shots--"

"If this was a real fight, you'd be dead. I called it. Get off the mat," Emetterio snaps, and Bodhi scrambles off of you.

He offered you a hand that you send a pointed look at, and he can tell you're considering telling him where to shove it, but you take it anyway, and he walks you off the mat with a hand on your shoulder.

"Good match," Bodhi says, genuinely trying.

You open your mouth to respond, looking like you yourself could spit fire for a second, and Bodhi pities the dragon you end up bonded to for a moment.

"You're fast," he continues, before you can. "Quick reflexes, and you're strong."

"I had you," you throw at him, fiery and determined, and your gaze slips to his rebellion relic.

Oh. So that's what this is about.

Bodhi shakes his head, and the grin that had been blooming falters. "I can help," he says. "If you're struggling with sparring, I can help."

You suck in a breath.

"Or Imogen. Or Xaden. Or--" he stops, because, fuck, obviously you don't want to be near Marked ones--

"Thank you," you say, and the ghost of the smile he saw after the parapet makes a reappearance. "Thank you."

And with that, you turn and leave, heading back to your squad. Rhiannon is shaking her head at you, and Violet mumbles something that makes you laugh. Bodhi would bottle that sound if he could. What the hell was a counter signet for? His signet should be used for bottling the sound of your laugh--

"Do not finish that thought," Cuir chides. "Get a grip."

Bodhi grins, his hair falling over his temple as Garrick comes up and slaps him on the back, congratulations on a challenge well fought. He watches you take a swig from the water canteen, traces the lines of your jaw down to your shoulder until you hand it back, then traces the length of your wrist as you hand it--

"Pathetic." Cuir. "You haven't spoken."

"We kind of did," Bodhi says mentally. "I offered. I... tried."

"If you like her, try harder," she chides, and Bodhi sighs.

He doesn't like you, he barely knows you.

"Sure."

[quadrantadvisor]

So I went to the Danmy Phantom tag on ao3, sorted it to only show fics from 2023 and 2024, and checked to see who the most tagged characters were

Batman is currently a more popular parental figure for Danny than either of his actual parents lol

[lesbianralzarek]

trying to not complain about the discrepancy between how much content fictional women and poc have vs the white dudes in every fucking fandom im in, because no one owes me fanart/fic and i can make shit myself, but holy fuck can any of you name a woman?

[andr33yy]

Hear ye! Hear ye!

It's been only few days since I posted my last fic, but I'm already 65% done with my new cherik body worship fic.

Feeling like Hamilton fr.

"How do you write like ur runnin out of time" type shi

[arsenicflame]

eep! posted my first fic!! I wasn't expecting this idea to catch me so thoroughly, but it really wouldn't let me go until I did something with it!

Thank you to @izzyandcrew for organising the event that finally got me writing (and for all your work over the past months for this fandom in general!!)

I hope you'll enjoy :)

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

re: the last post i reblogged bc i am realizing just how much i yapped in the tags and i do not wish to subject the wider tumblr public to that rant LMAO

[herosplatling-replica]

something old, and something new. chapter two coming soon. please enjoy 🧡

[ninjasmudge]

people really will say shit like 'the fic i found hasn't updated in a whole month so i think its been abandoned which is a shame, i wanted to read more' like where do you even get the nerve

[skylilac]

im so glad i dont write fic on tumblr anymore genuinely its so hard to be a fic writer but esp in the kotlc fandom

[uldahstreetrat]

vague bits of writing I've started drafting for the beginning of Q'ihnn's journal if anyone is interested \o/

---

3 Sun, 4 Umbral Moon

Momodi had me helping some fresh adventurer today, a thaumaturge. Apparently she made a rather fiery entrance to the city and the Flames didn’t want her looking for work unsupervised. Most of the work was rather insignificant - handing out pretzels to guards, delivering a pumpkin, killing some coblyns, keeping some poor bastard from getting himself killed at the hands of the Blades. But parts of it were… odd. Papashan asked my help finding Lady Lilira after she had wandered off again and while it was easy enough to know she would be at the Sultantree, we were attacked by voidsent while we were there. Worse yet, this adventurer collapsed after the fight. She wasn’t hurt, it was that same stupid curse that I have. The odd visions. I saw it too, and once it would have made me collapse as well. She’s new to these. I hope they treat her kinder.

Equally troublesome was the appearance of the man named Thancred. I’ve seen him around on occasion and though supposedly he’s a scholar, he certainly doesn’t act the part. Frankly he seems like someone Ophianne would associate with, which is reason enough for me to be suspicious of him.

He appeared twice today, both at the Sultantree and after we were ambushed by the Blades and some strange golem. Both times the adventurer and I were struck with visions. I certainly hope he stops appearing so suddenly.

The adventurer and I are both lodged at the Quicksand for the night - while I would usually go home, Momodi insisted. I’ve never been able to tell her no. I fear I’m stuck with this thaumaturge for a while yet, and while I would prefer to keep her at arms length, as simply someone I’m handholding for the time being, it must mean more that she too is plagued by what plagues me. Perhaps I should start using her name. Allienea Shepard. A strange woman.

[grandwretch]

im sorry but you cannot attribute every single human behavior to capitalism. yes capitalism has shaped literature for the worst. yes the bookish world would probably be a better place without goodreads or booktok.

however the concepts of bibliomania and tsundoku were created in the 1800s, well before there were thousands of ads for shiny covers and celebrity authors being flung into your face. people were already buying more books than they could ever possibly read when books were still made with manual typesetting. you can't blame this one on amazon.

that's not even touching the fact that bibliomania is sometimes a symptom of ocd, or the existence of hyperlexia.

sometimes, people just like to do something, and it makes them act irrationally. and, yes, capitalism corrupts that. but to pretend that all human excess is because of capitalism is simply erroneous. you need to stop pretending that eradicating capitalism will make us perfect creatures free from hedonism oh my fucking god

[timothylawrence]

SUNBLADE FIC FOR NEW YEAR ? AND SASHA MY GIRL SASHA !!!! LETS FUCKING GO we're eating so good

LOLLL please... thats if i can get over my own anxiety about posting.... but im hoping to at least put somethings out for both wyll and sasha considering how underrated and beloved they are to meeeeeeeeeeeeee <3

[sickficideas]

understood || higuchi & akutagawa sickfic

ao3! 2.7k emeto/graphic depictions of illness sicktember 2023, day 4: hiding an illness (unintentionally)

Ichiyo has a very difficult time differentiating between the side effects of her stress and oncoming illness, but regardless, it's something she has to keep to herself at work.

"You're going, nee-san? Damn, we didn't even get invited," Tachihara huffs as Ichiyo checks her makeup in the bathroom mirror.

"You're a commander of a hit squad. You don't have any business attending something like this," she groans. Really, it's just an excuse to mess with Tachihara. It would have been a different story if Gin had said something about it. "Why are you in here, again? This is the girl's restroom."

Tachihara's busy digging some dirt from underneath his nails. "Yeah, yeah. You know you'd be bored out of your mind without me here, but whatever."

"Bored?" she scoffs. In reality, she's running off of a half hour of sleep.

Akutagawa told her about this banquet they have to attend last night before they parted ways. It's something he's known about for months and really has no interest in whatsoever, but apparently, the boss requested his presence there several times.

Akutagawa didn't mean any harm by telling her last minute. Surely, it's not a big deal to him, but to her, it's insane. In any situation she's in, she's a direct representation of Akutagawa. Her appearance, her behavior, everything that can be seen. She would personally rather die than make him look bad.

"Aww, you wish I was comin' with?" Tachihara snickers.

Ichiyo doesn't deny it. Really, the idea of going there as the only one representing Akutagawa makes her feel nauseous. She’s been nauseous all day because of it, and thinking about it more makes her gut churn. "Can you?"

"I'm just a lowly commander of the Port Mafia's most elite hit squad, remember? I don't belong in fancy places like that. I might just go crazy and kill everybody, who knows?" Tachihara teases.

Ichiyo frowns. "I did not mean it like that."

"Good, 'cause if you did, you'd be talkin' smack about Akutagawa, too. You know he'd be the first to do something crazy like that."

Ichiyo glares at him. "Tachihara, that is -"

"So inappropriate! Don't talk about your superior like that when he isn't here to defend himself!" Tachihara says in a mocking, high-pitch tone that does not sound like her at all, and he ends it with a stupid mischievous grin, like he’s proud of himself. He definitely said what she was going to say.

Ichiyo remembers why Tachihara goes on her nerves so much.

"Just messin' with you,” he says, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter. “Bet it’d be more fun with me there, though.”

“How many times are you going to tell me you’re jealous, Tachihara?” Ichiyo huffs. She feels her stomach churn again and she can’t hold back a groan back that time. She drops her mascara and overlaps her hands to press against her tummy with a pained moan.

Tachihara tilts his head, a brow raised.

“I don’t feel good,” she whines, a little panicked by how suddenly it’s come on. She drops one hand to brace the counter and presses a little harder with the other, worried she’s going to throw up right now. She lets up a watery burp into her closed mouth before she breathes out. “I’m nervous, I…”

“Hey, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Tachihara says, hopping off the counter and laying a hand on her back. It’s comforting. She expected Tachihara to sit there and laugh at her nearly puking from her anxiety, but it’s nice to know he’d rather comfort her. She feels a little better. She tries to swallow back the taste of stomach acid in her mouth. “You don’t need me there. It’ll be quick and easy.”

“Yeah…quick and easy…”

…

She really wishes Tachihara were here right now.

There’s hundreds of people here. Hundreds of people so high up in the Port Mafia’s ranks that she’s never been permitted to meet them. People with so much money that Ichiyo could never possibly see them in public. She has a duty to represent her superior here, and any slip-up would be reflected back on Akutagawa. To the mafia, Ichiyo is not Ichiyo. Ichiyo is an extension of Akutagawa.

“Are you alright?” Akutagawa asks her quietly, his eyes darting over in her direction as the enter the banquet hall. He’s wearing clothes he looks rather uncomfortable in, and he looks nervous himself, but she thinks it’s because he was asked to remove his coat.

“Oh, I’m fine. Yes,” she answers awkwardly. She’s definitely not alright. She’s overwhelmed as all hell and her stomach hurts a lot more than it should. Concerningly so. She sneaks a hand over her side and presses into her stomach for a moment, wondering if some pressure would help relieve it, but it doesn’t. It feels the same way it did in the bathroom earlier, and she nearly threw up in that sink.

“We won’t be here long. I’ll see who I need to see and then we’ll leave,” he tells her as he starts to walk off. She’s very lucky that her superior doesn’t like these sort of things either, but she can’t seem to convince herself that that’s fast enough. As she starts to walk with him, her stomach turns, and she resists the urge to groan from the discomfort. She hates dealing with anxiety like this, but this seems even worse than usual.

She feels her stomach roll as Akutagawa starts up the grand staircase, and she realizes that this isn't just anxiety. She's actually going to throw up.

A hand flies up over her mouth and she's already on her way to the nearest exit, which has to be the balcony of the floor they’re on right now. It's really not an ideal place to get sick at all, but it's far better than it happening inside here, with all of these people. She has to hope with everything in her that Akutagawa doesn’t notice. She’d die if he followed her.

Her free arm is pressed against her stomach as she darts away from the banquet hall, and she feels something splash up into the back of her throat that she has to swallow back, which only makes her feel worse faster. It’s hot and thick, but she’s not too worried. This already made an appearance in her throat on their way over in the car, but she swallowed it back before it ended up in her lap. Maybe she’ll be able to keep it down. She just needs some fresh air.

She leans against the outside wall with a desperate sigh, trying to take in some deep breaths in a last-ditch effort to calm her very upset stomach, but she realizes it’s no use. She feels it splatter in her mouth and tries to swallow it back, but that only makes it worse.

“Urgh…hhUURP - ”

With her next exhale, a torrent of vomit spills down her front before there's anything she can do about it. A hand flies up to her mouth far too late to make a difference, but she’s so shocked that she’s actually thrown up that she does it without realizing, and the hot liquid bubbles up over her tongue and shoots out, spraying through the spaces between her fingers. It burns, and she can feel it in her nose. Her face feels so hot that it’s making her dizzy. She’s sure she’s getting stares, she hears whispering - she’s thrown up all over herself, she must look absolutely ridiculous.

A wet belch morphs into a desperate hiccup and tears start to flood her eyes. This is nightmarish. The thick, slimy vomit coating her hand starts to cool as it drips down into the puddle beneath her, and her stomach is still twisting and turning, threatening to bring up even more. Saliva pools in her mouth and she leans over the puddle with her mouth slightly agape as another wave of puke comes up, aided by a thick burp. She shouldn’t have eaten before she left, maybe it wouldn’t have all come up like this.

It feels like there’s cotton in her ears, but the clearest thing she hears is Akutagawa’s voice.

Oh god. No. No, him seeing her like this would be worse than this happening in front of everyone else in the banquet hall. She feels her head start to spin and she’s dizzy and lightheaded and even more nauseous than before.

“I - I’m so sorry, sir - hic - ”

The colors around her blended together as they spin and eventually turn black, and she loses her focus on Akutagawa’s voice.

…

When Ichiyo wakes up, her throat burns.

She hates throwing up. She’s trying to stop drinking because of it. That’s her first thought. Was she drinking? She’s not entirely sure, but she knows she’s in the infirmary at headquarters. That can’t be right. She’s always at her apartment when she’s hungover. There’s an IV catheter in her arm.

Her stomach feels sore and empty. She lets out a quiet, pained groan.

And then, everything comes back to her.

She has to imagine they gave her something for her far-too-intense nausea, or else, she would likely vomit in her lap just from the memory. She’s lost most of it, but she remembers just how much she threw up at a banquet so important Akutagawa took his coat off for it. She whines, turning her head, horrified to see the man she’s thinking of part the curtain and walk in.

His arms are tucked behind his back, looking as regal as ever, with an unreadable expression. Ichiyo almost bursts into tears on the spot. He must be furious with her. She can't even begin to imagine -

"How are you feeling?" he asks. It lacks most any sign of emotion, but he sounds sincere.

Ichiyo was fully prepared for him to scold her right away for what she’s done, but there’s not even a hint of that in his eyes. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking at all, but she dismisses the idea of getting yelled at, just for a moment. She's frozen for a bit longer than necessary, eyes wide and unsure how to answer. She doesn't want to. She would much rather hide under her blanket and never be seen again.

But Akutagawa doesn't leave. He's still waiting for an answer. He tilts his head, silently asking if she heard him.

"I…I feel a bit better," she says, her voice scratchy. Honestly, she still feels rather nauseous, but not to the point where she’ll vomit. At least, right now. She assumes she was given medicine.

“The nurses told me you have a pretty severe case of the stomach flu," Akutagawa says. "I wasn't aware you weren't feeling well."

Ichiyo is relieved to hear that. It's much easier to accept that it wasn't a result of her anxiety, and rather an illness, because if her anxiety did that to her every time, she might really have to find a different line of work. It's good to know that Tachihara being there probably would have only made things worse.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't…realize I was that sick," she says meekly, her head bowed. Don't cry, she tells herself over and over. Her eyes burn. She gets the impression that he's not upset with her, not at all, really, but she can't shake the shame hanging over her shoulders.

"No one saw anything,” Akutagawa says. Clearly he understands just what’s on her mind. She didn’t see how many people were on the balcony when she ran out there. Could it be that really no one was there? She finds that to be impossible.

"No one?" Ichiyo mumbles. She lays a hand over her stomach as she tries to sit up. The pressure helps a little bit, this time, so she leaves it there, pressing a little harder to soothe herself. "Are you sure?"

He nods. "I'm sure."

"But…you saw, Akutagawa," she murmurs, feeling tears start to prick at her eyes. She doesn’t even want to imagine what happened after she passed out. She’s sure that was even worse than when she was awake. The thought of any of it makes her cringe.

He shrugs his shoulders. Of course, she’s almost in tears, and he’s completely unbothered. "I throw up every other week. It doesn't bother me."

Ichiyo is very aware of that. He seems to vomit so often that sometimes he just continues on like nothing happened, but she knows for a fact that it bothers him because he's so easily nauseous. Seeing someone else throw up almost always sets him off.

Her lip quivers at the idea that he suffered because of her. "I'm…I'm sorry, Akutagawa -"

"No apologizing, Higuchi. Don't waste your breath on pointless things like that," he says. It's really a very Akutagawa thing for him to say, but he's right. She can’t change anything now, no matter how embarrassing it may have been.

"What about the banquet?" she murmurs. Her eyes fail her and a tear slips from one, and she wipes it away with her hand, hoping that she's discreet enough to avoid Akutagawa catching on, but he's observant enough.

“Don’t worry about that. Take some time to rest. And come back whenever you feel well enough. No sooner than that. Understand?" he says. He sounds more like a nagging mother than how he usually sounds when he’s actually upset with her, but she hasn’t heard that particular tone of voice from him ever since that day she rescued him. "The banquet doesn't matter."

It really sounds like he means every word of that, and it almost sounds like that last line might also mean you're more important.

She lowers her gaze with a quiet exhale, her eyes tracing the folds in the blanket over her lap.

"Understood, sir."

…

It's only a few weeks later when Ichiyo finds herself in the reverse of her situation - Akutagawa throwing up into a tall trash can in a hallway at headquarters, on their way back to their break room. She’s not sure what set him off this time, if anything set him off at all. She had no idea he felt nauseous. He seemed completely fine to her before they got here.

It hurts her to listen to, the way his breath hitches and the way he's trying to hold back whimpers as he breathes in, hoping those open breaths will somehow quell his nausea. He grips the sides so hard his knuckles turn white. Usually, when he's suddenly sick like this, it is just that - sudden, and he walks it off. But right now, he's clearly not feeling well. Ichiyo feels even more empathetic than usual, after what happened to her a few weeks ago.

"You should rest for a while when we get back…" Ichiyo says, a gentle hand rubbing his back. She hears him moan from the pain and discomfort before a muffled burp brings up another wad of stomach bile and saliva. He breathes heavily over it for a while, seemingly without any intention of answering her, which isn't surprising.

"I'm okay," he murmurs eventually, despite everything. He tries to stand himself up straight, but he's very obviously light headed. She's surprised he doesn't pass out right away, but her reflexes are ready to catch him in case he does. "We have…we have work to do."

"Please rest for a while. We can continue working when you feel well enough," she says, trying to mirror his advice from a few weeks ago. She hooks his arm into hers, and he doesn't pull away, doesn't even try to object.

He's quiet, and Ichiyo isn't sure what else to say. She thinks maybe she should backtrack. The last thing she wants is to upset him, make him think she views him as weak.

"Alright," he breathes out with a defeated sigh. He still feels tense, but she thinks that maybe he's relaxed just a little bit. These days, he gives into defeat much more easily than he did when she first met him - for better or for worse.

If anything good came out of what happened to her the other week, is that she can indirectly use that to help him, now.

[cowardstiel]

ao3 is down.