#like again i feel bad that he's sick but he can be sick away from me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dadsbongos · 2 days ago

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sockpuppet

act 1 - the day your life changed / act 2 (coming soon!) / act 3 (coming soon!)

7.5 k words / warnings - reader written as the eldest daughter of toji fushiguro

summary - before meeting his wife, toji had a firstborn; and if you thought he was a messy parent with megumi you're gonna hate being that first kid with all the responsibility.

~~~

Scene 1 - summer 2006

Shoko was yawning into a ceramic mug with ewes playing in watercolor daisies on the front. An unlit cigarette dangling between her fingers. One of her eyes fluttered shut as rising sunlight sliced over her face from the kitchen window. Trees swayed behind the glass pane.

In your hand was a beaten up flip-phone, and three hours away by plane Satoru Gojo also holds a flip-phone (much shinier and newer than yours, though).

“I’m serious, you’re too cocky. Even Sho’ thinks so.”

She moans, not quite sure what she’s agreeing to but too smitten with the taste of bitter black coffee to ask.

“Pfft,” Satoru drags the hissing sound before curtly replying, “Whatever.”

“You’ll get yourself and poor Suguru in serious trouble, you know? Sugu’s a sweetheart, don’t drag him down with your bad attitude.”

“Blegh! Stop whining about Suguru, he’ll be fine.”

“I bet if Yaga knew you two were just goofing off in Okinawa for an extra day, he’d be pissed.”

“Well, don’t tell him! Besides, Suguru and I are always acing missions. We’re the strongest, or did you forget?”

“I’m just saying...”

“And I’m just saying: don’t worry about us. We always come back in one piece.”

You sigh. Earning one from Satoru.

“How about this?” uh oh, you can hear the smile on his overconfident face, “If Suguru and I don’t mess up this mission -- you have to go on a date with me!”

That pulls an eye roll out of you instantly, “And when you do mess it up?”

An audible snort before, “Then, I have to go on a date with you.”

Your laugh is boisterous. A rude “ha!” breaking into Satoru’s ears, but he didn’t mind, he assumes the grin on your face is good-natured anyway, “Very funny, Satoru. I gotta go. Don’t get Sugu’ killed, okay?”

“Agh, stop worrying about him!”

With a harsh dig of your thumb, the line cuts -- an unimpressed glower leveling your face to which Shoko merely shrugs in response. Messy bob detangling between pale, lithe fingers as she strokes her bedhead. Cracked lips stretch around yet another ragged yawn from the girl.

“Jeez, Sho’, did you not sleep at all?”

Again, she shrugs.

“Can’t be as bad as Satoru,” you mumble, jerking open the communal fridge to peer at your friends’ boxed leftovers, “He sounded terrible. Like he was sick or something. Can’t imagine how Suguru feels, either.”

Shoko’s snicker echoes into her rapidly hollowing mug.

“Shut up!”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” you snap, reaching toward the very back of the chilly box, “Just for that I’m snatching your noodles from last night!”

“I wasn’t gonna eat ‘em.”

Three hours away (by plane!), Satoru is drowsily thumbing the ridge of his silver cell. A faint upward impression left behind on his rosy lips. Suguru dozes off at his side, and Satoru doesn’t have the heart to rouse him -- after all, he can keep enough eyes on Riko by himself.

And closer to you than ever before, two men with dark hair sit in a car. Toji Fushiguro waits with closed eyes and a slouched back, though his brain is live and wired. Shiu Kong continuously mutters about how bothersome his cargo is, earnestly uncaring to the fact Toji can hear his every stilted word.

“Do you want to go out?” you hum around salty noodles, raising a brow. Shoko lays her cheek in her hand and continues, “I don’t feel like staying in all day. I’m pretty sure I could rope Haibara into carrying some bags if we went shopping.”

“Haibara would just be glad to get an invite,” despite the jab, you’re grinning fondly, “Yeah, I can swing a day trip today. Beats studying.”

“Studying for what, even?” Shoko shoots you a disbelieving glare, “Hard ass.”

“Huh?!”

“You heard me,” swinging back the rest of her coffee, Shoko clinks the ceramic mug to wood and blips out of the room with a muted call over her shoulder, “Getting Haibara now! Get dressed!”

“Ughhh,” you frown, looking down at your loose pyjama shorts with contempt. Strangely, the question of which clothes in your arsenal Satoru likes most pops into your head first.

When you remember you won’t see him again until this afternoon, your frown deepens with a huffier “ughhhh!” following. Quickly scarfing down more of your champion’s breakfast.

Once dressed, you set out with Shoko (a freshly lit cig now occupying her mouth), Yu and even a bleary-eyed, unenthused Kento being wrangled out the door by Yu.

“We’re gonna get Kento a nose ring!” Shoko barks, poking the blonde’s cheek.

“I’d rather not,” he grumbles.

As your quartet slithers out from under the torii gates, two parties grow closer.

Suguru stretches, hands above his tense head with an boorish groan. Riko has half a mind to roll her eyes. She eventually does when Satoru follows it up with a complaint, “I’m never playing babysitter again.”

“At least it’s over,” despite his lull, Suguru has a sick sense that it will not be over so soon. Whether it’s a sudden fondness for the girl or true intuition, Suguru is certain he’ll see Riko again.

Riko sops up a droplet of sweat with Misato’s handkerchief, eyes narrowing over Satoru just in time to catch the buttons of his shirt clattering across stone. Untailored undershirt tearing open. Hot crimson splatters out.

A startled scream is trapped in Riko’s jaw, Misato shoving the girl behind herself as Suguru lunges forward. Frayed brain scanning Satoru until the tow-headed boy jams an arm to bar the rest.

Satoru flashes gemstone teeth, tells the group to run along. He can handle a single man.

…

“Augh,” you kick frivolously at the coffee table, orange sun dressing the common space, “Typical Satoru and Suguru! Late as always!”

“I’m sure they have reasons,” Yu claps your shoulder in an attempt to placate your impatience.

“Yeah, starting with ‘Satoru’ and ending with ‘Gojo’...”

“That dink does like making Suguru late,” Shoko agrees, twiddling the pink lighter you gifted her months ago. Her name is bedazzled down either side with rhinestones.

Kento nods slowly, silently appraising the point with hands folded across his bloated abdomen. Yu offers him a slice of tiramisu he’d brought home, to which Kento wordlessly waves off. At the same time, Yu stretches the plate towards where you and Shoko curl together on a single recliner. You both decline, similarly stuffed.

“I don’t know how you’re still hungry, Yu,” you pout, “I’m about to melt into the chair, I can’t move.”

“His stomach’s basically a blackhole,” Shoko’s joke has no room to linger because her phone rattles against the center table as soon as it's out.

Eight eyes draw that way, observing. Disguising her confusion beneath several layers of cool, Shoko stretches around you to snatch up the buzzing device and flip it open and put it to her ear.

“What?” she opens boldly. Brows furrowed.

Cicadas croak outside. You blink at the brunette’s side profile and watch as the knot in her face tightens before unraveling completely -- entire face eerily lax regardless of her tone,

“What?”

She shoves your legs off her lap, making Yu sit up straight. Even Kento’s attention pinched.

“Sho’?” you call quietly.

“Okay,” she flagrantly ignores you, standing and dropping her lighter, “Yes, yes. Yes. I’m coming down.”

“Sho’!” she’s rushing out before you can finish questioning, “Sho’, what was that about?!”

“Those two,” Kento reasons, standing as you do. While you’re preparing to dart out after Shoko, Kento reaches for your arms and rubs soothing ovals into your bicep, “They must’ve gotten injured. Ieiri is the best there is for this thing, they’ll be fine.”

“But they’re- !”

Yu stiffles his own urge to question Kento in favor of pulling you into a hug. Rambling soft, shallow assurances into your ear as he squeezes.

They’re the strongest.

They’re separated.

Suguru under Shoko’s palm, and Satoru looming outside a political office.

“Are you for real?”

The corners of Satoru’s mouth almost begin aching his lips are split so wide. Thumb thunking into his sore temple, heart thumping so hard the red meat may be pushing through his ribs. Extremities somehow simultaneously hot and cold, nerves overwhelmed by righteous hatred. Gold rains over him, and murky shadow splays far ahead of him.

“I’m for real, real.”

Toji knows he should run. Yet remains static as the boy in front of him stretches open; Toji has a twist in his gut urging him far, far away.

But he is stubborn, so he lags.

Green eyes sear through the younger boy. Toji doesn’t know this Gojo brat personally, but he’s certain he hates the kid.

Cicadas mourn in the trees along the walkway, birds flap carelessly overhead. Leaves appear orange under the dying sunlight, and grass whistles lowly around them. Toji is barely sticky with sweat while Satoru is crusty with blackening blood. He almost wants to point that fact out while the teenager is running his mouth.

Toji’s attention is recaptured by swaying trees over Satoru’s shoulder -- a dazzling shade of green. The only flourishing shade not drowned by moldy orange.

Satoru’s breath hitches, “The reason you’re going to lose is because you didn’t chop my head off, and because you didn’t use that cursed tool when you stabbed me in the head!”

“Lose?” Toji cocks a brow, drawing his blade with a fresh drum of agitation, “Our fight is just getting started.”

“Oh? Is it? Yeah… Maybe so!”

Hours later, as the moon finally flutters above the skyline, you’re craned over Suguru’s sleepless body in the infirmary. He lies still with open eyes -skin peeling with jagged red lines and yellow-green bruises. If not for the even bob of his chest he could be mistaken for any of the frozen bodies in the morgue below.

“Suguru?”

Dark eyes flick your way. Empty. Vast. Swirling with only little black spots. His lips remain firmly in a line.

“What happened?”

He does not respond.

“Does your throat hurt? I can make you tea?”

He does not respond.

“Are you hungry? Or tired? Do you want me to go?”

He looks away.

Suddenly, he’s glaring down at the floor -- you follow his venomous gaze to find you’ve begun loudly tapping your foot on the linoleum.

“Sorry,” you swallow the bulb in your throat, forcing the nervous leg to halt, “Sorry, Suguru.”

He’s never looked at you with so much intensity. Nothing is written on his face, he’s excellently schooled his expression to a startling numbness, except for his eyes. Once -just days ago- there was broiling lava rock, burning and gooey at the edges with affection and now you only see hard stone. If you look into his eyes too long you might break your own heart.

“I’ll go, then… ?”

He does not respond.

You quietly, confusedly return to your dorm room, and Suguru stays in the infirmary.

Toji is incapable of getting out the biggest thing on his mind before collapsing into his own pooling blood.

But Satoru’s eyes are unbearably perceptive, so he’s already placing this Invisible Man’s face to an aged photograph at your bedside.

His first response is anger, the urge to call you and swear you out is overwhelming. That anger is seconds later eaten by pity and guilt -- he punches himself in the arm for even considering harassing you (the pain is nonexistent but at least he can say he punished himself)

He comes to your room that night.

Blood has cemented his torn undershirt to his body. Uniform jacket buttons ripped open and hanging by threads. And gone are his glasses, though he won’t look at you. Snowy lashes low and slickly clumped.

��Satoru…?”

He stumbles forward from your doorway, stops, and falls. You catch him.

His skin is warm and you can feel his breath against your neck. The meat of his cheek occupies your shoulder, arms wound around you tight. So tight you almost consider the chance he’s gone mad and is trying to squish air out of you like a toothpaste tube. You return the gesture when he refuses to loosen, clutching around his bent frame.

“Something happened,” you announce it as a whisper. Your first thought returns to that dreaded phone call, which races directly to Suguru. You squeeze him tighter. Nails digging out the scuffed back of his coat and you slicken him against your chest. Your next thought is that Riko girl he’d called you about and the side of your head falls into the junction of his exposed neck, “Satoru,” he tenses, “What happened?”

“I…” you can feel the sigh before you hear it. His breath against your neck. It’s Suguru, right? He’s just worried, right? But Suguru is okay, right? So why is he so shaken? His back is slumping and shaky knees collapse his whole weight upon you. Is it Riko? Tengen? His embrace squashes your ribs into paste. Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. The sound of relief never reaches your ears, “I killed him.”

Your name - your real name - falls from his lips and he burrows further into you. Hiding. Skittish.

Tengen?

“Tengen?” besides the fact you know he’s alive, Suguru would have to do something truly heinous for Satoru to lay a callous glance his way, “What happened to Amanai?”

He shakes his head, and you feel something. Warm. Wet. Water slips below the collar of your nightshirt as fast as it trickles down Satoru’s cheeks. You smell iron the longer he clings to you.

“I killed him.”

You feel the blunts of his nails sink into your skin. He whispers again and suddenly you feel cold. So cold you cannot help but shiver.

When all the manic grins fell and Satoru could think, Toji’s eased expression became familiar. Gentle frown and unstressed skin beckoning his memory back to a picture yellow with age and dog-eared at every corner. The picture he stares at now, on your nightstand and tucked under your lamp so it doesn’t magically float off.

You don’t feel that tightness in your throat that you think you should. Although you don’t feel relieved either.

You nod and pull Satoru closer. A bland ��okay.” all you can spit out.

He inhales, stuttering in the base of his throat. His eyes crinkle shut and that unsmiling, unbothered face in yellowing vinyl is hidden from view, “Okay.”

You nod again, “Okay.”

It doesn’t feel like he’s told you a lie.

Strangely, it still feels like tomorrow you will wake up and everything will be the same. Tomorrow some man you don’t quite know will be off slinking through the shadows of Tokyo, finding his next woman to freeload off. Tomorrow, he will groan himself awake and maybe he will think about you, or maybe he won’t. And he will go see Shiu. And he will be detached from every person he meets. And he will hold things loosely. And he will intimidate men in the street. Except now, he’ll do none of those things.

Now, he’ll rot. Now, everything is different, but it feels the exact same.

No, Satoru is not a liar.

But no, you can’t figure how to take this as the truth.

“He had a boy,” you can feel the curves of his lips against your neck. The words moisten your skin, Satoru’s arms constrict you somehow tighter, “A little one. In a few years, he’ll be sold to the Zen’in clan.”

“What was your plan?” you turn, nose nudging his. Neither of you pulls away.

Baby blues pour into you, moonlight interrupting the color at every twitch in his gaze. Bright stare following you exactly, as if he could see through you so easily but chooses not to. Your imagination casts an opaque cerulean glow around his eyeballs. It’s as unsettling as it is captivating.

“I don’t think it’d be right,” and he’s not a liar, “I was going to take him.”

Slowly, you nod, “Okay.”

“Can I stay the night?” he murmurs, already expecting your four letter response.

You wake up that next morning to white hair feathered across your chest. You don’t know how to approach today after last night, so you settle for a casual facade. You don’t have to approach anything if there’s nothing odd or terrifying that needs approaching.

Shaking Satoru by the shoulder, you rub crust out of your eye corners with the other hand and hum softly, “Time to get up, Satoru,” when he fails to rise, you sit up and watch him roll limply off your chest to your mattress, “C’mon, Satoru. If I’m up, you’re up.”

As he continues to lay there, your frustration inspires you to simply pinch him in the face until he whines, “Whyyy?”

“Get up, Satoru!”

“Already…?” he grumbles. Wiggling his face deeper into your pillow.

“I’m not tired anymore.”

“But I am...”

You don’t bother with more words before swinging off your bed and tugging Satoru by his leg. Still in a trashed uniform, Satoru allows you to drag him out of your room and into the shared kitchen.

Shoko and Suguru are the sight to greet you. Shoko flicking her lighter solely to watch the flame as Suguru pushes breakfast in cyclones around the rim of his bowl. Suguru is in the tasteless white tee and black lounge pants from last night while Shoko, similarly, hasn’t changed out of the white tank top and green shorts she wore when the phone rang. A slight upturn of the lips creeps over Shoko, momentarily dropping the lighter to wave -- then tipping her head toward you in approval,

“Hey, you got him up early for once.”

Suguru blinks down at his untouched food.

Nobody acknowledges the lingering stench of blood that follows Satoru’s disgraced appearance.

Your hand falls from its clutch around Satoru’s elbow toward his hand, index finger looping through his own.

“Are you feeling better now, Sugu’?” you step forward, stopped instantly as his eyes cut along your body. A harsh line from your socked foot to your face, fresh and dark discoloration beneath his eyes: wide like a puppy about to be kicked, “Suguru?”

He swallows nothing but spit, you see the muscles in his jaw fasten before he nods curtly, “Fine. Tired.”

Satoru’s mouth hangs open, a retort imminent. Then silence. And more silence. Satoru’s mouth shuts.

With the tense air stifling, you square your shoulders and shake out an unevenly whispered, “Let’s go, Satoru.”

He nods, dragging his eyes off Suguru’s haggard frame, “Okay.”

Scene 2 - summer 2007

Suguru enters quietly. So quietly you’re startled with the realization he’s willingly come into the same room as you.

Too preoccupied looming over the steel examination table to notice his intrusion, you stare into the drenched sheet below. Cold nipping your fingers, and head hung low. Blood dries on pale cheeks. Faint rot infesting your nose. Kento is slouched into a chair behind you with a towel over his eyes.

When the blonde grunts softly in acknowledgment, you finally spot Suguru. Wilted against the doorway, gaunt face angled just out of sight, his hands are shaking at his sides.

“We weren’t…” you sniff, the scent of meat filling your lungs, “I wasn’t fast enough.”

Kento shakes his head, “That was a local deity… that was a first grade case!”

“You couldn’t take it?” Suguru’s voice makes your shoulders jump, it takes a moment before you register he’s speaking to you.

“No.”

He doesn’t seem surprised.

You want to grab Yu’s hand, but you’re scared it’ll be as cold as the metal. You want to grab Suguru’s hand, but you’re certain he’ll pull away.

“You’re a first grade sorcerer now, you should’ve been more help, right?” Suguru pierces you with his stare, hard onyx needles lingering beneath thick, low lashes. He isn’t smiling and he isn’t frowning and you can’t possibly read the way he’s speaking, “Or maybe they just did that promotion for show. You’re very strong. It shouldn’t have mattered: if you were stronger, then Yu wouldn’t have died at all.”

You prefer his resounding silence.

“You were assigned to oversee their mission anyway. Even though you can barely use cursed energy -- you don’t even have an inherited technique,” an unspoken ‘just like him’ dies on the tip of his tongue when you lash back.

“He almost killed you, you know?” you snap, tempted to slap your chilled palms over your mouth until you remember all those fucking silences. The table’s edge is as frozen to the touch as the flat surface, but you grip that for purchase anyway, “He almost killed you, and the first time -- he did kill Satoru. You’re not one to talk about being strong so people don’t die, Geto!”

“I wasn’t strong enough then,” Suguru leans closer, he smells like his bedroom. Stale citrus air freshener and sweat. His hair is matted with bangs all grown out. And no matter how much he sleeps, those eye bags haven’t lessened a wink, “Now, I could kill your monkey of a father.”

His lips are parted with heated pants and many more words to say as water boils into your eyes, heat sizzling your face until your lips quiver.

“Satoru took care of that already,” if you weren’t so hyperfocused on the way he’d react, you could’ve missed his flinch at that name, “I don’t know what I did to you, Geto.”

Suguru leans back, miniscule expression relaxing back into that terrible nothingness. He blinks, and you can nearly pinpoint the exact moment his eyes truly focus on you rather than whatever’s behind you. Your hunched back, your trembling hands on the table, your fraught expression, your cheeks stained with cold tear tracks.

He sighs, digging the heels of his palms into his swollen eyes, “I don’t know, either.”

“He didn’t even know if I was alive,” you murmur, “It’s not like we were actually family,” lie, “I don’t even notice he’s dead,” lie, “It doesn’t matter,” lie, “I don’t want you to be another thing he ruins in my life.”

True.

Suguru’s eyes are split impossibly now, as if something has dawned on him, “You’re right.”

“I know!” you whimper, flinging your hands to your face in an attempt to bat tears away, “I know I’m right!”

He beats you to it -- cupping your face in both of his larger, warmed hands. He steps closer and glides the soft pad of his thumb under your eyes while purring an apology.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, now fondly stroking your cheekbones, “He didn’t matter at all.”

Toji is one small spore in the world. One small thing growing invasively and infecting -leeching- every surrounding life: Riko and you and him and Satoru and you and his son and you and the people he’s killed and you and unknowing families and you and your mother and the boy’s mother and you and -God- he cannot bare thinking how many people that man ruined and abandoned. But, somehow, none of it matters at all simply because Toji is dead -beyond reconcile. Some day, another monkey may be allowed to fester just the same.

The heat of your body envelopes Suguru, arms twining around his waist and your cheek pressing into the swell of his chest. So intimate despite his cruelties. You hope to keep him together, to remind him that not all people are evil. Toji is one small spore of the world, and he’s been exterminated, so Suguru should look forward.

He does not, it’s just not what he’s best at.

Rather, Suguru is wondering how cruel of a person Toji was. To leave you and (apparently) your little brother and to take the life of an innocent high schooler. Over what? Jujutsu politics? Politics that had nothing to do with him in any case, politics started by monkeys trying to inspire a world they couldn’t possibly tame.

The evolution of Tengen, what a joke; for as much as Suguru’s beginning to lose faith in the wheel of sorcery, he understands more than those cultists could hope to.

The world would be better without this trouble. Without Toji and the people like him, permitted to grow and farm curses and create troubles that eat his friends alive.

“I’m sorry,” his body livens, though refuses to lift independently, one of his hands finds yours and entangles your fingers, “It wasn’t your fault,” he slackens against you, digging himself deeper into your hold, black tendrils tickling your face, “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry.”

“I’m worried about you, Sugu’,” you whisper, “I think you should take a couple days and rest.”

More time to think might be the last thing he needs.

“I have a mission coming up. Some mysterious village deaths they need me to check out,” he sighs and straightens sluggishly, one hand still wound in yours against his chest. He turns away from the table completely, naturally you follow.

“After that, then,” you’re not usually so insistent, head falling against his shoulder, “I don’t want you overworking yourself.”

“Hm?” he yawns, “What would you know about that? You took a week off after Satoru and I were beaten.”

“I just didn’t wanna worry about you two while out on work,” you pinch his arm with your unrestricted hand, “I was very scared for the both of you, I’ll have you know.”

You expect a retort and are met with none, just the feeling of Suguru’s fingers tethering tighter around yours -- as if you were going to pull away.

“Alright,” he gives, nodding, “I’ll take a break after this mission.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Thank you.”

Haibara’s blood stains the white sheet behind you. Kento stares at the ceiling. Cold toned light bulbs fuzz with a faint, sickly green. A green that burns brighter the longer you hone on it.

Scene 3 - brother: one

“If I choose them, what happens to Tsumiki?” you’re unwilling to admit how jealous you are that your brother would consider the Zen’ins over you -- it’s too embarrassing. He looks down, “Will she be happy?”

Satoru opens his mouth, but you draw first, “Absolutely not.”

Megumi flinches, hands flying to the straps of his backpack, “Uh- !”

“The only thing guaranteed about you joining the Zen’in would be that she is miserable,” behind you, Satoru snorts at your coldness, “They’re no place for non-sorcerers. Or women. She doesn’t belong there.”

Megumi glares up at you, “Then I don’t have a choice.”

“Not really,” your eyes float to where the little brown-haired girl watches from their porch overhead, she’s so adorable you’re set in the thought that clan would maul her, “I’m your best option.”

When all Megumi does is continue scowling, Satoru claps his hands and cheers, “Okay! Now it’s on me to make all the hard parts actually work out!” he rustles Megumi’s hair, “Leave the rest to me!”

Megumi continues to give you that ugly little wrinkled face, and you’re not above giving one back.

A blessing. This son with no manners is a blessing?

This son that looks just like Toji. That has a permanent claim to his status. He has many blessings and it looks like grace is not one of them.

“I’ll come back tomorrow morning. Be packed,” a reply is hot on his tongue, and you interrupt, “As your technique developes, you’ll need to learn more about jujutsu; getting stronger and keeping up with the bigger kids is going to be your main goal, you know?”

“And Tsumiki?”

An abundance of sudden softness honeys the boy’s voice. His hands strangling his backpack straps and it reminds you of every morning you had to brave school by yourself. Megumi stands taller than you did. Maybe that’s the brown-haired girl’s doing. Maybe whatever preference Toji had for him has given the boy more confidence than a child should have.

It’s going to be grating. You can barely stand looking at him now.

You kneel at eye-level, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt like Mikoto would, “Tsumiki will be loved, and I will try to make her happy,” you smile, but it wavers so you try again, “And I will try to make you happy despite everything. We don’t know each other, but I’m still your older sister and it’s my responsibility to look after you. Both of you,” straining best you can to look maternal and sweet and all things Mikoto did. You’re sure you just look like you popped a hernia, though, “I promise.”

Slowly, he nods, grip on his straps loosening until his arms hang like dead weight on either side, “Okay. We’ll go.”

As if he had a choice.

With great grace and humility, however, you don’t say that aloud.

Instead nodding quickly and sighing quietly as you rise, “Sorry for my temper. I’ll work on that,” you roll your hands into fists, the reality of these two lives now fully burdening your shoulders, “I don’t know how to do this, but I’ll work on that, too.”

Just then, it dawns on you: Kid should know what happened to his daddy, right?

“Uhm, about our dad…” you have to duck Satoru out of sight, swallowing hard around the itty bitty three letter word like it’s actually hard to say.

Megumi cuts you off now, “I don’t care. Whatever happened to him isn’t something I’m worried about.”

Satoru laughs, shock numbing him to how rude the outburst is. He looks at you expecting a similar guffaw.

You look pissed. He clamps his jaw.

“You don’t care? You know he’s the reason you’re set up so nicely, right?”

“He left,” Megumi snarks, “Why do you care? Didn’t he leave you, too?”

“Brat!”

“You’re the brat!”

Satoru spins you by the shoulder and waves the two kids goodbye, pushing you ahead to avoid another ear-splitting shout, “We’ll see you tomorrow, then! Be packed ‘cuz you’re never seeing this dump again!”

Next morning, before the sky is waxing blue, you and Satoru are stuffing shoddy boxes and trash bags into some underpaid assistant manager’s trunk while Megumi and Tsumiki sit inside on nice leather seats. They babble to each other, occasionally earning a muffled reply from the driver.

“Just think, since he already hates the old man he’ll just be extra loving to you!” Satoru beams, “Once he actually warms up to you anyway.”

“Satoru- !”

“On it,” he pretends to zip his mouth shut. Briefly breaking the seal just to yawn.

Scene 4 - brother: two

Your body is twisted sideways at the table. Cold wall supporting your back and knees upward to cage Megumi in your lap. His knuckles are white from gripping the yellow crayon in his hand, he traces the characters you lined in pen. Eyebrows scrunched towards the middle of his forehead and the tip of his tongue peeks out from the corner of his lips.

Megumi unsurely lifts his crayon from the paper, covering his work with a fatty toddler arm as he re-examines what he’s done. Then, he proudly beams up at you with a single missing tooth -pudgy hands crinkling the paper he now jams in your face. Squiggly, messy work, you know, but it’s a lot better than yesterday’s practice looked.

“Very good,” you hold the paper into the light, grinning faintly at the impossibility of reading your brother’s tracing, “We should probably use a different color next time.”

“I like blue.”

Chuckling faintly, you cup Megumi to your chest and lean across the table to retrieve a blue crayon from the box, “Right, right. I should’ve just started with blue, huh?”

“Yeah…” he agrees passively, “That’s okay, though.”

“Oh, you forgive me?”

He shrugs, taking the blue and eagerly trying to scrawl his name by himself -- no pen to trace over, “Yeah. I forgive you.”

Satoru and Tsumiki giggle from Satoru’s kitchen where Tsumiki is showing him how she prefers to make sandwiches.

“I’ve never been to a theater before!” Tsumiki was excitedly bouncing at your side, jangling your arm in her hold, “Thank you, thank you!”

“Heyyy,” Satoru whined, “Who’s paying for the whole thing?”

He’s promptly ignored as your group takes a step toward the concession counter. You squeeze your sister’s hand, then your brother’s, “Two small popcorns. Four sodas, and…” your eyes drift off to Satoru, “Candy?”

“Yes, candy!” he eagerly taps the glass, though no fingerprints are smeared across the display -as if he’s not there at all. Rattling off various boxes and plastic wrappers that catch even a hair’s interest.

Megumi taps your thigh with his spare hand, furrowing his brows up at you, “Can I get caramel?”

“Hmm? Like what? Candy?”

He shakes his head, pointing over the counter toward the popcorn station. Three silvery handles beside the large popper -buttery, extra buttery, and caramel.

Tsumiki leans her face on your hip, eyes wide in exaggerated shock, “What, ‘gumi? I thought you hated sweets!”

Megumi shrugs and looks away, “Nevermind.”

“Stop being a brat,” you scoff, squeezing his tiny hand again, “Just admit you wanna try it.”

“We’ve had it before,” he murmurs.

“When?” Tsumiki tilts her head.

“Your mom made us some.”

She frowns, reaching up to twirl a lock of brown hair, “I don’t remember that…”

Megumi’s head hangs, he kicks at a peeling tuft of lobby carpet, “I liked it.”

“Can I try it, too?” Tsumiki grabs onto your arm with both hands now, bottom lip puffing out, “I don’t remember that popcorn at all, it sounds yummy -I wanna try it!”

“You hated it…” your brother grumbles.

“I don’t even remember it!” Tsumiki barks over your lap.

“No arguing, please?” you kick the pair apart, a sudden ache burdening your temple, “You can both get the caramel.”

“Not even my kids and I’m paying for them…” Satoru pouts at you. Long arms full of snacks you’re sure won’t survive the previews. He wanders toward a gray side table with straw and lid stands and napkins and trash spilling onto the floor. You follow with said kids at either side, they jump up and clammer for their little popcorn buckets. And Tsumiki is already quietly asking if she can have some of his gummies.

Satoru hands over the whole packet with a mournful sigh and you laugh; then taking two cups and handing them to the children.

“Get your sodas, and don’t spill!”

Tsumiki chirps, “yes, ma’am!” at the same time Megumi rolls his eyes, “duh”. They scramble towards the bulky fountain and whisper to each other about what either should get. Occasionally throwing curious glances over their shoulders, you wave and they wave back.

“Can’t believe this is the first time you’re letting me take you to a movie,” the man at your side huffs, “We can’t even do anything.”

“Shut up!” you smack his arm, face on fire with embarrassment, “We aren’t together -you can’t say those things, you know?!”

Satoru smiles, evidently proud of himself, before mimicking a zipper over his lips.

“Tsumiki mixed sodas…” Megumi crawls back, casting a judgmental glare at the girl, “I told her it’s gonna be gross…”

“It’s good!” she shoves her cup toward your face, “Try it! Cola and strawberry! It’s delicious!”

“I believe you, ‘miki,” you politely press her soda back down, “What’d you get, Megumi?”

“Water,” he answers blandly.

“Ick,” Satoru unzips his mouth.

“Nothing else sounded good.”

“No time to bully him,” you prod your siblings forward by their shoulders, “We gotta move before the actual movie starts, yeah?”

“Should I not have got water?” Megumi flings his head back to look up at you, trusting blindly that you’ll guide him straight.

“Did you want water?”

“Yeah…”

“Then you should’ve gotten water,” you wave off.

“Wet blanket,” Tsumiki teases, adding not even a second later, “Just kidding, ‘gumi.”

“I’m not,” Satoru ruffles the boy's hair, “Live a little, jeez!”

“I like water!” Megumi smacks the man’s hand away with a scathing scowl, “You’re not my dad anyway!”

“Damn, okay…”

“Sis,” a hesitant squeak snakes into your ears, followed by a shy tug on your jeans, Tsumiki shamefully holds her popcorn bucket in front of her crumby face, fingers shiny, “I don’t like the caramel…”

“I told her!” Megumi scoffs. Taking her bucket, “I’ll finish it.”

“You’ll give yourself a stomach ache,” you snatch the treat and cradle it against your chest, “Satoru will finish it.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m the family garbage disposal, huh?”

“Shut up.”

He drags that imaginary zipper back over his lips with a sure nod.

“Teachers had everyone make them!”

Two circular, gritty, white mounds sit in either of your hands. A small pink handprint dented into one and a slightly smaller blue one pressed much more messily into the other.

“What’s the holiday?” you mutter, mostly sarcastic. In your head you’re sure it was an art project to make the board look engaged in extracurriculars.

Megumi pointedly stares out the car window, navy backpack in his lap. His kicking legs don’t even skim the back of the driver’s seat so you choose not to chastise him. Tsumiki, however, proudly has both of her longer legs stiffly out and against the passenger’s seat… but nobody’s sitting there anyway so you won’t lecture her, either.

Tsumiki is also staring up at you, unlike her brother, and she giggles, “Mother’s day!”

The auxiliary in front throws a glance your way through the rear view.

“No shit?” you lay the handprints in your lap, cradling them there, “Uhm. Tsumiki, your mom- well. She’s… alive, yeah? Did you wanna send it out?”

The auxiliary clicks her tongue awkwardly.

Tsumiki blinks herself sober of whatever dewy excitement previously possessed her. She slumps back into the seat and throws her shoulders up indifferently.

On your other side, Megumi curses, “We didn’t make them for Tsumiki’s mom.”

Uneven marker scrawls of their names stain beneath their handprints. FUSHIGURO printed so obviously. You flip them over again and re-read the inscription on the flat sides: THANK YOU FOR TAKING CARE OF ME is on both of them. You flip them back around and are somehow once again jarred by how small each print is.

“Teacher said we didn’t have to make them,” Megumi still doesn’t look your way, “We could’ve skipped it and worked on homework.”

“But we didn’t want to,” Tsumiki twiddles her thumbs.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI FUSHIGURO TSUMIKI

Gently, you reach out and take one hand from each kid -- Megumi’s palm is stained like cornflowers while Tsumiki’s is the color of strawberries.

“We got to pick the colors,” Tsumiki’s voice returns chipper, “Do you like them?”

Megumi watches you through his peripherals.

You squeeze their hands and let go, holding the plates carefully on your thighs. It takes a moment to recollect your voice before you croak, “Yeah. I like them.”

“I wanted to write my own name but the teacher wouldn’t let me,” Megumi flops into your side and away from the window, drawing his index finger over his name.

“Boo,” you jeer, “Your teacher’s lame.”

“Mine let me write my name,” Tsumiki adds unhelpfully.

You shake your head sympathetically, “Your teacher’s extra lame, ‘gumi.”

“I know,” he grunts, annoyed.

“Gojo says I look like Dad,” Megumi has no recollection of what Toji looks like. You’ve hung no pictures and you don’t intend to. You have one piece of solid evidence that your father existed, and it’s too fragile to crack out for display.

“You do,” you say simply, watching the way his chubby cheeks puff up in a pout, “It’s not like that’s a bad thing. Just… a thing.”

“Just a thing?”

“Can’t change it,” you shrug and think back to how Mikoto would preen and coo over what little resemblance you shared with Toji, “Why be mad about it?”

“I don’t want to look like him,” he crosses his arms, still pouting stubbornly, “I don't want you to think I look like him.”

Because Dad hurt Mabu, didn’t he? That’s why she doesn’t live with Dad, like he and Tsumiki didn’t live with Dad. Why would Dad have Mabu just to leave her? And why would Dad have Megumi just to leave him? Does Mabu see Dad every time she looks down at Megumi? Megumi doesn’t like Dad -- not at all.

“You still look like your Mom,” you crouch down and scrub a hand through Megumi’s untamed hair. It flies up in ways that Toji’s didn’t -and it’s a handful of shades lighter, too, “‘m guessing, anyway. I never met her, you know? But you definitely don’t look like him as much as you’re thinking, Satoru just likes being mean.”

“You’re saying that…”

“No, seriously, Dad’s hair was all flat,” both your hands settle atop Megumi’s head, smoothing down his hair and watching your brother’s nose wrinkle when it’s laid against his ears. But even so, with the same aggressive fringes and strong bridge of his nose and big ears and pale skin, it’s only Megumi. Megumi, your sweet baby brother. He blinks up at you, awaiting your judgment, “You don’t look that much like him. Satoru’s being mean.”

“You promise?”

“Uh-huh,” you stand back up and snicker when his hair bounces back into place, if a little frizzy, “You’re nothing like him anyway. So don’t worry about it.”

“I wish I looked like you,” he blurts.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then how would we know who your dad is, hm? I don’t look like that guy at all.”

“I don’t care if people know he’s my dad,” he donks his forehead into your knee, “I wish I looked like you!”

“You’re adorable,” you poke his puffed cheek, “Who knows? Maybe some day when you’re grown up, you’ll suddenly have my nose.”

“How would that work?”

“Dunno.”

“Ugh…”

Scene 5 - summer 2004

Three faces in front of you, plus one at your side. The sun blares between dusty window slats. Cicadas die outside and the overgrown grass sways to a calm breeze. Green ponds ripple beneath the wind, you think it's a shame you’re locked inside.

A foot taps anticipating your introduction, the girl -medical marvel Shoko- watches between glances out the broken blinds. She tatters a nail against her rickety desk but stops when she catches you staring, mouthing a lazy ‘sorry’ and resting her chin in her palm.

Similarly posed and less polite, the Gojo heir with snow white hair and a toxic radiation glow to his blue eyes. He’s sneering and you haven’t gotten to speak yet. His nose already pointed into the air.

Finally, the modest Geto, Suguru (the one with the bangs, is how you remembered he existed). Born from a normal family in a normal, slow, rural town outside of Tokyo. He introduced himself the most sanely -- stating his name and age and that he was excited to work with everyone. His smile is tight, no doubt a ruse to hide his annoyance at how long you’re taking to speak, but still he’s smiling.

Yaga clears his throat and encourages you on with a simple brow raise. No matter how desperately you begged he was insistent you engage in the few normalities of his schooling. Unfortunately your family was not well enough known as Satoru Gojo’s, where he simply stood from his chair and gave double peace signs with a ”yo~”.

Suguru was the only one unsure of who he was, meaning Yaga forced him to genuinely introduce himself while you and Shoko laughed. Now it's Satoru’s turn to laugh at you. May as well get it over with soon, then:

“Clan history’s a bit muddy, and I don’t like my name, so just call me Mabu while we’re here.”

Satoru’s whole nose crinkles with cringe, eyes slitting at you, “Blegh! Edgy.”

“Drop dead,” you scoff.

“Hey,” Suguru raises his hands as if he could manually divert the tense energy, “No need to fight, we’ve all just met.”

Attention sufficiently snagged, Shoko snickers to herself, vision drifting between you and Satoru, “Nah, this could be interesting. Kinda want to see where they take it.”

Holding Satoru’s glare for a few prolonged, dreadful seconds, you sigh and retreat from his unsettling, crystalline eyes, “Whatever. Not like I came here to get along with you all anyway.”

“Edgy!” Satoru accuses, louder this time, “It’s hurting just to listen to!”

“Drop dead!” you repeat yourself, fingers coiling into a fist.

“Well, I tried…” Suguru murmurs.

Yaga sighs, pinching away the stress behind his forehead, “Yes, thank you, Geto. Gojo, enough antagonizing. And Mabu,” flinching under his brutish tone, you slowly peek back toward your mentor, “You do sound terrible.”

“Whatever,” again, you repeat, but this time the words are caked with a childish pout.

Overly familiar, Shoko pulls you into the seat beside her by your uniform sleeve. Then gliding that same hand up your arm until it finds leverage on your shoulder, careening into your personal space with a lollipop stick hanging carelessly through the corner of her lips, “How about you drop the tough act? I think you ‘n’ me could really be friends.”

“...whatever…”

Satoru cackles in the seat on your other side, wriggling fingers teasing to tug at your shirt collar, “Yeah, we should be friends!”

Your mouth opens to revise your favored two-word catchphrase, until Yaga wittingly clears his throat, you flounder before shrugging, “As long as you learn when to shut up.”

The boy crosses an ‘X’ over his heart with a curt nod. You smother the sight of your grin behind a raised hand.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader

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lovebunnie · 24 hours ago

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“it’s not about canon fucking capital!” nandor spits in the air between them. guillermos jaw drops a bit, and it all starts to feel like a bit of a sick joke to nandor. its never easy, not with guillermo.

he shifts and narrows his eyes. “being a janitor had its good moments,” nandor admits. “i liked being the barrier between the cleanliness of productivity and the filth of failure. also those paper towels were very powerful, they didnt even leave any streakies!

“but…” nandor lets his shoulders drop and he suddenly cant look at guillermo. “being around humans all day is kind of shitty.”

guillermo huffs. “trust me, hanging around vampires all the time isnt all its cracked up to be either. ya know, i spent so many years cleaning up shit and say what you will about panera but atleast cleaning toilets there got me a free pastry-“

“why do you always leave me?”

it shocks them both into silence. guillermos jaw clicks shut while nandor hunches his shoulders, as though he could curl away from his own confession. he was literally commanding an army, but here was where words failed him.

guillermo swallows. “leave you? im right here.”

“no you are not,” nandor hisses. “you are with celeste and then you are with derrick and then it is freddie and laszlo and now you are with jordan.” he steps forward, which makes guilermo step back. conquering lands, even here and now.

“why must you always leave? why do you want to leave, and why do i want you to stay? it was not like this with other familiars, ill have you know!”

nandor thinks about all the snide comments made by laszlo and nadja over the years. their familiars were always easy come, easy go. but guillermo was always there. he would misplace an ugly sock or leave his toothbrush in the open.

guillermo has always been different. guillermo has always been the exception.

it makes all the leaving he does very painful. nandor doesnt know why.

“other familiars don’t pledge almost half their lives to one master,” guillermo counters. “other familiars wouldve left a long fucking time ago.”

it takes everything in nandor not to shudder at being referred to as master by guillermo. “i dont give a shit about other familiars. not even my own old familiars. they were just… blips in the radar.”

“and me?” guillermo whispers, finally reclaiming the ground covered by nandor and placing them almost chest to chest. “fifteen years for a vampire doesnt seem like much of anything.”

“you were my purpose, guillermo,” he says. “to make you into a fucking cool vampire. and then you decided it wasnt actually what you wanted and after that annoying ceremony that i put a lot of hard work into, you wanted to leave again. so now i have no familiar, no purpose because you are not a vampire. i have nothing.”

guillermo stays quiet for many seconds and nandor can see his eyebrows twitching in thought. it had been so long since nandor has stood this close to guillermo so if nothing else, the proximity was a nice touch

“my purpose was to be turned into a vampire, by you,” guillermo says. “and then i realized it would never happen unless i did something, so i did. but it doesnt change the fact that i spent so many years knowing that i…” he swallows and to nandors delight, his cheeks turn crimson under shitty lighting. “i was meant to be yours, turned by you.”

“you are driving me crazy,” nandor says quietly. “i do not know why you keep leaving me and why i care so much. you really hurt me, you know! every time you leave it hurts!”

“i know why i keep leaving,” guillermo says. “and i think i know why you want me to stay so bad. the reasons are pretty similar, if i had to guess.”

“tell me,” nandor growls, his hands coming up to grip guillermos biceps so that he cannot flee, not again. “tell me.”

with the same drive behind the words that would compel weaker men, guillermo looks up at him, and before nandor can even think about speaking again, guillermo surges up and crashes their lips together with his hands tangled in nandors hair and knocking the head piece off in the process.

before it can even begin, guillermo pulls away. he is panting and then pulling a vibrating telephone out of his pocket. nandor watches with blazing eyes

“its jordan…” he trails off, looking thoughtful while nandor feels murderous.

a small smile creeps onto his face as the still vibrating phone goes back into his pocket. “but I’ve got better things to do.”

guillermo smiles at nandor and for once, he looks settled, not ready to bolt. nandor knows the same expression is reflecting on his face as well.

as he makes his move towards a willing guillermo, he hopes the camera crew is more engrossed with whatever antics nadja and laszlo and colin robinson have gotten into.

#space.txt #space snips #wwdits #wwdits spoilers #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows spoilers #nandermo #who said all of this #where am i

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a-hazbin-spider · 2 days ago

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Angel might know a thing or two about manipulation, there really was no way around it when the whole ‘honest work’ thing didn’t get him shit. Not only that, but the entirety of his resume- or so he’ll call it, was built on crime. Even fronting with selling other things, of learning the languages and the ideals of those around him- the useful everyday shit, had millions of dirty tricks and falsehoods that they would be used for. Even good things, like knowing how to fix someone up- that on its flip side meant knowing where to deal the most damage, or the most pain.

He sure as hell knows what those things felt like. And more often than not, some words could offer a hell of a lot of help to avoid the worst of it. All the time? Not quite, but it was like having tools. Making someone slip up, making them feel powerful and special, getting a rise- upping his value, pull people in and what he probably liked most of all: push people away too. His opponent in that mind game this time was Alastor though. Maybe if he’d had success, he would either be a heap somewhere up the stairs, or perhaps a carcass by now. For once he can just be grateful, and relax.

Through this, Angel had gotten to know a bit more about Alastor, the man was still sketchy, but- whatever, he can’t say he wasn’t, it was kind of nice to make a connection if he needed to be begrudgingly honest, he’d even gotten an invitation to dance. With that fresh in his head, perhaps in passing out, he might have a chance at something restful, maybe he’d dream of something nice. Nice like the genuine words Angel is still nearly awed to hear. That had been a pattern here, each kindness making for quite the pleasant surprise. Sure he agreed to do something at a later date, that never meant the sweet things would continue. So he’ll allow himself to enjoy that. Much like he is going to enjoy laying down without any fucking involved for the rest of the night at least.

When a hand is offered to him, he seems to take a moment to figure out how he’d go about it. He had remembered enough of Alastor’s inherent dislike of touch, and how previously the whole walking thing seemed to be an inconvenience. What was he again? An invalid? He didn’t really like the thought. But, in general he hated being a weak link, a burden. He was going to hate that part anyhow.

Alastor is quick to ease his seconds of half baked thought, giving him permissions and what one could take as caring- if a wish for anything but his downfall (literal in this case) counted. Which, he doesn’t really read into it too deeply aside from appreciation for his body having ensured safety. Maybe the sweeter contact was doing things for him too, but he’d rather stick a gun in his mouth than unpack that bag of gummiworms.

His body is careful with how he takes the support, sure he is- really a slight fellow, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be dead weight. Alastor’s body was a gracious support, though, comfortable and safe, his state of being was too weak still to do things himself. Or- walk without doing what Alastor feared he might do. Better now than before, sufficiently drugged and head a little lighter on his shoulders. For whatever reason, the pill or otherwise- he feels fuzzy, not even in a bad way.

“Thank you.” Wrapping his arms around the stag was treated like a delicate task, but he still responds upon getting a bit of a grip. It feels like he’s said it a million times, parroting it. But, it is easier to do when he’s a little less miserable. Plus, Alastor is yet to call him repulsive, or insult him, tell him to burn the shirt when it was said and done- he didn’t need to steal this shirt to cover himself either. It’s just been plenty of help without any push for him to do anything as it were. He almost feels a little drunk like this, and pleasantly not sick.

“I’ll still take care of em.” He mumbles soft against a shoulder. “They’re cozy. N’ smell nice. You took care of me too. Least I c’n do.” Usually his words don’t slide out like that, his obligations don’t go far past saying he’s got to perform, or begrudgingly needs to join an activity, things like that. His walls need a bit of rebuilding like the rest of him. There aren’t many more words he had to spew, mostly a few grunts any time he’d lost his footing.

Snort..! The truthfulness regarding the buttering up, rings too many bells on Angel’s end. It’s kind of funny though, he can admit, especially when they try to flatter! Such a mess it can be! Even Cherri, she sure likes to bribe or push the envelope far as she can so she can convince him to see it her way. Not that it was all bad really. Just. Well, it can get to be a bit much, especially when he just wants to rest after getting his shit kicked in.

C’est la vie, what can you do, though. There was a certain push and pull, like a scry in a way. Flows to things that could be better just to give in to and let the current push him. Angel is a fighter, a scrappy bastard to boot, actually. Yet he still wears down. Takes an ‘easy’ way out.

A low tone responds in kind to the information, verbal affirmative grunts to let him know that he’s listening, even if it might’ve looked like he was sinking closer to sleep. He really did hold interest, as much of an apathetic or flippant type he might seem to be, bits and pieces of information like that, those were held with a higher regard. Maybe Alastor can immediately catch it on him, how he really wasn’t too educated, but until Angel heard it, he never really gave it thought. And now that he had it, his brain would hold onto these things however it could!

“I… hear it. Yeh, you got a kinda…” one of his hands clicks his fingers fruitlessly for a moment. “Diction. To all ya words. Sound tha part of all them things ya are. All schooled, an’ concise. Bookish. Bright. Not that I mind not needin’ to buy a radio an’ wait for a timeslot to listen.”

The smile on his face may in fact be a bit of a sluggish one, but he still seems to find humor in Alastor’s small joke. Mentioning that he isn’t seen as quite the type though- that does take him in a little shock. Sometimes he forgets just how modern and especially distant from their era he seems to be. Not bad, just a bit of a reminder. As himself, the time he lived, where he lived, how he lived? Yeah, it sucked, it sucked major ass. But, parts of him still clung to some of the better things like a goddamn cocklebur. Such as the musicians Alastor mentioned. Or horror novels he could sound his way through.

“I don’t?” His head cocks the opposite direction to mimic the response and reflect the almost playful curiosity. Wondering more now of what Alastor thought of him.

“I s’pose some of it is bein’ product of my time, but tha rest is cuz they’s- they’s really pleasant. I always had a soft spot of it.”

Oh, wait- was Alastor offering to take him dancing..? The softer look of a pleasant shock can’t be hidden, it makes him feel almost like he could be one of those bashful teens receiving an invite for the first time. Had… anyone ever asked him to dance like this..?

He was far too drawn by the kind to be upset about any of the persistence on the ‘proper’ comment. “Ya mean that, huh? I think I’d like that, Alastor. I’d like t’do a lil bit of dancin’ with ya. I don’t think I could refuse a deal like that, s’ a compellin’ offer.”

His head bobs a little, keeping it up as it were wasn’t impossible, but evidently going through the wringer might grant him the impossible feat of sleep sooner than later. Likely a good thing, it isn’t typical that he can ever feel quite safe as he does now. Could be the layers of exhaustion helping out, but the care he’d experienced here- having his needs finally met so comfortably- that lowered his guard as if it were easy. And in truth, it feels like pulling teeth trying to take down any walls.

“Mmh, such a gentleman. Sounds like a good nap, I don’t think I’ll get that long, but. I. I really could… use some rest. Still, I feel lot better.” One hand raises up to rub blearily at his eyes while something is muttered about keeping the clothes clean, hard to totally translate in the yawning slur of words he had there.

“I’ll… yeah. Would ya? By- by t’morrow I shouldn’t be so… tricky. I c’n bounce back..!” Though he wasn’t sure how much of his garbled words were for Alastor or just for his own kind of reminder. He would need to be a little speedy, it was often expected of him. Still he’d almost seen to double dying again, Alastor saw that much. When that shit happens, he may as well be dead to the world for a week. Sometimes he almost thinks it’d be worth it for a break.

#the ball rolled back!: reply #angel dust; y’know from tv?#alastor: my dear deer friend #radioiaci #it’ll be worth the nicities #he agreed to be snacc o7 #anyway i am very normal about the narrative voice it’s hevking delicious

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nobodybetterlookatme · 27 days ago

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Update: gave my asshole partner my lunch bc I always bring soup when I work and bro sounds like he's dying, he tried to give me his card so I could go buy food at one of the booths, I literally said ew and leaned away, he glared at me but said nothing. He's already gone through four masks bc he's literally soaking through them like 😭 I've never been so horrified at work and I've seen some shit lmao like this is so bad. We've got seven packs of tissues between us but I don't think they're gonna last all day, he literally won't stop sniffling and he's coughing like every thirty seconds, like I really don't think I'm gonna survive the shift and I don't think he is either 😭😭😭

#kinda snz #i hate it here so fucking much #like okay i get it he needs the money whatever #but i don't need his diseases 😭#he's real apologetic about the whole thing but idc I'm disgusted still #like there is no social distancing going on here get AWAY #obsessively disinfecting everything at all times and he's like 😒 about it but he literally can't say shit #like again i feel bad that he's sick but he can be sick away from me #feel worse bc he was worrying about me a few weeks ago and checking on me but also i wasn't fr sick????#germaphobia vs the fact that i care about my partner lmao #we'll see what wins but probably the germaphobia lmao I'm white knuckle gripping the wheel every time i drive #genuinely can't remember ever hearing someone sound this bad minus chf patients #like bro don't die but also don't kill me 😭😭

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irasceris · 3 days ago

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There's a lot they're not saying, that much is clear, but it doesn't feel like they have to. Because she's right. He does know her, and doesn't see anything of his current self in there, but the aspiration of what a past version could have tried to live up to. Somewhere. Whatever fragments of selflessness he's held onto have always come with a price someone else had to pay. The more lonely he's become the less of that he's taken on, until the full cost fell on whoever he claims he was helping in the first place. Prime example: Bonnie's life for Elena's. He's never thought twice. Neither has Bonnie. How similar were those motivations, really, when at the core of it, Damon's the only one to benefit? He could count on one - well, likely less than one - hand the number of people he's truly been good to, no personal gain to be had. That number dwindles when he thinks of who it's lasted with. Stefan may be the only left he could make a weak argument for, but Damon still managed to screw that one up pretty spectacularly. It just doesn't end.

"If I squint," he echoes, a half hearted agreement, then with more confidence, "You're a lot better at it than I am." Feels like he should warn her maybe, that love does destroy a person, and it's a dangerous edge to teeter on, but what does he know? It's habitual now, running from whatever burns him. Running back if it hurts bad enough. But that might just be Damon, and his chronic inability to face any problem he can't kill, snark, or bleed away. Bonnie just takes it all and then some, and if it's crippling in any capacity she doesn't let it show. And he's .. jealous of that, in a sick sort of way, when he knows he wouldn't have half the composure but would appreciate the faith. Even when - on the very rare occasion - she's failed, no one's given up on her. Why would they? It's Bonnie, perpetual good man in a storm. Damon fails and it's expected; feels like a set up to prove he's only good for making things worse. Maybe he leans into that too much to change, but it would be nice, he thinks, to be counted on to do the right thing. To shake the court of public opinion just that little bit. Can't be that worth it, though, if Bonnie's not gotten away totally unscathed. She said so herself, that she's lonely, too, all the way on that other side of the spectrum. Damon doesn't know if that's better or worse. Maybe it is the same.

He stretches out, wringing all those thoughts out along with him, until his back cracks and the bed makes some horrible squeaking noise from the splintered pallets beneath the mattress. Pauses to listen for any damage he forgot about, then settles into position again when he's satisfied. It's not that bad. Not something he feels like answering for right this minute, though. "Thanks for this." There's a sincerity that might shock both of them, actually, and while most things he says are to get a reaction this is genuine truth. "The platonic physical touch thing," emphasis for her benefit, "Letting me be .. weird about stuff. Not barbecuing my brain on sight. Means a lot." More than he can appropriately express, unfortunately, and because he doesn't trust himself even in this vaguely vulnerable position, has to add a joke of some sort. "You tell anyone about this I might have to kill you. Or, you'll have to kill me. Let me out of here with some dignity. I'll ... I owe you one." Or two or twenty, she can add it to his tab.

he's quiet for too long, but she doesn't push him on it. understands the risk that comes with loving someone all too well. but she should have pushed him, should have pressed his buttons, shouldn't have let herself forget for a fleeting second who she's with, because now he's gained the upperhand and thinks it's okay to tease her like that. gross. "i'm handsy," bonnie says, holding eye contact, because she knows exactly how to pay him back for being annoying, and it isn't with mutual teasing, it's with a humiliating truth. humiliating for him, anyway, "because you needed it. and it's helping. you're welcome for the gift of physical..." not affection. let's not give him that word as ammunition. "touch."

jeremy. it's the first time damon's dared to bring him up in her presence. "that was..." she starts the sentence before she knows where it's going. she's surprised, in fact, that she doesn't feel angry anymore. not right now. anger's been her constant companion, lately, in the weeks and weeks since elena's birthday; thought for sure it would linger here between them now, a shield against whatever's going on with this conversation, a surefire end to any jeremy subject. but tonight her body's loose, her own thoughts don't feel like bullets, and damon's face isn't her enemy. (it's just a little pathetic, like a pitbull she found on the side of the road.) and bonnie doesn't know if this is forever or if this is a consequence of exhaustion, so she finally continues, "him being human. him having a heart for someone else, not because he wanted to, but because ... sometimes things just turn out that way."

bonnie turns her gaze to the ceiling, because she doesn't need to see the look in his eyes. doesn't need to receive the judgment she's already been angling at herself ever since she took him back. because taking jeremy back wasn't easy, of course not. bonnie has more self-respect than that, but she also has—well, damon said it best, didn't he? she's one to talk. she's lonely, too. she wants to be loved, and she wants to love in return, and she wants it to be easy, romantic, everything. it's just that she isn't an eight year old girl dreaming about some make believe love, she's a grown woman who loved a boy with too much of it to give. and it just didn't all find her. and maybe that's wrong of her. maybe she doesn't have the respect for herself that she thinks she does, because it's her turning the other cheek, it's her saving everyone else's ass, it's her biting her tongue so she doesn't trigger someone else's grief, it's her making her entire year about getting revenge on behalf of the guy who cheated on her once. it's funny, looking at herself from damon's perspective. heartbreaking, a little, but this is who she is. who she's always been.

"i mean." she turns her gaze back to damon, returns that bump of his knee against hers, finally, in silent recognition that she isn't going to kick him out for the subjects they're landing on tonight. "you know me." better than he lets on, she thinks, if only because he never has a reason to talk about it and she doesn't ever want to ask. "you've been watching the whole time, ever since you came back to mystic falls, right? i don't mean this summer, i mean before that. and you encouraged me, actually. think about it. how many times have you been way too ready for me to die for elena?" a little smile; she's not hurt by the truth. it's just an open fact. and she would die for her best friend. for any of her friends. "that's just how i love, i guess. fully. completely. sacrificially. i'll let love destroy me if it's for the right reasons." her smile feels different now, though, the more she vocalizes it. the longer she watches him. "i guess ... i'm almost as unhealthy and messed up as you are, if you squint."

#int: damon #bonnie #u thought u were free from a zack reference THINK AGAIN #think ... AGAIN ...#give our man a kiss for me today babe

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princessmyriad · 7 days ago

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#personal #it feels like im not allowed to complain about my own life on my own blog #or at least that if im allowed to that it seems very firstworld problem very selfish very not appropriate with all thats going on #that people will and do think less of me for expressing my own sadness and frustrations because theres no way it compares #to a lot of peoples very big and very real problems #but im so fucking sick of being poor and small. all ive had to eat today is 2min noodles roughly 10 hours ago #and all ill get tomorrow is a bowl of 2min noodles but ittl be another 15 or so hours until its the most reasonable to eat that #thats the real girlmath and then thats the last of my noodles. that leaves me with one (1) small tin of tuna #which might end up being tonights intermediary food if i really cant wait 15 nore hours for my next noodles but is supposed to be #the one meal of the day after tomorrow. so if i eat it too soon then i have even more time that i just dont fucking eat #im so sick to death of being in this position. like its literally killing me and theres fuck all i can do to make it better #ive tried. and i try and i try and i try but i can never afford anything #my landagent keeps sending me textx asking when theyll see a patment for my $50 water bill #i have to stop myself from texting back every time. youll see payment when im not spending literally 75% of my pay on rent alone #when i can afford to buy food and bills at the same time. whn i dont feel like kms-ing would be better than paying you my rent every frtnite #i crave a burger so bad i cant make myself do any tasks. i cant start or continue any crafts or chores because all im thinking about #is a burger like a blorbo rotating in my mind alongside the background noise that i wont get a burger and will only get noodles but not for #hours. a whole days worth of hours almost #my shitawful roomate is back and i have to play nice but he gives me the same feelings my abusive mother did. im scared to leave my room #in the safeplace house ive spent the last two years building for myself. this feels awful. things were all going so right and now #all of a sudden theyre all going as wrong as possible and im struggling so much. with no one to help. no one cares enough to help #the few people i do have are wrapped up in their own lives. which i get. but it doesnt take away the hurt of dealing with it all alone again #lot of momma trauma coming up with the end of eclipse season and i thought i was handling it. now i just feel fucking awful all the time #like ik healing isnt linear but the roomate triggers so hard things i thought i had processed and was on top of #would a burger fix that? no but itd atleast give me something to emotionally lean on for strength though it. but all ive got is noodles #24 hour apart one meal per day noodles. and tomorrow is my last pack. my only solace lately is that ive been invited to my first ever rave #or my first real rave anyway ive only been to one other 'edm event' that was not really a rave of any scale it was like 25 people #but its a halloween rave so im hoping for spooky fun dancetimes at least theres that. im out of data and spotifyprem so i havent been able #to take my silly little mental health walks bc theres zero chance im doing that without music and so itll be noce to get outside fr the rave #anyway. im doing very poorly i appreciate you few who reached out while i wasnt active but i expect ill continue to do poorly for some time

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astralmarionette · 7 months ago

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im currently writing an atsugawa (I hate the name shin soukoku or whatever I'm sorry but I'm actually not. also I cannot pronounce soukoku {this is the real reason I don't use soukoku}) and I don't even ship it lmaoo

#maris bsd 🗞️#like its not a bad ship for my personal tastes #I like them alot more in trios tho I've realized #absolutely adore anytime atsu aku and kyouka are together #two disaters and a teenage girl going through the inexplicable horrors #my favorite #I also desparately wish more people saw the atsulucygawa vision.....#anyways the fic is actually more like before an establish relationship but you can read it as romantic if you want #you'd have to work extra hard though because their bickering isn't like #romantic bickering they're actually kinda getting on each others nerves #but then they have a cute moment talking about their respective agency co workers and realize they do have common ground and that's how muc #they love their lil found dysfunctional families #actually its mostly akutagawa talking Abt port mafia (IM SICK OF PPL SAYING HE DOESNT CARE ABT THEM IDC I wRITE CANON NOW TY) and atsu #realizing that akus never rlly been in a position where he could safely and openly show his affection for anyone #and the one time he did they left (dazai) (this is how the conversation starts)#(aku says smth Abt gin and atsus like “awhh you care alot :3” and akus like “no I don't” and then atsus like “ykw its okay to care Abt ppl”#and akus like “:(( but what if they leave again” and atsus like “but what if they stay?” and basically lists all the reasons why they'd sta #and then akus gets all soft and has a nice moment of caring about everyone he works with #(except maybe chuuya I cant rmb any times they've interacted and i cant think of anything fun or like core memory things they'd do together #and then aku is like “what Abt you and your family? how are they?” and then it's atsus turn to be all sappy about their family #and so then they end up having a way better day than expected AND they walked away from it with a new friend and an even better #understanding of each other and stuff #yeah #reminder I don't even ship atsugawa but wow I feel deeply abt them both.#maybe Id like them as like QPR??#I can see that alot better #but man atsulucygawa....#even they'd probably be QPR though imo #anyways pushing my “aku doesn't feel like he can allow himself to share his affection for people because he doesn't want them to leave”#agenda ty for coming to my Ted talk

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icewindandboringhorror · 1 year ago

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Daily Log 9

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Worked on the previously mentioned tapestry style painting thing for like 5-6 hours today (with a few breaks in between), and that's just for the border around the main picture lol.. I think all the little sections and detail always take longer than I think they might. But hopefully the final product will look interesting! :0

I feel like I'm entering another Sick Phase where I just am weird/ill/sleepy/having joint pains much of the day (probably some vitamin deficiencies or hormone imbalances or general bodily inflammation or whatever nonsense seems to randomly pop up from time to time lol), so couldn't focus on anything more intensive like writing or editing videos, unfortunately. It's good to have smaller crafts I can do that don't take much mental effort and are just menial hand tasks (like carving, painting, sculpting, etc.), but I still always feel frustrated falling behind on the things I see as much more broadly significant to my overall life and potential career (making games, writing, finishing videos, socializing, costumes, etc.)

Organized my desk a little. Responded to some doctor emails. Paid bills.

Planned out something I might make with pressed flowers tomorrow.

Edited like 4 costume photos.

Also have a lingering sense of dread due to the weather. The heat often makes me feel terrible, and if I'm already in kind of a Bad Phase at the moment, I'm afraid of it making it even worse... stimky..

Which I know these temperatures are nothing to some people but.. to me... aUGHHHH... I am abnormally heat sensitive + live in a dinky old apartment with no ventilation that gets direct sun the hottest part of the day.. on a 90F day outside, it literally gets about 84F inside.. like.. even people who love the heat I feel like would struggle to sleep at night if their bed is 85F lol... hewwo.. You can spray yourself down with water, drink ice water, put a fan on yourself, etc. etc. but.. sometimes it just feels so oppressive and inescapable..

ANYWAY. Aside from painting, feeling weird, and dreading the upcoming heat/contemplating my entire life and how to get enough money to move to a different climate somehow one day/existential exhaustion/etc., I didn't accomplish very much lol

Spent maybe 30 minutes thinking about a little more worldbuilding stuff, and some things in reference to the game I mentioned resuming work on at some point.

Notable sights: The clouds were really pretty and pastel this afternoon, and some stars are visible in the sky for once since the nights are beginning to be clearer. The 'forget me not' flowers that I thought had died after transplanting actually seemed to be perked up and healthy looking today, and perhaps may actually survive. >:3

Goals moving forward: Do new poll adventure post. focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with the ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Finish and upload videos, edit costume pictures & etc. Do the new costumes I've planned. MAKE SCULPTURES at some point, I miss them.

Notable foods: Not much, kind of a warm day so didn't really want to use the oven. No idea how I'll handle the diet I've been put on by my doctors (involves usually cooking all food fresh, using the stove a lot, nothing is supposed to be canned or processed or premade, so that eliminates a lot of 'quick easy simple warm weather' meals, etc. etc.) during the heatwave. I might just have to break the diet a little and hope it doesn't give me stomach pains while I'm already hot and feeling sick lol..

I did have a boiled egg with some green onions on top, which is very simple but was refreshing somehow lol. Another ice cold ginger ale treat today, and some cold prune juice (which I know most people find gross/it's an old person food/etc., but I like that it's a smooth textured and not very sweet juice? Like it's slightly thicker than apple juice, has a lightly bitter taste, etc. I just find it nice for some reason. More evidence I am secretly an 85 year old wizard)

#why can't it be global cooling instead of global warming.. what if everything was just ice and I was comfortable and happy all year around #heat also sometimes gives me like a.. mild situational claustrophobia (like not a place that you are confined in/can't escape #but more an environmental factor that's all consuming. Like when there's fires and smoke fills the sky for days and it's like no matter #where you are you could never get away from it unless you're locked inside shut off from the entire world. if you need a breath #of fresh air or are feeling too confined you no longer have the option of going outside. it's all toxic. etc.)#Or like part of why I hate long car rides is for that reason. If I'm 3 hours away from home there is no way for me to get home #other than to ride 3 hours back. If I suddenly decided I really would rather be home I could not get home quickly. the 3 hours #to get home is an inescapable barrier. No matter how sick I started feeling or how bad things are and how much I wish I was comfortable #and safe at home - the only way to get there is to get there. you knowwhat I mean lol? I can't just be home in 20 minutes #it's a 3 hour ride or nothing. etc. etc. Like if you're on a ship in the middle of the ocean and suddenly just desperately decided you need #to be back on land. there isn't anything you can do. nothing will get you back on land but to stay on the ship and travel the hours it take #to get there. there's no quick exit. No way out that isn't doing the thing you already really don't want to be doing anymore (being in a ca #r or being in a ocean or etc. No alternative route but to just suffer the situation longer). idk.. if that makes sense??#so with the heat sometimes it's like.. it's hot INSIDE and it's hot OUTSIDE and it's hot everywhere you go theres no escape #from it and nothing you can do but just.. be hot. no matter how desperate you are to just BE COLD even for a few minutes #you simply don't have the option. The only way to get cool again is to just wait out the hot weather. You can yearn for the feeling of a #cool breeze all you want but abdolutely nothing will get you colder than just to be miserable in place and wait for the passage of time.#I always get that feeling in the summer like after five 90+F degree days in a row you're like AAAAAAAAAA #JUST AN ESCAPE JUST A QUICK ESCAPE DEAR LORD ' and then 5 minutes later like 'hee he. no its fine. haha. im actually so okay #with my situation i am coping.' short bursts of heat induced frantic anxiety with some resigned calm in between ghjgj #ANYWAY. yes every year I complain about the same thing. I am a hater and a complainer first and foremost ggh.. I love to be honest and #express my thoughts and opinions. I think way too many people are so reserved and repress everything for the sake of like social etiquitte #or personal insecurity (like owrrying they're being annoying or talking too much or that novody cares what they say etc.)#and then that ends up causing passive agression and communication issues and resentments that boil under the surface for years because they #re never adequately expressed. I don't think complaining is an inherently negative thing and it's weird to me that people react so #like it's some sort of moral thing to be against it. Like of course within reason. don't complain to the point that you appreciate #none of the good things around you or like where you start bullying people or something. but broadly speaking. being able to express your #concerns and thoughts in small bursts easily and openly and release some of that tension is better than just holding onto it all and having #it come out larger later or making you internally miserable or etc.. ANYWAY.. yeaghh.. hate heat.. hopefully done with painting soon.etc.#daily log

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imgonnagetyoubacktv · 2 months ago

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dni.

#i don't know how people who do not have siblings live cause #whenever i feel the very intense and real urge to genuinely kms their faces pop up in my head #my sister laughing at my jokes after she had a bad day and saying with tears in her eyes that hey you know what i need you so much please #call me constantly when im abroad i don't know what I'd do without you #and my little brother not trusting my parents advice when he is sick because he thinks they're constantly telling him to do a hundred thing #anyway but listening to me when im giving the exact same advice asking me such innocent questions that seem so obvious #but he doesn't know because of his childlike innocence #like why are we not going to the doctor if i have fever how do our parents know how to cure it and how can i take dolo without a doctors #prescription and me laughing and explaining that it's okay it's normal it's paracetamol you don't have to worry you'll be okay in day or 2 #or how he's excitedly telling me that these are the colleges i looked up are they good how do you know if they're good #he needs me so much even tho he'd never say it they've been even worse parents to him than to me he doesn't have anyone else #so then how could i be so selfish and hurt the two people who love and need me the most the two people on whom if i see tears #it feels like a stab directly to the heart?#but i can't help it. can't help fantasizing about dying #maybe myself but even better if by some terminal illness #i keep thinking me lying in a hospital bed and doctors saying there's a complicated procedure and it's very expensive and results aren't #even guaranteed so are you sure want to be treated #and me saying no please let me die my parents would protest at first they would feel it is their duty responsibility to keep me alive #but id say please i don't have anything to live for and i just CAN'T i can't do this i can't live this life it's too difficult im not #capable im already failing please just let me give up and then they'd agree #and then i would tell my father that im sorry i couldn't pay you back for all the money you spent on me my education my living expenses #but atleast now i won't ask for anymore money from you ever you'll probably get some money from the insurance policies #and i would tell my mom that sorry for being such a burden on you all these years but now you can finally be free with the 2 kids you #actually love and you never have to cook for me again or fold my clothes or feel bad that i won't attend your family functions #and i would tell my siblings that i know it's sad but please i know you guys are strong and bright and you're gonna be very happy and #successful and that's enough for me im sorry we couldn't have our dream raksha bandhan away from our parents but you can carry on without #me and ill always love you. and that would be it.#i know it's wrong to fantasize so much about dying and ive read somewhere that they may just seem like thoughts now but if left untreated #one day you're gonna have a bad day and you're gonna find the perfect opportunity and you were so sure you were never going to do it but #then you do. but i don't know how to stop

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insanechayne · 3 months ago

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~ ~ ~

#every time I call someone my best friend they turn into a fucking problem that just hurts me and makes me sick #is it me? am I doing something wrong? am I not supposed to have close friends?#or am I just such a fuckup that by being myself it’s inevitable that I’ll ruin my friendships?#kissed my bro on the cheek last week when he wasn’t doing too great and in my mind I was doing it just as an extra way to be encouraging #and show my support and that I’m here for him cause tbh I’ve done that with plenty of other friends and it ain’t no thing #but after a week of wondering why he’s been distant and not wanting to be around me when I’m saying I just need some time with a friend he #finally admits that he thought that was weird and out of line. so I gotta backtrack and try to explain myself but now all the stupid little #pieces be fitting and I realize that he’s probably been misconstruing me wanting time with him as thinking I’m gonna try to flirt with him #or something else fucking dumb like that. despite the fact that that has never been the case and he knows me fundamentally as a person and #should know I wouldn’t ever do anything that could make either of us cheaters even incidentally. plus he’s basically like a brother to me #and I have an AFAB partner so it’s not like I’m trolling for cock anyway and he knows that too. but now I gotta go back through every #interaction we’ve had since that happened and analyze whether or not I was weird or awkward or inappropriate in some way that he could be #upset about at all. and also act like everything is fine and keep it pushing like normal and police every future action to be safe too #because of course he can’t just be straight up about anything or tell me if something bothered him no I gotta play a whole ass fucking #guessing game. and now I also can’t trust that my best friend who is supposed to know me so well won’t take things I say/do the wrong way.#can’t trust that my best friend won’t see me in a poor light now because it’s clearly been affecting the friendship #and like totally that’s my bad I overstepped a boundary I didn’t realize was there but you should have just fucking told me at the time #instead of pulling this shit and giving me anxiety and blowing me off and making me feel like shit #can’t rely on him or trust him or anything and what’s the fucking point of even having a best friend if this is what happens? I’m at the end #of my fucking rope right now so stressed and anxious and no matter how much I try to talk to him or anything he just brushes me off and #won’t let me explain or get my feelings out or anything else. but hey at least I was around for him the other day when he needed somebody #good thing I was there to keep him from going back to drinking or something else stupid and could help him out. cause that’s what really #matters right just being able to help somebody else when they need it even if they don’t reciprocate and are actively hurting me instead of #just being there for me as a friend. guess we try again tomorrow huh? what else can be done I suppose. just get to suffer and be riddled #with anxiety and stress and depression eating away at me and ruining my fucking life. can’t even enjoy the Olympics or anything else because #I’m stuck overthinking this dumb shit. just want this to be over and things to be back to normal. wanna stop being upset about this shit and #be able to let it go but I don’t fucking know how and I can’t keep losing friends because it’s killing me #personal

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alexiroflife · 4 months ago

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

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

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

satoru gojo: (sprained ankle!)

you're fucked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"babyyy!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"nah, I waited for you, toru."

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

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

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

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

fucking hell, damn those six eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yeah... why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"why do you want me to stand?"

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

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

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

"no."

"no?!"

"no, i don't want to."

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

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

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

"nothing."

"then stand up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"satoru, you're being dramatic."

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

"it's fine, relax."

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

you frown. "But-"

"Now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i get it, toru," you frown.

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

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

"there's that pretty smile."

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

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

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

"forget the mission."

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

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

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

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

"but you're you."

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

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

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

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

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

you pout slightly. "I love you too."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i wanted to get into bed!"

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

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

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

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

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

"toru-"

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

"satoru!"

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

suguru geto: (cold!)

shit.

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

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

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

how can you be sick of all things?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"hello?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"suguru? you there?" you finally say.

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

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

"(Y/n)."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

we miss you :(

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

you miss having a life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"suguru..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you slap his shoulder pathetically. "asshole."

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

kento nanami: (low iron!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

god, why can't you just be normal?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"oh shit," you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your heart drops. "kento..."

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

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

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

"i know," you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

choso kamo: (broken finger!)

it had fully been an accident.

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

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

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

but you hadn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"who told you about my fingers, love?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"cho, it'll be okay."

"that wasn't my question."

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

"right. sorry," he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i really hope so."

"now can you pass me those chips please?"

toji fushiguro: (knife cut!)

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

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

no touching. that is all he asks of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"why were you just standing there like that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"lookin' for whatever you're hiding."

"i'm not hiding anything, toji."

"uh huh."

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

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

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

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

"turn around f'me."

"huh?"

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

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

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

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

god dammit. you're so dead.

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

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

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

"open."

"can't we just-"

"open."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you're being a prick."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"look, i'm sorry."

"shut the hell up and come on."

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

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

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

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

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

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

you watch him screw open the bottle of liquid.

"go slowly," you plead.

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

"shut the fuck up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you perk up. "really?"

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

"don't be a smartass."

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

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

"don't fucking push it."

ryomen sukuna: (fever!)

you wake up in a cold sweat, shivering.

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

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

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

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

102.4. perfect.

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

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

shit! sukuna.

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

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

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

which of course, he does.

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

"yes?" you croak.

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

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

"who the hell else would it be?"

"sorry... i was asleep."

"at this hour?"

"...what'dy'mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuckkkk.

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

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

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

"what exactly do you take me for?"

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

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

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

"i'm not i-ill."

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

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

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

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

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

"that's impossible."

"try me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"why are we... what happened?"

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

your heart sinks. "how high?"

"when we got here, tipping past 105."

"...are you serious?"

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

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

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

"...i..."

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

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

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

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

"care?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"kuna," you mumble.

"what?"

"can you... take me home?"

sukuna raises a brow. "home?"

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

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

"then bring them with."

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

"ten?!" you exclaim.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what is it?"

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

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

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lilgynt · 1 year ago

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so. bc we kept being put in a queue that we’re not trained for. that we’re not trained for bc of the widespread issue of this department pushing their work onto us and trying to snub that outright just by not training us. my company is making several of my coworkers come in on their day off for an eight hour training For that Department.

#personal #i’m probably not going bc im leaving that day #but hope they put me so i can just get away from calls for 8 hours #but also if they don’t im seriously thinking about just leaving half way #like ill just message my direct boss like hey still sick from yesterday (calling out monday) so im just gonna leave my stuff with security.#bye!#and then never look back #on one hand i do want this door open in case i need it but also i more or less already told that boss im calling out #and honestly i would rather kill my self than work here again #maybe if tomorrow goes rlly bad i just straight up leave my stuff #message boss like hey im just leaving my stuff tonight i’m not dealing with this anymore #probably not but it’s a little fantasy #anyway my department specifically my team not happy at all and all have said their jealousy #jealous i’m leaving fuck you tumblr mobile and fuck you autocorrect #one dude took one call and immediately got cussed out and then went postal and told our supervisor he’s not taking these calls #and she was like i get it’s frustrating but we’re a team so we have to #to which bc i’m leaving i was like okay but it doesn’t feel like a team when we have to take their stuff and then they treat us how they #treat us and are unable to help if WE need help #we need to hire more cs agents his happens every weekend #which led to the rest of the time agreeing/putting up a bit of a stink #and my supervisor was like mangement knows we’re trying to get cs agents #then i guess the answer was not hiring more agents for that department or even moving around the agents in their #but to add more to MY department #which like. anything that is not clearly labeled this is for x department #just auto falls on us even tho we only work on a limited number of things #god and like every department in a company feels like that! no we have to have several meetings about this specifically #bc it’s such an issue of having too much in our department or other departments just giving us everything EVEN stuff meant clearly for them #like it’s a huge problem #and they’re just making it worse with this. so glad i’m leaving

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elizzsush · 5 months ago

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Fae Courting Rituals | TWST

Diasomnia Dorm X Reader

Lilia X Reader, Sebek X Reader, Malleus X Reader, Silver X Reader

---- Fae are typically taught from a young age certain courting rituals. (Non-Human courting rituals part 3/3)

Note: Was going To add silver to this list. (I know he isn't a fae, but he was raised by one) but was too tired to write for him)

Savanaclaw Ver. | Octavinelle Ver

Sebek:

He starts following you around for some reason.

Seriously, one day he just woke up and decided to not leave you alone. It helped that you guys shared a bundle of classes together.

You had no clue how you befriended the green hair boy. You weren't complaining though, in this school, where everyone is so set in their ways, you liked having the extra layer of protection that was the loud half fae: Sebek.

He was loud and denies it however, whenever you point out he follows you. He claims to not having even realized he was doing such a thing. "I would never follow around a mere human!" He shouted out his claims with a red face.

It could be true. He did get somewhat spacy sometimes if you'd believe it.

He had a packed schedule, or so he claimed, yet he always found time to be around you. It made a warm feeling blossom in your chest, well, of course before he used this time to rant about Malleus. "Wakasama is the most kind and fit ruler of-" He'd ramble, you'd sigh; put your face in your hand and lean a bit closer to him. You enjoyed hearing him so passionate, even if it was... constant.

He didn't have an off switch, that didn't have to be a bad thing.

Plush, you didn't hate his voice. Not that you'd be as loud about your likes as he was for his.

Though you were pretty positive your friends... and most of the students at NRC were in fact sick of his voice. People have also noticed he is more vocal around you.

Which is… a good thing?

The oddest thing happened once. At one point when the two of you were relaxing in ramshackle. A bag of popcorn and a shitty TV you got on sale at Sam's shop. He wasn't being loud for once in his life, instead his attention was focused on the screen.

You two were sitting pretty close together when, he had grabbed your hand and laid his head on yours. Was he... cuddling you?

You couldn't help but smile and continue to watch the movie. You didn't want to comment on it, you knew if you did, he'd probably get up, make a huge deal out of it (with a red face), and leave.

He started rubbing his forehead against yours before he finally pulled away like it never happened. It was oddly affectionate.

You didn't even think he knew that he was doing it.

He began to do these affectionate things while he was focused on something else. Either it be a show at the movie nights you organized with him, or if he was studying a bit to hard with you.

Your friends wondered how you even managed a movie night with the loud boy but you just shrugged.

Eventually, you had to face it: You really like Sebek.

You really liked this brash boy with a thick skull.

You knew however, even if he did like you back. He'd never admit it, let alone go out with you.

It left you with this odd feeling. A dull pain that ranged from a small ache to feeling like Throns were wrapping around your heart, piercing the organ in your chest.

You tried not to let that get you too down. Instead, you watched him across the lunchroom as subconsciously he blew bubbles into his drink, his green eyes finding yours...

So yes, you'd listen to his rants. You'd go out of your way to hang out with him, you'd enjoy his company while you could.

Because you knew, sooner or later, he'd realize it too. The same reality you had to face. And...

well...

He wouldn't face it.

He'd probably turn you away and never speak to you again. And you'd be fine with that. Even if you didn't want to be because you...

Well, let's save that for another day.. "Hey Sebek, lets hang out!"

"I suppose I can make time for you, Human!"

Lilia:

He was out to get you.

You noticed it. Almost everybody noticed it. You just didn't know what you did to him! He'd pop up everywhere and scare you! Right before disappearing away.

This counted as bullying, right?

You were starting to get... slightly paranoid.

You enjoyed Lilia's company, you really did. But you were tired of constantly looking over your shoulder. So, you started to avoid him, just a bit.

Your own personal revenge for the paranoia.

Now, Lilia has lived a long life. He knows what he's doing and is just having fun. He liked you, he did, but he probably isn't going to be that serious about this. He's in it for the vibes.

So when he see's you avoiding him... he well... He serenades you from outside ramshackle.

He makes his intentions very clear with a love song!

A boombox in Sebek's hand, and a tired Silver who followed along because... well Lilia was making Sebek hold a bomb box and traveling in your direction.

Lilia song his heart out for you. "Everybody loves somebody sometime!~ And although my dream was-"

"It is 2am!! The perfect will go out with you tomorrow!" Grim shouted out the window with a grogy done with it tone. After you threw a pillow at them.

NOTE: Sorry this one is short but I have a hard time writing for Lilia

Malleus:

What do you mean? You started courting him first. Very brave of you indeed child of man. He had even commented on it while you handed a piece of treasure!

That was... well, it was a cheap polished rock. It was well... shiny...?

It started very small. He accepted your gift and was expecting a bit more to be honest. Not even he was exactly sure how this courting would work out; he was prepared to be the one to pursue you!

Initially, he sat back and relaxed. Enjoyed the small sense of harmony you two already had and assumed you guys were dating.

Why would he not? He accepted your courting gift, he assumed their were more to come, the next step up to this would be marriage and he wasn’t sure you were ready for that.

However, you noticed this. You were so confused. He’d began to call you “beloved.” Which was a 180.

When did you two…? Huh??

He’s also been more clingy. Not on the sense he’d follow you around but in the sense of a mountain of handwritten letters and the actual sense that he’s in your personal space when you two do hang out.

So… the two of you are just dating now? “Beloved, you haven’t been responding to my letters. Did I do something?”

“Oh, sorry I just haven’t… quite finished all of them.” You glanced at a room that was empty at one time. Now it held a pile of letters.

This was an exaggeration, they’re were a lot but not a whole room full… yet.

Extra??? Silver:

It started like most seedlings of love, with a dream. A simple one, you were sat beside him, the two of you quiet and happy in each others company. The birds sang as you hummed beside him. The boy was content, more so then he had been in his life.

Then, like it was second nature to both of you. You two shared a kiss, and then he woke up.

Usually, he tried not to lose himself to sleep. But tonight all he wanted was to go back to the dream world and hold you. As soon as the realization crossed his mind however, he woke up even more. Had he ever been this awake? “Am I in love…?”

He, not knowing what to do. Went to Lilia, whom was enthusiastic with this news.

You know when parents find out their four year old has a crush? That’s Lilia, except Silver isn’t four. Every time they see you Lilia shoos Silver off too hang out with you. Sadly, with no prior love life to speak of, silver goes along with it.

Though he is embarrassed about it, he hides it well enough.

“Does Lilia think you like me?” You asked all to happily once, hiding your own happiness behind a giggle at the absurd situation he found himself in.

“Uh, yeah…” he’d just smile at you, his head laying on the lunch table as he was about to go to sleep. he loved to see you laugh even if it was somewhat at his expense. However, Sleep tends to escape him when he was near you. Not that he didn’t feel tired, but he didn’t feel as tired. He couldn’t feel angry about it, in fact he was happy about this. It was like you were some temporary cures for his illness.

Lilia would also insist that Silver gift you things. To show he can provide for you, the Silver hair male couldn’t disagree. So, he’d find things that might fancy you.

His bird and squirrel friends also helped him in his venture to gain your affection. Often leaving flowers at your doorstep and small shiny things.

One day you saw the birds and Squirrels run up to your doorstep, one flower at a time, make a gorgeous bouquet.

You made sure to thank him and his animal friends after that.

In return you'd try and make things for him, find things around he or the animals would like. Nuts for squirrels, seeds for the birds, and a deep red rose you plucked from Heartslabyul during the end of an unbirthday party.

He stayed awake for longer than he ever had that night, staring up at the rose in the dark while his dormmate slept. A smile on his lips as he examined every detail of it.

Ace would call it cheesy. The relationship between the two of you was something out of a romance movie he'd say in a more teasing way. Something like, "Is it Tuesday or Wednesday he's going to chase after you to an airport?" and then roll his eyes. You tell Ace to shut up while looking away with a face as red as riddle's hair.

It was after a test, you pulled your test paper out of your bag ready to check your score after preparing for disappointment when a blue bird swopped down and took it!

You cursed and chased after the bird, rushing past students and looking crazy, eventually you ended up in the forest next to the school.

You were sure you looked ever crazier than you had been running in the school halls, because now you had leaves in your hair, and your shoes were all muddy now...

Eventually, the birds placed the test paper, face down on a certain boy's chest. "Silver... Are you asleep?" You smiled and knelt beside him, a small smile on your face. Rolling your eyes at the perpetually sleeping boy. You sat beside him for a moment taking a deep breath before you grabbed your test.

You almost preferred it this way, to have him here, even if he wasn't fully here. It helped your nerves somewhat. An even bigger smile graced your face as you turned the paper, and a large B was printed at the top.

Standing up, you gifted your friend a small kiss on his forehead and wandered off back to school.

Well, you were stopped by a small, sleepy voice. "Y/N...?"

___________________________

Note: It was this or clean my depression room... Anyway, I want to expand on Sebek's small scenario because I know if it was its own imagine I could make it really good.

Would ya'll enjoy that...?

ANYWAY, these small series is competed! (Unless...?) Thank you for reading them and thanks for reading the note. Not a lot of people do that. Myself included.

I have a hard time writing for Diasomnia...

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soaps-mohawk · 3 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Summary: John and Kyle are gone. You have no choice but to lean on the alpha you've betrayed, the alpha that hates you.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 11,071 words

Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, anxiety, reader has a panic attack and several breakdowns, Simon being mean, ANGST, depression, lots of mentions of vomiting and the reader does get sick quite a bit though it's not descriptive in any way, ANGST, heat cycles, pseudoscience, medical stuff (that's probably very wrong), brief mention of needles, medical procedures (nothing very detailed), ANGST, very heavy emotionally again, some very light fluff like barely there but nothing compared to the ANGST

A/N: I did it. I finally got it up. It's uh...it's a heavy one again, I'll tell you that much. You'll hate me even more but oh well. I expected that through this part of the story. I'm so evil I know.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“I don't like this. It's too...”

“Convenient?”

“Suspicious.”

“I know. But we don't have much of a choice in this.” John says, staring at Simon and Johnny. “You keep your eyes on her at all times. Stay in the barracks when you can. If you have to leave the barracks together, she goes with you.”

“We won't let her out of our sight.” Simon says. “If anything happens, Kate will be the first to know.”

“Good.” John says. He trusts the two of them to look after you. Yet he can't deny the timing of this is a bit suspicious. “We'll be back as soon as we can. Take good care of our girl.”

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since John and Kyle left.

Despite the fact it’s not the longest someone has been gone, it doesn’t ease the ache in your chest, the pain slowly carving its way into your very soul. You haven’t spoken to them. There’s been no word. Nothing. It could be a good thing. Sometimes no news is good news, and you suppose it’s better than a phone call saying they’ve died in some horrible accident.

You keep waiting for that phone call.

Every time Johnny or Simon’s phone rings, you begin to panic, fear eating away at that hole in your chest. It’s bad news, it’s Kate calling to tell them your alpha and beta aren’t coming home.

You’ve hardly been able to relax, tense and jumpy at the littlest things. Being enclosed in the barracks at all times isn’t helping. You haven’t left once, not even to the med center. Dr. Keller has been coming to the barracks, more than she normally would for your appointments. You wonder if it was Johnny’s doing to try and help you relax, or Simon’s doing in hope you stop stinking up the barracks with the sour scent of nerves and fear.

Simon has been distant still, avoiding you as much as he can. It’s impossible to avoid you completely, though, as Johnny can’t watch you 24/7. It’s a bit claustrophobic, the way they hover, always keeping one eye on you. It’s been a bit suffocating for the last three weeks, but with John and Kyle gone...it’s almost worse.

Johnny has tried to fill that void, tried to support you in any way he can, but it hasn’t worked. You know it’s Johnny, you love Johnny, yet not even he can fill the void that has become your life without your alpha.

You hate it.

You hate their job, you hate that it takes them from you. You hate the uncertainty, the constant fear and worry that makes you sick. You hate that it’s dragged you into it. You know they were digging for the perpetrator of the cameras, who put them up, who ordered them to be put up, who potentially wanted to look into your personal life in such a violating way. The sudden deployment feels too suspicious, too sudden to be coincidence.

But as John says, entertaining conspiracies won’t get you anywhere.

Still...it smells fishy to you.

The hole in your chest has left you in a constant state of uneasiness which has left you on the verge of tears constantly. Every day that passes without word of a tragedy or that they’re coming home makes your stomach churn, tears constantly brimming in your eyes. John’s shirt is constantly in your grasp, a dirty one you’d fished out of the bottom of his laundry basket, soaked in his scent. It’s beginning to fade, slowly eroding away until there won’t be anything left. Then you’ll grab another and another until you have none left. His room still smells like him, his pillows still fresh with his scent.

You know it will fade, though, and fade fast.

You’ve been avoiding spending too much time in his room and Kyle’s in favor of keeping their scents in there as long as possible. The fading of their scents is like an omen, marking a fading of their presence in your life, of the bond between you. The constant fear that you’ll forget them, what they sound like, what they smell like, what they look like.

It makes you physically ill.

That painful churning in your stomach is back as you sit on the couch in the rec room, curled up as far from Simon as you can get. Simon is still angry at you, at your betrayal of his trust. So much progress down the drain because you proved you’re not trustworthy after he trusted you enough to begin opening up. You still hate yourself for it, for keeping the secret for that long. Even a month would have been better and would have had less consequences for everyone. Maybe then you might have caught the camera in the bear sooner, and not been so violated during some of your most private moments.

Some of those moments with Simon.

How violated does he feel, having such vulnerable moments between you recorded and viewed by someone out there? You can’t help but think back to that night when he came back, and the morning after. Someone watched you. The bear had been right there, those black beady eyes staring right at the two of you. How many times had you fucked the others in your bed, the bear sitting there, watching, projecting those moments to whoever was on the other side.

Your heat.

The bear hadn’t been looking then, but it had been listening. It knows what happened, every last detail, every slam of the bed against the wall, every knot.

It makes you sick.

Your stomach churns, your arms wrapping around your middle as you let out a shaky breath. You’re going to puke again, the bile rising in your throat. The intense tingling in your hands is starting again, your fingers curling in as your extremities begin to go numb. You’re panicking again.

Instead of vomit, a choked sob leaves your lips, your tears hot and burning on your cheeks, stinging like they’re composed of acid.

Simon glances up from his phone, his face the mask of indifference that it has been for three weeks. A mask that he had worn for the first few months after your arrival. “What?” He asks, his tone flat and voice rough.

You can’t answer him, too busy hyperventilating and sobbing where you sit. You can’t even think if you wanted to, your body aching as your muscles begin to tighten. You can’t distress. You’ve been fighting the urge since the day the truth came out.

You can’t trust Simon to help you.

You’re not even sure he knows how to.

Of course, it would be easy to call Dr. Keller, get her to help him, but you’re not sure he’d want to. Could he be so angry and betrayed he’d just stand there and watch you distress yourself to death?

He wouldn’t. He’d have to explain himself to John, why he let it happen. It would tear the pack apart. It would tear them apart. You wouldn’t put it past John to try and rip Simon’s throat out with his teeth in anger. It would be a bigger betrayal than yours, and Simon wouldn’t let you lose your spot at the top of that list.

“Fuck.” Simon breathes, setting his phone down before moving in front of you. He lowers himself onto one knee, reaching for your arms. If you had been more aware you might have flinched away, but the lack of oxygen to your brain is making everything fuzzy.

Simon grips your elbows, tugging you forward gently. Your legs are forced off the edge of the couch, your body upright as Simon holds your arms in his grasp, your legs between his as he kneels in front of you. You stare down at him, the sudden change in position shocking you for a moment. You choke around another sob, eyes blurry as you try to look at him.

“I need you to breathe.” He says, squeezing your arms gently.

You can’t.

Your breaths are sobs, wracking your body, tearing at your lungs. Your chest hurts, aching and burning as you quickly begin spiraling out of control.

“Look at me.” He says, shifting his hold to your wrists, taking them into one hand before he grabs your chin with the other. He keeps your head still, locked on his face. His eyes are blurry to your own teary ones as you look right at him, looking through the mass of blurry black that surrounds him. “Breathe.” He says, his voice rougher than normal, rumbling with the command of his alpha around the edges.

It goes straight to your head, a shiver running down your spine. Your body shudders in response, your next sob catching painfully in your throat. You cough, lungs spasming as your body suddenly begins to follow his order automatically. Simon lets you go as you attempt to gain control over your out of control body. One part of your brain is still panicking, still pushing towards distress while the other fights to follow the alpha’s command. It’s a battle, your instincts at war with each other.

The next inhale is a gasp, inhaling until your breath stutters and your lungs ache. You let it out slowly, the flood of oxygen making you shake in Simon’s hold. He keeps his hand around your wrists until your inhales stop stuttering and your muscles start to relax.

He slowly releases you, pushing himself up to sit on the coffee table. You’re surprised it can hold so much weight after it’s been sat on so many times. Not even a creak as Simon lowers himself onto it.

He rests his elbows on his knees as he stares at you. His figure begins to get clearer as your tears slow, no longer blurring your vision. You're expecting the sharp sting of his harsh gaze, or worse the indifference you've grown used to over the last three weeks.

Instead there's a soft look in his eyes. Not soft as you would describe Johnny's, but soft compared to what it has been. Pity, you think.

“You're a fucking mess.” He finally says.

You laugh. You can't help it. The deadpan delivery of such a him statement in response to everything has a laugh escaping your lips. You wipe your eyes, sniffling. He hates it, hearing your sniffles. It annoys him when you cry, it always has.

You push yourself back onto the couch, pulling your knees up again as you stare at him. There's a slight tremble to your fingers still as you sit there in silence for a moment.

“I'm sorry.” You say, still looking at him. “If I had just said something sooner...” You swallow thickly as you stumble over your words. “None of us would have...the camera would have been found sooner...we wouldn't have...both of us...”

“You shouldn't apologize if you don't even know what to say.” He says, the softness in his gaze hardening again.

“It's not that it's just...” You take a breath, trying to straighten out your thoughts. “I feel so guilty. This is all my fault and if I had just said something sooner, none of this would have happened. What happens next is my fault too. I know you and John have been digging into who is behind it and I know how risky that is. They know that we all know now, and...I'm scared of what might happen.”

You let out a long breath at your confession and attempt at an apology, squeezing your fingers together as they begin to tremble even more. You want to look away, his gaze piercing into you again. You're reminded of the moment the words had fallen from your lips that had caused this in the first place. Your heart begins thumping in your chest, your breathing picking up slightly at the memory. Will he get angry again? Will he snap at you and drag you down the hall to lock you in your room until John and Kyle get back, or Johnny calms him enough to rescue you?

“I feel so violated.” Your voice shakes. “I can't even imagine what it's been like for you. It took us so long to get to that point and...” You swallow the bile trying to rise in your throat. “I'm so sorry.” Tears blur your vision again. “I didn't know...I didn't think...I was so stupid.”

He scoffs. “You are.” His words are sharp, and they sting as they slice through you. “Fucking stupid, I'd say.” You wince at his words. “But you’re inexperienced. You don’t think about things like we do. No matter how much everyone has tried to drill it into your head, you’ll never truly understand until you experience it yourself.” He holds your gaze for a moment. “I hope you never have to.”

You stare at him, the meaning of his words not lost on you. You’ve put yourself in danger, you’ve put all of them in danger by keeping this all a secret. Whoever put those cameras up knew you were keeping it a secret and hadn’t done anything in retaliation against you for finding them and destroying them. Maybe that was their plan all along. They knew you’d keep it a secret and use that to their advantage. Strike when they least expected it, or perhaps wait for the moment the truth inevitably came out and then strike.

The thought has a cold chill running down your spine.

You’re afraid for a different reason now.

John and Kyle are gone. Anything could happen to them and it wouldn’t look suspicious. Or whoever put those cameras up wanted everyone split up. Attack when there’s less knights defending the castle.

A shiver runs through you, making you curl in on yourself. The feeling of being watched is back. The darkness peeking out from around the blinds over the rec room windows suddenly feels very threatening.

“What’s goin’ on in here?”

A startled yelp leaves your lips as you whip around to face Johnny where he’s leaning against the door to the rec room. Simon’s body tenses in response to your fearful yelp, an unconscious motion he has no control over. Alphas will always have the drive to protect the omegas in their pack. It’s a natural protective mechanism, no matter how they may be feeling about said omega.

Simon’s body relaxes as you do, putting a hand over your heart to try and calm yourself down again.

“Jumpy this evenin’.” Johnny says, entering the rec room. He steps up to the couch, bending down to rest his hands on the arm next to you. “Didnae mean to scare ye.” He says softly. “Ready tae get to bed?”

You nod. “Yeah. I am.”

“Come on.” He holds out his hand and you take it, letting him help you up off the couch. “We’re usin’ yer shower, Si.” He says.

Simon rolls his eyes. “Course.”

“Simon?” You say before Johnny can pull you from the rec room. The alpha turns to look at you. “I am sorry.”

He stares at you for a long, tense moment. “I know.”

Johnny leads you down the hallway, his hand on your lower back. He’s gotten touchy again, letting his hand rest lower and lower on your back, brushing your breasts as he pulls the covers up around you at night. He refuses to let you shower without sitting on the toilet lid. You know the chances of Simon opening up like that again are slim, if at all. You’ve ruined that opportunity, and you’ll have to be satisfied with where he draws that line permanently.

“Have a good conversation?” Johnny asks.

You nod. “He called me ‘fucking stupid’.”

Johnny nearly chokes for a second, covering his mouth to hide a laugh. “He’s certainly not a man of eloquence.”

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t exactly disagree with him.”

Johnny leads you into Simon’s room, steering you to the bathroom. Your stuff is already inside from the unanimous decision to solely use Simon’s bathroom for ease and also safety.

Your towel is neatly on the rack next to Simon’s and Johnny’s, all folded the same way and hung evenly apart. Your soap and shampoo are neatly placed next to his, along with your toothbrush and other products on the sink. Always so neat and organized, despite his anger at you.

Can’t break his system even after you break his trust.

You pull your shirt over your head after starting the water, letting it get warm. Johnny stands behind you in the doorway, and you know he’s watching. You strip your shorts and underwear off, Johnny grunting quietly as you bend over to add them to your pile of dirty clothes. You’ve been tempted to leave them on the floor for the past two weeks just to peeve, but you’ve riled Simon up enough. With your luck he’d just toss them in the trash.

The water is hot as it pelts your skin, your shoulders relaxing as it begins to loosen the stress of the day. The emptiness in your chest continues to eat away at you, never disappearing despite what happens. Your stomach churns, the nausea returning. You stand under the spray, letting the water pour over your head as you attempt to calm the continuous twisting in your abdomen.

The shower door slides open, another body joining you before it slides closed. Warm skin presses against your back as arms slip around you, pulling you out from directly under the spray. You rest back against Johnny’s chest as he leans his cheek against the top of your head.

“I miss them.” You say quietly, just audible over the shower.

“I know.” Johnny says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“When will they be back?” You ask him, even though you know he can’t tell you.

“Hard tae say.” He says, grabbing your strawberry scented soap from next to Simon’s. He’s just been using Simon’s soap, something you probably assume he does often anyway. “Kate will update us as soon as there’s a possible ETA.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can take.” You say as he begins to wash your back.

“I know.” He says, gently massaging the knots in your back, trying to help you relax. “I wish I could get them home faster. I wish it had been us instead of them for your sake.”

His words make you feel guilty, but you both know it’s not anyone’s fault. John is your alpha, you belong to him, you were claimed by him. You’ll always hurt more about your alpha and beta’s absence than the other members of your pack can comfort you. If Simon had claimed you, things would have been different. The ache in your chest would have been less intense as you would still have an alpha you could lean on.

You’d always miss John, but if you had Simon, the black hole slowly devouring you would have slowed its progress.

Four weeks.

A month.

It's been a month since John and Kyle left. The familiar hole in your chest has widened, a gaping black hole now threatening to swallow you and string you out until you’re nothing but particles lost in its center. It’s worse than the hole Simon left when he went on his solo deployment, it’s worse than the hole they all left when they went on their first mission. Neither of those previous deployments lasted this long, and despite Johnny's attempts to console you, you don’t feel any better.

There’s been no contact.

A month with no contact, a month with no word. You'd know if something had happened. Even if you got no word on it, you would know. That sense that omegas have when something happens to the bond would be screaming.

It's been a rough four weeks.

There’s a heaviness that’s started to permeate the air as you try to adjust to the prolonged absence of your alpha. It’s nearly every day that you’re breaking down now, standing in John’s room to catch any whiff of him that’s left. You’ve worn the scent off his bed, his pillows, his clothes. You’ve run out of shirts that smell like him.

You’re terrified they might fade from your memory entirely. Kyle’s scent had disappeared quicker, fading fast until you were left unable to even picture the sea. The beach is a blurry, distant memory, the smell of the salty air faded and wiped away.

Still you cling to their shirts, as if you can hold them through the fabric. You carry them everywhere, packing them from room to room as you float around in a daze.

You’ve left the barracks once in four weeks for a training session that neither of them could miss. You’d gotten looks as you sat there, the sole audience member, but you're not quite sure what had happened or even what the training was far. You had been far away, lost in your own head, the haze of depression and grief numbing you to everything.

Dr. Keller continues to visit you in the barracks, still more than you normally would see her. You miss her office, the soft warmth of it, the plants and the colors lacking from the sterilized prison that is the barracks. It has become like a prison. You’re trapped inside, unable to even wander around alone. You feel like the princess locked in her tower under the watchful eye of the guards keeping her trapped inside. You need someone to come and rescue you, someone to set you free so you can at least wander the tower alone.

You want your alpha.

You miss John and Kyle desperately, their absence chewing away at your insides. The hole in your chest continues to widen as the days pass, consuming more and more of you as you slip deeper and deeper into the black hole of depression. Johnny is being affected too, sucked in by the gravitational pull of the black hole you have become. Even Simon is starting to feel it, softening a bit more towards you. He’d even let your hands brush a couple of times when he’s escorted you places, and he didn’t yank them away like you might pass some disease onto him.

You wouldn’t necessarily call him affectionate, even before all of this, but this is the first glimpse you’ve gotten of him being back to where the two of you were before you fucked everything up. You know it’s not going to happen overnight. It might never get back to what it was. He might simply be acting out of sympathy, and out of necessity because of your pain and grief being channeled through the pack bonds. Sometimes you wonder if John and Kyle can feel it too from wherever they are in the world.

You miss them so much it hurts.

The tears slip down your cheeks as you sit on the couch in the rec room. Johnny is off taking his turn to work out. It’s early, the sky still grey outside, the perfect epitome of how you feel inside. Simon is seated in his usual spot, book in hand. Your own that he had grabbed is still on the coffee table. You’re staring at it, tears gliding down your cheeks as you hold your knees against your chest. It’s become almost a normal occurrence, the tears, the blank staring, the lack of desire to do anything, even the position you’re seated in.

Simon glances up at you as you sniffle again, lowering his book slightly. “What?” His tone isn't annoyed per se, but you know he has to be tired of your constant blubbering.

“Tell me they’ll be alright.” You say, your voice shaking.

“You know I can’t-” He starts, but you cut him off.

“I need you to tell me.” You sob, your gaze lifting to the black screen of the TV. “I can’t take it. I can’t do this.”

He lets out a sigh, closing his book. You jump as the couch sinks down on your left, Simon taking a seat next to you. The flinch is subconscious as he reaches over to grip your chin and turn your face to look at him. Your tears slide down your cheeks, wetting his fingers.

“They’ll be alright.” He says, eyes hard as he looks at you. He’s lying but you need to hear it. “They’ve been gone for far longer than this before. Trust Price knows what he’s doing. He’s going to do everything in his power to come back. We’ll know if something happens. Laswell will let us know.”

You know that, you know all of it. Yet it does little to calm the pain in your chest. “I miss them.” You sob, Simon’s eyes softening as you continue to cry. “My stomach hurts.”

You’ve been nauseous since the day the truth came out almost five weeks ago. The nausea has been churning in your stomach, making you constantly on the edge of vomiting. It’s the stress, the combination of the truth coming out and your alpha being gone. You’ve been choking food down, eating only out of necessity.

Simon lets out a sigh, releasing your chin to wrap an arm around you. His other hand drops to rest on your stomach. It’s warm through the fabric of your shirt, applying gentle pressure. He smells like alpha, different from John, but still an alpha. The tears continue to fall as he holds you, your body slowly leaning closer and closer to him. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t even try to push you away as you fall against his side.

Your stomach is churning, gnawing. It’s not an unusual feeling. It’s felt this way for the last few weeks. It’s never woken you up before, though. You blink in the darkness of Johnny’s room, his arm still thrown over you. The gnawing continues to intensify as you continue to be pulled from your semi-peaceful sleep, becoming more and more aware.

You’re hungry.

You slowly unravel yourself from Johnny’s snake-like hold, ready to slip into the rec room to peruse your snack stash. Instead you’re pulled back onto the bed by the arm that slips around your waist.

“Where ye goin’?” Johnny rasps, still half asleep.

“I’m hungry.” You whisper.

He lets out a groan, letting go of you to rub a hand over his face. “Give me a minute.”

You rise from the bed as he stretches, slowly sitting up as he draws himself from sleep. It’s just past one in the morning, neither of you having been asleep for long. You feel wide awake as the gnawing in your stomach continues to intensify. You rock back and forth on your feet, debating just going and letting him catch up. It’ll force him to wake up faster, and ease the gnawing hunger threatening to turn you inside out.

Finally Johnny rises from the bed, stretching again as you impatiently open the door. He pads behind you to the rec room, watching as you dig out a bag of chips. He leans against the back of the couch as you stand there, devouring the chips like you haven’t eaten in days. You haven’t really eaten much in the last five weeks, so perhaps it’s finally catching up to you. You finish the bag but it’s not enough, so you grab another, devouring it halfway before you freeze. The bag begins to tremble in your hand, nearly falling from your grasp.

Johnny is alert immediately as you begin to panic. “What?” He asks stepping closer to you, ready to defend you from whatever has you on edge.

Your brain frantically does the math, thinking over the last few weeks. The bag falls to the floor as the realization slams into you like a bus. You turn to face Johnny, eyes wide in shock, fear shooting through you like lightning and clouding the rec room in the sour stench of omega fear.

Your lips tremble, the words stuttering out as you fight the panic rising in you, the nauseous churning of your stomach threatening to bring up the bag and a half of chips you just ate. Your fingers are shaking, clenching into fists again as they begin to go numb. Ragged breaths wheeze from your lungs as you stare at Johnny’s worried face, brows furrowed as he tries to understand what has you in a sudden panic at one in the morning.

“My last heat was eleven weeks ago.”

“The timeline is right,” Dr. Keller says, taking the blood pressure cuff off your arm. “The symptoms point to pre-heat.”

You take another bite of your candy bar, eating half out of necessity and half because you’re nervous. You hadn’t even considered this when John left, but of course you didn’t know how long he would be gone.

“Any word from John yet?” Dr. Keller asks as she packs the blood pressure monitor back into her bag.

“None.” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “Kate sent out a message, but there’s been no response.”

You’re numb to that fact, the hope that had filled you two days ago gone now that there’s been no word, not even for something like this. Simon had gone out of his way to call you when you needed him, but John can’t even send a simple message through, even a simple no.

“We may have to consider alternative options if he can’t get back in time.” Dr. Keller says.

He won’t get back in time. They’re all saying it silently. They all know it and so do you.

Your hands close into fists. You had hoped with your new pack and alpha you wouldn’t have to go through this again. But, of course with them having to put their job first, this was always a possibility. It was bound to happen eventually, you just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.

“We’ll wait as long as we can.” Dr. Keller says, looking at you. “We don’t have forever, though.”

You shove the rest of the candybar in your mouth. You don’t want to say anything, you don’t want to do anything. You’re numb except for the incessant hunger. You’ll know when it’s getting close, when the hunger fades and you’re facing down the reality that your alpha won’t be here. You know he won’t. Even if Kate can get ahold of him, he won’t make it back in time.

You’re going to have to do this alone.

Well...perhaps not.

Maybe there is someone that can help you after all.

You’re terrified. You’re not sure how to even approach this, how to bring it up. It’s eating you alive, but you have to ask. You have to know. That small bubble of hope still rising in you that maybe, just maybe you can avoid the horror awaiting you. It’s a big request, but perhaps you can be convincing enough to play to his pity.

“Simon?” You ask, your hands curled into fists so they’re not visibly shaking. Your hair is dripping onto your shirt, soaking it but you don’t care. The cold is keeping you aware, keeping you from floating away into your head again.

He grunts, looking up from his phone. You’d used the shower in his room again so he could watch you while Johnny took his own shower. You won’t sleep in here. You’ll stay with Johnny just like you have for the last almost five weeks. It’s safer, should your heat start in the middle of the night again. And also because he doesn’t want you to stay with him.

This is stupid. It’s a stupid decision but you need to know.

What if he says yes?

“Can I...ask you something?” You say, shifting nervously on your feet.

He pockets his phone before pushing himself up to stand. He towers over you as he moves closer, staring down at you as you look up at him. Sometimes you forget just how big he is, just how commanding his presence can be. You fight the urge to cower, to submit to him in fear. “What?”

The nervous lump in your throat threatens to choke you, the memories of his anger directed right at you burning right through you. What if he gets mad again? What if he reacts the same way? You can’t know what he will do, though. You steady yourself, wrapping the fabric of your shirt around your hands.

“Will...” You clear your throat. “Will you help me through my heat?”

It’s a big request. A huge request. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’d kept up even before, something he’d never even suggested or hinted at wanting to do even before your last heat. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’s put back up since your betrayal, making it clear you’re not welcome back in, you’re not going to get to where you were before. The most he’s done is let you lean against him that one night in the rec room.

You hope maybe he’ll agree out of necessity, maybe he’ll take pity on you and save you from the horrors of going through a heat without an alpha. It may be stupid, but you’re terrified of what’s awaiting you if he doesn’t agree. You don’t want to do it, you don’t want to be put to sleep and then wake up a week later sick and disoriented, and then spend the next few days still in the same state.

It makes your stomach churn, and not from hunger.

His eyes widen in shock as your words register. His hands tighten into fists at his sides, his shoulders tensing. You fight the urge to flinch at the movement, the sudden hardening of his stance before you. He wasn’t expecting it, obviously. You came out of left field with it, but you have to ask. You’ll beg if you need to. You’ll get on your knees and beg like your life depends on it if he wants you to. Anything just to avoid what’s looming in the near future.

His eyes harden as he stares down at you, and you suddenly begin to regret your decision to ask. His gaze is piercing, taking you back to when you confessed. You’ve made a mistake. You’ve made a huge mistake.

“No.”

The word is simple, two letters, one syllable, yet it slices right through you. You should have expected it, should have known that would be your answer, but it still hurts. He knows, he knows John isn’t coming back in time. He knows you’re going to have to do this alone. You had hoped maybe pity would push him into saying yes, maybe he’d open up a bit more before your heat started, maybe he might be merciful.

“I can’t.” He takes a step back, then another. His gaze softens to what you almost perceive as panic. He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

So maybe it wasn’t anger at you keeping him from agreeing. You can feel it, the edge to his scent starting to cloud it, the way his hands open and close as he squeezes them into fists over and over.

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at him, lifting your hands so they’re laced together in front of you. You knew that would be the answer, yet you can’t stop the disappointment. “Oh.” That's all you can say. You don’t trust yourself to say much else.

You swallow the lump in your throat as Johnny appears in the doorway, looking between the two of you before his eyes settle on you. He can tell something happened, something transpired between the two of you while he was gone. How much of it he heard, you’re not sure. Perhaps none at all judging by the look on his face.

“Ready for bed?” He asks, his gaze cautious. He’s trying to assess the situation, figure out what could have transpired to cause such a reaction between you and his alpha. He’ll never know. Not unless Simon tells him.

“Yeah.” You breathe, scurrying out of Simon’s room before you can make more of a fool out of yourself.

“H-How long will it take?” You ask, your heart thudding in your chest. Your pre-heat symptoms had stopped earlier this morning, the hunger gone, the itching beginning under your skin.

“As soon as your temperature goes up, we’ll get started.” Dr. Keller says, sticking electrodes to your chest. You’ve already got the blood pressure cuff around your arm and pulse monitor on your finger.

“Ye were prepared for this.” Johnny says, sitting next to the hospital bed. You’re in a private room, well away from any others, even though no one will know you’re in heat. There won’t be any scent projecting, no neediness, no aching. You won’t be aware at all that anything is happening as your body rapidly cycles through that sudden flood of hormones.

Dr. Keller nods. “This was always a possibility, so I made sure I had everything on hand for when it did happen.” She takes your temperature again. “Tell me when you start to feel warm. The last thing I want to do is send you under too late.”

Your skin crawls at her words, memories flashing back to the time you were put under too late. You trust Dr. Keller to take care of you, though. She’s far more competent and aware than that nurse had been. It’s her job to take care of you, to watch after you in moments like this.

You just wish you could talk to John before you go under.

You want to remember his voice when you come back out.

“I’ll be here the whole time.” Johnny says, taking your hand, obviously sensing your discomfort.

He’s brought a bag of things with him, since he’ll be staying with you for the few days it’ll take to get through your heat. It won’t be as long this time, your body being forced through those hormones quickly. It won’t even register it needs a knot, flying through those symptoms.

The wait is the worst part. It takes forever, every minute seeming to take an hour. Johnny waits dutifully by your side. You wish this wasn’t the first heat he would be here for. You wish he had at least gotten some experience with a normal heat, just so this one wouldn’t scare him off. Even Kyle might have been shaken by it, though, even with his experience.

Eventually the heat begins to prickle under your skin, your heart rate jumping. Johnny calls in Dr. Keller, looking nervous as sweat begins to bead on your forehead.

“It’s time.” Dr. Keller says, taking your temperature. It’s jumped quickly, your body starting to prepare for the onslaught of hormones about to be released.

She turns your arm, hooking up the IV that will deliver the sedative as well as fluids to keep you hydrated. The heart monitor beeps rapidly as you grow nervous, Johnny squeezing your hand gently. You know he’s trying, and there’s nothing more he can really do. There’s no stopping this. It’s going to happen no matter what.

“I’m going to administer the sedative. You’ll start to feel sleepy.” Dr. Keller says. “I’ll put in the feeding tube after you’re out.”

You swallow nervously, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. “It’ll be okay right?”

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile “You’ll be just fine. It’ll be a few days for us, but it’ll be a few seconds for you. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You swallow nervously before nodding. Dr. Keller pushes the sedative through the IV, your body starting to relax as it begins to take effect. The itching under your skin stops, the heat fading as the ceiling gets further and further away as your vision tunnels. Johnny squeezing your hand is the last thing you remember before everything goes dark.

He’s seen a lot of things, done a lot of things that would make the average person violently ill. He’s no stranger to blood and gore, yet he can’t watch as Dr. Keller inserts the feeding tube into your nose. The thought of having it in his own body makes him nearly gag, his eyes closing as he breathes.

“I’m done.” Dr. Keller says, a small smile on her face as he turns back around.

“About gart me boak.” He says, looking at you where you appear to be sleeping peacefully. He supposes you are, blissfully unaware of anything and everything around you.

“You’re not good with needles either, are you?” She asks, obviously noticing how he had turned away when she put in your IV.

“Not my favorite.” He admits.

“She’s all set.” She says, stepping back. “You’ll want to move her every few hours, turn her on one side, lift her legs up. Keeps her from getting bed sores or blood clots. I’ll be next door, and I’ll check on her periodically. If anything happens at night, I’ll have my phone on full volume.”

“Thank ye, doctor.” He says, squeezing your hand despite the fact you can’t feel it.

Dr. Keller takes her leave, the room going quiet aside from the beeping of the heart monitor, and the occasional buzzing of the blood pressure cuff as it tightens around your arm. He stares at you for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you sleep. It’s probably the most peaceful sleep you’ve gotten in the last few weeks, despite the changes happening internally. Dr. Keller had explained it to him, the hormonal changes, how sedation works differently than going through a heat consciously. Omegas do go through heat cycles awake and aware without an alpha sometimes. Institutes cycle between isolated heats and sedation.

The thought of you going through both makes his stomach twist.

Sweat beads on your forehead as you lay there, something that will continue for the next few days, the doctor said. Your heart rate is higher than normal, another sign that you’re in your heat as your brain cycles through the sudden rush of hormones. He’s not quite sure what to expect, not quite sure what it’ll look like if something goes wrong. He’s never done this before, and the little research he’d done doesn’t feel all that helpful. Dr. Keller trusts him to know, though, and he supposes it’ll be pretty obvious should something go wrong.

You’re not going to be doing much aside from laying there for the next few days.

The hours seem to drag on and he can’t help but wonder if this is how Kyle feels during your heats. At least Kyle had a job to do, had to focus and listen for the breaks in between rounds when he’d go in, ensure nothing was wrong, nothing happened, that you’re being fed and taken care of. All he has is the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the occasional buzz and crinkling of nylon as the blood pressure cuff expands. Dr. Keller brings him meals, keeping him fed and occasionally keeps him company as he watches dutifully over you. His back is aching from the uncomfortable chair and the makeshift bed, but he can hardly complain. He’s slept on worse.

He’s sketched a lot in the silence between watching videos on his phone and napping. It’s been a peaceful time, aside from his initial worry. You sleep away, sweat still beading on your forehead. Every so often he grabs a wet paper towel, wiping away the sweat.

He jumps as his alarm on his phone goes off in the silence, his pencil falling to the floor. He picks it up, setting his sketchbook to the side before he gets up. He’s careful as he slips his arms under you, easing you over onto your side. He bends your legs, making sure you’re steady and not cutting off circulation anywhere. He runs a hand over your hair, the strands starting to slip out of the braid he had put in before your trip to the med center.

He moves around to the other side of the bed, pulling the tie out before undoing the braid. He’s careful as he redoes it as best he can, making sure not to pull too tightly on the strands. The last thing you need when you wake up is to feel like your hair is being yanked out of your head.

He ties off the braid before moving back to his seat, staring at your peaceful face for a moment. It’s nothing new to him, but he can’t help but stare. He’s seen you sleep many times, held you, watched you blissfully unaware of the world. The softness in your face, the worry and the stress and the weight on your shoulders of just being who you are gone.

He picks his sketchbook back up, going back to drawing.

His stomach churns nervously. There’s a subtle shake to his hands, something that doesn’t happen often. He likes to think he’s prepared for anything, conditioned enough to not be shaken by anything. Yet he can’t help but feel unsure as Dr. Keller closes off your IV.

“She’ll be coming out of it soon.” Dr. Keller says. “She’ll be confused, disoriented. She might get combative. Your job is to talk to her, try to calm her and help ease her back into awareness. She’s a crier after heats, so I don’t doubt there will be tears. She may get sick as well.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be alright. Coming out of a heat is hard, and so is coming out of sedation. Both at the same time is always a struggle.”

There was a time he thought maybe sedation would be the easiest way to deal with a heat, but from what he’s hearing, he might have been wrong. Sure it might be easier in the moment to not have those week long symptoms of intense desire, the fever, the desperation. Coming out of it though? From what he’s heard so far, it’s not as easy as it sounds. He’s been through it, coming out of sedation after an injury in the field. It’s a confusing feeling, disorienting enough before you find out days or weeks have passed. It’s hard to conceptualize without all those hormones going crazy in your head.

You start to stir, your brows pinching as you slowly begin to wake. You let out a groan, reaching for the feeding tube immediately. Dr. Keller gently pushes your hands away, nodding to Johnny. Your brows furrow deeper, a groan leaving your lips as you begin to move more and more.

“Easy, kitten.” He says, leaning down close to you, projecting his scent so you can hopefully get a whiff of it to help calm you. “I’ve got ye. Yer alright.” He brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead as you continue to groan. He takes your hand as you reach for the tube again, squeezing it gently.

You crack your eyes open for a moment before quickly pinching them shut. Dr. Keller reaches up, turning off the overhead light before leaning down close to you again. She’s projecting her natural beta scent as well to try and help calm you. “I’m going to remove the tube, I know it’s uncomfortable.”

Johnny has to look away again as Dr. Keller removes the feeding tube, pressing his face into your hair as he projects his scent even more. You squeeze his hand back, the other gripping the side of the bed. You take in a harsh, gasping breath before you begin to cry, tears spilling out of your eyes as you sob. He had heard that you’re a crier after your heat from Kyle, he’s just never witnessed it before.

It takes him back to just a few weeks ago in John’s office when you had sat there crying as they interrogated you. It had made him uneasy, the stress and the fear clouding your scent. The fear he’d felt in those moments, listening to you cry and panic, nearly sending yourself into distress before John had calmed you. He might have done more, but he had been angry, angry at whoever put those cameras in your room, and slightly at you for keeping it from them for so long.

He can’t blame it completely on you, though. That had been back in the time where you still weren’t sure if you could trust them, before you fully opened yourself to them. Maybe they were slightly at fault for not making you feel like you could trust them, for not being realistic with you about the dangers. Sure you had been warned, had it drilled into your head why your safety was paramount, but maybe they had kept too much hidden from you. Maybe they had put you in more danger by trying to keep you safe.

Your eyes are still pinched closed as you continue to cry, sobs wracking your body as you grip his hand tightly. It tugs at his chest as he whispers quietly against your hair, trying to get you to recognize him, pull you out of the confusion and disorientation you must be feeling. You begin to hyperventilate, your hand slipping from his as you try to push yourself up. Dr. Keller already has the bed lifting, her other hand holding a vomit bag in front of you. It seems almost instinctual, but she’s been through this many times before. She had told him how many during one of their talks, when he’d asked her how long she's been working with omegas. He hadn’t realized just how little he really knew about your doctor before now.

Johnny has to look away as you vomit into the bag, his own stomach churning. Not just because of you being ill, but also because of how distressing this all seems. How you haven’t gone into distress is a miracle to him, but perhaps you’re still too out of it to be that aware.

Your breathing has calmed just slightly, your forehead beaded with sweat. Dr. Keller removes the vomit bag from in front of you, grabbing another and setting it on your lap.

“I’m going to dispose of this.” She says. “She’s going to be sick for a while. I’ll grab more fluids and I’ll be back shortly.”

Johnny nods, wiping at the sweat on your brow. You lean into his touch, letting out a quiet whine. His touch is gentle, almost scared he might hurt you in your fragile state. You’re still crying, the tears cascading down your cheeks. His chest hurts, guilt and sorrow churning inside of him from seeing you in this state. All thought that sedation was the best option goes out the window as he holds the vomit bag for you, keeping your braid out of the way.

Kyle had told him about what it was like during your heat and after, partially to feed his curiosity, but also in case something like this happened where he had to be the one taking care of you. He’d heard about the pain, the tears, the disorientation. This is different, though. This is far worse than what Kyle had described to him.

Dr. Keller returns, IV bag in hand. She removes the empty bag and replaces it with the full one, hooking it up to your IV. You have to be thirsty after a few days of having nothing but a feeding tube and the fluids to keep you going during your fever.

Johnny catches her hand as she pulls out a syringe, small enough to be discreet. Something tickles in the back of his mind as he stares at it, his instincts on edge.

“What is that?” He asks, starting to get defensive, his metaphorical hackles rising.

“Pain medicine.” She says simply, handing it to him. She has to be able to read him, sensing the sudden protectiveness wafting off of him.

He takes the syringe, reading the label. Morphine. He feels silly for distrusting the doctor. She’s never proven herself untrustworthy. While he knows they can’t be too trusting of anyone, she’s never done you any harm, never given them a reason to suspect her. She wouldn't hurt you, not after the dedication he’s seen from her these last few days alone.

“She might need it later once she’s more aware.” She continues, taking the syringe back when he hands it to her, putting it back in her pocket. “Her body just went through an intense hormonal cycle and those hormonal levels are now dropping suddenly. It can cause a wide range of symptoms from crying to illness to physical pain. When omegas are allowed to go through that cycle naturally, usually with an alpha, the symptoms of coming down from that cycle are typically less severe compared to when sedation is used, of course besides the physical pain. The pain with sedation is obviously quite different from the pain when the cycle happens naturally with an alpha.”

Johnny’s brows furrow as he rests his hand over yours, your breaths stuttering through your sobs. Your hands are clutching at the blanket, one of yours he’d grabbed from your room in hopes the familiar comfort might help you through the process. He hates that you’re in pain like this, he hates that you’re in pain at all. He’s beginning to feel the bubbling anger deep in his stomach at Simon for letting you endure this. He has no idea. He’s isolated himself for your safety, and he’ll never get to see what this is like, what you’re going through right now.

Dr. Keller says your name softly, leaning against the side of the bed, electing to ignore the swirling emotions of her fellow beta. He’s not her concern, you are. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

You continue to cry, but you manage to get your eyes opened, squinting at her through your tears. Dr. Keller takes your face in her hands, using her thumbs to gently pull down your lower lids, trying to get a good look at your eyes. You try to jerk away, letting out possibly the cutest defiant sound Johnny has ever heard, and he might have reacted had it been a different situation. Instead he leans over the side of the bed again, talking to you quietly so you calm a bit. You do relax at the sound of his voice, his scent projecting even more to try and comfort you, bring you back into reality.

“There we go.” Dr. Keller says, looking at your eyes before she gives you a soft smile. “Welcome back.” She removes her hands from your face leaning against the bed rail again. “It's all over. You did perfectly.”

You let out another groan, lifting a hand weakly before letting it drop back against your stomach.

“I know you're thirsty.” Dr. Keller says. “I'll get you some soon. We need to make sure your stomach has settled for now.”

Your eyes squeeze closed as you start to cry again, your inhales shaky as the tears start sliding down your cheeks. Johnny shushes you gently, petting your hair. Sweat still drips down your face, your hands curling around the edge of the blanket.

You try to push yourself up to sit, Dr. Keller immediately understanding what you need again as she lifts the vomit bag up to your mouth.

Johnny peels your hand from around the blanket, holding it tightly. His own stomach is churning but he swallows it back, bringing your hand up to his face. He kisses the back, the skin clammy and warm to the touch. Your scent is a swirl of things he’s never smelled before, drowning out the natural sweetness. Kyle had mentioned how your scent and John’s change during the heat and after. He hardly recognizes it right now, and he finds himself missing the sweet scent of strawberries.

Your fingers squeeze around his as you lay back against the bed, eyes cracked open and sniffling as the tears continue to slide down your cheeks. You let out a groan, tugging weakly at his hand.

“Hi kitten.” He says, leaning over the bed rail again. “Yer alright. Get ye feeling better soon.”

Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest. You weakly tug his hand towards your face pressing your sweaty cheek against his skin. You nuzzle against his hand, your tongue darting out to lick his skin. He can't help but chuckle, wiping at a tear that falls with his thumb. You’re still out of it, but he knows that’s a sign that you’re starting to come through, starting to come back to yourself through the haze.

You let out a long groan as you pull away from his hand, licking at your lips. They're horribly chapped, almost rivaling Simon's, but at least you have an excuse.

“Thirsty?” Dr. Keller asks, returning to the bedside with a cup of water. “Drink slowly, you'll get sick again.” She warns, holding the straw up to your lips.

You manage to do as she says and take small sips of the water despite how thirsty he knows you must be. Johnny keeps caressing your face with his thumb, your fingers still laced with his.

“Let me get your vitals.” Dr. Keller says, setting the cup of water on the table. You let out a groan in protest, smacking your lips, obviously wanting more. “You can have more in a minute. Too much on your stomach could upset it, and I’m sure the last thing you want to do right now is get sick again.”

You let out a quiet grunt, leaning your cheek against his hand once again. Your skin is still a bit warm to the touch, but that could just be from the exertion of trying to come out of sedation and being sick. Dr. Keller takes your vitals once more, recording them on her sheet. She’s been tracking them your entire heat, using them to judge how far along you are since she doesn’t have the benefit of you being awake to track the symptoms that way. He had wondered why she tracked them on paper, but then he remembered John telling him about how Shepherd had requested all of your private records and Dr. Keller’s notes.

She is smart. He’ll give her that.

“Things look good, even if you might not feel like it right now.” She says.

You try to shift on the bed but you let out a quiet groan, freeing your hand from his.

“Hurting?” Dr. Keller asks.

You nod, letting out a whine. It tickles in the back of his brain, his beta wanting to reach out and comfort you, but he knows he can’t. He can’t ease the physical pain. One downside to beta evolution. Their ancestors never learned how to fix physical pain. Maybe that would have made them too perfect. All he can do is try to comfort you through it.

“Let's get some pain meds in you.” She says, pulling the syringe out of her pocket again. “Then we can get you somewhere more comfortable.”

She injects the pain medicine through your IV, giving it a few minutes to begin working before disconnecting you from all the machines. Johnny helps her get you in a sweatshirt, wanting to keep you warm. You are shaking, though what that might be related to he’s not sure. Perhaps everything.

Dr. Keller hands him the cup of water. “Keep her drinking. I'll go grab a car, then we can get her back to the barracks.”

You feel far too light in Johnny’s arms as he carries you from the car into the barracks. Simon is nowhere to be seen, though he hadn’t expected a welcome back party from his alpha. He’s probably still hiding out in his office, or in the gym, his usual hiding spot. Johnny is kind of glad he’s not here, though he would like to rub it in his face, the decision he’d made.

Johnny takes you to his room, still avoiding yours. It’s almost like a crime scene, Johnny tempted to take it off. He knows placing you in there might make you panic when you wake up after everything. That’s the last thing he wants. So instead he takes you to the place you’ve spent the last almost six weeks in, somewhere you’ll recognize the scent and be comfortable when you wake up.

You roll onto your side as soon as he lays you down, curling up on his blankets. He drapes yours over you, tucking it around your shoulders before he steps back out into the hallway.

“Keep her hydrated. Lots of water, tea, clear sodas.” Dr. Keller instructs him. “She'll be drowsy for a while because of the pain medicine. Give her a couple hours and once the pain meds wear off and her stomach settles a bit, try her with some bland foods. She did well with mashed potatoes after her last heat. She’s going to be out of it and sick for a few days. Keep an eye out for anything abnormal. Vomiting blood, can’t keep food down, if she complains about pain somewhere or is hard to wake, give me a call.”

“Got it.” Johnny nods, committing everything she’s told him in the last ten minutes to memory.

“You did really well.” She says, giving him a soft smile. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you, doctor.” He nods, internally beaming at her praise.

“Keep me updated, and don’t be afraid to call.” She says.

He watches her walk to the door, Simon’s door opening as soon as she’s gone. He at least looks guilty, like the shame is eating him alive. Johnny hasn’t seen him like this in a long time, not since he caused you to distress. It makes him a little too happy to see him in such a state.

“How is she?” He asks, not moving from in front of his door.

The sound of you vomiting into a vomit bag reaches their ears. Simon at least has the decency to flinch at the sound. It’s subtle, probably unnoticeable had Johnny not been able to read his alpha like a book.

“Sick.” He says, trying to hide his anger and disappointment. They’re complex feelings. He knew Simon would turn you down if you asked for his own reasons, but now after seeing what happens when there’s no alpha available during a heat, he almost hates Simon for doing this to you. “Confused. Still a bit out of it.”

“You know I couldn’t do it.” Simon says, using that uncanny ability to read everyone around him.

Johnny hates it sometimes.

He turns to glance at you through his open door as you continue to be sick. You’re going to be miserable for the next few days, likely more than you are usually after your heats. This one will be less physical pain after taking knots for a week straight, and more pain from being sedated, pain from being mostly immobile, pain from just being alive and carrying this status. Such pain omegas live with, physically, mentally, emotionally.

He hates it.

“Ye don’t know what it was like.” He says, his hands closing into fists. “Seeing her like that.”

You let out a long whine, a sob tearing from your chest as you inhale. Tears prick behind Johnny’s eyes as he holds Simon’s gaze. “Ye just had to say no.” He shakes his head, turning to go back into his room.

He doesn't want to tell you. He can see the look on your face already. The disappointment. The pain. The agony. He can smell the souring of your scent already, the painful grief filling it and there will be nothing he can do to ease it. It's a rare moment they've left you alone in the last month and a half, forced to after a call with Kate and Shepherd.

He's not even sure how to approach it.

He opens his bedroom door slowly, his stomach clenching as he looks in at you. You're on the bed, wrapped in a blanket where he left you, cuddled against your big bear. He doesn't want to wake you, especially not for this but he has to. He has no choice. You have to know.

He lets out a sigh as he sinks down on the edge of his bed, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. “Kitten?” He shakes you gently. “Kitten, wake up.”

You inhale sharply, startling awake despite his attempt to be gentle. There’s a sharp spike of fear in your scent for a moment as you’re yanked from sleep suddenly, but it fades as soon as you realize where you are and who is with you. You turn over onto your back, winding up resting against his knee as you rub your eyes.

“Johnny?” You croak, still partly asleep.

“Si and I just got off a call with Kate.” He says carefully, not wanting to scare you too much.

You're wide awake immediately, pushing yourself up to sit. You swallow nervously, your scent already souring. “What is it?” Your voice wavers as you ask, eyes already shining with tears.

“John and Kyle are fine.” He says, regretting not starting with that. He can see the temporary relief on your face. “But, they need some backup for this one.”

It takes a moment for your brain to process his words. A hole tears through the center of his chest as he watches the realization hit, your face falling as your scent begins to sour even more. Your arms wrap around yourself as you stare at him, the relief gone from your face as you stare at him. He swallows the lump in his own throat, your scent causing his beta to stir, the drive to comfort you itching in his brain. He can’t though, he can’t comfort you through this.

Your voice shakes, a tear sliding down your cheek as you figure out what it is he woke you to say, why Kate had called. Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest before you speak.

“You're both leaving too, aren’t you.”

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