#i hope the first one makes sense because i was Sick and Delirious when i made it

[rowrowronnie]

recent doodles

[the-last-thread-of-my-sanity]

When Armin was sick, Annie told him: Go to the ocean, but don't go beyond it… I felt Annie's kindness so much in that scene.

I hope that when Armin reaches the ocean in your story, he remembers what Annie's said, but he feels even worse for trapping him, right?

Thanks for the ask dear 🤗

That moment was so tender for me writing it because Annie was taking the chance that he wouldn’t ever remember what she said- so she was totally honest for once.

I think Annie has grief two-fold in knowing how badly Armin wants to see the ocean. On the one hand, she loves him for his ability to be inspired and drawn to the beauty of ordinary things and she wished that he could see it. On the other hand, he has this blissful ignorance about the cruel world beyond the walls, and she also wants to protect him from the knowledge of how hated Eldians are and the violence he would encounter if he ever left Paradis.

I’m sure when Armin does reach the sea in ‘on the path that led me to you’ he will think of Annie. Of course he won’t remember her words from when he was delirious- but he will remember the moment he first told her about his book… and he will remember how her face fell. And some of it will make sense.

[bokutosbiceps]

hi bae i'm here for the matchup trade ^-^

about me:

silly. i'm more extroverted than not, in the sense that i get my energy from being around people. the kind of person who laughs unbelievably loud at things i definitely should not. also unintentionally loud. my sister says i'd be a great reaction youtuber because my expressions are so dramatic.

with my friends i'm either the chaotic ball of energy or the mom friend (older sister things). it's a weird balance. i do tend to be straight up with my friends, but i'm almost never real with strangers/acquaintances. lol.

a scorpio! i think i'm inherently logical in terms of how i process things, but i actively work to have empathy and be kind. i'm actually not a very affectionate person, verbally or physically. i only get mushy when circumstances call for it, lol.

hobbies include karaoke, writing, loving up on my cats, & consuming media. i'm 5'0, brown, have a fro and a youthful (round) face. my love languages [receiving] are def quality time + words of affirmation. i crave reassurance.

m or f characters from one piece 🥹 pls and/or jjk or hq!! :))

mush, mush, mushyyyy, mush, mush !! okay, my matches are lil bit of polar opposites but honestly i shipped you w tendou almost immediately after reading your blurb LOL + law was something i had to sit w for a lil bit. both edgy boys. both love you IMMENSELY !! just like i do 😉 alrighty, i hope you enjoy !!

one piece

i match you with TRAFALGAR D LAW 🖤

when you first met law, y’all were like water + oil. you being more fluid + carefree + drawing your energy from those around you. him being more stagnant, solid, set in his ways and easily tired by others. but he found himself actually not getting completely sick of you as he got to know you. he likes the way you’re unashamedly you + how you don’t seem to have a care in the world, but can rein it in when necessary. he also likes that you’re smart + logical because, god, he needs more people like that around…  he wrestles with his feelings a bit + ends up icing you out for a while, but you don’t take this easily. you push him to tell you what the hell is up with him, so he eventually resorts to just telling you that he thinks he’s fucking in love with you, okay? + he’ll do so with a pinch of the bridge of his nose + a small sigh, but he’s unable to hide the small smile that graces his features afterwards.

it takes law just a little while to warm up to you, since neither of you are sure of what exactly to do with this newfound relationship. neither of you are particularly affectionate, but behind closed doors, one can find law placing a short + sweet kiss to the middle of your forehead, or running his fingers across the skin of your lower back. you’re both too blunt + honest for your own good, but words that would singe others melt into soft requests + sweet chastises when talking with each other. law likes that you help him come out of his shell a little bit, especially when you make him laugh. he’d forgotten what the sound of his own laughter had sounded like + he’s not particularly pissed that you’ve coaxed that side back of hiding. you can do this just by laughing; your loud, delirious, carefree laughter is infectious + contagious to him, so he can’t help but smile + (sometimes, just sometimes) let out a chuckle of his own. 

once you are both in the groove of your low key relationship, law becomes an expert at reassurance, just for you. it seems like every time he tells you how he feels for you, or how you’re the only one for him, or how he’d do anything to keep you safe, he’d actually taken it from a love poem + replaced your name, your features, you attributes with whoever the love poem was originally for. but you’d have to believe me when i say, all of these words he’s telling you are spontaneous + from the heart. it’s what he’s feeling in the moment + he won’t keep that a secret from you, since he knows you need it + he’d do anything to keep you smiling that radiant smile of yours.

haikyuu

i match you with TENDOU SATORI ❤️

you + tendou would set the world on fire + watch it burn if not for the laws of this land…anyways !! tendou totally digs you. you guys get along well…like almost too well. your friends + his friends are all absolutely exhausted + exasperated whenever they’re around the both of you, so that usually just leaves the two of you alone, in each other’s presence. it’s a slow burn, between you + tendou, but you both enjoy it oh so much. there’s an extreme amount of teasing, so much teasing…outsiders think you guys hate each other, but it’s honestly the way that you enjoy each other’s presence the most! whenever you’re around each other, a big grin can be seen on both of your faces. buuuut, because you’re both always teasing each other, it takes sooo long for you to realize that maybe your feelings aren’t just friendly. aren’t just “hey, i think this person is really neat, i like being around ‘em”. maybe it was more like “this person is my twin flame…where have they been all my life?” tendou comes to that realization before you do, so he immediately acts on it. there’s no time to waste!

your relationship with tendou is just like your friendship with tendou, except there’s way more affectionate touches, affectionate words, affectionate gazes…on tendou’s part at least. you both truly balance each other out in a beautifully smooth way. he is affectionate enough for the both of you + you’re able to be his brain/logic at times when he really needs it. you wouldn’t change a single thing about each other.

as for things tendou loves to do with you, karaoke is at the top of his list !! you two could spend hourssss at a karaoke parlor, choosing different anime openings to sing along to. tendou has this weird but hilarious habit of choosing a really popular pop song + making up his own lyrics for it. he thinks his lyrics are better + makes it more fun, so why the hell not? if not at a karaoke parlor, one can find the two of you chillin at yours/his house. he prefers YOUR house, though. do you know why? tendou is absolutely smitten with your cats. everytime you open the door to greet him, he rushes straight past you to go searching for the little ones. he likes to pick em up + nuzzle his face into the soft fur of their bellies, or make em stand on their hind legs + give em voices so it looks like they’re little walking, talking kitties !! he’s obsessed with them, you should be honored.

once tendou’s had his fill of the cats (which he insists could never happen), he’ll lay down + chill out with you. you guys like to watch anime/read manga together, telling each other funny things that happen or showing each other cool fight scenes that spark your interest. if you were to ask tendou, though, he didn’t really have a list of his favorite things to do with you…as long as you’re there, that’s all that really matters to him.

a/n: fucking congratulations, mush. i matCHED YOU WITH SATORI, MY BOY. C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S. anyways, i’m jealous LOL even tho, y’know, i did this to myself 😉 i hope ya like your matches !!

[allisonreader]

She was surprised by what she saw when she woke up. Her childhood bedroom instead of her hospital bed with Jesse hovering nearby.

Her hands weren’t the aged ones that she was used to seeing but the firm smooth hands of her youth. This wasn’t what she had been expecting. Perhaps she hadn’t passed yet and was just dreaming…

Except it felt so real at the moment. Or could this be her perception of heaven to begin with? She really didn’t know.

Maybe if she closed her eyes for a few moments things would make more sense again.

She drifted off without meaning to. The next thing she knew was that she could feel someone sitting on the edge of her bed.

Jesse.

A cool cloth was place on her forehead. That didn’t make sense.

She slowly opened up her eyes only to find Nanna the one sitting on the edge of bed.

"Nanna?"

"Yes my dear. How are you feeling? Are you feeling a little bit better?"

"I- I don’t know… I had the strangest dream-"

"You’re still rather flush. You’ve been very sick my dear. A horrible way to spend your sixteenth birthday."

"Sixteen?"

"As of this past Wednesday. Your grandfather is rather upset at me that I won’t risk his health so that he could come in and wish you a happy birthday. I told him you were delirious enough to not notice and would understand once you were better. As well as that you’d be much happier knowing that he was keeping healthy. I know that you wouldn’t want him to get sick because of you. We’ll hold a party only once you’re feeling better and well rested."

Nanna rubbed her cheek.

"Do you think that you can try to eat something?"

She nodded carefully. Her mind spinning. Sixteen. How was she sixteen again?

She should be about Nanna’s age give or take a few years. If she was truly sixteen then Jesse hadn’t even officially started racing yet.

They hadn’t even met yet.

She still had school to finish.

Ruth would be alive at the moment… and had Nanna mentioned her grandfather? It was a lot to take in.

She hoped Jesse was doing alright. She wished she could see him. But if she was truly as sick as Nanna claimed, then she better focus on getting better first.

Would Jesse know her? Or would they be as strangers?

"Here you go Emily. Broth and a piece of toast. Hopefully that will sit well enough in your stomach."

"Where’s daddy?"

"At the offices. In a few weeks he’ll be going down to Georgia to see some of the tracks there."

"Do you think if I’ve recovered enough by then? Daddy would allow me to accompany him?"

"I think you’ll have to ask him, but I can’t see why not. Your grandfather might put up a bit of a fuss about it, but you can ignore him. I’ll be able to keep my husband busy."

"Nanna!"

"Mm, I dare say that you’re starting to sound much better my dear."

oOo

It was very odd being 16 again. Seeing Alex galavanting around and taking Bea to events again.

She wondered if things could change or if they had changed. She certainly didn’t remember having been so sick around her 16th birthday before.

She also couldn’t remember exactly which year her grandfather had passed. Certainly it was before this point? She shouldn’t complain about that though. Time with him was well spent.

Going to Georgia was something she was immensely looking forward to.

Hopefully she could at least catch a glimpse of Jesse.

She missed him so much. If things could change, then maybe they could meet so much earlier this time. Be together longer, maybe do something for Ruth…

Would he even know her?

xXx

He didn’t know what was going on. He was back in Georgia.

Feeling better than he had in decades. All his aches and pains were gone. His scars were gone and maybe most importantly, Ruth was alive. Seemingly less sick than she had been before at this time.

He didn’t understand how, but he was going to take it. Especially since both of their parents were alive?

The how was foreign to him. They weren’t even home currently.

Henry was home from college at the moment apparently and spending as much time with Joan he could get.

Things were topsy-turvy in what he knew.

He wasn’t even sure he should try racing, but it should hopefully put him in the path of Emily as long as that hadn’t changed.

He was going to risk it. Seeing the love of his life would be worth the risk of racing.

One that payed off better than expected. She was at the race with her father. Looking so very young, but then he’d look much the same.

Unlike his first race last time, this time he was pretty confident that he could do decent if not win the race again, if his skills had transferred along with his knowledge. He wasn’t the rookie he’d seem to be. He had his years of racing under his belt and the years as Lightning's crew chief as knowledge as well.

He wondered again since he was here, could Emily have also taken a similar journey. Only speaking with her would give him that answer.

This time when he heard his low odds of winning he just chuckled to himself. One day he might be the sure bet if he decided to race again. Which he just might have to.

Maybe he’d be able to avoid that race he wrecked in and have a longer racing career. Have a career to rival Weathers's maybe.

This race had to happen first.

He had forgotten over the years that Scott had loaned him a helmet this first race. It went about as well as it went the first time, though it was a bit less of a close race than it had been the first time.

If he had his Hornet, he’d have done better. It was enough to catch the attention of Edward Piston again though.

He and Emily had come up to him again much like last time, except this time he knew who Edward was from the beginning and he was much more interested in looking over a young Emily.

It would be rude to just stare at her, as much as he wanted to.

She didn’t seem to have quite the same problem and seemed to drink him in greedily. Her hands folded in front of her, one finger tapping her ring finger. He took that to mean that she was his wife, if he wasn’t misreading her.

He gave a similar motion and he saw her smile brighten.

He made sure to properly introduce himself and she made mention that she hoped to see him race again.

Well now he’d have to race, for her. Something he was more than willing to do. He had so much that he wanted to tell her.

That he had caused quite the stir in going back to Piston Cup. That here, in this slightly different world, both his parents were alive and Ruth didn’t seem as sick.

That would all have to wait until they had the chance to talk more in private.

xXx

Her Jesse was here. He recognized her.

She felt like she was floating on a cloud. Life could hardly be better. She couldn’t wait to see him again. Hopefully it wouldn’t take a year to do so.

She would do as much as her dad would allow her to with Piston Cup. She wanted to be as close to Jesse as she could be.

Maybe she should try racing this time.

She could probably get Nanna and her grandfather to persuade her dad to let her drive. That would probably surprise Jesse.

It would certainly be worth the look on his face. Even if she had to wait two years to do so.

She’d have to start working on that now to break him down. Maybe she’d start with telling her grandparents that she wanted to learn to drive first. They might be able to convince her dad easier than her.

"Nanna, I want to learn to drive."

"I think that’s a grand idea my dear. Isn’t that George? It’s very independent of her."

"It is. It reminds me of when you learned to drive there for a bit."

"It was a good skill at the time."

"Nanna? You know how to drive!?"

"I don’t know if you can call what I did driving dear. At least not by today’s standards. Automobiles were still quite novel when I tried to learn. It was a fun experiment, but I didn’t much care for the focus that was needed. I’d rather let others do my driving for me."

"That- almost seems out of character Nanna…"

"You would think that. Your grandmother would rather be able to talk and take in the scenery than have to focus on the road in front of her."

"There are more pleasant things to do than drive. But I see no reason that you shouldn’t learn if you want to Emily dear."

"We’ll talk to your father. I’m sure that’s your biggest concern."

"It is, thank you."

oOo

They did it.

Her grandparents managed to convince her dad to allow her to learn to drive.

Her biggest question now was how much did she remember from what Jesse taught her. Was she going to look too much like she knew what she was doing? Or would she be starting from scratch? She’d only know once she got behind the wheel.

Relearning to drive was easier than she remembered learning to be in the first place.

The teacher her father got for her was decent, but couldn’t compare to getting lessons from Jesse.

She missed him. Did he get his Hornet yet?

She should start writing him everything that she wanted to tell him. That way she wouldn’t forget anything that she wanted to tell him. Like how hard she was working to become a racer. Though she wanted that to be more of a surprise.

What was he doing now? Was he okay?

She begged her dad to let her come on any trips that might bring her near Jesse. And of course there were still the family trips to Radiator Springs as well.

Seeing Flo and some of the others so young again was refreshing. She was sure that she didn’t come off quite as spoiled or naive about life this time, though she was still quite sheltered at the moment, but she had lived a lot more life than she looked like she had.

She didn’t get the chance to see Jesse before he started racing again. But she certainly made sure that she was at as many races as she could be.

Using Alex as an excuse to get as close to Jesse as she could. One of the first times she went down she “got lost” just so she could run into Jesse.

"Excuse me? I think I got a little turned around. I was looking for my brother."

Jesse quickly turned to face her, trying to control the grin on his face at her blatant to him lie.

"Who’s your brother? I’m new to this myself, but maybe I can help."

"Alexander Piston."

"Miss Piston, it’s a pleasure to meet you again."

"Oh! You’re Mr. Hudson, from last year when daddy gave you his card. I am glad to see that you’ve decided to race this year."

They continued their conversation like that until they were away from the bustle and could speak frankly.

"I’ve missed you so much Em."

"I’ve missed you too."

"I wish I could kiss you, but if anyone saw us…"

"I know. Do you think we can write each other? I want to know everything that’s happened since I last saw you."

"I’d like that. …. After you passed Em, I did end up getting dragged back into Piston Cup by a kid. Had a rocky start with him, but he was a good kid. You would have loved him… Sally sure did."

"She found her one then."

"Yep, a trouble maker for sure."

"Sounds familiar."

"We should probably get back before people start to wonder where we went."

"I know. I don’t want to though. How has Ruth been?"

"Great. She doesn’t seem as sick, Henry’s actually in college and playing baseball, and my parents are still alive."

"Oh Jesse that’s great news to hear. I’m so happy for you. My grandfather is still alive. It’s brilliant for Nanna. She’s even more vibrant with him living."

"Sounds like good news across the board."

She just nodded as they started back towards where Alex was.

"Perhaps I will see you around Miss Piston."

"Thank you Mr. Hudson for helping me find my brother. Good luck in the race today."

"Thank you." She couldn’t help but watch him walk away.

"Who was that Emily?" Alex asked.

"Oh, he is just a new racer who helped me find my way over here."

"Dad shouldn’t let you be down here."

She just rolled her eyes.

"I’m careful. I happen to find all of this extremely interesting. Maybe one day I’ll be out there racing as well."

"It’s a man’s sport Emily."

"I don’t see why women couldn’t race too."

"Dad won’t let you."

"Nanna and granddad got him to let me starting to learn to drive. I bet if he saw another woman racing he’d let me."

"He won’t let that happen."

"I guess we’ll have to wait and see."

oOo

They did start writing each other and trying to catch sight of each other as much as possible at the races.

That first year she had even managed to sit with Jesse’s mom and Ruth which was thrilling for her. To get to know the woman who would have been her mother-in-law and to get to know Ruth, Jesse’s twin who he loved so much.

This time she made sure that they properly introduced themselves. She and Ruth quickly became friends after sitting with each other a couple of times.

So she had started exchanging letters with Ruth as well.

Becoming friends with her was one of the best things that could have happened. She’d never had someone she could talk to like she could to Ruth, at least, not at this age before. She’d miss sitting with her once she started racing.

xXx

He was getting a little anxious that he hadn’t seen Emily yet. She had written that she would be at this race, but she hadn’t stopped by yet.

"Hey Hud, have you heard the latest news?"

" 'Bout what?"

"Sounds like Miss Piston is trying her hand at racing this season."

"What!?"

"It looks like there’s going to be two of them out there."

"I’d hold off judgment of Miss Piston for now. She might surprise you. Besides, she’s nothing like her brother."

He got raised eyebrows at that.

"How’d d'you know that?"

"We’ve spoken before."

"She’s a kid isn’t she?"

"I dunno…" he wasn’t going to admit that he knew exactly how old Emily was right now, nor the fact that he knew her birthday. That she was only about 18 right now and that he’s three years older than her. Now he really wanted to see her. Was she truly going to race?

"Can’t believe her father is actually letting her race. His precious little princess."

He held back an eye roll. Yes she grew up spoiled, but she wasn’t a brat like her brother, at least not currently. He couldn’t speak for before they met. He just wanted to see her.

oOo

All her nerves were firing at once. This was going to be a completely new experience for her.

Her grandparents promised they’d be in the crowd cheering her on.

She was confident in her driving skills. She didn’t know if she’d be winning any races soon, but at least she thought that she could still could compete against the others.

As long as she could beat her brother one day, that would be good enough.

Hopefully she’d be able to break into one of the groups of the racers, preferably Jesse’s so that they could actually spend time together.

Well, now was the time to get moving and maybe see Jesse before they started. She’d like to at least walk by and give Jesse a wave. He was expecting her today.

As she passed Jesse and everyone one around him, she gave them a wave that was much more confident than she felt. Though Jesse’s wave back did warm her to her toes.

She missed him so much. She was so tired of being parted from him. Maybe they could have a whirlwind romance this time and get married before the end of the year.

Not that it actually would be a whirlwind to them.

It would just be getting back into their marriage. Maybe this time with everything that had changed they’d be able to have kids this time. Not that she didn’t love him even though they hadn’t before.

It didn’t mean she still didn’t want them. Anything was possible, right?

[ratmonky]

Blockbuster

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: dub-con, obsession

AO3 Link

“This week’s movie is…” you paused for the dramatic effect and met each one of your club members’ eyes before pulling out the DVD case from your bag. “Sweet Blossoms!”

Everyone groaned.

“Hey!” you laughed, putting the movie down on the desk. A gorgeous smile tugged at your lips. “It’s my turn so I get to choose!”

“You always choose the worst ones,” your classmate mumbled. “I’m sick of watching romantic comedies. Besides, this is one of the last times we’ll watch a movie in our club.”

Yeah, the graduation was close.

You pouted, giving one person, in particular, the puppy eyes. “Junpei,” you said. “Tell them something, you’re the president.”

Junpei chuckled nervously when you put him on the spot like that. “Haha, I… We made a promise to let one of us choose a movie each week, we should keep our promise.”

“I’m not watching that,” the other club member said. “We’re here to watch movies we appreciate, not whatever dumpster trash you like.”

Although the other two members were being mean, they were right.

“Guys,” Junpei was unsure to say something. He could see how your smile vanished, your shoulders slackened as you flipped the DVD to its back so you wouldn’t need to see the cover title. “It’s her turn to choose.”

“Nevermind,” you uttered, putting the DVD back in your bag. “They’re right. I was being selfish. You can skip my turn.”

“But-”

“Great! I rented Pulp Fiction yesterday and brought it with me.” Your classmate dove his hand inside his bag to fish out the DVD.

Junpei noticed the way your lower lip trembled and you pressing your lips together to hide it. When your gaze met him, you forced a smile on your face, mouthing that it was alright.

You were just like him.

He got up from his seat to sit next to you as your classmate put the movie in the DVD player. It was nothing unusual, most of you sat together to make small comments during a movie.

You pushed your stuff on the desk to the side so he could have some space to put his bag.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the movie had already started.

“There’s no reason for you to apologize,” you softly stated, leaning closer to keep your voice down and not disturb the movie. “It was my fault.”

“Still, we gather here to watch movies our members enjoyed. We’re not actual film critics or anything.” He was trying not to lower his gaze to your chest. One of the buttons had come undone on your shirt, he could see your bra. “Next week is my turn, I can rent the movie you wanted to watch so we can watch it. They won’t complain then.”

Your eyes widened and he could swear that he saw them sparkle. A second later, you dropped your gaze to your lap to fidget with your fingers. “Nevermind, it’ll cause trouble. It’s passive-aggressive and I don’t wanna cause trouble for anyone. Nobody wanna watch the movie I chose anyway.”

“I do,” he whispered, cheeks flushing. While you weren’t looking he had gotten a chance to peek inside your shirt.

Lifting your head, you looked up at him with the prettiest and the most genuine smile he had ever seen. “Really?”

He nodded in affirmation, “We can watch it together after school if y-you wanna.”

“Shh!” The oldest club member turned and pointed two fingers at you and then to his eyes. “No flirting in the losers club.”

Both of you got quiet and it took you a long moment before leaning closer to tell Junpei something.

“So, where will we watch the movie?”

That was how he ended up bringing you to his place. You awkwardly sat on his bed and he tried to stop his shaking hands.

“I wish I had a television in my room too,” you said, starting a conversation to ease the mood. “You’re so lucky, Jun!”

Calling him nicknames like that… you were trying to make him delirious. “I-it’s nothing, it’s some old thing I got from second hand.”

“Still!”

He heard a rustling sound. Once he was done with putting the movie in the DVD player, he whipped his head around to check what you were doing.

His breathing almost stopped when he saw you laying on his bed and checking your phone. You were moving your legs up on the air as you scrolled down some social media platform. Your skirt wasn’t long enough to cover the supple flesh of your thighs, they were squished together and because you were laying on your chest, the skirt’s fabric was relaxed on your ass, leaving not much to the imagination.

Junpei gulped audibly and averted his gaze. “The movie.” That was all he managed to say.

You hummed and sat up on his bed as he took a place next to you. He couldn’t understand why you were so careless, didn’t you think of him as a man?

No, you were purely naive. Not at all aware of the real dangers of the world. Not at all aware of what kind of thoughts about you went through his mind every single day.

The movie opened with the female lead who from her first appearance stated that she was the manic pixie dream girl getting some flowers from a secret admirer despite having a boyfriend.

It was simply trash. That was the only way he could describe the storyline or the mood of the movie.  On his own, under any condition, Junpei wouldn’t pick this garbage up and sit through it but since you wanted to watch it… he had to endure it.

You, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the movie. Hands on your lap, gasping every now and then when the male lead encouraged the female lead to dump her boyfriend with his shitty compliments.

He found it kind of amusing to watch you react to the movie rather than watch it himself. Soon enough his gaze dropped to your lap. Under the skirt were your bare legs and you were sitting on his bed. Your ass was placed on his bed. The thought of your panties touching the sheets of his bed made his thoughts go south. If you got wet right now, you could soak his sheets.

Slowly, you shifted on his bed, getting in a more comfortable position to watch the movie. Unbeknownst to you, he had a better view of your cleavage now, it was only natural that he couldn’t look away. As vulnerable you were, he was still a man and like any other man, Junpei couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing.

What color panties were you wearing? If he lifted your skirt up to check, would you be surprised? You wouldn’t push him away, that was for sure. You came here all on your own after all, laying on his bed like that and looking like this… There was no doubt you were basically inviting him to fuck you.

The credits rolled sooner than he would have wanted.

You stretched your arms over your head and let out a soft groan. “Thank you, Jun.”

“For what?” He got up from his bed to take the DVD out from the player.

“For watching this with me. I’m so lucky to have a friend like you!” A friend, huh? He thought of you more than a friend but you were probably playing hard to get. The two of you were the same, you just had to be embarrassed to admit your feelings for him. Yeah, that had to be it.

“I liked the movie.” Liar. He didn’t watch it.

Silence.

“I should get going,” you sighed, retrieving your bag and jacket from the floor.

By the time you stood up, Junpei was holding the DVD case towards you. “I hope you had fun.”

“I did.” You smiled, taking it from him. “Thank you again.”

Junpei was languidly nodding, lost in his own thoughts.

As soon as you left his room and apartment, Junpei hurried back to his room. Getting on his knees, he pressed his face into the exact spot you sat on for two full hours. He took a deep inhale, filling his lungs to their limit.

So this was your scent.

Unbuckling his belt, he kept inhaling the smell of your pussy absorbed on his sheets. He was already impossibly hard, if it weren’t for the way he was slouching when you were beside him, you would definitely notice.

His hand wrapped around his cock and he stroked it from the base to the tip, using your smell and his own fantasies about you as his material for today.

Oh, how he wished he could smell you directly.

~~~

The next day, he couldn’t look you in the eye during the club meeting to talk about the movie everyone watched yesterday.

While you were debating with the two other members about how although the cinematography and the dialogue were great you didn’t enjoy the excessive amount of cursing.

“You just don’t understand cinema,” one of them grumbled.

“Couldn’t agree more, I mean… Do you even watch anything other than your weird romance movies?” The other one grinned.

“Let’s not take it too far,” Junpei mumbled, his words went unheard.

“I didn’t say anything bad about the movie,” you argued. “It was well written but the dialogue was too vulgar for my taste.”

“And since when do you have taste?”

Laughter.

“Yeah, she’s such a scatterbrained normie.”

“Guys.” Junpei stood up on his seat to stop the hassle.

“At least I’m not a pathetic loser.” It slipped. As if you had been wanting to say it out loud for so long. “You know that this is why nobody likes any of you, right?”

It became silent.

Junpei sat back on his chair and the other two who had been grinning from ear to ear as they were teasing you frowned.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, realizing what you had said but the deed was done.

“Sorry.” Mumbling, you gathered your stuff and left the clubroom.

~~~

Getting bullied wasn’t the worst part. It was the way other people treated him because he was getting bullied.

People looked at him with pity, sometimes talked to him because they wanted to include him. They were all doing these things to feel better about themselves. It was never about him.

He could let the cigarette burns, all the times he got beaten and the countless lies others spread about him slip but not the fake kindness.

He hated the fakes.

~~~

It was two days after the incident when you finally decided to approach Junpei before he exited the school garden.

“Hey, Jun.”

A shiver rose up his spine and he stopped walking momentarily. “(name), good to see you.” He turned around to face you but you were looking down onto the pavement. You didn’t want to look him in the face.

“Yeah...” You took a deep breath to calm your senses before speaking. “I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I didn’t mean any of the things I said.”

He said nothing.

“I’m really sorry about it, I was being bitter because of the way they talked to me but I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

He proceeded to stay quiet, though you had a lot to say to him, it was impossible to find the courage or the words to speak when he was being like this. However, you came prepared for anything.

Reaching inside your bag, you pulled out a DVD case with a movie title Junpei had been looking forward to watching. You had heard him talk about it nonstop for months until it got released recently. He couldn’t get his hands on the DVD itself because of how the movie was always rented out but now, you were holding it.

“Wanna watch it together? My treat.”

How could he possibly say no?

“Okay.”

Your nerves eased when he put on a smile.

Thankfully, the walk to his place was short. In his room, you took off your jacket and grabbed the DVD case to put it on yourself. “I tipped the cashier a couple of extra bucks to get my hands on this,” you giggled and turned on his television with the remote control, the player lit up instantly.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Well, it’s just my way of apologizing, don’t sweat it!” Pressing the button for the disc slot, you opened the case to grab the CD. “Besides, I wanted to watch this for a long time too.”

He could tell you were lying but he wasn’t sure if you were trying to be nice to him out of pity or not. Gradually, he realized he couldn’t put you in a box. You two were alike. Exactly like him, you didn’t know where you fit in but he started to get an idea about where might fit in just fine.

As you were standing with the remote control in your hands and waiting for the movie title to show up on the screen, a set of hands were placed on your hips, making you flinch.

“Jun?”

Junpei couldn’t help but press himself against you, his hands on your hips moved to your stomach, and grabbed the remote control out of your grasp. He threw the device to the side.

“Jun?” you tried calling him again, not realizing he needed a hug this badly. “Are-are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, you felt him bury his face into your hair and heard him take a sniff. His hands moved in different ways. One slid up to cup your breast over your shirt and the other slid down your stomach.

“Um, if you wanna hug me, I can face you. This position is… weird....” You merely comprehended that he wasn’t hugging you when his hand soothed the fabric of your skirt and went under it to grab you by your pussy.

Your thighs pressed together at the same time a surprised gasp left your lips. His hand was pushing you towards him as he was pressing against you, urging you to feel everything.

“Wait,” you tried to say, but when his hips snapped forward it broke into another gasp. A finger pressed on your slit over the fabric of your panties, he dragged it up while his hand harshly groped your breast.

“W-what are you doing?”

“What do you think?” Junpei nosed some hair out of his way and placed his lips on your nape, grazing his lips on the sensitive skin before moving to kiss your neck. “I thought you were here to spend time with me.” His teeth nibbled on the thin flesh and your legs turned to jelly.

“B-but the movie.”

Hooking a finger under the elastic on the edge of your panties, he pulled them to the side and let his middle finger slip inside.

“We can watch it later.”

“Jun, wait.” You squirmed and tried to move away from his fingers but you were trapped. If you moved backward you were going to press harder against his erection and moving forward meant his finger going deeper inside you. The latter was the worst option, so you moved your hips away from his hand.

What you hadn’t calculated was the way you were rocking back on forth with Junpei as he was grinding his clothed cock against the soft flesh of your ass. When you pressed yourself against him harder, it didn’t leave any more space for you to move away from his fingers.

Thanks to your dumb decision, Junpei had you right where he wanted.

“You’re so cute, always trying to act smarter than you actually are,” he whispered, lips brushing against your neck. “When you left that day after we watched your stupid movie, I jerked off to you.”

His hand on your breast moved between your bodies and placed on the front of his pants. He tugged them down while drawing small circles on your neck with his tongue and two of his fingers thrust inside your slick heat.

“I shoved my nose into the exact spot you sat to inhale your scent.”

The revelation of what he did after you left made you tremble. His hot and wet tongue pressed flat against the side of your neck and his fingers moving in a scissoring motion distracted you from his free hand guiding his cock between your legs.

“From the moment we met, I knew we were made for each other, (name).”

Nevertheless the awkward positioning, he slipped his fingers out of you and moved to grab your leg from the back of your knee. He lifted your leg until his cock had enough space to move and his hips surged forward.

A panicked sound left your lips when his cock moved between your folds rather than going inside like he had planned.

Before you could struggle, he pulled his hips back and thrust forward, angling his hips in the right direction. This time, it was a success.

Both of you moaned in unison.

Junpei buried his face into your neck and groaned loudly to the sensation of your warm cunt. Your gummy walls were sucking him right in. He couldn’t help slamming his hips into your pussy with a little too much force. You shook in his arms, nearly losing your balance “J-Jun,” you breathed, tone faint. “T-the movie.”

“Is that what you really want right now?” he whispered into your ear, thrusting in your cunt agitatedly.

You wanted to say something and shove him away so the two of you could focus on the movie that was playing on the screen instead but his cock stroked a sweet spot inside made you melt in his hold. You moaned instead, giving him the answer he wanted to hear.

He picked up a pace to fuck into you in a smooth motion and roughly pound into your pussy to steal cute little moans out of you. He was too lost in pleasure to be able to think. All he wanted was to feel your pussy clench around his cock.

His kisses on your neck turned into biting and you felt him lift your leg higher, launching both of you forward when you lost your balance. You managed to hold onto the TV stand while Junpei didn’t let the small accident interrupt him.

Letting go of your leg, he placed his hand on your back and pushed until you arched your back.

Now, he could thrust deeper inside you. Almost frantically, he started hammering his cock into your pussy. The impact caused you to place both hands on the furniture in front of you and hold onto it for dear life. Your clenching walls around him felt heavenly, he couldn’t stop moving his hips.

A shaky moan escaped your lips when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. Your hands gripped the furniture and your toes curled at the sensation. At some point, your attention suddenly averted to Junpei’s wandering hands pulling your back flush against his chest as every thrust of his hips left you shaking and begging for more.

“J-Jun,” you whined.

He knew exactly what it meant. If he couldn’t tell from the neediness in your voice, he could tell it from the way your gummy walls started pulsating around his cock. Instead of picking up his pace and fucking you like an animal in heat like you thought he would do, Junpei tried to thrust deeper, stroking your sensitive spot with his cock until your vision turned white and you started rocking yourself back on Junpei’s cock. Only then his thrusts became harder, almost as if he wanted to claim you as his only.

“Can I do it inside?” Junpei didn’t need an answer but you gave him one anyway.

“Y-yeah.”

His pace suddenly slackened, he was close to his own orgasm. He pushed his cock in your pussy down to the base and you felt the slight twitch of his balls on your ass as thick spurts of seed filled your womb.

He lowly grunted, continuing to move his hips and fucking his seed into you with disgustingly wet sounds. Your legs started to shake under you, his hands on your hips were the only things keeping you standing up but once he let go of you, the support disappeared. You dropped on the floor, his cum oozed out of you and stained the carpet.

None of you said anything. Not when you were catching your breaths or when you were fixing your clothes.

It took you a full minute before you asked something so utterly idiotic. “Should I go home?”

At that exact moment, he understood why people enjoyed bullying others who were weaker than them.

“I thought you came here to watch the movie with me.” He dared to say.

You stared at him blankly, your gaze slowly turned to the movie that had been playing the whole time and a faint smile tugged at your lips as you reached for the remote control on the other side of the carpet to restart the movie.

~~~

In the next club meeting, Junpei brought the movie you had wanted to watch last week.

Although the other two groaned in unison, they sat through the entire movie once Junpei told them they owed you this.

As for you, watching the movie you had already seen a week ago was boring but the anticipation to watch another new release you had rented with Junpei after school was enough to keep you on the edge.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

A Good Deal

lets not talk about what day it was bogizens... 👀 this is part of the hallmark june weddings event we did in the bog!  

it’s also on ao3 here!

Warnings: insecure eskel, stressed triss, honestly its pretty fluffy., could be classified as mild emotional whump.

_____________

Triss was frantic when Eskel trudged up the stairs to the back door in the kitchen. He paused for a moment, leaning against the railing where he could just see her through the window in the door, box braids falling out of her loose bun, some sort of sauce smudged on her forehead, her arm muscles standing out and furiously beating the ever-loving shit out of whatever was in her bowl. Fuck, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. A little scary too, but that was his type.

“Afternoon, Gorgeous,” he called through the screen door, waiting for her to unlock it.

Instead of her normal ‘Afternoon, Handsome,’ he got a snappy, “If any bit of your clothing has been at the fire station, take it off out there. I just got the floors clean, and I don’t have time to do them again before the wedding.”

“If you wanted a striptease you could have just asked,” he chuckled, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking his boots off. All of him had just come from the station.

“Eskel, please,” her voice was about an octave higher than when he liked to hear those words normally, and the tightness at the end of her words made him worried.

“I’m clean, ish, can I come in?”

When she let him in she only gave him a quick peck before it was back to what Eskel could now see were egg whites.

“What’s wrong?”

That was apparently the wrong question. Triss dropped the bowl back onto the counter and braced herself against it, hanging her head. Her shoulders looked so tense Eskel thought the muscles might snap, “Fucking everything. Yen’s parents are getting in tomorrow and I only have the middle floor flipped because Annalee called in sick and Taylor is nowhere to be found, and I have to get this breakfast prepped because I have to make sure there’s food for the girls to eat while they get ready. Then I still have to call Jaskier and see when he’s bringing the cake and décor over and I have to run into the store to get the food for the next three days while they’re here and one of Yen’s aunt’s is allergic to everything under the fucking sun! Oh! And I also need to tell Jask to do everything last minute as far as the cake goes because I don’t have the fridge space and-and there’s still a goddamned molehill in the backyard where they’re having the ceremony and-“

Eskel wrapped his arms around her from behind, placing one hand over her sternum and one over her stomach, and held her tight while he whispered, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it out. Just take a minute to breathe for me?”

She took a shuddering deep breath and let it out as she rested her head back against his chest, brushing a stray braid out of her eyes, “…and I have a headache…”

“That,” Eskel mumbled, pausing to press a kiss to her forehead, “we can fix quickly.” He pulled them over to her medicine cabinet and handed her some ibuprofen and a large glass of water, also insisting she sit and eat something.

After a minute or two of Triss picking at some leftover pasta salad she groaned and shoved it away, “ and my mother called.”

“How’re Sheila and the dogs?”

“Fucking unbearable,” she grumbled, pitching her voice up and scrunching her nose to imitate her mother’s nasally voice, “ When are you settling down? I was so excited when you said wedding! Haven’t you hired an inn manager yet? Why do you still clean rooms? Did you read that diet book I sent you?”

Pushing her pasta back towards her after the last question, Eskel did his best to remain casual and calm, “I thought she hated me?”

“She hates all of my partners on principle, but you’ve made the top spot for ‘least hated’,” Triss shot him a little smirk as she aggressively stabbed some more pasta, “I told her I’m quite settled and we’re happy for now and to get her nose out of other people’s business- yes I see the irony .”

Eskel forced a bit of a laugh and tried not to bite his lip. He’d been thinking about this since Yen and Renfri’s engagement party. The way Triss looked at him while the couple gushed about how they were so excited to spend the rest of their lives together (and torment some relatives with making it official) had settled in the back of his mind and refused to leave. Every day, he flip-flopped on whether there was a little hope there or if she just thought it was sweet. And every day he berated himself for not bringing it up, but he had never even entertained the idea of marriage. Hell, his main relationship had been a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Geralt, and the few before that had been rocky at best. He wasn’t cut out to be a husband. Certainly not to someone so kind and gentle and fiercely loyal and sharp as Triss. What did he have to offer? A dangerous job and nasty burn scars for their wedding photos?

She must have sensed his hesitation and pushed her pasta over to him, “Eat. I need to keep cooking… and clean the top floor.”

He hooked an arm around her waist as she walked around the little kitchen island they sat at, pulling her close and stealing the keys out of her pocket, “I’ll go get groceries after I clean the top floor. Is the laundry started?”

“You’re too good to me, Teddy Bear,” she sighed, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Not good enough.”

She frowned, resting her palm over his jaw and searching his eyes, “We’ll come back to that when the inn is ready.”

As he stood, he stole a quick kiss and darted up the stairs, “You’re taking a nap when the inn is ready!”

-

It had all come together in the end. Triss even got some impressed looks and glowing reviews from Yennefer’s family when they arrived. The periwinkle went beautifully with the gardenia Triss had woven through the lattice around the backyard and Eskel had managed to make the moles disappear and patch the grass so even she couldn’t tell where they’d been.

Eskel watched Triss dart around the property, even after her job was done, making sure everyone was comfortable and everything ran smoothly for the girls and as much as he tried to push it down, he was just reminded of how she deserved so much more. More than a scarred, overweight firefighter with a killer therapy bill and a studio apartment that looked more like a hotel room than a home.

As he was watching the different couples swooping around the tiny courtyard dance floor, hands materialized on his shoulders, immediately digging in right where he held tension.

“Now it’s really over,” Triss whispered in his ear.

“Oh? Will you take that nap now?” Eskel shot her a grin over his shoulder as he covered one of her hands with his.

She smiled at him as if he’d said something adorably cute and inaccurate, “I’ll take a dance ?”

Standing up and spinning Triss once before pulling her close to his side, Eskel sighed, “I guess I’ll have to settle for that then.”

Giggling a tad bit deliriously, they made their way onto the dance floor and snuck into a space between the other couples. Eskel did his best to relax and stay in the moment. He took deep breaths and mentally listed little observations about his surroundings, most of which revolved around Triss, and he even tried to distract himself by making some rather suggestive advances, but no matter what he tried, he was still thinking about what she deserved and how it was everything he wasn’t.

Triss rested her hand on his cheek and gave him her trademarked wide-eyed worried look, “Are you alright? Is your knee acting up?”

“M’fine,” he lied, “Just the champagne.”

“Bullshit.”

He should have known she’d call him on it, even in the middle of a wedding she wouldn’t let him get away with anything. Just another reason he wasn’t good enough for her.

Glancing around nervously, Eskel whispered in her ear, “Can we do this later?”

“Absolutely not. You’ve been acting strange for weeks now and it’s making me crazy,” Triss tapped on the point of his chin firmly, calling his attention back to her as they swayed and stepped in a small circle like everyone else.

“Been making me crazy too…” he mumbled, only receiving a furious glare that urged him to continue, “You’re… Triss you’re perfect. I love you more than anything and anyone I’ve ever loved before…”

Tears welled in her eyes as Triss brought them to a standstill, gripping his arms for dear life, “But?”

Eskel couldn’t help tucking her long thin braids behind her ear and caressing her cheek, “But I don’t know why you’re with me. Every time this wedding gets brought up I think about how you deserve someone so much more… whole than I am. Someone who can give you what you want and who doesn’t have a horribly dangerous job and doesn’t look like the Pillsbury doughboy…”

“First off,” Triss started, almost growling as she dragged him off the dance floor and in through the back door to the kitchen, “I thought you were breaking up with me so please lead with what you’re nervous about next time,” Eskel followed, absolutely dumbfounded as he was sat down on a stool like he was in trouble with the principal, “Second, I find your extra weight sexy as hell- no arguments! That is my opinion and it is final . Third- and this one is important- you are the most thoughtful, caring, kind, and gentle person I have ever had the absolute pleasure to share a room with, let alone sleep with. I decided you’re what I wanted a long time ago. No one else has ever told me to take a nap before” she giggled, pausing to hold his face between her hands, “You don’t need to be anything other than you for me to be happy.”

She wiped a tear from his cheek with her knuckles, a fond smile playing on her lips as she drew him in, hugging him tightly so his head rested on her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed like he was scared she might disappear if he didn’t hold her tight enough.

“Thank you,” He whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Triss whispered back, trailing her nails over his scalp and through his soft hair, “Anytime you need a reminder you tell me. Deal?”

Eskel sniffed and pulled himself back together, leaning back to give Triss a quick kiss, “Deal.”

[unholyobsessions]

Those who get sick together, stay together

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Description: Luke and Julie are best friends and it takes a delirious love confession for them to finally get together

Requested: Yes

A/N: It may seem kind of rushed? not my best work but at the same time i really like it

Warnings: Sickness, throwing up

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist

Here’s the thing, when you’ve known someone all your life you get used to doing everything together. Whether it be going to the arcade, the movies, shopping sprees, or vacations, where one goes, the other follows. That is the case with Julie Molina and Luke Patterson.

Growing up as neighbors in a suburban neighborhood of mostly retired couples made them the only kids within a five mile radius (and the winners of every chocolate selling competition the school hosted.) It was impossible to see the two of them apart and they liked it that way. They took the same classes and same extracurriculars, going as far as getting in trouble on purpose if the other had already gotten detention (when they were given a different schedule their freshmen year of high school, they gave a powerpoint presentation to the principle on the reasons they needed to be together… it worked.)

Considering the fact that they were never apart, it really came as no surprise when they both came down with the stomach flu the same weekend. Whenever they’re sick, they normally FaceTime the entire time, neither strong enough to visit and staying away if the other had miraculously not caught the sickness. This time however, Luke’s parents have to go on a business trip that has been scheduled for over a month that they really could not afford to cancel. Rose, ever the angel, immediately offered to have Luke stay over, saying that she is already going to take care of Julie, might as well nurse Luke back to health as well.

So that is why they both find themselves tucked into Julie’s bed with wet rags on their foreheads and grimaces on their faces. They each have their respective trash cans next to them in case they don’t have the time to run to the bathroom before throwing up.

Rose walks into the room with a bowl of ice in her hand but instead of going straight to the bed, she goes to Julie’s windows and pulls open the the purple blinds with butterfly stickers stuck to them. As a result, Luke and Julie let out loud groans and pull the covers over their heads. Rose rolls her eyes and walks over.

“The two of you are so dramatic I swear.” She pulls down the cover and takes both the rags to put them in the bowl.

“Mom,” they say, dragging out the word. A smile pulls at Rose’s lips, as it always does whenever Luke calls her mom. It’s been happening for years really, just as he calls Ray, Dad and Julie calls Mr. and Mrs. Patterson Ma and Pops respectively.

“Don’t mom me. You should be thankful I’m even here taking care of you.” They all know she’s lying. She would move a mountain for them, for anyone really, that’s just how Rose is.

She grabs the packet of pills from her pocket and gets two giving one to each of them. “Put these under your tongue and let them dissolve.” They both obediently do it but shoot up from the bed a few seconds later. Julie makes a run for the bathroom and Luke opts for the trashcan. Rose rushes after Julie, holding her hair back as she retches into the toilet. She faintly hears the sounds of Luke gagging and she lets out a sigh. So much for the pills.

Julie brushes her teeth and goes back to the bed, Luke getting up to rinse his mouth as well. Rose turn on the TV, hoping a couple of Friends reruns will brighten up their mood, and is about to walk out of the room when she hears a crash from the bathroom. She runs in to see Luke standing over a broken glass. He looks up with tears in his eyes.

“I-it fell. I didn’t mean too. I’m sorry.” Rose has to resist the urge to laugh as she grabs his hand and leads him back to the bed. She gets the now cold rags and places them over their foreheads again before turning off the light and going back to the bathroom to clean the mess.

Julie scoots closer to Luke and lays her head on his shoulder. Luke has the urge to push her away because the room feels much too hot for cuddling but when he opens his mouth to tell her to move she looks up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he has ever seen. He sighs and ignores the sweat forming under his clothes, pulling Julie closer against him, both drifting off to sleep after a few episodes.

. . .

The next morning they’re no longer running a fever but they do find out the hard way that they still cannot keep any food down. When Rose tries to give them some plain toast, hoping that they will at least get some food in them, they both got up from the bed, this time Luke going to the bathroom and Julie using the trashcan.

With a heavy sigh, Rose phones the doctor, questioning him on what is the best option for two picky teenagers.

He suggests using syrup medicine instead of pills and tells her a pharmacy where she could pick it up in a couple of minutes. She thanks him profusely before hanging up. When she goes back upstairs she sees Julie and Luke both making their way back to the bed after brushing their teeth.

“Hey guys I’m going to pick up some medicine, I’ll be about forty-five minutes. You going to be okay by yourselves?” She calls from the doorway. Julie groans and tucks herself further into the bed. Luke laughs and looks up at Rose.

“We’ll be okay mom. I’m pretty sure Julie is going back to sleep,” he answers with a smile. He still felt terrible but he wasn’t nauseous anymore and he called that a win. She smiled and said goodbye before leaving.

. . .

A few hours later, Rose goes into the room with the medicine in hand. She hadn’t given it to them when she first arrived because they had both fallen asleep. They had been awake for a few hours but the medicine is supposed to make them drowsy so she preferred to give it to them at night.

Julie’s sitting on the bed, brushing through her wet hair and Luke is changing in the bathroom. Rose sits behind Julie and gently takes the hairbrush from her. She finishes untangling her hair and gives it a final dry through with a towel. Luke comes out of the bathroom and smiles sheepishly.

“I threw up again.”

Rose simply holds out her hand and Luke speed walks to the bed. He lays down and cuddles at her side, with Julie leaning back against her chest. She places kisses on both their heads before telling them to sit up so they can take the medicine.

They each take a tablespoon and take a sip of water. Rose tucks them into bed and turns off the lights, wishing them a goodnight and waiting a beat for them to say it back.

A few minutes later, they’re laying side by side, the darkness of the room providing a sense of comfort. The medicine hits Luke harder than it should, and Julie teases him about being a lightweight as he says nothing but nonsense.

“Jules?” Luke’s voice is groggy, as if it’s fading away.

“Yeah Luke?” Julie however is fully awake, the medicine not hitting her yet.

“I love you.”

She blushes, a foolish smile pulling at her lips. “I love you too.”

“No but like, love you love you.” He’s not quite sure what he’s saying. He feels sort of like that time he got his wisdom teeth out.

Her breath hitches. “You’re delirious,” she whispers, wishing for him to take the words back before she can read too much into them.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’m in love with you Jules, have been for a while.” He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but his eyes are drooping and she’s sure he won’t remember this tomorrow.

“Go to sleep Lu.” her heart clenches and she blinks the tears away, blaming the pain in her stomach and not her feelings.

“Okay. Goodnight.” And just like that he’s out like a light. A few tears slip down her cheeks and after a while, the medicine hits her and her eyes flutter shut.

The next morning she waits for him to say something, anything, and when he doesn’t she decides she won’t either. She pretends it never happened and tries her best to act normal but Luke’s not an idiot. He notices quickly that something’s wrong. She stays as far away from him in the bed as possible, flinching if even his arm brushed against hers which is a large contrast to her cuddly behavior the days prior. She would jump whenever he said her name, more specifically when he said, “Jules.”

When Rose greets them, Julie is thankful for the distraction. She keeps looking at her mom, avoiding turning her head when she gives them another dose of medicine. They’re both feeling much better and are able to hold down the toast. Rose thinks they’ll feel good as new by the next day and personally, Julie doesn’t think it can come quick enough. She stays quiet most of the day, only giving Luke short replies and nods of her head whenever he tries to start conversation. Eventually he gives up, not knowing what he did wrong but deciding to give her some time, hoping that she will approach him when she’s ready.

The next day, Luke’s parents arrive to pick him up. Julie hears them speaking to her parents; they ask for her and how she’s doing but Julie pretends to be asleep in order to avoid any conversation. She hears Luke shuffling around the room as he gets his stuff together. She pretends she doesn’t feel Luke’s lingering touch on her shoulder when he says goodbye and she ignores the tears that fall down her face when she hears the door close downstairs.

. . .

Julie and Luke did not fight. They argued but they made up within the span of a few hours, so to say Luke is worried when Julie does not reply to his texts is an understatement. It has been about two hours since he had gone home and he has sent Julie a text every ten minutes.

Julie knows Luke is not stupid and that her not answering him is suspicious but she can’t help it. She ignores every single message and turns off her phone. She keeps it off the rest of the day and tries to not think about him, because even a single thought of him breaks her heart.

The next day she leaves her phone in her room all day and stays in the living room watching Netflix with her mom. She resists the urge to go upstairs to at least read his texts because that would just make the situation worst. Late in the evening when Rose goes to make dinner Julie makes her way to the studio, itching to play the piano after four days of not doing so. She isn’t expecting to see Luke sitting on the couch with his guitar resting on his leg.

He stands up quickly once he hears her come in. They stare at each other for a couple of seconds.

“What are you doing here?” Julie asks.

“I knew it would only be a matter of time before you came in here. Julie we need to talk.” He puts his guitar down and Julie shakes her head.

“We don’t need to talk? Why would we? I’m okay. We’re okay.” Julie averts her gaze, the words falling out of her lips in rapid succession.

“We’re not okay Julie. What did I do?” He asks desperately.

“Nothing. We’re fine,” Julie assures, trying her best to sound convincing.

“Jules,” Julie flinches and Luke’s face falls. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

“My phone’s been off,” she states in a matter of fact but Luke shakes his head. He’s growing frustrated and her lack of explanation is pissing him off.

“Why are you ignoring me?” His voice is loud and hurt causing Julie to break.

“Because you told me you loved me!” The silence that comes after is deafening.

“What- Jules of course I love you. I’ve said it hundreds of times.” He really hopes his nerves aren’t as evident as he thinks they are.

“Yeah, but you said you were in love with me,” Julie whispers. She looks everywhere but at him and continues to speak. “And I know you didn’t mean it and it hurts so much because I do mean it. I’m in love with you Luke. And hearing you say it while you were barely conscious broke me.”

Luke stares at her, mouth hanging open as he struggles to find the right words to say. He walks closer to her, stopping when the tips of his shoes brushed against hers. “Jules look at me please.” She begrudgingly lifts her gaze to him and his heart clenches at the sight of tears forming in her eyes. He reaches a hand up to cup her cheek, gently wiping away the first stray tear with his thumb. “I am so incredibly in love with you.”

“What?” He wishes she didn’t sound as surprised as she does.

“I’m in love with you Julie Molina. I love every single thing about you. The gap between your teeth when you smile. The way your hair never stays the way you want it to but it still looks beautiful. I love your voice, and hearing you play piano. I love how you draw on the edge of your shoes and will stop whatever you are doing to write down a melody, even if we’re in the middle of a test. I love your little jokes and how you laugh so unapologetically loud no matter where you are. I love you so much and god do I hate myself for telling you while I was high off of flu medicine.” Julie was full on crying now and Luke’s own eyes were starting to fill with tears.

Going off instinct, Julie goes up on her tiptoes and presses her lips against Luke’s, cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. Luke is taken by surprise at first but once his brain starts working again, he reciprocates the kiss. When they pull away they both have similar grins plastered on their faces.

“Are we good?” Luke asks.

Julie nods her head. “More than good.”

Rose smiles when they both come back into the house at dinner time and exchanges a look with her husband when they make their way up the stairs with Luke placing a hand on Julie’s lower back.

. . .

No one is surprised when they walk into school at the end of summer break holding hands, and if they spot a few teacher exchanging twenty dollar bills, they don’t mention it.

[andimlonely]

Sometimes the Truth is Comforting, too | Kokichi Ouma

Kokichi Ouma x f!reader | Kokichi has come down with Despair Disease, and everyone has a turn looking after him. You volunteer for the night shift, and have more trouble than usual deciphering what’s true and what’s false (aka, Kokichi gets liar disease but because he’s such a liar already, it makes him tell the truth)

✧✿Angst, fluff

A/N: This turned out quite a bit longer than I intended, and it took longer too, but I like how it turned out in the end. I hope you will too ❤

______________________________________________________________

You never thought you would end up here, in the dorm of the Ultimate Supreme Leader, in a chair at his bedside and tending to his fever.

After Kokichi collapsed in the dining hall, Monokuma finally confirmed that he was sick after you all spent the whole day speculating why he had been acting so strange; though at that point, no one really thought otherwise. What you hadn’t expected, was that Kokichi’s fever isn’t just due to some infection or cold, but something you’ve never even heard of before: Despair Disease.

The group collectively agreed that in order to prevent someone from attacking Kokichi while he’s weak, or risking him dying from the fever, everyone would take turns watching over him, and you volunteered yourself for this shift. You figured since you sleep late anyway, it might as well be you with the night shift.

When you first entered the room, you were actually surprised by all the clutter. What even are all those boxes? Do you even want to know?

You try not to think about it, and instead decide to step out for a drink of water and a snack from the kitchen. You don’t know how long you might be here, so you might as well get comfortable.

But as you get up out of your seat and make your way to the door, Kokichi’s weakened whine halts you before you can leave, “(y/n)~”

“Kokichi, I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna get some water, okay--”

“But you can’t leave me here alone,” he suddenly sits up, eyes and skin dewy and hair a mess, “I might die!”

“That.. But, I’m only going to be gone a second.”

You couldn’t even refute his fear. If you’ve learned anything in this nightmare scape, it’s that you can’t trust anyone, that someone is always scheming and looking for any window they can to escape.

“You have to stay. Everyone knows I’m sick, and nobody likes me. Do you really think no one will try to come in here and kill me?”

You’re taken aback by his casually honest words. “Kokichi..”

“I took water bottles and snacks from the kitchen the other day,” he says in attempts to bribe you, “So stay.”

“..Okay.”

You go back to your seat, still registering what he said a moment ago. You always hesitate to believe what the boy says, but tonight his facade is different, softer.  

Kokichi had spent most of the evening asleep, with Gonta and Tsumugi keeping watch over him to prevent anyone from taking advantage of his weakened state. Of course it would be your luck that by the time it was your shift, Kokichi would be awake and somewhat delirious, and eager to talk to you. You’re thankful though; this Despair Disease seems to have rid him of his crude remarks for some reason.

But somehow his somber and emotional demeanor isn’t as enjoyable as you thought it would be. It might be nice that he isn’t insinuating you’re promiscuous, or teasing you about any number of your quirks, but seeing him so.. sentimental has your heart feeling heavy instead.

“Hey, Kokichi.. Here, give me that,” you order gently, gesturing to the drying washcloth on his forehead.

You take the cloth and run it under the sink, wringing it out a little so it isn’t dripping excessively when you carry it over to him.

Without a thermometer, you’re left just pressing the back of your hand to his forehead and cheeks. You withdraw it quickly the first time, recoiling from the intensity of his temperature against your skin. It seems like his fever isn’t going down much at all.

“You know, you’re so nice, (y/n).”

You let Kokichi babble about how kind you are as you place the damp washcloth back on his forehead and search for the alleged water bottles he has lying around. Kokichi needs to start drinking more water, or you worry he might not get any better very soon. You might not be his biggest fan, but you certainly don’t want him to suffer through this, and even less, die.

“Really, (y/n), I think you’re suuuper nice. That’s why I like you.”

“Kokichi, I think you should save the teasing for later.. Just take it easy right now.”

“But I’m not teasing, (y/n). You’re really really nice.”

“Thank you.. Anyway, here, drink as much water as you can, okay?”  

Kokichi obliges, and sits up slowly, his muscles aching and head pounding. The heat bubbling under his skin has him in a daze, everything seems a touch slower. You lean and reach over him to grab something, close enough for him to pick up your scent, and it feels like you’re there for hours - can’t you stay here that long? The urge to close his arms around you comes too late, and you’re back in your seat now, scribbling something in a notebook like you were when he just woke up.

In his daze, he can’t tell if you’re writing or drawing something. He also doesn’t realize he’s staring at you, but you don't seem to notice it either.

He watches your eyelashes open and close, open and close, your eyes trained to the (f/c) notebook in your hands. Would you look up from your book more if he were someone else? If it was Shuichi, or even Kiibo, lying here? Probably.

“Um.. Are you okay, Kokichi?”

Having noticed his pensive stare, you ask him this, your head tilted cutely.

He smiles and says absently, “No.”

Your eyes flick up from your book instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna die.”

Die..? The word alone has your heart sinking deep into your chest. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel a duller version of the shock that overcomes you when one of your classmates’ body is found.  

You want to believe it's the delirium of his fever that has him talking like this, but something tells you that isn't true.

"You won't die. You're going to be okay. You’re.. You’re making me nervous, Kokichi.”

“Sorry.”

His apology brings you a pang of guilt. Him talking like this does make you nervous, but maybe you should keep it to yourself. It’s understandable he would feel fearful when he’s suffering from this previously unknown disease; maybe it even causes paranoia. It is Monokuma’s conception, and he did say that it’s a motive of sorts, so it must be awful.

“No, it’s okay.. But, really, you’re going to be alright. That’s why I’m here looking after you, so your fever doesn’t get worse, okay? Don’t worry.”

You’re misunderstanding him. Even if he does survive the Despair Disease, will he survive the Killing Game? He becomes less sure of it everyday. If he weren’t pretty clever, someone might’ve already killed him by now. But it’s only a matter of time until it actually happens. Your hands might be the ones to get dirty. You could even do it now, while he’s weaker than usual. At least then it would have been someone he..

No. He doesn’t want to die at all, and he can’t pretend he would be okay with dying at your hands.

“Hey, Kokichi?.. About what you said earlier..”

He blinks, having trouble accurately recalling what he’s said, let alone what you might be talking about.

“You know.. About everyone not liking you. It’s not that we don’t like you, it’s just..”

How can you explain it? You can’t truthfully say that anyone else is fond of Kokichi, but you also wouldn’t say that everyone hates him.. At least you think so, until all the hostile or at least skeptical interactions between Kokichi and one of the others play back in your mind. A sense of guilt accompanies your memories of your own rude moments, and you have to remind yourself why everyone is wary of him. No one would treat him this way if he weren’t so dishonest, or crude, and if he didn’t seem to find this Killing Game so fun.

But the more you think about his actions, the more you realize that more of it might be farce than you thought before, that maybe you were missing that it’s something else he’s hiding when he lies. After all.. Would someone happy, with nothing to hide, and nothing to fear, really lie so much?

“I’m supposed to be the liar, not you, (y/n),” Kokichi grins. In spite of his smile, you can see pain is reflected in his clouded violet eyes. “I know everyone hates me. Even you. Thanks for taking care of me, though. It’s really nice to take care of someone you hate.”

“That’s not true, Kokichi.. I don’t hate you. Why do you think that?”

“I just know. I mean, I know why. I’m a jerk to you, so I deserve it.”

Normally he’d probably say something like that with a pouted lip and lilted voice, but as you scan his features, you see that he isn’t just saying this to mock you.

“...I don’t hate you. I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

But you had to be here, didn’t you? Everyone probably pulled straws or something to see who was stuck with him. Or maybe you’re here out of pity. Maybe you didn’t want him to get worse, but only ‘cause you care about people in general, not him specifically, and sure that's a selfish thought, but the point stands.

You two sit in silence for awhile.

Kokichi occupies himself with the sliding puzzle you found in the warehouse, his thumbs deftly switching pieces like he's being timed. You listen to the constant clacking, a storm of questions weighing heavy in your mind.

"..How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. Head hurts and stuff."

"Is it really bad?"

He hums in contemplation, "Kinda."

Despite his casual answer, you can’t stifle the panic that’s starting to rise in your stomach. You wish there were some medicine or something you could give him to help. A fever can go away on its own, but without medicine Kokichi could also get a lot worse.

"Do you need anything? I can get more water or--"

"Sit with me," he orders, “Please?”

He really is delirious. Your initial reaction is to refuse him, but the longer you look at his flushed face and pleading eyes, and the longer you think about how terrible he must be feeling, you find yourself unable to say no.

“Um.. Okay. But only for a second.”

It’s only because he’s sick, you tell yourself as you settle in next to him awkwardly. You keep your eyes on your lap, or on the opposite wall, or anywhere but Kokichi, and he doesn’t seem to mind. Unlike you, he isn’t uncomfortable at all. Instead, he’s so comfortable that he leans his head on your shoulder, and after a moment of listening to each other’s breathing, he closes his eyes and starts to hum.

Your eyes start to wander until you’re looking down at him, stifling the desire to stroke his dark, soft-looking locks. His humming lulls you into feeling less tense, and eventually you’re leaning your head onto Kokichi’s, trying to ignore the painful feeling in your heart as it races. If you’re not careful, you might end up falling asleep like this, and part of you doesn’t even mind.

Knock knock.

Both startled by the sudden knocks at the door, you exchange glances with Kokichi, who in his daze just stares at you owlishly. You glance briefly at the clock; your shift is still far from over. It essentially just started.

An uneasiness follows you as you make your way to the door, thankful for the pocket knife you always keep handy just in case. Never have you planned to use it, but you will if you have to, if only to incapacitate someone.

"Shuichi," you sigh upon opening the door, "What are you doing here?"

Immediately your dread dissipates at the sight of him, and the hand at your side relaxes. He gives you a sheepish smile, his hand on the nape of his neck.

"Ah, hi.. I just thought I should check up on you. How's Kokichi?"

"He's still pretty warm," you frown, stepping aside so Shuichi can see for himself.

"Hi, Shuichi," Kokichi greets from his bed, to which the Ultimate Detective reciprocates with a small greeting of his own.

He speaks to you briefly, asking you if Kokichi has been acting suspicious at all and if you feel okay being alone for your shift. You assure him everything is okay and that if anything happens you'll do your best to keep yourself and your 'patient' safe.

Still the slightest concerned, the male nods, "Well, I think that's all. Oh, that's right. Here, I found these in the warehouse. They seem safe and should help reduce Kokichi's fever."

You take the small bottle of pain medication and thank him. "Thanks, Shuichi. Be careful getting back."

Painkillers. You're surprised Monokuma was merciful enough to leave these in the warehouse for you all, you muse as you walk back to your chair.

Before you can even settle back into your seat, Kokichi hits you with a flustering question.

"Do you like Shuichi?"

"W-what? Of course, he's my friend."

"I mean do you have a crush on him," he clarifies, sounding like a child asking his babysitter about her love life.

"N-no! I don't like him like.. that."

"Well then is there someone else you like? You can tell me. I probably won't even remember any of this tomorrow."

Suddenly you feel the need to avert your gaze, completely caught off guard by this conversation.

"N-no, I.. there's no time to focus on things like that here.."

"That doesn't mean you can't have feelings. So... who is it?"

There's a chance that you are telling the truth and the topic alone is just that flustering for you. But Kokichi doesn't buy it. Or maybe he doesn't want to. But really, isn't this simultaneously the most and least perfect place for feelings to take root? Trapped within a limited space, with the same faces everyday, and, unless you're a fool, with absolutely nothing to look forward to day to day? Isn't that just asking for bonds to form, and then unceremoniously break, because this is still the Killing Game?

Even if you're too afraid and too angry to pursue someone, you probably still think about someone when you're sitting with them for breakfast, when you're on the way to the location of a body, when you're alone in your room.

"Kokichi, I'm not going to tell you something like that.. There's nothing to tell anyway."

"Hmm, how about this. I'll tell you mine then you tell me yours. Deal?"

After some back and forth and endless prodding, the Ultimate Supreme Leader does what he does best and manages to persuade you, if only to get him to stop bothering you. Plus.. like he said, he probably won't remember anyway, right? Maybe it wouldn't hurt to get something off your chest.

"Okay, I'll give you a hint."

"What?? But you said--

"She's cute, and she has (h/c) hair and… she's looking at me right now."

"W-what?! What are you saying..?"

"I'm saying I like you."

You feel like you're the one with a fever now. It takes you a moment, but you remember exactly who you're talking to, and how he would never say something like this except to make fun of you.

"That's not funny..," you mutter, gripping the bottle in your hand as you avert your eyes.

Suddenly your hand is in his clammy one, and you're staring at his flushed face, eyes shining with sincerity, or what he wants you to think is sincerity.

"I'm not joking, (y/n). I really like you," he insists, seeming confused as to why you're fighting him.

“S-stop it, Kokichi. Stop talking like that," you say as you try to pull your hand from his grip.

He doesn't let you go, insistent that he's telling you the truth. You wish you didn't want to believe it so much. You should have let the subject go, but it's too late to brush it off now.

"If you like me so much then why are you telling me now?.. Why haven't you told me before?"

Why say it now, when he's not even in his right mind?

"I didn't know how to say it, but I mean it. I really like you."

Of all the mean-spirited things he's said to you, this is one of the worst. Here you are caring for him - after volunteering to no less - and keeping watch over him, and he still can't even treat you nicely? Are your feelings really so insignificant to him that he can't keep from toying with them?

"You don't like me, Kokichi! I'm not going to fall for that so just stop, please!"

"How do you know that?," he cries, voice wavering lightly. You almost believe he's genuinely upset.

"I don't know," you reply bitterly. "I don't know anything about you. How can I? You want me to believe you but all you do is lie and hide the truth."

"But--"

You rise out of your chair, tossing two capsules of medicine onto his covers.

"No, just, just leave me alone. Take those and get some rest. I'll be here if you need anything but if you don't, then just leave me alone, please."

And to your surprise, he does. He doesn't say a thing for the rest of your shift, and eventually drifts to sleep, leaving you to soak alone in the wave of emotions roaring over you.

'Was I too harsh..?'

You can't help but question yourself. At the time you were completely convinced that Kokichi was only messing with you, trying to play with your emotions for fun, but now you feel guilty. What if it was true? Or what if he didn't mean any harm, and was just genuinely confused because of his high fever?

It's 2 a.m. when someone knocks on the door. You don't notice it at first because you're so consumed with the cycle of emotions that run through you at the thought of everything that Kokichi has said tonight.

You don't even feel relieved when Kiibo comes in for his turn; instead, you're almost angry. Angry at yourself and at Kokichi, and how you can't just have a normal conversation with him, how much you wanted to believe everything he told you in these past few hours.

After bidding the android good luck, you tuck yourself in for the night, still conflicted about the truth.

----

By the next afternoon, it's as if Kokichi was never sick to begin with. Due to everyone's careful watch, he had almost fully returned to his regular, obnoxious self.

Once you were aware of his recovery, his previously flushed face back to its typical pale hue, you actively avoided him every time you saw him. Somehow you aren't sure whether to be angry or happy that every time, he doesn't acknowledge you at all. It's not as if he would greet you like you want him to; he would probably just mock you, and tell everyone how sentimental you were being while watching over him last night.

You try to remind yourself that he probably doesn't remember anything after all, but the thought tugs at your heart as you realize that would mean he was more delirious than you thought, that he didn't mean anything he said..

Most of the day is wasted on those thoughts, little room in your mind to do anything else but mull it over.

Until you find an envelope on the floor of your room. It must have been slipped underneath your door, since you always make sure to lock it while you're away, and it's definitely meant for you because your name is scrawled along the back.

Upon opening it, you find enclosed a note and a small flower, its petals slightly crumpled.

'Dear (y/n),

Meet me in the courtyard at 7. It's important, so please come.

- Shuichi'

You can't imagine why Shuichi would summon you, and you're not even convinced this really is from Shuichi, but you decide to go nonetheless. Whoever sent this, you'll learn something from this encounter, you know that much.

Armed with your pocket knife and a mini taser you convinced Miu to make you, you step out into the courtyard, hoping you won't need to use either.

The sun is set, but it's relatively light out still as you move further from the dorm hall, which slightly eases your anxiety. But it comes back as you realize it's only a couple minutes before 7, and Shuichi is nowhere to be seen.

You walk further, thinking maybe he's coming from a different building, but you're stopped when someone taps on your shoulder.

"Heya, (y/n)," Kokichi greets casually, his arms tucked behind his head.

Immediately you try to move in a different direction, your eyes avoiding his, "I'm supposed to be meeting up with someone right now."

"Yup, me! I left you that note, not Shuichi."

You turn around to see him grinning, unable to decipher whether he's lying. "What..? But then why--"

"I knew you wouldn't come if it was from me, so I lied a little."

What else is new?

All the curiosity from before has left you now, leaving only exasperation. "What do you want, Kokichi?"

He drops his grin from a moment ago and sighs.

"Look, I'm sorry that I tricked you, okay? I just didn't know how else to get you to come here. But hey, listen, did I say anything.. weird yesterday? I can't remember much, so.. I wanted you to fill me in."

That's why he called you here? So he can clear up anything he said with some nonsense excuse?

"Yes, a lot…," you reply curtly, ready to walk away.

Before you can get more than a few steps away from him he stops you, "O-okay, wait, wait! That's not why I called you here. Just hear me out, alright?"

"Fine.."

"So.. I actually remember everything from last night. At least most of it, I think. I know I upset you, right?"

You nod wordlessly, and he continues.

"And it's 'cause you didn't believe my feelings for you. Right?"

"K-kind of.."

"Well.. I actually wasn't lying. I was trying to give you this yesterday, but since you were pissed at me I'm giving it to you now, so.. here."

In the arm hidden behind his back he holds a cardboard box, maybe a little bigger than the size of his head. Could it be one of the boxes you saw lying around in his room? He hands it to you, and it's heavier than expected.

"What.. is this?"

"It's a present, but y'know, there's no wrapping paper here so I just left it like that. Anyway, just open it. I promise it's not a bomb."

That hadn't crossed your mind but now you're less convinced that this present is something innocuous. But if Kokichi is still standing less than a foot away from you, you reason that whatever is in here can't be immediately dangerous. Hopefully.

You sit down, finding it easier to open this way, and when you open the flaps of the box, you're left furrowing your brow.

"What is all this?"

"They're weapons and stuff I told Miu to make."

You can see that much, but you're left wondering why. Is this some kind of joke too?

"I've had 'em for awhile. You can find out what they do if you look at her instructions and my blueprints."

"But, I don't get it.. why did you have her make these,  and why give them to me?"

"'I had her make those so we could find the mastermind, but if I die before we can use them, then you guys are screwed. I was waiting to see who I could trust, so I kept it a secret. Plus, if I told anyone else, they'd probably rat me out to everybody. So.. since you're not stupid enough to do that, and stuff.. I'm giving them to you."

You look up at him, only met with his side profile while he stares elsewhere, hands behind his head like they were before.

"I didn't know you thought so much about all this.."

Kokichi has his back turned to you now, in attempts to seem nonchalant, but really, he doesn't want to have to mask the emotions that might break through his expression.

"Meh. I couldn't let the game get boring, so. Plus it's fun to order Miu around, have you ever tried it?"

You dig around in the box, curious if there's anything else, and there is.

A kubspad.

Could it be..?

Your eyes flood first with happiness and then tears as images of your loved ones flash before you, first with smiles on their faces. You choke back a sob as Monokuma alludes to something terrible by the end of it. It's nothing you haven't considered before, but the thought that they could be suffering or worse is always distressing.

"K-Kokichi.. You had this?"

"Not at first, but yeah."

He clears his throat, uncomfortable with the lump that's started to form there.

"I was gonna show everyone's motive video, right? But then you guys got in the way, but I still saw them all. I was tempted to show you yours but I didn't know if you were trustworthy yet, so I held onto it."

Kokichi half expects you to snap at him for keeping this from you for that long, and he braces himself for it. He couldn’t really blame you for being mad about that; you obviously care a lot about the people in your video, and even he could understand the dread of not knowing exactly what was happening to them. But you don’t snap at him - instead, your voice is the softest he’s ever heard it.

"Thank you," you murmur, the pad pressed tightly to your chest.

He isn't sure what to say now. What do you say to someone when they're sad, when you don't want them to be?

At a loss of what else to do, he sits down beside you and plays with the grass. He has the urge to crack a joke to lighten the air but he has a feeling you might not appreciate it right now.

Still, the silence is making him restless and you notice it.

"Kokichi.. Do you really.. Like me?"

He doesn’t say anything right away, leaning back and letting his back rest on the grass.

“Ha.. I don’t know why I said that. Just forget about it, ‘kay?”

It’s easier said than done, and he knows that. He knows you can’t just forget, and he knows he can’t just forget. What he doesn’t know is why he cares. Why should he care how you feel, or how he feels, or about anything at all? It was simpler before you became a recurring thought, before just seeing you was infuriating because his stomach would fill with butterflies and he didn’t understand so he thought you just made him sick. That thought is kind of funny now, especially after you spent hours tending to his fever, worrying about him.

Despite what Kokichi is thinking, his words make your heart drop into your stomach.

“What? How can I forget that?”

“Well it’s not like you.. like me or anything,” he utters, and for a moment you know he’s sincerely crestfallen, but he recovers with a nonchalant smile, “Sooo, just forget it! It’ll just be awkward if you don’t, and neither of us wants to deal with that.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize, it was never that Kokichi was lying to you; he was afraid all this time.

“I’m not going to forget it.”

He sits up, caught off guard by your serious tone. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because,” you pause, steeling yourself to say it, "Why would I want to forget if I feel the same way?"

Kokichi is ready to make a doubtful remark but you continue before he can.

"That's why I got so upset at you.. I didn't want you to get my hopes up. I thought maybe somehow you knew that I had feelings for you and you were making fun of me for it. Plus.. I never considered you could actually feel the same way."

When you first realized you felt something for Kokichi, you were confused and angry more than anything. Sure, he is cute, but he’s always kidding about things you shouldn’t and stirring up trouble for everyone else. Not to mention that having feelings for someone, let alone someone like Kokichi, in a situation like this is just ridiculous, and not something to think about.

You finally bring yourself to look at the boy sitting next to you, curious why he’s been silent, but his knees are to his chest and his face is buried into them. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“..Kokichi? What’s wrong? You’re making me nervous.”

At his continued silence, you tug on his white sleeve, “Kokichi.”

He lifts his head but doesn’t face you at first. You notice his shoulders shaking, and worry he might be crying. When he finally faces you, you see that tears are dripping down his cheeks, but he’s also.. smiling?

“What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, it’s this stupid disease. It’s making me all mushy,” he sniffles. “Don’t get used to this. I never ever cry. Ever.”

You’re only half convinced that his illness is to blame, but you’re relieved he’s okay anyway. Feeling emboldened, you slide a little closer to the boy and wrap your arms around him, for his sake and yours. It feels surreal being this close to him, feeling strands of his hair poke your cheek as you take in his scent and his warmth, a feeling you’ve thought about for so long.

Kokichi’s thin frame goes stiff, “H-hey! Geez, you’re needier than I thought..”

You pull away, a little disappointed but mostly embarrassed, but you’re pulled back into him almost immediately.

“But so am I! Guess we’re kinda made for each other or whatever, huh?,” he murmurs cheekily into your ear.

“Kokichi!”

He chuckles as he squeezes his arms tighter around you, and though you can’t see it, he’s smiling tenderly, newly instilled with determination to bring down the mastermind, to keep both of you alive at all costs.

The sincerest you’ve ever heard him, Kokichi makes a simple request of you. “Stay with me, okay?”

[hankwritten]

Long Time Listener, First Time Caller

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for @tokyotrain, Music

1. Reveille

There had never, ever, in the history of time or space, an instrument Demo hated more.

The bugle reverberated through the open window that someone had conspicuously left open, just in case the man in bed wouldn’t have been awakened by its bellows piercing through the glass. Not that that would ever happen. Demo was pretty sure he could’ve heard that damn instrument all the way in Hell, and grasped blindly for the pillow he could smother his own face in. It didn’t help. He shouldn’t be able to taste the cacophony the bugle was making, but there was the sting of copper on his tongue, as though his gums were bleeding in revolt.

“I’m going to kill him,” he muttered into the three layers of feathered pillows.

By the time he stumbled down to breakfast, there were bags under his eye, diluted homicidal intent on his face, and his fluffiest robe around his shoulders.

“And he’s finally up,” Mum said, and sipped her tea. Usually she’d be giving him an earful about his lazy behind tarrying in making her morning cup, but since she was smirking at his disheveled state, Soldier must have brewed it for her.

“Grrnn…” her son replied.

Coffee was the only thing that would make this morning better. Thankfully, there was a pot already brewing; Soldier wasn’t that heartless.

“I see you have acquired your morning cup of Joe!” Soldier said when he finally retired from his routine, sweeping into the kitchen on a wave of wholly unwelcome cheer. Beyond him—since the mansion didn’t have a flagpole, he’d found ways to make do—a rake was shoved into the lawn with a Stars ‘n Stripes bandana tied around it. This he erected every day at dawn. “Excellent! Now that you are refreshed and full of energy, you are capable of participating in post flag ceremony drills!”

Demo skipped the not on your life and went straight to, “I’m going to take that bloody thing and re-twist it until you can hang yourself with it.”

Mum laughed, and Soldier grinned jubilantly, confident in the knowledge that he would always win mornings.

2. Taunt

“Whomp whomp whaaaa,” the stupid bloody trombone played at him.

Half delirious from blood loss, Demo bared his teeth at the smug BLU above him who, as soon as he finished taunting, promptly executed his unwilling audience with a shotgun blast to the head.

This was the fifth time this had happened today, and Demo was pissed. Where was Soldier even keeping that thing? Every bloody time there was no sign of the instrument whatsoever, then as soon as victory was assured he reached into hammer space and pulled out five feet of tubing! It was ridiculous to drive a man crazy under the best of circumstances—but having it be your partner was something that garnered a certain degree of necessary revenge.

Demo had had enough. It was about time he did some stooping to Soldier’s level.

The next day, Demo managed to shove Soldier off Upward’s scaffolding with a well-timed shield bash. He couldn’t have hoped for a better opportunity, perfectly executed so Soldier hadn’t even gotten a kill on him that day, which might have ruined the ‘surprise’. He stood, one foot on the Soldier-shaped hole in the wood, and leaned on his knee.

“Nice of you to drop in!” he called.

“Eugh,” Soldier grumbled, impaled haphazardly on various bits of wood.

“As long as we’re both taking a breather, mind if get a bit of piping practice in?”

Not waiting for a reply, Demo pulled out the bagpipes that had been eagerly awaiting their time in the sun. Sitting as they had been for the past five years in the attic, derelict ever since he’d purchased them on a lark, he didn’t blame them. When he flexed the bag, dust came out the mouthpiece.

“Oh no,” Soldier said.

“Oh yes!” Demo disagreed, and began to play.

Soldier was in a very unfortunate situation, arm broken the exact wrong way to keep him from covering his own ears. Thus he was forced to listen as Demo played out a belching and eardrum-bleeding anti-tune, rippling the open air above the drop off with painful ineptitude.

“Never played a day in me life,” Demo said cheerfully as he ceased blowing into the bellows.

“And you should never do so again!” Soldier accused. “The only positive thing I can say about your first attempt is that thank God it is over!”

“Over?” Demo smirked. “Nah, there’s another four movements to get through.”

Soldier’s head flopped back in defeat, helmet rolling off into the abyss and eyes pointing at the sky. “Jesus and Thomas Edison, please give me strength.”

This was not heard over the resuming of what only the foolish and the damned would refer to as ‘music’.

3. Radio

“Do not touch that dial, maggot!”

“I’m shotgun, I get radio privileges.”

“Guh,” Soldier complained as Demo flipped until the NMDX began to flow from the box, polluting the airwaves with its electronic beats. “What even is this hippie garbage?”

“It’s disco, laddie!”

Demo was already grooving in his seat, dead set on enjoying the new wave in direct defiance of his partner’s annoyed twitch. Or, perhaps, maybe because of it.

Soldier grumbled. “Doesn’t make any damn sense! What’s a duck doing at a disco in the first place?”

“He wasn’t a duck when he went there,” Demo scoffed. “It’s like you’re not even listening to the song.”

“I’m trying not too.”

“Fine then! What do you like to listen to in the car?”

Soldier hummed quietly for a second, the fading carols of Rick Dees and His Cast of Idiots catching on the notes and escaping into the hum of the highway. After a moment of contemplation, Soldier peeled his eyes from the road and began to rummage about in the center console. This caused him to swerve wildly along the highway, other cars blaring their horns as the blue Camaro glided over the dotted line. Demo watched these events with mild interest.

“Aha!” Soldier exclaimed, emerging with an 8track clasped triumphantly in one hand. “This’ll get us to Springerville without all that play-it-backwards-to-alter-your-brainwaves nonsense!”

He slid the track into the Camaro’s player.

“…Welcome to the audio edition of the Farmer’s Almanac, for the year of our lord, 1972.”

“Oh god…”

“Hah!” Soldier brightened. “Now this is what I am talking about!”

It was going to be a long four hours.

4. Folk

Demo didn’t mind Soldier’s record, to be honest.

It seemed to be about something at least, more than he was used to the things Soldier liked being ‘about’ anything that wasn’t unquestioning patriotism. Sometime he wondered why, of all the folk records in the world, Soldier had decided to settle on Dust Bowl Ballads as his fixation in the realms of music. Americana of all kinds of blended together in Demo’s opinion, but despite the repetitive twang of the banjo and the stifling trite melody, even he could tell there was a story of deep melancholy to be found between the harmless little tunes.

So it wasn’t the fact that Soldier had a record. It was the fact that Soldier had a record, singular.

The idea that a person might purchase multiple albums over the course of their life and play them at different times when the mood struck them never seemed to have been explained to the Soldier. His concept to the record player was this: play the first side. When it was finished, flip it over and play the second side.

Repeat.

For hours.

No matter how sweet Woody Guthrie’s crooning was, having it repeated over and over again day in and day out could give anyone’s otherwise delightful performance all the dulcet notes of prison moonshine. It didn’t bother Soldier one bit it seemed—he would hum to himself merrily as he sat on the chaise, perfectly content to dissemble his shotgun on the coffee table while the same fifteen songs played.

“Y’know love,” Demo tried. “The reason records don’t come glued on to their players is because you can put other ones on. Look.”

He delicately switched out Ballads for something from his own collection, setting the needle so it could fall where it willed.

Soldier eyed the player dubiously as an entirely different style began to fall from the trumpet’s maw, grease rag in hand.

“I don’t get it,” he said as the first refrain came to a close. “You can’t understand a word she’s saying. What’s the point if you don’t know what’s going on?”

“You can’t understand it because it’s in Gaelic, lad.”

Soldier furrowed his brow. “Are you being vulgar at me right now, maggot?”

“Ach, no! I…” Demo sighed. Sometimes why he wondered why he even bothered. “Gaelic’s the language. It’s rare that anyone’ll make records in traditional tongues, but I had a few and I just thought…ah never mind.”

Gently he slid the record back into its sleeve and put Ballads back on.

“…Okay,” was all Soldier said, still frowning as Demo exited the room.

Demo wasn’t so callous to admit he hated the damn thing aloud, not when he could tell it made Soldier honestly, genuinely happy. They’d rib each other for their interests all the time, but not for something this important, and he resigned himself to having Woody as an unwanted houseguest for the rest of time.

That was, until a dreadful cold found him alone in the living room and unwilling to move.

The sickness (and Mum) had demanded he get plenty of bed rest, but he was just so bloody tired of spending all his time between the same four walls and occasionally the bathroom. He’d thought, well, there’s no harm in a quick trip downstairs, only to discover that once he’d gone horizontal on the couch, he lost all motivation to go back up those stairs.

That was how Soldier found him, cocooned in every blanket in the living room, blinking up pitifully as sniffled at his partner. To his credit, Soldier didn’t chastise him for sneaking out of bed; he simply sighed, moved the tissues box closer, and got Demo a cup of tea.

This was all unsurprising, if sweet. What was surprising was—as Demo lay with his back to the majority of the room—the sound of a record sliding into the player. A moment later the room was reendowed with Fear a Bhàta, the song flowing over his senses as he huddled for warmth under his blanket pile. He lifted his head to look at Soldier, who merely shrugged. That was all. Then he sat down on a chair near his Demoman and opened up an issue of Guns & Haircuts.

After that, sometimes Demo would come home to find a piece from his library playing, wafting through the mansion’s halls with no objection from its audience. If Jane had truly changed his mind, or was just doing it for Demo’s benefit, Demo couldn’t tell, but he appreciated the gesture all the same.

5. Piano

“Nothing?” Demo asked as his hands stilled across the keys, the last notes echoing in the music room to the resounding absence of symphony. The only thing left to fill it was the painfully normal sounds of two people simply being alive. “Not a single word of complaint?”

Soldier grinned, and shrugged. “Maybe we found something we can agree on.”

“And that something so happens to involve me doing all the work.” But despite that he grinned, taking Soldier’s hand and rubbing a thumb across the bones along its back, a private concert undergone and concluded. “You should help out. Grab a microphone, lay sultrily across my piano. That’d jazz up the performance.”

“Sounds like a good way to break a piano.”

“Excuses excuses.”

Soldier leaned down, capturing Demo’s mouth in a kiss, knees pressed against the back of the bench, hand still in Demo’s. When he they parted, Demo thought of how he always tasted like gunpowder, no matter how long it’d been.

Soldier smiled against Demo’s lips. “Play us another?”

“So demanding,” Demo smiled, and put fingers back to ivory.

[ifmywishescametrue]

numbers are hard

also on ao3

Steve has been acting strange all day, and for the life of him Tony can’t figure out why. It starts with sex when they first wake up, which isn’t all that weird. More tender than usual, slower and sweeter than most days, but nothing that makes him question anything right away. The only slightly abnormal part is that Steve skips his run entirely for it, but it’s happened before. 

Breakfast is the first real sign that something is up, when Steve breaks out all of the stops to produce french toast dusted with powdered sugar and topped with sliced strawberries. It’s quite the step up from his everyday toast and eggs, and his grin when Tony compliments his cooking is brighter than the morning sun coming in through the wall of windows. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Tony says, dragging a piece of french toast through a puddle of maple syrup. 

Steve leans over, and the kiss he plants on Tony’s cheek is slightly sticky. “You deserve something nice today.”

Tony chews his bite slowly, processing that. Nice today, implying that today is different than other days. He checks the date on his phone as inconspicuously as possible. 

There’s nothing significant that strikes him about May 10th. He has a couple weeks to go until his birthday, five more days until the anniversary of their first kiss. Another eight until the anniversary of their first real date. May 10th couldn’t be less special if it tried, really. 

For now Tony shrugs it off, chalks it up to just another Steve thing. Like the way he wears socks to bed, but only in December, and drinks a different flavor of tea for every day of the week. 

But then it continues throughout the morning. Steve asks him to go for a walk with him in Central Park, and he seems more affectionate than usual when they’re in public. With the Captain America mantle hanging heavy on his shoulders, Steve has typically always been more reserved around others. Their relationship has never been a secret, but Tony knows for a fact that there is exactly one paparazzi photo of them kissing in existence. There are quite a few more with hand holding, maybe the occasional shot of Steve’s arm slung around his shoulder, but never more than that. 

Today, Steve kisses him on the pedestrian bridge as they lean against the railing, then again when Tony gets ice cream on his lips from the cones they buy from a street vendor.  

“You’re in a very good mood today,” Tony observes on their walk back to the tower. 

Steve smiles, “Why shouldn’t I be? It’s a good day.”

Tony nods in agreement, though he still isn’t sure what separates today from all the rest. 

At some point it stops being strange and starts giving him anxiety. Weird turns into terror-inducing, because he has to be missing something, right? Boyfriends don’t just wake up one day and decide to be extra caring for no reason at all. 

He thinks about asking, but what if he really has missed something important? He can picture the look on Steve’s face when he realizes that Tony has forgotten something that clearly matters to him. The way his eyes will widen slightly, brows turning down and shoulders slumping. Then his face will close off again, turning perfectly neutral to hide the hurt and disappointment. He’ll say it’s not a big deal, but Tony will know he’s lying. 

So he stays quiet through the afternoon while he works in the lab on team upgrades and Steve sits on the couch and sketches. It’s easily the most normal part of the entire day, and Tony basks in the quiet comfort of just co-existing with the person he loves. 

Steve goes upstairs after a few hours, kissing Tony’s cheek and patting the bots’ metal arms as he goes. He tells Tony to be on time for dinner, and his voice is more pointed than usual, which is why Tony heads up early to be able to shower off the grease from his hands and arms. 

There’s a candle burning on the table when he walks into the dining room post-shower and a vase of flowers sitting a safe distance away from the flame. Tony freezes at the sight, but hopefully Steve doesn’t notice as he comes into the room with two plates. 

He smiles softly as he sets them down and pulls out Tony’s chair for him. Tony reaches for the glass of red wine the second he sits down. He’ll need it for the night ahead of him. 

The dish in front of him is some type of pasta in a creamy red sauce, and after the first bite he asks, “Did you make this pasta yourself?”

Steve nods, and even in the dim lighting Tony can see the way his ears have gone pink. “I had to practice a couple of times to get it right. Luckily Clint volunteered to taste test.”

Now Tony is downright desperate to know what he’s missing, but still unwilling to ask. So he hopes he can be vague enough in his conversation to get Steve to say it. 

“I don’t know how I deserve all that work, but thank you.”

Steve’s response, while sweet enough to melt Tony’s heart, doesn’t help. “You’ve done a lot for me. It’s really the least I could do for you.”

He keeps failing all throughout dinner. Every time he vaguely talks about the significance of the day, Steve answers with something that would probably make sense if Tony was on the same page as him. 

It’s in the kitchen after dinner that he finally breaks. 

“I can do these,” Tony says, gesturing to the sink full of dishes. “Seeing as you cooked and all.”

Steve wraps his arms around him from behind, breath ghosting over Tony’s neck as he ducks down to kiss him there. 

“Or,” Steve murmurs, “we could just leave them there for tomorrow.”

“What?” Tony asks. He twists around in Steve’s hold and presses his palm to Steve’s forehead. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get sick anymore, but you’re clearly delirious.”

Steve laughs, “I’m not delirious, and I’m not sick either. I just want to make the most of our anniversary.”

Tony’s mind goes blank. That was the one thing he was sure he could eliminate from possibilities. He frowns, “It’s not our anniversary. Our anniversary is next week. May 15th.”

Steve’s face crinkles. “No, it’s today. May 10th.”

“On May 15th, you came down to my lab after that mission in New Jersey, and you yelled at me a whole bunch about being reckless - which you were wrong about, by the way - and then you kissed me and I asked you out.”

Steve looks at him like he’s grown a second head, and his arms drop from around Tony’s waist. “On May 10th, we came home from a mission, I rightfully told you that you were being reckless, I kissed you because you told me to make you shut up, and then I told you that I was in love with you. Nothing happened on May 15th.”

“No, no, I know it was May 15th because I thought it was ironic that we got together on the two year anniversary of when you called me an asshole for the first time, and I know what day that was because I marked it on your calendar as a joke, and then you called me an asshole for the second time.”

“It’s May 10th because we had our first date on May 13th. We went to that theater, because they were showing Friday the Thirteenth, and you said that I had to see it because everyone else has.”

“JARVIS, please tell Steve that he’s wrong.”

Steve scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “You’re about to be really upset when your own creation betrays you by telling you I’m right.”

JARVIS cuts off Tony’s snarky reply before it can finish forming. “According to my data, the event that you both have described occurred on May 7th of last year.”

Tony and Steve exchange a look, and it’s painfully silent until JARVIS speaks again, “I can provide the recording of this event if you would like.”

Tony waves his hand through the air to dismiss the suggestion. “No, that’s okay, J. We believe you.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and his face turns pink. “So I guess we missed our anniversary.”

Tony dissolves into laughter, and Steve stays serious for all of three seconds before he’s joining in. He hooks his arms around Steve’s neck, getting on his tiptoes as he pulls Steve down to meet him in the middle. Steve’s hands cover his hips completely, warm on his skin even through his t-shirt. 

“Happy one year and three days?” Tony offers. 

It’s one year and two days longer than he ever thought they would make it. He expected Steve to change his mind after the first day, when Tony was such a nervous wreck that Steve had to be wondering how he ever got his reputation for a playboy in the first place. And when that didn’t happen, he expected Steve to grow tired of him. To come to the same realization that every other significant other has reached throughout the years - that he isn’t worth the effort. 

But here they are 368 days later, and Steve still wants him. He would call it a miracle if he believed in that kind of thing, but the reality is that against all odds, they just work together. There’s no one else he would rather be with, and he knows that Steve feels the same. 

Steve smiles, “Happy one year and three days.”

[haikyuu-sickies]

— BOKUROO ; you’re mine, so let me be yours.

ship : none.

genre : fluff.

warning : none.

— See, Kuroo didn't get sick easily. However, when he got caught in a storm after going home from practice late - he awoke to the worst feeling he had felt in a long time. His nose was stuffed, his breathing was rigid, he felt so hot, yet felt chills throughout his entire body. He groaned - which, in turn, forced him into a coughing fit. His body shook with the impact, he was wheezing -- struggling to breathe. In addition, his head was pounding so hard that he could cry. Once the coughing had stopped, he let out a wavering exhale.

He didn't even know what time it was, but it didn't look to be early in the morning. Why hadn't his mother woken him up? He used all of his strength to get up, push himself out of bed, and on his feet. He shivered, a whine escaping his lips at the cold floor beneath his feet. He began to walk into the living room, legs barely holding his weight. Once he'd entered the living room, he saw his mother - who was now staring at him.

"Tetsu, dear, why are you out of bed? You're very ill."

"What?"

"Didn't you read the note I left on your bedside table?"

"What note?"

"Oh, honey... You came home sick last night, you were delirious. I decided to let you stay home today."

"I did?"

"I figured you wouldn't remember. Before you go back to bed, do you want anything? Food? Water?"

"No, thanks, mom..."

His voice was quite hoarse, raspy - but he remembered seeing some water on his bedside table. As for the food, he really didn't feel like eating right now. Not with the way his throat felt. Though, he was thankful to have such an understanding mother. He turned around and shakily walked back towards his room, laying down on his bed, and falling asleep as soon as his body was engulfed by his warm, soft bedsheets.

KENMA'S POINT OF VIEW.

Kenma was a loner, that was obvious. Without Kuroo hanging around him, he would be alone. So when Kuroo hadn't shown up to their usual meeting spot, he was getting a little worried. Kuroo was never late, never. He was usually the one waiting for him, instead of the other way around. He tried calling, no response. He tried texting, delivered. He was worried, but his mom would kill him if he didn't go to school. He sighed and went on ahead - hoping that he was just running late.

He was wrong. Hell, he hadn't even shown up to morning practice. The whole team was worried sick. Not even the coach knew what happened, other than the fact that Kuroo had taken the keys with his permission, and practiced late last night. He knew that, but Kuroo would never oversleep to this degree. He never overslept. Yaku was furious [ probably worried on the inside ], Lev was going to cry [ also panicking ], Yamamoto was threatening to kill whoever kidnapped him [ ? ], Kai was trying to calm everyone down, the others were just staring, and he was - in the corner, trying to make sense of the entire situation.

He didn't realize that school would be a literal nightmare without Kuroo. Then one thought came to mind, maybe Bokuto knew? He was Kuroo's boyfriend, after all. He grabbed his phone, swiped to Bokuto's contact - which he had just in case of emergencies with Kuroo, like this one. He clicked on the message button and sent him a text.

-

'Bokuto, do you know where Kuroo is? He isn't at morning practice, and he won't reply to my texts or calls.'

'WHATTT? IS HE MISSING? IS MY BABY MISSING? OMGOMGOGMGDUFHS WE HAVE TO CALL 911'

'no'

'wDYM NO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS MISSING'

'just try calling him'

'b-but, you said he didn't pick up :(('

'did you just stutter through text'

'anyways- just call him, you're his boyfriend, he'll pick up'

'YES, I DID YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Also okie :D'

-

And then Kenma left him on seen. Man, that dude was weird - Kuroo had a weird taste in men, that much was obvious. He sighed, turning on some game since it was obvious that practice wasn't going to go smoothly without Kuroo around.

KUROO'S POINT OF VIEW.

Kuroo was peacefully sleeping, when suddenly; he jolted awake. Groaning, he tossed and turned for what felt like hours, but he couldn't go back to sleep. Until suddenly - he heard his phone ring. He couldn't get to it in time, so the ringing stopped. But when he checked his phone, he had over 16 missed calls from Kenma, 124 messages from the Nekoma group chat, 131 from the volleyball group chat, and 31 and ongoing from his boyfriend. Wait - his boyfriend? How did he find out? He decided to respond to him first. 

-

'BABY, BABY- KENMA TOLD ME YOU WEREN'T AT SCHOOL, ARE YOU OKAY? DO YOU NEED TO CANCEL OUR DATE?'

-

Oh fuck. How could he forget? He and Bokuto had a date planned today - how was he supposed to go like this? He couldn't cancel just because he was being irresponsible and caught a bad cold. But - what was he supposed to say? He supposed he'd have to downplay the entire situation. Hopefully - hopefully, it would work.

-

'No, Bo, it's okay! I just had a small fever last night so my mom let me sleep it off. I don't have a fever anymore, I'll be okay in time for our date <3'

'Why didn't you answer Kenma? :(('

'I was asleep! No sad faces now, I'll be there, okay?'

'Okay :) - oH OH OH OH WHAT SHOULD I WEAR?'

'We aren't going to some fancy restaurant, Bo - something casual should do the trick'

'Hoodie and pajama pants?'

'Okay- not that casual-- a hoodie, and jeans'

'FinE'

'Pfff- don't tell me you wanted to wear pajama pants on our date'

'NO, I DIDN'T WDYM SHUT'

'Alright, alright. I'll see you there Bo'

'Yes :)'

-

Kuroo let out a raspy chuckle at the comments Bokuto had made. Man, he had to figure out how to fix that throat of his. It was, most likely - his biggest giveaway. Especially after saying he didn't have a fever anymore. When in fact, he did. A pretty high one at that. He hadn't even taken any medicine, and how the hell was he going to convince his mother to go outside in this state?

This was going to be harder than Kuroo had expected... Part 2 coming soon.

[codegemini]

Tower Ascendance - Part I

(( Story co-written with @argonas / @thefugitivemango and @sylaesschasewind / @sylaess . @avehi-the-adamant and @grakkar-gorefang​ for character mention ))

~*~*~

Argonas grunted as he tore the pointed edge of his tower shield from the now-lifeless Mawsworn Shackler-- nothing inside its sundered armored chest plate but ethereal smoke. A hollow suit, at least now. He strapped his shield back to his arm, before continuing towards the next stairwell. Up again. Up eternally, it seemed.

Avehi had made good on her word, and brought both him and his Soulbind Grakkar to the Maw. For Argonas, it was the second time-- third, if when he died counted. Such was the case for the only other time Grakkar had been here; the memories of it shaking him to his core. And being soulbound to him now, to Argonas’ core as well. Grakkar needed help and guidance more than Argonas did, for now. 

While Avehi and Grakkar ventured off to recover the misplaced souls of the Lightbound-oppressed Orcs, Argonas entered the infamous Torghast. All evidence outside pointed to Sinafay-- and possibly Sylaess-- being captured and taken here. A possibility that haunted him after last seeing Sylaess in Bastion; with the upset in the Maw upon their entry, the Jailer’s forces were especially active. It was only a matter of time. Time Argonas had hoped to beat, but now it seemed more like a time he had fallen behind. 

There was no alternative-- he had to get them out.

No two floors of this place were identical, it seemed. Similar in design and structure, but the layouts were… winding. Confusing. Almost random. It was easy to get lost, Argonas figured out early on. To remedy this, he began leaving “breadcrumbs” to help guide him back out if needed. Light-suffused sigils etched into pillars and gates that-- for lack of originality-- translated to… breadcrumb. Simple, but effective.

Of course he met resistance at every turn. Swarms of Mawsworn sentires, and their ghastly metallic beasts. A hulking armored monstrosity that thankfully he had managed to topple off a ledge. Occasional distant clankings and unholy screams that echoed through the tower suggested the monster was still falling, even now.

But as he came upon a crossroads, he found himself unsure. The stairs both led upwards, one banking left and the other to the right. Into differing chambers, it seemed. He knelt down, brow furrowed, as he etched another “breadcrumb” into the ground. Then, still kneeling… he prayed.

“Light, guide me…” he muttered softly, clearing his mind and focusing his thoughts on Sinafay.

Nothing. Nothing sprang to mind. A simple choice, but one that could either lead him closer to his beloved, or even further away. The Light urged him onward, but he couldn’t feel one way or the other. He grunted in frustration.

“Give me a sign!”

--A streak caught his eye, a soft chime faintly heard from its direction as it darted past him. He turned, shield up just in case it was unfriendly-- like everything else in this accursed tower. But as he focused, he recognized it. A wisp? Here? It zipped to and fro, before ascending the left-hand stairs. Drawn to something, perhaps. Argonas sighed. It wasn’t exactly a sign from the Light, but it seemed a sign, nonetheless. He took off after it, eyes peeled and wary for wherever it may lead him…

~*~*~

“...So then, not only did he convince her to become a Vindicator, but then actually started -dating- her. So, of course, I tried to act supportive, but I was very upset over everything… not because I was jealous… Perhaps a -little- jealous… but you understand how awkward a situation like that is, yes?”

As a spirit, Sinafay's use in the tower was limited, so she decided to give Sylaess something to focus on to keep her present. And what better subject than to catch her up on everything she had forgotten? The whisps appeared entertained as well, floating about the shaman’s spectral form as she recounted the stories from Pandaria to Draenor. Anything was better than focusing on the horrors of the tower. It certainly kept her own spirits up as they started going down yet another spiral stairway. How long had they been wandering through this place? Weeks? Months? 

“So she and I got into an argument, and—“

She cut herself off as Sylaess’ ear twitched and the elf suddenly stopped cold. That was usually a sign that she sensed something and they had to be careful. The Draene took on a defensive position, eyes locked on the downward staircase.

A light illuminated the stairwell as a whisp flew up to meet them. Loud clanking could be heard approaching behind it.

Sylaess held a breath. It wasn’t a conscious thing. Her blades were in hand, black eyes sharper than obsidian as she stared down the hallway. Leather creaked softly in her palms as her grip shifted. One. It sounds like one.

But how big is this thing? 

The dizzying chatter had indeed kept her from mostly slipping into those delirious states. Seizures, well, blessedly there had been only a handful more. She couldn’t recall what had triggered them. Damn, it actually sounds large. 

She set her jaw and let the breath slip past her lips slowly. Carefully. Runes blared to life along her blades. 

Slowly, up her armor as she charged forward. Surprisingly quiet, but nowhere near silent, the elf practically leapt down the stairs, blades ready and magic held back by a thread. It was always more effective to go in blazing than it was to reserve yourself, she found, in Torghast.

That way, if you lost, you know you gave it everything.

The Death Knight’s runic blades clashed against Argonas’ shield-- or rather, the protective barricade of Light that emanated from it, surrounding his entire form. He shoved back reflexively, tossing Sylaess from him before readying a counter-attack. Until he recognized her, of course. He stayed his hammer swing, for the moment.

“--Sylaess!” he exclaimed, in an odd mix of excitement and scolding. “Thank the Light I found you!”

Sylaess remained a little apprehensive. She lowered her sabers after they bounced off the shield of Light brightly, shoving her back a good step, the sudden redirection of force jarring up her arms. A thin frown as she stood staring at him. 

Could they use the Light, now? Was it another illusion? 

The wisp flitted into her face, obscuring her scrutiny. Drawing out a sigh. A cacophony of advice hailing from nowhere and everywhere in her head. “Okay--Okay. Enough. I got it. Fuck.”

She grumbled quietly--well, quietly enough. 

“Argo!” Sinafay felt her heart skip a beat… or at least, whatever the spectral equivalent to that was.., at the sound of her mate’s voice. 

It felt so long since she’d last heard it, or gazed at his battle worn face. She smiled brightly at him as she skipped down the stairs to meet him, a multitude of wisps following behind her. This time, she resisted the urge to leap into his arms, lest she pass through him again and go tumbling down the stairs. Instead, she stood by where Sylaess landed, weary but well, despite their time in the tower. Her tail swayed eagerly behind her.

“Ah, Sina, my beloved! It is both a joy and a pain to see you like this!” he stated, first and foremost-- in a rather rehearsed tone.

But given he had thought of nothing else than this moment of reunification, it was to be expected that he started running lines in his mind for the occasion. That didn’t make the words any less sincere, however; seeing his mate like this was an odd mix of comforting and sorrowful. The comfort of course coming from just seeing her again, and knowing she could be saved from this place. Sorrow, though, with all the memories he still carried about losing her in the first place. And living without her ever since.

“Argonas. Do you have any idea how to get out? I’m absolutely fucking sick to death of having my ass kicked.” 

Syleass’ tone was soft, but the gravelly, ruined sounds of her voice were an interesting counterpart to the gentility. Still, she sounded just as exhausted as her weathered frame looked. And out of patience. If this was another illusion, so be it. The souls did not think it so, but even they could be wrong. 

The tone carried a strange desperation from her that Argonas hadn’t heard or experienced since the Exodar.Though even this was different. Weary. He didn’t think Death Knights could get tired. But then… this was more of an emotional weariness, by the sound of it. He nodded quickly to her, both to answer her question and convey appreciation for sticking with Sinafay through this madness.

“Yes!” he stated, proudly. “--I mean… hopefully. I have been leaving small Lightrunes along my path here. But this tower is ever-shifting. The way out may not be the way I came. Though I think we should try, nonetheless. We must get out of here, and reconvene with Avehi and--”

“Were you able to find a vessel?” 

He stopped himself short, eyes darting to Sinafay. Perhaps leaving the detail about his Orc soulbind was prudent, for now. More prudent still, leaving out the fact that the Kyrians only gave him and Grakkar one Soul Vessel. To share. Poor Sinafay would have to ride out of this place in the company of Light-only-knew how many Orc souls Grakkar managed to recover. He didn’t know the mechanics, exactly-- would they even notice each other in there? He hoped not.

Either way, a bridge they would cross when they got to it.

“--and another we brought.” he explained, vaguely. “Another Avehi agreed to ferry back out of the Maw with us. The vessel is with them. I did not want to leave them without it in case I did not escape this tower. But once we do, we will all escape the Maw!”

Thankfully for Argonas, Sinafay was only half listening to his words, once again entranced with taking in the sight of him.

“Well, hopefully there’s plenty of room in there. I think a few souls are looking to escape with us.”

Some of the wisps had already begun gravitating around the Vindicator, seeming to take comfort in the Light aura he surrounded himself in. Something a living mortal might miss, but obvious for spirits like herself to make out. 

One wisps curiously remained by Sylaess. Sinafay tilted her head slightly at how odd it was. It must have had some form of connection to her. Unfortunately, Sinafay only now realized how little she knew of Sylaess outside their interactions together. 

She opened her mouth to ask, only for a loud roar to ring out and startle everyone. The entire tower seemed to shake as a behemoth form began making its way down the stairs, towards the group. The wisps began to flutter about in a panic, and the sound alone caused Sinafay to tremble. 

“Fuck,” she whispered as she backed away down the stairs and towards Argonas. She knew what it was, even though she didn’t exactly know how. Knowledge to all the spirits trapped in the tower perhaps, “The Tarragrue…”

Wide eyes turned to her mate, fear in her gaze, “Run… we cannot fight this one…”

~*~*~

[vantaestummy]

Bad Sushi, Long Nights, and Lots of Love (Part 2)

Commission prompt: sick jk and his caretaker boyfriends, Seokjin and Namjoon

TW/// emeto & scat

A/N: I hope you all can give this fic a second chance, and I also hope that you all can forgive me and learn to trust me again. Thank you to those who sent me kind messages. I will do my best to pay more attention and continue to own up to my mistakes.

When they arrive, Jungkook is not where Seokjin left him. The maknae is sitting on the edge of the couch, knuckles burning white as he grips the siding of the couch cushions. His face has paled to a drastic degree, and his teeth chatter as he swallows convulsively. 

“Are you going to be sick?” Namjoon rushes to Jungkook’s side, his knees falling to the floor as he places a hand to the younger man’s forehead. He looks up at Seokjin, worry clear in his eyes. 

“Babe, he’s burning up.” Namjoon says.

Seokjin stands cautiously over Jungkook, the maknae clamping a hand to his wet and trembling lips. 

Jungkook’s chills worsen. “H-hyung…”

Namjoon jumps into action, snatching a bowl from the dish wrack before pressing it into Jungkook’s arms with haste. The maknae opens his mouth, a string of drool falling into the bowl before he gags helplessly. With one giant heave, small pools of bile pour from his lips, clattering into the plastic with a loud and revolting noise. Seokjin pulls at his growing hair, talking him through it as he rubs the younger’s back with a calm hand.

“Shit,” Namjoon murmurs. “He’s really sick, hyung.. Think it’s a bug?” 

Seokjin’s jaw clenches as he continues to hold back Jungkook’s fringe with shaky hands. “I don’t know Joon-ah. Fever and chills could also come from food poisoning. What has he eaten?” 

Namjoon shakes his head as he thinks. “Nothing today. He barely ate his breakfast, so it must have been something from yesterday if it’s food poisoning.” 

Seokjin groans in frustration. “Should we take him to a hospital?” 

Jungkook moans, his top half swaying forward as he hiccups wetly. Namjoon presses a hand to his chest, to keep him upright. 

“N-No, don’t leave me hyungs…” Jungkook pleads deliriously, perspiration clinging to his skin. Seokjin and Namjoon share a grave and very concerned look. 

Seokjin drops to his knees so that he can cup Jungkook’s cheek. 

“We’re not going to leave you baby, but we need to take you to get the help that you need.” 

“No.” Jungkook cries, tears springing to life in his closed eyes. The sickness is really starting to take it out of him. Namjoon and Seokjin are nearly driven to tears themselves. 

Jungkook swallows convulsively. “I’m… I’m done hyungies. Can I just… Can I lay down? Can you stay?” 

Namjoon cards a hand gently through Jungkook’s locks, a sad smile curling along his dimpled face.

“Oh Jungkook-ah, I have to talk over a new schedule with the staff and P.D. but… maybe I’ll join you two later, okay bunny?” Namjoon offers as he winks at him. Jungkook can’t help but to giggle, even when his stomach aches and his throat burns. 

Seokjin brings Namjoon’s face in for a slow and sweet kiss. 

“I’ll take care of him while you’re gone. I promise.” Seokjin jokes lightly. Namjoon chuckles back. 

“I believe you.” 

Seokjin helps Jungkook to change into something more comfortable before helping him get into bed, as well as finding a position that is comfortable enough for his sick stomach. 

Seokjin kisses his head. “I’m going to make you some broth for your stomach. You have to eat something, even if it's super light.”

Jungkook whimpers, his lips bobbing as he shakes his head against his pillow, the sheets clutched tightly in his fists. 

“I don’ think I’ll be able to eat anything hyungie…” 

Seokjin pets his hair. “It will be light, Jungkook-ah. I promise. Do you trust me?” 

Jungkook pouts, and the sight makes Seokjin coo. 

“Yeah hyung, I’ve always trusted you.” 

Seokjin kisses his head one last time before standing.

“You’re gonna get over this. I promise.” He says before leaving in search of the things he needs to make a light bowl of soup. 

As soon as he's done, Seokjin slowly walks back to his room, a steaming bowl of chicken broth in one hand, and a lukewarm cup of water in the other. Jungkook can’t seem to sit still. His body undulates with tremors as he tosses from side to side. 

Seokjin sighs. “I know you’re in pain baby, but try to drink a little of this.” 

Jungkook hisses as he turns to face Seokjin, covers tucked to his chin as he opens his mouth slightly. Seokjin carefully places the rim of the bowl to Jungkook’s lips as he tilts it, the warm broth smoothly making its way down the younger man’s throat. Jungkook looks as if he’s swallowing a rock when he closes his mouth, his eyes shutting tights as he shivers with a grimace. 

Seokjin frowns. “Think you can drink a little bit more?” 

Jungkook doesn’t look too sure, but he nods for Seokjin’s sake. The older man pours a bit more into his mouth before setting it to the side, not wanting to go overboard in case Jungkook happens to get sick again. Seokjin makes to leave once more, in search of a trash can for the chance that Jungkook does in fact, throw up again. Jungkook however, thinks that Seokjin is leaving him completely. 

Jungkook cries. “No, no, no hyung, stay with me please.” 

Seokjin nearly coos again. “Jungkook-ah, love, I’m not going anywhere.” He assures him with a soft smile. Jungkook seems content when he hums, allowing Seokjin to kiss him on the tip of his nose. “Just going to grab something. I’ll be right back.” 

When Seokjin returns, Jungkook is impatiently waiting for him, his eyes open and his fists curled against the sheets. Seokjin chuckles as he comes to rest behind him, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s torso. 

“Just try to sleep. You’ll feel better after you rest.” Seokjin whispers into his ear. 

And Jungkook tries to rest. He really, really does, but his body won’t let him. His stomach won’t let him. 

Seokjin pats the lower abdomen of Jungkook’s stomach, a bulge there having formed, hard and round. He winces quietly in sympathy. “Does your stomach still hurt Guk-ah?” He whispers. Seokjin sits up just enough so he can see that Jungkook is squirming uncontrollably, his legs curling as he coils in on himself, pulling his knees into his chest as he whines in a pained manner. 

Jungkook whimpers with a jittery nod. His eyes are squeezed closed, his lids wrinkling as he rocks back and forth on his side. He can’t help but to whine again, the pain he feels nothing more than indescribable.

It’s damn near unbearable. 

Seokjin stands up before he rounds the corner of the mattress, hesitantly lowering himself onto the side of the bed. He starts to pet Jungkook’s hair, feeling nothing but useless as he watches his boyfriend suffer like this. “Think you can hold down a bit of water?” Seokjin asks him, his hand already reaching for the glass of water that he had brought the younger man earlier. The same glass of water that the maknae has not touched since he first lied down.

Jungkook groans, his entire body shaking as he pushes himself closer and closer to Seokjin, clearly afraid and in need of comfort.

Without warning, the nausea he feels is overbearing. Dizziness invades all of his senses, his stomach quaking as he tries desperately not to throw up. He tries to focus on his breathing, as well as the rapid pace of his heart, but nothing is working. His body is in a hurry to rid itself of whatever is inside, whether it’s actual food, or not.

“I think, I think I need the trash can.” Jungkook whimpers out, pressing a closed fist to his clamped lips, stifling a sick burp that sounds almost painful. Seokjin jumps up from the mattress, sprinting in pure havoc as he snatches up the trash bin from the corner of the room. He settles right next to Jungkook’s side, pressing the trash can into the younger man’s chest, breathing heavily himself as he tries to calm the incessant panic that he feels.

Jungkook begins to cough, his body jerking as he leans forward. Seokjin lifts the trash can beneath his chin just before he fruitlessly heaves. Nothing comes out, but the gags are grated and harsh, sounding more and more wet as he continues to exude such painful noises. 

“Take a deep breath my love, everything is gonna be alright.” Seokjin calms him, running his palm up and down the length of Jungkook’s spine, hoping that his boyfriend can feel that he is present and near. He combs a hand through his hair, trying desperately to will away the shake of his wrist. 

He doesn’t need Jungkook to know how scared he is.

Jungkook outright moans, spitting over the receptacle before he burps up a string of saliva, the taste of undigested broth plaguing his tongue.

Seokjin bites back a deep sigh. “It’s okay baby, get it all up.” He whispers. A part of him would rather have Jungkook throw up something than just bile, as that puts him in more pain, however, he would also rather have Jungkook throw up nothing at all. 

“I think we need to get you some medicine, something to calm your nausea.” Seokjin advises. Jungkook can’t answer as he retches, this heave a lot more successful as vomit spurts from his lips and into the trash bin below. Jungkook’s hair falls right in the line of fire between his mouth and the trash can.

Seokjin winces as he pulls at the boy’s growing locks, narrowly avoiding another spurt of puke that comes with a large and painful sounding retch. Jungkook begins to cry, coughing up another splash of puke, the grotesque fluids forming a small pool at the bottom of the receptacle.

Jungkook tightens his hands around the bin in his grasp, as if it will suddenly grow wings and fly. Vomit has made its way onto the collar of his shirt, as well as the knuckles on his fists, but he probably doesn’t even notice because he is so out of it.

“It’s okay Jungkookie, I am not going anywhere.” Seokjin comforts him, trying his best to hide the grimace in his voice.

Jungkook heaves once again, a steady stream of vomit pouring from his lips at an alarming rate. Seokjin doesn’t know what more he can say, as Jungkook’s face grows red from the strain of the vomiting, but he continues to brush back his hair and pat at his back. It’s not like Jungkook can hear him anyway. 

Jungkook wheezes a few more ragged breaths, a gag littered throughout every now and again, but nothing more comes up. Seokjin has no idea how long they sit there, Jungkook breathing rapidly with the other man there, rubbing his back in small and steady circles. 

Seokjin clears his throat.

“Do you think you’re done?” He asks.

Jungkook takes a few seconds to answer, his fringe dripping with sweat and his skin a pitiful gray color. 

“Y-Yeah… I... I think so…” 

Seokjin nods before patting his shoulder softly.

“I’m going to clean this out. I’ll be right back.” 

Jungkook sits up in the bed, breathing heavily with closed eyes as he leans his back against the wooden headboard of the bed. He doesn’t have the energy to answer, that much is clear, but when Seokjin is nearly out the door, Jungkook starts to sob. 

“Hyung, hyung don’t leave me… please.” 

Seokjin’s throat burns as he struggles not to cry too. “I’ll be right back my love.” 

When Seokjin goes into the bathroom to retrieve the medicine, he starts to cry. 

“Hyung? Baby don’t cry.” Namjoon has come back from his meeting, alarmed and panicked as he pulls Seokjin into his chest, kissing his hair and his forehead. 

Seokjin begins to sob. “He’s so sick Namjoon-ah, and I don’t know what to do.” 

Namjoon cups Seokjin’s cheek as he grazes it softly with his thumb. 

“You’re so busy taking care of Jungkook, that you’re neglecting to take care of yourself. Do you realize that it’s already dinner time? You skipped lunch, hyung.”

Seokjin sniffles as he looks at the time. 

Had it really gotten that late?

“H-He, he’s not getting any better. He threw up a lot after I tried to feed him some broth.” 

Namjoon nods as he kisses Seokjin’s hair.

“You take a break. I’ll look after him. Our schedules are clear for the day. If he gets worse, then we’ll take him to the emergency room. After thinking about it for a bit… I might have an idea on what made Gukkie so sick.” 

Oh?

“What do you think it was?” Seokjin asks, intrigued. 

“I think it was the new sushi place that we ordered from last night. Guk was the only one that got something raw.” 

Seokjin frowns as he thinks back to the night that Namjoon speaks of. 

Seokjin gasps. 

“Oh fuck.” 

Namjoon laughs outright, surprised at Seokjin’s sudden use of such vulgar language. 

“Go eat. I’m going to go check on him. If it’s just food poisoning, then this shouldn’t last long.” 

Seokjin sighs before cupping Namjoon’s cheeks and kissing him deep. Namjoon’s breath hitches as he kisses back with full vigor. Their lips click in parting. 

“I’m serious. Go and rest.” 

Seokjin sighs with a small smile. 

“Okay. I love you.” 

Namjoon kisses him one last time. 

“I love you too.” 

When Namjoon enters the room, his ears are flooded with an incessant amount of snoring. Jungkook is fast asleep beneath the sheets, his breathing rugged but his body, somewhat still. 

Namjoon shuts the door.

[simsadventures]

Baby Fever II

Summary: You’re 9 months pregnant with your first child, and you and Bucky are both excited and nervous about the arrival of the little one.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of smut (nothing explicit this time around), daddy! Bucky, Deer Woman appearance

Word Count: 1932

A/N: Some of you liked the first part so much, you actually requested a second one, and I was honestly very happy to do it. This is pretty much just a fluff with a fluff on top, so I’ll hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know what you thought :) xx

Bucky Barnes Masterlist __ Masterlist

Baby Fever I

The dull pain in your lower back woke you up. You groaned in frustration when you looked at the alarm sitting on your nightstand. It was 6.29, and even though that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, to wake up in half past 6, it was the fact that it has only been 2 hours since you last woke up. And you were tired. And in pain. And frustrated.

You looked at the other side of the bed seeing Bucky still soundly asleep, and although you were happy for him and his sleeping routine, you were also jealous of him.

You loved the fact you were pregnant, you really did. But your little bundle of joy had no care in the world for a time in the real world outside your womb, and he or she would regularly have a party in there around 4 AM.

And because nature had to make it so that the women would carry to babies, your husband would wake up rested and stress-free every morning, while you looked like a little dwarves dances on top of you the whole night.

You sighed, and rolled over to your other side, dangling your feet off the bed and you tried to get up. Not only were you tired, but your bladder was killing you as well. You were sure the baby thought your bladder was some kind of a ball and would kick it out of spite every twenty minutes, causing you to run to the bathroom.

There were times when you even wanted to have twins. That thought made you cringe now because just the thought of two babies being in there, playing with your organs made you shiver. One at a time was just enough for you.

You rushed to the bathroom, and when you were done, you looked at yourself in the mirror. There were dark circles under your eyes from the lack of sleep, and very probably from the strength of the baby, which, as Bruce said, has inherited parts of the serum from his father. Bucky was alarmed at first, at the thought of his baby being enhanced and all of that, but Bruce assured both of you that rather than being enhanced in the usual sense of the word, your baby would simply be less prone to be sick, its wounds would heal slightly quicker, and that was probably it.

He couldn’t be a hundred percent sure until it was born, but you trusted Bruce, and you were at ease with the whole serum thing.

Your eyes travelled south to your 9-month belly, swollen and hard with stretch marks at the sides. At first, you were horrified to see those lines on your body that use to be lean and without a mark, except the few scars you carried from your fights. But then, mostly thanks to Bucky, you realised that it was a miracle you even had this baby in you, and that your body was just accommodating for the little one to be as comfortable as you could make it.

You touched the right side of your belly, right next to your navel, and massaged it lightly. You knew the baby liked it when you touched the belly, or when you or Bucky spoke to it, and you wanted to enjoy this morning ritual until it decided to finally come out.

You could feel pressure under your palm, and when you lifted it, you could see a little hand protruding through your skin.

Despite your tiredness and all those frustrations you felt when you got up, a smile appeared on your mouth and tears welled up in your eyes. This was all you ever dreamed of, at least since you met Bucky, and you couldn’t believe that it was a reality. Your very own reality.

You didn’t even notice the movement behind you until there was a hand splayed on your stomach. You looked into the mirror and was welcomed by the sight that melted your heart.

Bucky’s hair was still messy from the pillow, his eyes looked like he hasn’t truly woken up just yet, but he had a delirious smile on his face, watching your belly with a newfound adoration.

Ever since you found out you were pregnant, Bucky was over the moon. He would make sure you had everything you needed, even if it meant he had to get up from the comfort of his bed at 2 AM just to bring you a sack of oranges, or a pack of ice cream. He would pamper you with kisses and hugs, give you massages whenever your body hurt too much, and he would be there all the time.

He even misses a few missions just because he didn’t feel like leaving you alone, despite your protests and Tony’s explanations that nothing could happen to you in the safest place on this planet. That wasn’t an argument for Bucky. You were his wife carrying his child, and he would be damned if he didn’t make sure you were both ok.

As the baby made its presence known, Bucky kept massaging your belly, marvelling at the sight of the tiny feet and hands showing through the thin skin of your stomach.

You leaned into his chest, loving the attention he was giving both of you, and you kissed the underside of his jaw. His eyes shot to yours, and he gave you the loveliest smile, pecking your lips in the process.

You were nearing your due date, well, according to Bruce, it could happen any day now. You were anxious, to say the least. You were an Avenger, that was true, but you couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to give birth to a tiny human being. And if it the little one inside you was anything like Bucky, it would come out kicking and screaming.

But the truth was, you weren’t even scared of the pain, you knew you could take it. Billions of women were able to do it before you, and you knew you could do it. You were more afraid for the little one. What if something happens to it? What if you can’t even do the one thing, right? What if you are a bad mother?

All these thoughts were playing in your mind as the due date neared, and they were now all you could think of. Bucky had no idea, or at least you thought so because you didn’t want to stress him out or let him know about all your doubts when it came to your child.

But Bucky being Bucky could read you like an open book, and so when you got lost in your head again, contemplating whether you are able to take on this new role, in this crazy world, Bucky put a finger under your chin and turned your to face him.

“Stop,” he whispered and touched your forehead with his, letting you take a deep breath, releasing the stress out of your body.

“We’re gonna be good, you’re gonna be a great mother, and I will never let anything happen to the little one, I promise. You are my family, my everything, and there isn’t a possibility of it not ending up ok. We’re gonna struggle at times, just like every other new parents, but we will get the hang of it. I saw you taking care of Morgan, and you’re natural, baby! So stop stressing about unnecessary things, and just enjoy the last few moments of being pregnant,” he said calmly, and just like always, you felt yourself letting go of all your fears, just because Bucky was with you.

“I know you’re right, it’s just the illogical part of my brain that comes up with all these worst-case scenarios. But you’re right, when it comes-“

You couldn’t finish the sentence, because you suddenly felt something wet between your thighs. And because you were pretty sure you just didn’t pee yourself, there was only one other possibility.

Bucky was watching in confusion, as you looked from him to your stomach and further down, and then back at him. It took him a good minute before he realised what was happening, and from the calm and collected Bucky, you had this fretting boy in front of you.

He was freaking out, to say the least, while you were overcome with peace. Sure, you were curious about the contractions, and all, but you suddenly knew you could do this. Your body was made for this. Which you couldn’t say about Bucky’s body, which was now shaking as he tried to remember what it was that you wanted to do first if something like this happened.

“Bucky!” You raised your voice to ensure the message actually got to his stressed brain.

“Call my doctor, Dr Young, and tell her that we are on our way. I’ll call Bruce and tell him what is happening. You’ll then grab my bag, it’s there, on the table, and you’ll calmly drive me to the hospital, just like we planned. Will you be able to do it, or should I call somebody else to drive us?”

“NO! I’ll drive us! I’ve got this! I promise, now let’s go,” Bucky said, obviously still a little shaken, but much better than moments ago.

You nodded at him, and while you were both calling the doctors, and heading towards the car, you looked outside, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn you saw a beautiful woman standing outside the window.

Her hair was flowing around her hips, the flower crown on her head accentuating her beauty just like her plain white dress. She looked like she was smiling at you and nodding, but when you blinked and looked again, she was nowhere to be found.

You thought you were hallucinating, from the pain that started to creep to your belly and forgot all about the image of a few moments ago.

But the Deer Woman has never forgotten. She came in to check on you, and to give you and the baby the strength to go through the labour as painlessly and quickly as possible.

She was also there, just outside the hospital where you were giving birth to your baby boy to oversee the whole process, and when she heard the sharp cries of your baby, and when she heard you saying the little boy’s name, she nodded again and vanished into thin air.

“Micheal Steven,” you said with a smile. “I think we should call him after Steve, because you and Steve have always been so close, and I would like to honour that. Also, we both agreed that sieve should be his godfather, so why not calling him after him?”

Bucky was already on the verge of crying from all the joy he was feeling, but when you asked him if you could name your baby boy after his best friend, the dam broke. He sobbed yes, and hugged you tightly, still careful of the babe in your arms.

He couldn’t believe his luck to have such a beautiful family, and he knew that it wouldn’t end with just this baby. Bucky wanted a whole litter of babies now that you two knew you made such cute ones. And he couldn’t wait to start trying with you again. Well, after little Micheal Steven was safe and sound in his crib and you were all healed up, of course. He could wait that long. But the baby fever in him could never be truly satisfied.

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten​ @paradisiacalsparks​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @owlyannah​ @lassini​ @s-trawberryv-eins​ @reniescarlett​ @bxrnsfeyson​ @the-soulofdevil​

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @lumar014​ @ptrs-prkrs​

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​ @sasbb23​ @p8tn0lish​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @waiting4inspiration​ @caswinchester2000​ @mogaruke​ @justthatfangirloverthere​ @mushyjellybeans​ @livsheph​ @sebbbystaaan​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @itsunclebucky​

If your name is crossed out, tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason, I’m sorry.

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical ones. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think.

[embyrinitalics]

Calamiversary: Link’s POV II

Here’s some more scenes from Link’s POV—about 2.4k worth! (I rly hope this makes up a little bit for the fact that I haven’t updated in two months omg)

But you know how I said that reading through my old stuff makes me cringe? Yeah this is like, way worse. It’s all unedited, and I wrote these in December 2018, so it’s all old. It’s all embarrassing. 😬 But with that disclaimer, I’m going to put my personal feelings aside and let you guys read it if you want 😂

Also now that I’m looking at this I feel like they’re not in chronological order, like that scene with Revali stabbing him should have come after these ones with Mipha, but   o h   w e l l

Here u go!

  Drowning

At first, all that registers is the pain, white and hot across my throat, and the numb realization that I’m going to die.

Of course, it’s not that simple for me.

The half of me that I’m always suppressing senses my weakness, slamming frantically against my defenses in the span of a heartbeat. I have to choose between saving myself and containing it. So I pour everything I am into holding him in, dragging him down with me in a white-knuckled grip. But he fights back.

The pain is agony, a thousand heated needles covering my entire body and then being driven down to the bone in nauseating synchrony. He thrashes in my hold, tendrils of his hate whipping out in places, and my vision blotches white. I feel the deathstroke across my throat heal; the earth quaking beneath my feet; the malice seeping out of me like blood oozing out of a wound.

I can hear myself screaming beyond the war, part agony and part fury. Part man and part beast. It’s slowly tearing me in two, ripping ligaments and shredding flesh as it claws deliriously towards escape. I grapple with him, desperately trying to hold on even as he starts pulling my limbs apart. But I know it’s only a matter of time.

Then I see her. Her light cuts through the pain, through the fear and the hate, brilliant and pure as the sun. I can’t speak; I can only stare, imploring her with my eyes to end me quickly.

She takes my face in her hands and I suck a sudden breath. Her glowing touch is warm and soft, comforting, and not the violent end I had been expecting—the touch of a goddess, and for a moment I can breathe.

Then her light engulfs everything—the woods, my body, and soon my mind. The relief from the pain and the peace of it is so indescribably jarring that I don’t resist, falling headlong into it.

And then I’m drowning. Drowning in the sensation of her between my hands, of the softness of her lips under mine, of the closeness of her. Drowning in sensations that are brand new and millennia old at once. I’m drowning, burning from the inside out, and even though it aches I don’t want it to end.

I remember myself, haltingly, and muster the will to let her go. I drop my forehead against hers, grappling with how much I want her—and with how far I’ve let myself fall. There’s no amount of leniency on her part that could possibly excuse this. But I’m not concerned with the consequences for myself; only with how my lack of self-control must have affected her.

“Forgive me,” I breathe. “That was—”

But she silences me, her soft, delicate fingers brushing my mouth with a feather-light touch that sends another pang of want rippling through my middle. Her eyes pierce into me, unendingly blue and so powerful I can’t help but wonder if it’s her magic. Then she exhales, drifting closer, her eyes falling heavy-lidded to my mouth just before they close completely. And the feeling of her lips meeting mine, electric, breathless, so warm, sends me diving under the surge of sensation again.

I draw her close, losing myself in her. There’s nothing even close to this—her touch, her taste, the sound she makes when I angle her head to deepen the kiss.

And I don’t know why I’ve denied myself for so long. I’ve always wanted her. And now that I’ve tasted this, tasted her—even all the armies in Hyrule couldn’t keep me from her now.

I smile against her mouth. Slaughtering them would be easy.

Through the intoxicated cloud swirling in my brain, the thought snags unpleasantly, like a potent flicker of light in a comfortable darkness. It’s enough to slow me down, enough to make me think.

Enough to make me realize this can’t possibly be real.

I stop, pulling away slowly to search her eyes. So familiar. So beautiful it makes my heart ache.

But she’s been dead for 10,000 years.

I want to ignore it, dive headlong into the illusion of her. But I can’t unsee it. I murmur, breaking the spell, “This isn’t real.”

She blinks, and suddenly she’s different. Still familiar. Still beautiful. Still alive. And then the pieces are snapping into place, and the woman in my hands isn’t the one I loved so many millennia ago. It’s the Zelda of this era, the one who only knows me as I am—as the Calamity. And we’re reliving one of her memories—one of my memories—

And it’s agony. All at once the peace is gone, the gentle, tremulous bit of happiness the memory had lent me and I had been nursing in my heart like a single spark in an endless night, and the hatred is flooding in. The anger. Everything the illusion had been strong enough to veil.

And I remember what I am. I feel the evil pouring through my veins like a poison. I feel it making my heart pound stronger. I feel it coloring my vision and filling me with desires I must never obey.

And it’s agony.

I’m quaking on the inside, partly from fury and partly from shock. And then I erupt.

“What are you doing here?”

She looks as lost as I feel, green eyes glittering with shock and fright. “I—I don’t know—”

“Is this some kind of a joke to you? You think that just because you have her memories that they’re yours to do with as you please?”

“No! I didn’t mean to do this—”

Oh, I want to break her. I want to hold her down and force her to taste some of the pain I have. I want to hear her scream. But I push her away instead, unwilling to give the monster the edge.

“Well undo it!”

She stumbles into the mantel, turning back with that pretty face covered in tears. And the satisfaction and the guilt churning together in my stomach makes me feel sick.

“I don’t know how!” she tries to reason. “It was an accident!”

I turn away and try to breathe. That glimmer of humanity, after 10,000 years without—and then to have it just wrested away—

“This how you operate when you don’t get your way, then?” I bite out before I can rein it in. “Prick the Calamity, see if he bleeds?”

“I told you it was an accident,” she says again, more quietly.

She sounds so miserable. A very small part of me wants to comfort her. But I’m so furious I can hardly see straight. Forcing me to relive this moment—with her—

What was she thinking? What in the name of the gods made her think she had the right? Hadn’t I been through enough? Hadn’t I endured enough torture over the last eon? Did she really have to reach down into my most private, most intimate moments and drag them into the daylight, too? The last, precious fragments of who I was, that I hold onto so fiercely, lest I lose myself completely—

Why?

“Magic doesn’t just materialize out of nothing,” I growl, closing the distance again, propelled by a fresh wave of anger. “What did you want to know? If it would hurt me to relive this? If I could even tell the difference between you?”

She winces like my words had been a slap. “No!”

“Then what?” I grab ahold of her, desperate for this to be over. Desperate to just—just feel nothing. “Do you want me to admit that you remind me of her? That I’m in agony every time I look at you? Is that it?”

“I don’t want anything! Let me go!”

“Would it please you to know that I am?” I murmur, my voice dangerously quiet, and she goes still. “Every time.”

And now, I realize numbly, it will be worse.

Because now she doesn’t just remind me of what I had with my Zelda.

Now I’ve tasted her, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to again.

  Frightening

“I’m sorry about what happened with the Champions,” she says quietly, catching me off guard. “I imagine it was… frightening, losing control like that.”

Yes. Yes, it was. I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid of anything in my life as I was in that moment, so close to rupturing, so close to tearing her apart with a thought, so close to losing myself completely and destroying everything I love in the aftermath. I want so badly to tell her, to unburden myself. I know she’s hoping I will. And that just… makes the temptation worse. She’s staring through me with unseeing eyes, full of the desire to understand, to heal even a little bit of the damage. I want to pull her closer, taste her again, thread my fingers in her hair and indulge in the warmth of her. I want to lose myself in her touch, in her lips, lose myself to her instead of to the monster working to claw its way out of me. I want to—

Gods!

“You were right,” I manage, finally. “They weren’t to know.”

“How have you been since?” she asks. So eager. So earnest. So gentle. It’s infuriating. “Any lingering effects? Urges to explode?”

“I always feel the urge to explode,” I scoff, grateful for the levity. “But no. The seal is as strong as it ever was.”

  The Zora Princess

We stop to rest and I quietly remove myself. So I can breathe. So they can breathe.

The air tastes clearer once I put some distance between us, like grass and wind and the malice in my mouth instead of the honeyed flavor of their adrenaline. The pressure in the back of my mind eases somewhat without the constant temptation, but the hollow gnaw of the hunger is just as strong as it ever was. I lower myself into the prairie grass, beating back a groan.

The Gerudo and that bird creature are arguing about something. It makes Zelda laugh.

That’s good.

Then the wind shifts and the air tastes of sugar and salt, and I turn towards it slowly. It’s the Zora girl. She’s so short the grass is up to her knees, and her trident has become more of a walking stick than a weapon. She’s so quiet it’s easy to forget she’s there—but she’s one of the Champions, and royalty, if the headdress is any indication. I’m sure she’s stronger than she looks. The fact that she’s confronting me on her own is evidence enough.

I tilt my head at her as she draws close, feeling after that gentle spike in her heart rate as I fix her in my stare. It makes my spine burn.

“Princess,” I greet her quietly. “To what do I owe this honor?”

She leans on her staff, remarkably calm, and I can feel the tendrils of power wafting off her.

“You’re in a great deal of pain,” she says.

My lips move towards a frown as I draw the inevitable conclusion. Just my luck. “You’re a healer.”

“Yes.”

And her magic is a peculiar brand. Very strong, almost magnetized in the way it drifts towards injury. It’s what brought her to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she could bring someone back from the brink of death.

I contemplate her usefulness for a moment; but I need to go much further than the brink, and that’s well beyond even her abilities.

  Dreamcraft

I carry her up to the campsite, lay her near the fire and rouse it a bit so she isn’t freezing, and then grudgingly lift the sleepweb from the Zora girl. Her eyes open and then drift upwards, like she’s watching the spell float away.

Her eyes settle on me, finally, all golden and rippling, and she says, “You seem better.”

She’s a strange one. No demanding what I’d done, or where I’d gone, or what had happened. But she’s also sharp. Sharp enough that her bold-faced concern makes me feel manipulated. But she’s not wrong. I had been caught up in feeling terrified to notice, but the hunger had faded into background noise. Throbbing, like something swollen. I frown, trying to puzzle out how that had happened.

I finally admit, because it’s too easy to admit things when I’m with her, “We shared a dream.”

“And that helps?”

I can’t be sure if it’s the emotional implosion that follows one of her illusions merely drowning the hunger out, or an actual, measurable, residual effect of her dreamcraft. Either way, it’s worth studying. Which is horrifying.

“Maybe.”

We sit by the fire in silence for a while. That’s easy, too. Almost like we had been friends once, in another life. I’m watching the flames, and she’s watching Zelda, and then so am I.

“Could you enter her dreams now? While she sleeps?”

The idea of sauntering into her mind uninvited worms unpleasantly in whatever scrap of my conscience is left, vaguely reminiscent of guilt. But she’s plowed headlong into mine more than once, so it seems only fair. For some reason that reasoning doesn’t make the worming stop. I still haven’t answered, and her eyes glide to the side of my head. I call up the fire more, loosing a taut, tired sigh at her persistence.

“Possibly.”

It’s noncommittal and non-revealing, which I assume will grind her advance to a halt. But she slips around it like water in that infuriating way she does.

“You should try it sometime,” she says.

I tilt my head at her. “You don’t find the idea of trespassing on her mind morally objectionable?”

She shrugs. “Not as objectionable as you tearing a swathe of Hyrule up by the roots.”

And that’s logic I can hardly argue with. Her eyes say she knows. And suddenly I find the image of her pretty crimson skull smashed against the stone and its contents spattered everywhere very appealing.

“You need her,” she adds, too simply, too condemningly, and I have to swallow down fury and terror.

Because she’s right.

The night drags and drags and drags, dread and disgust whipping me into a tumble of disquiet and every quiet tremble of fear or pleasure from her tempting me into her head.

[haikyuu-sickfics]

Vomit warning!

Gah, the pacing of this is so out of wack and rushed, I hope it’s at least readable.  Anyways, here’s the mass illness Inarizaki I mentioned

Shinsuke Kita was observant.

This was a known fact by everyone on the Inarizaki volleyball team.  A fact reaffirmed time and time again whenever he sent a teammate home for showing even the smallest symptoms of illness or for limping ever so slightly to comfort an injury.

In short, he was known to not be a risk-taker when it came to health and wellness.

So why, pray tell, was he allowing a very visibly unwell Atsumu to remain on court, setting wonky balls and diving seconds too late.

The setter’s lackluster performance went unnoticed by no one- even the coaches were shocked at how this very clearly unwell Atsumu had remained unscolded by Shinsuke for so long.

Though a quick glance at the captain revealed why.

His skin was 5 shades paler than usual, bringing out the light pink flush dusting his cheeks.  Perspiration, more than what was normal considering the lowkey practice today, glued his fringe down to his forehead.  

Well, that explained a lot, Atsumu’s illness went unnoticed by Shinsuke because the latter appeared to be in a strikingly similar state.

Which was also unusual.  One would think Shinsuke would be observant and careful of his own health, considering how involved he was in those departments for others.  Though, it’s not too difficult to chalk that up to Shinsuke being so delirious that he didn’t even realize his own poor performance.  Then again it could also be that that team was currently at a training camp hours away from Hyogo and not much could be done in terms of going home and resting even if one was sick.

So they let it slide, the coaches not doing anything more than sending cautious glances at the two uneasy boys and telling everyone to not push themselves too hard.

It was unsafe, reckless, and by this point, Aran had had enough of it.

“Kita, you’re not looking too good,” he finally spoke up, voicing the teams concerns.

“Yea you look like shit,” Michinari added, turning his attention away from Ren who was practicing his serves and ignoring Aran’s glare.

Shinsuke blinked.  Then once more, his eyes wide and uncharacteristically clueless and fully unaware of the rest of the team stealing quick glances in his direction

“Hmm, what do you mean?” He cocked his head to the side, “is that mean to be an insult?”

“No no!” Aran quickly covered, giving Michinari a side-eye, “You just look like you could use a break, maybe get some water and rest.”

Shinsuke blinked again, now growing mildly aware of the fact that the players on the court were not-so-subtly staring at him.

“Yea, maybe you’re right,” Shinsuke finally admitted, swiping the back of his hand against his moist forehead.

“You too, Atsumu,” coach Kurosu added, calling over to the wobbly setter.

“Hah?!” he exclaimed, “Why me?”

Osamu sent him a look that said ‘are you seriously asking that question, you dense idiot’ to which Atsumu replied with a look that stated ‘yes, yes I am.’

After a second or two of the twins having a silent conversation, Aran took the situation into his own hands and ushered the two visibly sick players out of the gym and off into the room where the team’s futons were set up.

“Alright,” Michinari called out with a clap, “Now that they’re gone I’m the only third-year left, so I’m putting myself in charge.”

“What about me?” Ren interjected with a playful smile on his face, signaling his offense was fake.

Michinari looked over to him and smiled innocently before turning to the rest of the team and giving them various things to work on.

Practice continued relatively normal after that,  Michinari called out far more inspirational cheers than usual to make up for the loss of the teams two captains.

Though, his enthusiasm died down drastically within 5 minutes.  No one paid much mind to this, them all being too absorbed in their individual practice or worrying about the missing teammates.  But Rin, who was well versed in Michinari’s seemingly endless enthusiasm, couldn’t help but to worry.

So he discreetly called out for Michinari’s attention, sending him a questioning face and a thumbs-up as his way of asking whether or not the libero was alright.

Michinari shut a thumbs up back, attempting a smile which only made Rin more nervous.  The libero’s eyes were furrowed, giving his eyes a rather sad look.  The smile resembled more of a grimace, accompanying his seemingly paler than usual skin.

Rin hurried to his friend, fully intent on taking him to the room where Shinsuke, Atsumu, and Aran were settled.

However, just as Rin was 3 steps away, a desperate voice yelled ‘Akagi-san!’ followed by a hollow thump as a volleyball bounced off Michinari’s chest.

Silence fell upon the gym as everyone’s eyes widened, glued on the now floored libero.  No one moved, even Rin forget how to put one leg in front of another as Michinari coughed and gagged helplessly, his knees and the plans of his hands pressed against the hard floor.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a splash alerted the gym of Michinari’s heaves finally becoming productive.  The awful sound powered Rin back up, a new sense of urgency overcoming him as he knelt down beside his friend and brushed his fringe away from his sweaty forehead.

“Bucket!  Someone get a bucket!” A coach called out to the team.

“Ok let’s get out of here now,” Rin began, lightly trying to pull Michinari uo.

The latter shook his head, his cheeks puffed out to alert that he was not done yet. His back arched suddenly, his chin tucking slightly into his neck as sick worked it’s way up his throat.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, a second-year forced a bucket under his chin, holding it above the ground as to not soil the bottom with what was already on the ground.  Michinari would’ve given them a thankful look, but intense nausea warned him that now was not the time.

Instead, a loud gag brought a thick wave of vomit splashing into the bin, followed by a couple coughs.

“Water?” Hitoshi offered, using his left hand to extend Michinari’s water bottle to him.

Michinari hummed, lifting his head out of the bin to accept the bottle.  He then took a mouthful of water in his mouth and swished it around a bit before spitting it back out into the bin.

After a couple seconds of Michinari swishing out his mouth, he looked over to Rin and nodded.  The latter nodded back, standing up and helping Michinari to his feet.

They walked out of the gym together, Michinari leaning heavily on Rin and holding the bin near his waist.  Their steps were a bit awkward, a result of the height difference, but they made it work.

Across the gym, watching this ordeal with uncharacteristically wide eyes was Osamu.  He had been feeling a little off ever since Atsumu had left, but chalked it up to nerves.  It wasn’t unusual for Osamu to see Atsumu sick or hurt and feel the same symptoms, his mother called it a twin thing, but the severity of the symptoms were abnormal.  And Michinari falling ill only added to the idea that maybe he wasn’t imagining the nausea churning in his gut and the excess saliva in his mouth.  

“Are you okay, ‘Samu?” Rintarou asked, his hands shoved in his jacket pocket and voice deadpanned.  It wasn’t that he wasn’t concerned for Osamu’s wellbeing, he just didn’t like expressing it.

“Mn-mn,” Osamu hummed in a negatory response, not feeling comfortable enough to open his mouth.

“Ok… um… do you wanna uh step outside or to where the other sick people are?”

Osamu shrugged, bringing a fist up to his mouth to stifle a burp.

“How about outside, I think air would be nice,” Rintarou stated, tugging at his own shirt collar to cool off his uncomfortably hot torso.

Osamu nodded, turning towards the large door to the outside and walking over slowly, Rintarou keeping pace slightly behind.  The coaches ignored them, considering what had just happened moments ago, stopping two people from leaving to get air was a bad idea.

They only took two steps into the green grass outside before a loud retch forced its way out of Osamu.  Rintarou looked over with wide eyes as Osamu slapped a hand over his mouth.

“You should probably,” he paused to gulp down his own nausea, “just let it out.”

Osamu looked over to Rintarou before nodding and removing the hand from his mouth.  Saliva dripped out as Osamu leaned forward and let his mouth fall open.

A couple feet away, Rintarou was beginning to lose the battle with his own stomach.  Instead of standing up like Osamu, Rintarou was crouched down, leaning over his knees which were pressed tightly against his chest.  The position did nothing to help his nausea, the pressure actually only served to make him feel more sick.

Osamu lost it first, a sharp gag pressed against his stomach and forced out a small wave of vomit.  The sound of it sent Rintarou over to edge, a much thicker wave splashing onto the grass between his feet.

“You’re sick too?” Osamu sputtered out before his body had a chance to revolt once more.

“No,” Rintarou commented sarcastically just before another heavy wave forced it’s way out of his mouth.

Osamu quickly turned his head away from Rintarou, seeing his friend get so violently ill didn’t do anything to help his situation.

“Poor Ojiro,” Osamu whispered-- if he and Rintarou were this sick he could only imagine how bad Shinsuke and Atsumu had it.

--

Atsumu curled into the bucket on his lap, coughing harshly in an effort to clear his throat from the acidic vomit clinging along its edges.  Aran rubbed between his shoulder blades, warily eying Shinsuke who was sitting in a chair across the room unnaturally still.

A loud retch from Atsumu and the sound of liquid splashing in the bottom of the bucket stole Aran’s attention before he had a chance to ask if Shinsuke needed a bucket as well.

Atsumu groaned, hugging the plastic bin even closer to himself and coughed up another wave.

Aran winced in sympathy, not knowing what else to do other than continue to rub circles onto Atsumu’s back.

Across the room Shinsuke slowly stood up, his eyes containing their usual wideness and empty stare.  

Aran didn’t think much of it.  

He should have.

Without noise, Shinsuke leaned forward and opened his mouth.  After one silent retch and a back arch, a wave of sick fell onto the floor.

It was so quiet that Aran didn’t even hear, not until Ren and Michinari walked through the door and pointed it out.

Aran groaned, Michinari laughed dryly, Ren whimpered, Atsumu coughed, Shinsuke threw up another wave.

“Rag.  I’ll get a rag,” Ren informed, leaving the room.

“How many more?” Aran asked Michinari as the latter sat down.

Michinari shrugged, “Osamu and Rintarou looked kinda shitty but I did just puke on the floor so it’s hard to say.”

Aran nodded.  Best situation was they caught whatever was going around early enough to keep it between the current people in the room.  Worst situation was everyone got it-- an unlikely situation but one to consider nonetheless.

Ren returned, moist rag, cup of water and bucket in hand, and walked over to Shinsuke.

“Take a seat,” he commanded gently, guiding Shinsuke to a sitting position and handing him a bucket.

Shinsuke’s eyes were glazed with fever, he was far out of it and didn’t seem to be coming back any time soon.  Ren set the glass next to him, making sure the latter saw it before walking over to Aran.

“How long has Atsumu been like that?” He asked as Atsumu spit out another wave.

“Why are you talking like I’m not even here?” Atsumu exclaimed with overexaggerated offense.

“You don’t seem to be in a situation to have a conversation,” Ren pointed out.

“How dare y-” a burp cut Atsumu off, forcing him to hang his head over the bucket once more.

Michinari laughed at him before his own nausea spiked and forced him over his bucket once more.

“He threw up in the hall on the way here,” Aran answered Rin’s earlier question, “been like this since.  Shinsuke got sick just before you got here.”

Ren let his head fall back.

Today was going to be a long day.