#literally coughing and hacking (but still trying to hide it??)

[impulsepolls]

a victim of the u.s. public school system made this poll.

[bizbat]

Those Jason crush hcs were so funny (obvi they were cute too) butJason getting so embarrassed he tried to crawl outside with 4 bullet holes and half his blood outside his body was such a mood. Me too dude. Can we have some more of him being delulu about his crush? It was so deliciously embarrassing and funny. What would happen if his wifey/husbando was just boldly was like- “Jason we're not dating, why would you think we were? We're not even having sex?”

EVEN MORE! When They're In Love Headcanons - Jason Todd

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Fem terms used for reader.

~ Mild smut alluded to but nothing explicit.

~ You can find parts One, Two, and Three here!

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ This is gonna be mostly fic bc I am running out of ideas lol. This took an inappropriate amount of time to write omg

~ Jay is kinda toxic so Tw: Unhealthy Relationships Dynamics, mentions of having children, slight violence, Jason is a freak and reader is tired.

By now, I've made it clear that this man is deep in the delusion.

But I haven't really gone into detail in what I mean by that.

I mean he'll say something teasing in jest, and if you reciprocate that energy even the tiniest bit, he will take that and run with it.

Though that's not even solid, bc if you take everything he says literally, he'd still think you're playing along.

Jason could make a joke with someone and not gaf about their response, but you could say the exact same thing as the person he joked with and he'd get heart eyes.

So far, I've kinda been writing with an oblivious reader in mind but a reader who knows all of Jason's delusions would pretty interesting lol.

You'd probably overhear him talking to Roy or Dick about your "date" last night.

Read: He broke into your apartment while you were at work and surprised you with chinese takeout when you got home.

I think if you confronted him about his delusions, he'd be willfully ignorant, and act like he doesn't know what you mean.

~ Drabble Starts Here. ~

Lian seems so happy, you can't bring yourself to be the bearer of bad news.

You're sat beside the little girl at her even littler table, the handle of a plastic teacup loosely gripped between your thumb and forefinger, your pinky high up in the air. The smile on your face is sincere as she mindlessly babbles, pouring sugar water into your cup.

You can't help but grimace when she encourages you and her stuffed animals to drink up, and you can't help but feel like the girl is being somewhat malicious when she seemingly starts interrogating you, only to push the cup of surgery water back to your lips whenever you to to answer her litany of, frankly, over-personal questions.

Some of the questions you don't mind, they're about as pure and unassuming as the pink princess tiara laying crookedly atop her head. It's when she asks if you and Jason are gonna get married and have babies with the most deadpan face you've ever seen on a child, that finally makes you choke on the (syrup) water.

"Excuse me?!" You ask, wiping away the mess on your face with a embroidered napkin and desperately trying not to hack up the rest of the beverage, undissolved grains of sugar still residing in the back of your throat. "Why would we do that?" You manage between coughs.

Lian glances towards Jason, who is sat at the table across from the two of you, his knees tucked up to his chest, as he hides his face behind his miniature teacup, though it's mostly ineffective, as the cup looks like a shot glass in his massive hand. Lian innocently looks back to you, as if you were the one who'd asked the more confusing question.

"Uncle Jay said you were dating. Isn't that what happens when people date?"

You crane your neck as you slowly turn your head towards Jason, who is avoiding your ice cold gaze like his life depended on it. "Oh, really?" You ask Lian through gritted teeth, though your gaze is solidly planted on Jason. "Did he now?"

"Mm-hmm," The small girl cheerfully nods her head, the dark braids framing either side of her face swinging from the force of her enthusiasm. "He told me you guys were gonna have a bunch of kids so I could have more people to play with!"

You can't help but stare incredulously at the child as she explains. By now, Jason's put down the cup, giving up at his attempt to hide behind it and simply covering his mouth with his hand, sitting silently like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs as he waits for you to start chewing him out. But it never comes.

"You are, right? I really want more friends." Lian's pleading is almost enough to make you change your mind and agree right there. Almost. As if sensing that she hasn't fully convinced you, Lian continues, going on and on about how she would be a really really good big sister or cousin if you had babies, or how much she's always wanted to go to a wedding, and how pretty you'd be as a bride, and-

She knows better than to continue when you gently raise your hand, as if you're silently saying "That's enough, Lian, please stop talking." You do feel a little remorseful as the girl's once happy demeanor changes to a shyer, more somber at the apparent rejection. You sigh and roll your eyes, finishing of the tiny cup of, what is now, pure sugar. "Maybe someday, Lian."

You put your hand up again, bracing her for the next part of your sentence when you see her start to get riled up again. "But absolutely no promises. Uncle Jay and I need to have a very important conversation later about it, though." That's enough to please Lian, as she goes right back to asking you other invasive questions that have nothing to do with your love life.

Jason, though happily surprised by your answer, stays silent over the next few hours. He honestly forgets you were ever even mad at him to begin with. It's not until you leave and the sky turns that familiar dark red, that you punch Jason in the arm as hard as possible, which, in all honesty, he can't really feel.

Though he does wince and hold his arm in the place where you hit him, to keep your ego intact if nothing else.

"What was that for?!" He dramatically gasps, pouting as he rubs the "sore" spot on his upper arm. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recognize it's kinda cute that he plays into your delusions. Just a little.

"Why would you tell Lian of all people we're dating?!" Your hand subtly clenches by your side, though you try to hide the slight pain punching him gave you, at the end of the day, Jason was raised by a detective. "Why would you even say that when you know it's not true?!"

"First of all," He starts, grabbing your hand. "I tell everyone we're dating." He starts soothing your sore knuckles as he tugs you towards your apartment building. He's so confident as he speaks it's genuinely bewildering. "And second, we are dating."

When he sees the utterly gobsmacked look on your face he continues. "We go on dates," (he just shows up at your home once a week. "We get gifts for each other," (he got you a stray kitten he rescued off the street and he steals your underwear). "We have sex-"

"Okay, number one: No we don't," You say, holding your hand out in front of you just like you did with Lian. "Number two: No we don't," You can almost see his eyes glaze over. He listens to every other thing you say, but when you're telling him your not together? That's when he tunes out.

"And number three: that only happened once!" It comes out a harsh whisper. Your face and ears feel hot with embarrassment, but Jason just shrugs. "Three times, actually, but who's counting?" Jason has a sweet, intentionally dopey looking smile.

You're left speechless by his demeanor. "Just kiddin' . . . I'm counting." He thinks the awkward, bewildered silence is hilarious. So he just keeps talking. "I mark it down in my calendar . . . Celebrate it once a month . . . Might get the dates tattooed."

"Jason." You interrupt.

"Hmm?"

"Go home." He looks over and realizes you're both in front of your apartment door, having talked the whole way. Again, he shrugs, pulling a spare key out of his pocket and moving to unlock your door. "Oh my fucking g-"

"What?" He stops, holding up the key midair. "What's wrong?" "Jason," You groan, rubbing your temples. "Why do you have a key to my apartment?" By now you shouldn't be so surprised, but you are. "Oh, this?" He hold up the key, equally confused that you would even ask. "I had one made when we started dating. How did you think I get in for our dates?"

He can almost smell the exhaustion wafting off you at this point. "Plus I live here."

"Jason you don't-"

"I'm just busy! I know, I know, I should be home more, but when I'm blah blah blah." No longer unused to his inane ramblings, you unlock the door and push past him. You don't even stop him when he follows you inside, still going on about his delusions. You just roll your eyes when he takes of his shoes and jacket and tosses them aside like they he really does live there.

"You shouldn't make dinner, you've had a long day, we can order-"

He's interrupted by yet another sigh. "Jason," you begin, plopping down on the couch. He shuts up and listens intently to every sound coming from your mouth. "I just . . ." You sit up straight. "You don't live here, you're a stalker, and we are not dating." Jason nods as you talk, slowly, as if he's taking in what you said.

"I . . . I understand. I really am sorry I've upset you, but," He kneels on the ground in front of you, gently placing his hand on your thigh. "I am not a stalker." He's incredulous, and you're tired. At this point, what more can you do beside oblige him and his delusions. You sigh again, a deep, deep sigh that instantly drains you of the rest of your energy and makes you deflate into the couch. "Okay, Jay," You say, undressing as you stand and begin walking back to your room. "You win, you're my boyfriend. Goodnight."

Jason just happily nods as he watches you walk to bed. "Yeah, yeah, I win." He's just happy you finally came to your senses. "Night!" He happily calls after you.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - IX

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics gif from pinterest, wick art from pinterest, prtty sure its AI, OPs unknown lemme kno

9. and be saved

You are left starstruck and gaping, slack-jawed and weak-kneed, when Constantine finally pulls back from the absolute claiming of your mouth, his dark gaze boring into you like he either wants to fuck you, or strangle you. 

Maybe both, considering. 

“After all this, that’s what you think?” he snarls. 

A low growl reminds you both of the danger not far enough away. “And why wouldn’t she, after the way you’ve treated her, you stupid boy?” snarls Wick, his accent thickening in his anger. “Stop touching her.”

You jab a finger in the dhampir’s direction, putting yourself between them again. “This doesn’t mean you own me, buster, don’t get comfortable.” 

The dhampir grumbles deep in his chest at this, glaring blue daggers at Constantine, but he stops his stalking advance. He seems to have enough self-control to weigh the consequences of breaking his promise not to hurt the man you obviously care about (for whatever reason he cannot understand), over the rewards of the deal you made. If he is patient, he will get what he wants. That should concern you, but at the moment you have one thing on your mind. You dare to turn back to your first beau, far from happy. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snap. 

“I told you that I like you!” 

“Are we in third grade?”

“It sure fucking feels like it!” he snarls, then starts coughing uncontrollably; horrible, racking hacks that convulse his whole body. 

You see the flash of blood on his sleeve. He is literally coughing up his lungs, and your heart breaks all over again. You try to help brace him, and he tries to hold you away. Finally fed up with his nonsense, you use your superior strength to best him, supporting him while trying to send energy to him through the bond to soothe him. 

Naturally, you find that goddammed brick wall erected between you again. You are so frustrated this time that you pound a metaphysical fist against it. At last it gives, and you push all that wonderful strength you went out in the first place to collect down the line to John. Life, for lack of a better word, and he closes his eyes as it washes through him, leaning on you heavily. 

It almost feels too good, and his relief naturally mixes with his native suspicion. He realizes he doesn’t actually remember what it feels like, to experience even the vaguest semblance of true health.   

“Shit,” he rasps, leaning against you, his face buried in your hair. 

You know they say that still waters run deep, but you still don’t understand the point of him hiding from you. Maybe there is no good reason, and maybe you’ll never truly understand. Even with your arms full of Constantine, you remain painfully aware of the lurking dhampir watching you, too close for comfort. 

What have you done?

When you draw back to look at John, the only word you can think to describe his expression is agony. In turn, you somehow feel relieved and wretched and angry, all at once. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper desperately. “Why couldn't you just tell me?”

“I did,” he answers, and maybe he thinks that's true, but he'd practically spoken in code and it's not your fault that you didn't understand. 

You should just tell him your side too, you reason. You've wasted so much time, and he's dying, and did you really hold back just because you were afraid he would laugh at you? You open your mouth, intending to get it out no matter what the cost, when Wick interrupts coldly, “This is very touching. But I didn’t come here to watch you two canoodle.” 

“I don’t give a fu—” 

You cut Constantine off before he can enrage the dhampir again. “He came here to help us,” you insist. “Come upstairs.”

“This asshole only knows how to help himself,” grouses the man in your arms, and you know he is glaring at Wick over your head. “I don’t trust him.” 

“Fine. Come talk to the vampire he brought us, then we can kick him out.” 

Wick snorts at that. “He can try.”

“You promised me,” you dare to remind the vampire hunter, even if there is a quaver in your voice. 

“As you promised me,” Wick counters right back, offering a mocking little bow with his hand over his heart and a heat in his eyes that involuntarily curls your toes.

Dear God. What have you gotten yourself into?

Constatine’s grip on your hip tightens to the point of bruising, had you still been human. You can hear him grinding his teeth, and you have to stop yourself from laughing or crying with exasperation. This man. Maybe you do have a screw loose. You should kick him in the balls for the way he’d treated you, but all you really want to do is wrap him up in your arms, and cloister yourselves away from the world for a very long time. 

Unfortunately, time is not something you have right now.

♰♰♰

Does the Geneva Convention apply to vampires? 

You're sure what Wick did to the vamp he’d captured is at least immoral, if not downright illegal. And yet, you know this sycophant of don Juan’s was no innocent. You find it hard to feel sorry for him.

It doesn’t take much persuasion to get the injured vamp to spill the beans. He’s already scared shitless of Wick, and adding Constantine only makes him talk faster in hope of some mercy. You doubt he’s going to get it, or maybe but only in the form of a quick death. 

He tells you all that don Juan has had a bone to pick with the High Table for years. Squabbles over power, jurisdiction, and of course, money, resenting the steep tithe he’s had to pay as a matter of course. He formulated a plan to overthrow them, by somehow involving the Son of Satan to wipe the slate clean with a new reign of Hell on Earth. With the exception, of course, that Juan continues to rule in L.A.

Constantine keeps shaking his head in disbelief, now seated at the head of the kitchen table. Wick has taken the seat at the opposite end, and you lean with your arms crossed against the sink, lowkey ready to intervene if they go after each other again. Maybe you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but you sense the peace between them is tenuous at best no matter what Wick promised you.  

“It’s like going after a roach problem in your house with a nuclear bomb,” gripes Constantine. “What the fuck is he thinking?”

Wick shrugs. “I will kill him. You kill the demons. Problem solved.”

Constantine snorts at that. “Yeah. Easy peasy.”

“Is it not?”

“It never is with these assholes. When I deport them they return to their realm, but they don’t die. They could just keep trying, unless we really figure out what they're up to.”

“How do we do that?”

John lights a cigarette, ignoring you as you glare at him, the big idiot. He blows a cloud of smoke into the air, staring at the cracked plaster of the ceiling like it holds the answer key. 

“I gotta use the chair.”

“At Midnite’s?” 

You have no idea what John’s talking about, but Wick seems to. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can you use it to find where Juan’s hiding? He’s gone to ground like the rat he is. It would save me time.” 

“Maybe. It’s…unpredictable.” 

“I might be able to find him,” you admit reluctantly, staring down at your bare feet. 

Both pairs of dark eyes turn towards you. “How?” they echo each other, almost eerily similar in that moment. 

“The last time you fed me…” you say to John, your cheeks warming with the memory. “Afterwards, I kind of…surfed around the city, while you slept. In my head, I mean. But not…” 

Wick is impressed by this, an eyebrow lifting, the corner of his mouth pulling slightly. John, however, gives you a hard look. “You just…went frolicking around on the astral plane, huh? Do you know how dangerous that can be?”

You laugh, for once more amused than miffed by John’s irritation with you. It helps, that now you’re starting to suspect it comes from a place of caring, rather than contempt. Not that you can tell through the bond now. He’s re-built his walls between you, twice as high and twice as thick as they were before. You know he has more experience with this psychic stuff than you do, but it seems unfair. 

“Well, I did it, and I found Juan. He felt it too. He hit me with something. It woke you up.”

“Yeah. I remember that.” 

You shrug. “I could probably do it again.”

John ashes his cigarette with a flick into an overflowing dish, staring at the reflection in the green glass. “It took a little more than blood to invoke power like that.” Your ears feel like they’re on fire, and how ridiculous is it, that even undead you still can blush?

You dare to meet his eyes, and find a matching warmth therein. It’s his only tell.

“I can give you blood, malyshka,” offers Wick, breaking the heavy silence in the kitchen. “And whatever else you need.” You hate it, that just the thought makes a spear of warmth shoot straight to your loins. 

Constantine narrows his eyes at the vampire hunter, pointing with the smoldering cigarette. “You can keep your cursed blood to yourself, dhampir.”    

“I am not cursed.” 

“No, but you’re a helluva traitor.” 

“Pot, kettle, wizard boy. You think you’re the only one with a bone to pick with God?” 

“Yeah, but you don’t see me skipping off to work for the other side because of it.” 

“The other side,” Wick scoffs. “Two sides, same coin, Constantine.” 

John snorts in answer. “Not exactly.” 

“Oh? Was it not God who gave you this gift you resent so? Was it not God’s priests who fed my pregnant mother to a hungry vampire to create me, God’s weapon against the darkness? My poor mother died in agony after my birth. The priests called her suffering God’s will. That’s what they said when my Yelena and my little Irinushka died too. I finally told them all to go to Hell.”

“So now you get your revenge on God by working for the Underworld?”

“I was made to kill vampires. So it is what I do.” 

Constantine barks with bitter laughter. “This is what you’re getting with this guy, y/n. He doesn't kill vampires to help people. He does it to scare the other vamps into line, so they don’t defy the High Table, and so the most powerful among them can go on exploiting human kind with ease. Trafficking, drugs, you name it, they’ve got their dirty fingers in it. When you said you would rob a drug cartel? He’s the one they would send after you for it.” 

It’s not like you thought Wick was a good man, but for some reason hearing all this hurts your heart. Shocked, you turn to Wick. “Is this true?” you ask hushedly. 

He actually looks regretful, not meeting your eyes. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I made a bargain, a long time ago. It is the only thing that matters to me now. I must honor it.”

You’re not sure why hearing all this has made you feel sick. You don’t really get stomach upset anymore, but you do not feel well. 

“Milaya…” says Wick pleadingly, willing you to look at him. 

But you just shake your head, staring at the floor. Maybe deep down, there was a part of you that thought maybe, maybe, you wouldn’t have to be so completely alone as the long years went by. But now you know this was a very stupid thought indeed. 

“Ask me,” prompts Wick quietly. “Ask me what the bargain was for.” 

“She doesn’t care,” says Constantine, at the same time you ask: 

“What was it for?” 

Ignoring John, his dark eyes bore into you. “I made a deal with a powerful witch of the High Table, that I would serve until the day I found my Yelena again. I was told that if I waited long enough, someday she would be reborn to me.”

You don’t know why you feel dizzy in that moment, like the floor of the whole world has dropped out from under you. You close your eyes against it, screwing them shut tight as your fingers–claws–dig into the countertop behind you. 

This man has done terrible things–for centuries, it sounds like. But he did them for love. Does that excuse them? No. Does it soften you to him? You hate to admit it, but the truth is…a little. 

You entertain the possibility for a second–you only allow yourself a second–that maybe you are this woman the dhampir thinks you are. A reincarnated soul, searching for her long lost mate, like in the deliciously trashy romances you love to read. Shouldn’t you have some sort of past life memories or dreams? Isn’t that how it always goes in the stories?

You think about how you’ve always felt adrift in this life. Not really interested or committed to anything. How it’s all always seemed kind of silly to you, meaningless even, and the only thing you’ve ever been certain was truly important, was to be kind to others. It’s ironic, maybe, that only after becoming a vampire that you truly gained a sense of purpose in your life, helping those who couldn’t help themselves, and removing evil doers from the population at large. 

You think about how you came to L.A. You practically moved here on a whim, because you were tired and off a bad breakup and you wanted to go somewhere exciting and new. Did fate guide that choice you made for yourself? Was it the unconscious searching for your soul’s true mate? 

If that’s true, then why didn’t you go to New York instead? 

You think about the day you moved into your apartment. Wrestling with your numerous boxes of stuff. Not much, really. Just what you fit into your compact hatchback car, which has since died an inglorious death on the 405. Some jerk had bumped into you on the stairs, nearly making you drop your heavy load of books, only to belatedly steady the box before it spilled, and maybe as an afterthought, you. You remember how you’d looked up, up, up because Jesus he was tall, to find the man now pulling on the addictive smoke that will prove to be his doom. He’d looked down at you with bemused annoyance in those lovely dark eyes. Told you to “Watch it,” and went on his way down the stairs, two at a time on those long legs, clearly in a hurry. 

Rushing off to save the world, or a little precious part of it, you know now. 

You remember how you’d felt like you’d been hit with a frying pan, the first time you saw him. How your heart had seemed to stop then start again, racing doubletime.  

If this was a movie, John Constantine would be your soulmate, the man you were meant to find, the one who fate seemed to be driving you towards. Because since the first time you set eyes on him, you haven’t been able to look away. And if this was a movie…it would be a tragedy, because the man you love is dying, and there is no magic that can truly save him, only delay the inevitable. 

You look between the two men seated at either head of the table. Both formidable, in their own ways, they could have been mistaken for brothers in their appearances. You wish you could deny that you felt a certain something for Wick too. It would be much simpler that way. You don’t really like the idea that things are preordained. You want to believe that you have the power to make choices about life, be they good or bad. But there is something in this dilapidated kitchen, the warm night air whispering through the broken windows, that feels unmistakably like fate. 

“I hope you find her someday,” you tell the dhampir, and you mean it, holding your hands wide in a gesture of peace. “But I don’t really think that I’m the answer you’re looking for.” 

The too-long sleeve of your shirt–John’s shirt–flops as you gesture, and you roll up the sleeve again, feeling more than a little ridiculous despite the looks both men have been paying you. As you crease the fabric up your forearm Wick zeroes in on something peeking out of your sleeve. 

“What is that?” he demands, with way more force than the situation demands. 

You look at him quizzically. “A tattoo?” 

“Let me see.” 

Constantine frowns as he watches this exchange. You feel a little uneasy too, as you pull back the sleeve to reveal the black and white flowers emblazoned on your underarm. “It’s just…something I thought was pretty on the flash wall, when I turned 18.” It had called to you, for whatever reason, on that rebellious expedition with a friend who had also just crossed the threshold into adulthood. Luckily, you still liked it. Lord knows dumber late night decisions had been made in that tattoo parlor in your little town. 

Wick, however, sits back in the chair, laughing to himself like you have told him an inside joke. “Margaritka. What do you call this flower in English?”

“Daisies?” 

Then you remember what he’d said, about the little white flower his late wife had loved to pick near their cabin. 

Oh fuck.

[shoezuki]

random ass sampo and gepard (mostly sampo) headcanons to curb my writing itch and also to get out of my fucking head:

sampo is extremely self-dependent. he crafts his own bombs and weapons, is handy with repairing relics or creating mock ones, he stitches himself up and patches his own wounds, he mends his clothes, cooks his own food, can find ways to make money no matter where he is, knows how to get into the right conversations and social circles, can dismantle and hack robots or security systems

its kinda to a concerning degree, how self sustaining he can be. but its all part of the play to him. he has to be able to take on any role anyways, right?

sampo really, really, really really likes being the center of Gepard's attention; he delights in the fact that gepard is extremely possessive of the investigation and arrest attempts against him

kids are sampo's weakness; adults are liars and have their own masks, but kids are just as they are and that tends to get to him.

he constantly finds himself taking some time to play hide and seek or mess around with Hook and the moles

he unconciously will pocket useless trinkets or toys he finds when pillaging around the cold plains and the ruins around belebog, which he will hide around for the moles to 'find'

once, gepard found sampo sneaking around the overworld back alleys and went to corner and arrest him. but he stopped and hung back when he saw sampo scare a kid around a pile of boxes, saying 'i finally found you, kid! youre the last one it' and proceeding to chase play hide and seek with a bunch of school kids who just got out of class.

gepard watches for a bit. its one of the few instances where he lets sampo go without trying to bring him to justice

It happens a few times on the odd patrols gepard takes into the underworld. Gepard stays back and just. Watches. Every time. He hopes sampo doesnt notice him.

Gepard is very very insistent on bring sampo to justice. He handles all things regarding him, assesses and investigates any criminal activity that Might even be related to sampo. He has sampo's case file in his office and all reports of sighting sampo go to him. Its not supposed to be his responsibility but its just something thats an unspoken rule in Qlipoth fort now

If gepard isnt assigned to a case investigating sampo, he'll show up to 'assess the situation' anyways

Despite how intense gepard is on arresting sampo. He just... keeps letting him get away with things.

He'll see sampo play with kids, catches him hanging around helping natasha. He could corner sampo during their chases, he could lash out and freeze him in place on more than one occasion.

He's started getting used to Sampo's smoke bombs, learns the small tells when sampo is going to throw one. It doesnt choke him up anymore but he still coughs as if it does

Once on a routine patrol around the outskirts of belobog he stumbled (literally) on a heavy metal trapdoor that led down into an abandoned mine. Gepard shouldve alerted others, shouldve blocked it off and cut off one of sampos escape routes. But without thinking he covers it with snow before other guards notice.

It drives gepard insane. He doesnt understand it. He knows so many of sampos tricks, where he usually vanishes, knows where and when he'll appear. Hes found hints of his hideouts underground, out in the snow plains. He could arrest him. He could.

Gepard pulls back every time. He 'slips up', hesitates before slapping cuffs around sampo's wrists

The thing is. He'd miss the chase.

Sometimes, when gepard is exhausted and nearly falling asleep on his feet, he'll find still warm cups of coffee left at his secondary office at the front lines

Gepard thanks dunn and some other silvermane guards stationed with him, but none of them know what hes talking about.

Theres drawings on the paper cups, on the lids, smiley faces and swirly hearts. Gepard realizes its from sampo and it makes him feel. Strange. Its the best coffee hes ever had

[somber-sapphic]

Hey love I hope you’re doing well!! I have a small request lol today may or may not be my birthday and I was thinking a wandanat story about reader being sick on their bday. I give you totally creative freedom lol I hope you have a great day/night and thank you so much. Love you and your work ❤️❤️

-🎨

Birthday Wish

〖Notes: 🎨! Happy Birthday!! For me today ends in 30 minutes so this is admittedly rushed but I really wanted to give it to you! happy birthday!〗

〖Summary: It's your birthday and you aren't feeling well. You won't let that stop you from having fun.〗

〖Word Count: 1183〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You muffled a cough into your wrist and looked up at the sky, studying the splash of stars illuminating the night. Wanda and Natasha had apparently been planning this for weeks, a big party with your friends followed by a quiet picnic under the stars. You’d never been one to celebrate your birthday, you’d never been one to care, but you’d mentioned in passing one day several months ago and apparently, the girls had latched onto it. 

Natasha had done some snooping and dug up past birthdays that you’d had while Wanda used her powers to feel out what you would truly want. They’d thrown you an amazing party with all of the Avengers, complete with everything you could’ve ever wanted. They made up for years of people forgetting your birthday or ignoring it even though they clearly knew it was happening. 

The only issue was that now that you were in the cool summer air, laying still, you were noticing that the cold medicine that you had taken earlier was wearing off, leaving you with a stuffy nose and pounding headache. 

You were trying to listen to Natasha and Wanda tell you about the constellations (they both knew a weird amount about stars) when you were doing your best to keep your nose from running while also not sniffling too loudly. They had done so much for your birthday, so much to make you feel loved and you didn’t want to ruin it with a stupid little cold. 

“Ursa Major means “the great bear” and,” Natasha paused as you flinched against her, muffling a few quick sneezes into your arm. You looked up at her, her face illuminated surprisingly well by the stars, and found a pinched expression with worried eyes. 

“Are you okay Y/n?” She asked, reaching over to cup your cheek. You sniffled and nodded, turning to focus back on the sky. You gasped as you saw something dart quickly across the sky, the bright light, and sat up quickly to point at it, enthralled by it. 

“A shooting star!” You cleared your throat, alarmed by just how horrible you sounded. It sounded as though you had been forced to drink sand and hadn’t had any water in a decade. To be fair though, that was how your throat felt. Raw, scratchy, and painful. You really needed more medicine. 

You bent forward and coughed into your elbow, wishing that the night wasn’t so quiet. All that anyone could hear would be your hacking coughs and gasps for air, not even the peeping of the frogs could distract them. And Wanda loved frogs. 

“Woah, now that doesn’t sound good.” The witch remarked, patting your back while you tried to silence the coughs. You turned your head to the side and took a final deep breath, the tickle in your throat finally leaving you alone. 

“Sorry guys.” You croaked out, your voice watery and small. There was no hiding anything from them now, even someone who wasn’t a highly trained spy or an empath who also happened to ha magical powers would’ve been able to spot you. A literal child could’ve deduced that you were sick. Hell, even a dog might look at you funny. 

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound good. Are you sick? You feel a little warm.” Natasha pointed out, while Wanda noticed how hard you were shaking. 

“Baby, you’re shivering. Here, take this.” She shrugged her coat off and slipped it over your shoulders, rubbing your upper arms as you curled into her jacket. It was warm and it smelled like her. Well, it felt like her. You assumed it smelled like her, but you couldn’t smell anything, so that meant absolutely nothing now. 

“You’re sick, aren’t you dummy?” Natasha nudged your shoulder with hers, a show of affection behind a joke. You shrugged, pouting slightly. 

“It’s my birthday.” You whined, pulling your shirt up to sneeze into it. Wanda rubbed your back right in between your shoulder blades and began to trace little shapes across your spine. 

She typically did that while you were laying in bed and she knew that it put you to sleep. When they were on missions you often laid awake, unable to sleep without her beside you. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you weren’t really sure why. There was no reason for you to be crying. Maybe it was the unconditional love that you had always found yourself lacking. Maybe it was the fact that they had gone to all of this effort and you were ruining it. Maybe it was that now that the cold medicine was wearing off you were actually feeling the effects of the illness and it was making you a little bit miserable. 

“Oh, Y/n/n, why are you crying?” Emotion must have been flowing off of you in waves because there was no way that either of them could see you crying, it was too dark. It had to be Wanda, able to feel the emotions that you were feeling. Natasha reached up and cupped your cheek, swiping away a fallen tear. 

“M’sorry. I ruined it. You did something so nice and I ruined it, I ruined it.” You sniffled, rubbing your fist under your runny nose, cursing your lack of tissues. 

“Y/n. Moy dorogoy. You didn’t ruin anything, we’re just sorry that you’re sick on your birthday. How about instead of sitting out here in the cold, we go cuddle up and watch your favorite movie?” She suggested, tucking a strand of hair back behind your ear. 

“Yeah love, we can have popsicles and drink some water.” Wanda, your beautiful amazing witch, trying to make hydrating sound like a romantic activity. You loved them both so, so much. You sneezed into your fist and groaned softly, giving up completely. 

“Kay. I guess. M’sorry.” They both told you to stop apologizing while Wanda helped you to your feet and Natasha began to clean up, gathering the picnic blanket and the basket full of half-eaten snacks. She threw the blanket over her shoulder and looped an arm in yours, the witch on your other side following her lead. 

“You gonna make it?” The assassin asked, noticing that you were moving slower than you normally would. 

“Mhm. I’m just a little dizzy. We’ll be back soon, right?” Wanda sighed and picked you up, ignoring your squeal of protest. You laid stiffly in her arms for a few moments, unsure how to take it, but decided that it really wasn’t that bad. 

You put your head down and relaxed, confident that you were safe. You could literally be fighting aliens on a lava-filled planet and you’d feel safe as long as you were with these two women. You coughed quietly, followed by three sneezes which earned ‘bless yous’ and worried looks. 

“You’ll feel better soon babe. I promise.” Natasha said softly, holding the door open for Wanda to carry you inside. It was slightly amusing, being carried over the threshold on your birthday. Under different circumstances, it would've been romantic. If not for your damn cold. 

[blorbobutworse]

@silverflowers14 i think u would like this

ur post possessed me ur welcome

crack...but not crack

:)

Logan starts his smoking habit the way most kids do: early and out of desperation.

He's starving, doesn't know any other feeling except the chill of the air and the shakin gof his aching stomach. He's hiding around a bar, trying to break into the locked trash container next to it, when he sees a gaggle of young guys stumble their way into the rotting alley.

Someone laughs drunkenly at him. Another jeers some comment about him looking more like a rat than a person.

He tenses in preparation for a fight.

They keep muttering against each other like a bees, a singular sweaty, sticky mass, and then...

"Hey, kid! If you try this, I'll getcha somethin' to eat."

...

He holds the cigarrette with three fingers, and the guy that holds the lighter grips his wrist too tight to keep it steady, but he breathes and smokes it.

and it....it tastes disgusting.

He hacks, and they cackle

"C'mon, the whole thing."

He chokes and heaves his way through it.

He gets a wad of single dollar bills thrown at him, and the weird, squirmy feeling he has at being treated like a sideshow is ignored in favor of chasing down the bills that fly away.

...

The next time he does it, his friends dare him too. They somehow manage to get their bands on something that looks like a cigar, thanks to Wildcat's 'luck'.

Sabretooth and him are the most mutant looking, and what's a little bit of underaged drug use in between kid mutants?

And... this one isn't so bad.

Still, he fakes a cough, spits his saliva out, and then turns beet red when they tell him its not even tabacco, it's catnip.

They're nursing bruises for weeks.

But...

If he starts growing a catnip plant in his room....no one says anything. Not even Sabretooth, who just so happens to have strange leaves floating around his room all the time, until they get sent out to that final mission.

...

...

Ill also write when his Parent's (aka the x men) find out his cute gardening hobby is. l Literally his way of making Feral Weed.

:]

[5sosxqueen]

Luke

~Part 1~ , Part 2 > , Part 3 > , Part 4 >

Saying this in advance, yes, I am aware now that Nando's isn't a pizza place... 🫠

Warnings: depictions of illness, vomiting, choking, coughing

Written in 2018

Published (Wattpad) - Jan 29, 2018

Word Count: 1894

Updates are every Tuesday and Thursday

Also Available on Wattpad and AO3!!!

Part 1:

Luke's POV:

     "PIZZA!!!" Michael shouted nearly splitting everyone's eardrums in the process. We all chuckled as we walked out to the van and started singing our song Pizza.

     "Nando's does sound nice. I'm starving!" I said with a giant smile plastered on my face.

     "That it does, my brother." Ashton yelled and pounced onto my back, practically forcing me to run with him on my back to the van.

     "LETS GO!!!" Calum yelled. We piled into the van and drove to our favorite pizza place ever. The drive was relatively short, it only being 5 minutes, thankfully. "Wheeew!" He yelled as we got out of the van.

     "Hello, can we have two large pepperoni, bacon, and sausage pizzas please?" Michael bombarded the woman at the counter suddenly.

     "Of course, will that be for here or to go?" She asked kindly with a poor attempt at hiding a grin.

     "Here please." Ashton said walking slowly up to Michael, who was lifting himself up onto the counter slightly,and put his hand on his shoulder to remind him that we are in public. I rolled my eyes at his over-eagerness and the woman giggled. He is literally always like this when we get pizza.

     We talked to the woman as we waited for our pizza to come out. They were running a tad bit slow today so no one entered until after our food was ready. We sat down once we saw it coming. No sooner had it been set down we dug in. I have always loved Nando's.

     For some odd reason, I was having bit of difficulty chewing the pizza though. My jaw felt weak. When I tried to swallow it I almost couldn't. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind to be dealt with another time. I wasn't going to concern anyone and let myself worry over nothing.

     I managed to eat half of my first slice of pizza when it happened. I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. Of course I've choked on food before, bit this didn't feel right. I started to cough and the boys looked at me and asked if I was alright. I nodded, but I honestly wasn't too sure. Normally if I choke on food it only takes once or twice to get the food out of my wind pipe, but this time that's wasn't doing shit for me.

      "Luke, damn, you sure you're ok?" I shook my head this time. I couldn't get a single breath in through the endless coughing. Even the woman from before, ran over to us with some water in an attempt to ease this terrible feeling. The lads we're quick to pat my back, but nothing was working they could see the intense panic set in my eyes as I tried to get the pizza to dislodge from my throat. I suddenly felt sick from the constant coughing. I got up and ran out of the restaurant still hacking and choking violently. The lads followed me out and continued to smack my back, but even harder as I leant down and placed my hands on my knees to brace myself. I suddenly chocked out the little bit of food I consumed onto the pavement below my feet. I was still coughing and once again I vomited and the choking finally let up some. I was desperately trying to gather air into my lungs. I felt dizzy and light headed and I grabbed onto Michael's arm as he reach over my shoulder.

    "I'm... Really light headed." I breathed out in my now raspy voice. Michael tightened him grip on me as I began to shake some.

    "Not surprised, that last for almost 2 minutes. You good now?" I nodded slightly before my legs finally could no longer hold my weight. I tightened my grip on Michael's waist and he eased me to the ground.

     I looked down when I realised the probable reason I choked to that extent. "Guys I don't think I can swallow properly." They looked at me with lost looked etched onto their faces.

     "Why do you say that?" Ash asked me clearly both concerned and confused.

     "The whole time I was eating my throat just didn't feel right. I don't know how to explain it. I guess it felt weak...." I said as I tried to peice together the feeling. "Mmmmn, my stomach still feels kind of icky."

     "Do you still feel like you might be sick?" Michael asked slightly tightening his grip on me again.

     "Umm a bit, but I don't think I will." They all nodded and Michael grip loosened again. "I'll let you know if I do." They agreed. The woman walked back out with the water I had left on the table.

     "Here slow sips." She handed it to me and I took some sips cautiously. I could swallow the water just fine thankfully, but I didn't overdue it.

     "Thank you." I said as she walked back inside.

     I felt the water sloshing around a bit on my still nauseated tummy. "Michael help..." He helped me lean over since I was still very lightheaded and weak. I gagged and coughed a bit as the water made a reappearance. I dry heaved and nearly passed out from lack of oxygen. I started to fall forward.

     "Woah, bud, easy. Breathe Lukey boy." I leaned into him and cried. I've never felt this bad. Everyone came into a group hug.

     "I'm so sorry I ruined lunch... We were supposed to have a good time..." I was nearly screaming.

     "Luke, you didn't ruin anything. You couldn't help that. Are you ok now though." I nodded and sniffled. "Let's get you home." Ashton said as he helped Michael pick me back up and led me to the van.

Calum's POV:

     Luke had given us quite a scare at Nando's. Luke had fallen asleep on the way back to the bus. I carried him inside and laid him down on his bunk. It was getting late anyways so he needed the rest. "Guys, about what Luke said about not being able to swallow, do you think we should call Matt and talk to him?" They nodded.

     "I definitely think that would be wise." Ash explained as he got his phone out and dialed Matt's number, putting it onto speaker.

     The phone rang a couple times. "Hey Ash. Everything alright?" We don't normally call him unless somethings happened. He normally is the one calling us.

     "Not really." Michael and I both said.

     "Uh oh. What's going on guys?" Matt questioned.

     "Well he all decided to go to Nando's for dinner, no surprise there, but Luke couldn't eat the pizza properly. About half way through his first piece he started to choke on some of it, and you know how normally he is able to get anything out within a couple tries?" Michael started.

     "Yes. I don't like where this is going.... Go on." Matt grew truely worried for our blue eyed bandmate.

     "Well, he wasn't able to do so this time he spent, like, 2 full minutes coughing until he choked up what he had eaten and processed to barf up whatever was in his stomach. He told us something that really worried all of us too, being that he couldn't swallow. Poor guy was so lightheaded he almost passed out." Michael continued, with Matts worry growing immensely.

     Matt sighed. "Ok here's what I'll do. I will send a medic to stay will you guys for a while. If it happens to that extent again we will need to seek medical attention. Not being able to swallow properly is very serious."

     "That's why we figured it would be a good idea to call you. He hasn't eaten much today and he threw up, not once, but twice because of this." I stated.

     "Well I'll send a medic there and we will go from there. Keep me posted guys." Matt said before hanging up.

     True to his word, a medic showed up around 30 minutes later with a to-go bag. "Hello guys, my name is Cash. I'll be here keeping an eye out for Luke for a while. Don't worry, I will try not to be in the way." He shook all our hands, minus Luke of course. "I have a few questions though." We nodded, ready to answer anything that came our way. "So has anything like this happened before?" We shook our heads. "Was it just with eating food or was it with water or salivia as well?"

     "I believe it was just with the food." I explained.

     "Ok. What exactly happened today. Tell me why I am here." Cash stated.

     "We went out to eat today. He was able to eat about a quarter of what he had on his plate. He started to choke, but none of us fully thought anything of it. We just asked if he was ok and he nodded at first, but after a good 20 seconds of him coughing we saw him really starting to panic as he couldn't draw a breath. All of a sudden he jumped up and rushed out of the restaurant and back onto the side walk still choking. We ran out there behind him and he couldn't stop couphing and it eventually made him puke. And he got insanely lightheaded and fell. Then he tried to drink some water, which only caused him to vomit again." Ashton explained as Cash nodded as he jotted the info onto a notepad.

     "Ok. Did he say anything during this episode? Anything at all?" He asked.

      "Before getting sick the second time, he said he was having some trouble swallowing the entire time eating." I added.

     "Ok. Do you think we could vet him to try to eat something now I know he may be afraid to eat at this current moment, but I would like to see if it happens again?" We nodded and I went to go wake him.

     I gently shook him awake. "Luke buddy," he rolled over and looked at me. "Hey I know this might be this last thing you'd want to do, bit we need you to try to eat something again. Can you try for us?" He was very hesitant, but reluctantly agreed. He got out of his bunk and I saw him trying to prep his weakened throat. I could see in his eyes that he feared a repeat of earlier. I felt awful that he was going through this.

     He stepped into the main area of the bus and was instantly greeted by Cash. He had explained to Luke what was going on. cash asked one of us to make him something small to try to eat and I got up and made him a quick sand which. "Ok Luke, I want you to try to eat the whole thing, ok? Luke nodded at Cash's word and swallowed hard once again as he took the sand which in his hands.

     "Thanks Cal." He took a bite of the sand which, feeling a bit uneasy that we were all watching him. We could see him chewing way more than usual. We could already see with his first try swallowing, he had extreme difficulty, but it went down. The process repeated and he started vetting a bit more comfort. This did not last long though.....

[damiano-mylove]

How the members of Måneskin would react to you being ill

GN!reader, medicine talk, illness *Masterlist*

Vic

Honestly, Vic gets concerned when you fall ill

You'd be the one telling her to relax, that it's just the flu, you're not going to die

Still, Vic cares for you like no other

She would make you homemade soup, straight from her ancient family cookbook. It involved too many spices to count, lots of green vegetables and chicken broth

One whiff of that soup and you sinuses would be cleared instantly

If the two of you lived together, Vic would sit on the bedroom floor while you laid in the bed; giving you space so she wouldn't fall ill too but also comforting you

Vic made extremely good conversation with you when you were sick, conversation that would have you walking on air even after you were perfectly okay

Anything you wanted, she would get you without hesitation

A warm cloth? A bucket? Tea? You name it, she'd be at your beck and call

Vic would do anything for her love, and her love being ill was absolutely no exception

Thomas

This motherfucker

He was ill first and gave it to you because he can't go an hour without you beside him, especially if you two lived together

Your home would become something of a quarantine zone (even after both of you got better because Thomas didn't mind having you to himself for an extra day)

Tuesday, he was hacking up a lung and had the fever of all ages, and by Thursday, you were in the exact same state

Thomas didn't even try to hide how pleased that made him

One of you would power through each meal to make something for you two to eat, though neither of you ate very much while you were sick

Once you caught it too, the No-Kissing-While-Sick rule went out the window and that was a bit of a relief for both of you

Being ill didn't stop Thomas from singing to you with a very grainy, phlegm-y voice

It was almost as if Thomas never wanted either of you to get better - he would lose his latest excuse to spend all of his time with you, though he had many more to spare

Also, your home would become television central because the two of you could only hear the other moan and groan for so long

Ethan

The King of Taking Care of You

It was like Ethan had a medical degree anytime you had some manner of ailment - he would be able to place it instantly and know exactly what to get or do for you to ensure you'd be better in a matter of hours, two days at maximum

The cabinet above the stove was like a chemist' office

There was OTC, Pepti-Calm, Robitussen, Lemsip - anything you can name, Ethan had

Ethan couldn't resist holding you close to him when you got terribly cold when you were ill, and he constantly kissed your forehead ('I'm checking your temperature,' he would tell you)

Somehow he would never catch whatever you had - his immune system was amazing

Ethan would make you laugh so hard that you would start coughing like you were freebasing

You would bitch at him for it, but Ethan refused to ever stop making you laugh. It was against his morals and better judgement. Not to mention, everyone knew you loved it

Every time you’d drift to sleep, it would be to Ethan’s melodic voice, reading one of your favourite books

When you'd be sick, Ethan was no longer your 'beloved', he was Dr. Torchio

Damiano

Damiano really tries his best, there's no debating that

However, he never really know what to do

He'll buy literally anything from the drug store in hopes to make you feel better; cough drops, syrups, pills, patches, anything to make the love of his life feel their best

Damiano would get terribly worried

You'd assure him you were still more than okay for him to go out and have fun, but even if he would leave for a bit, he would leave wherever he was early just to get back home to you

When you were perfectly healthy, Damiano would do anything for you, but God help you when you were ill

'Amore, are you sure you're alright now? I think you should stay home again today, just to be sure.'

There was always a good chance he would catch whatever you had as well, but sometimes he didn't

If you were having some manner of hot flash, Damiano would offer to sleep on the couch because he ran so warm, but how could you ever sleep the night without him?

There would be no way to ever question Damiano's love for you after you recovered - that's the level of care he provided to you, his true love

for @fly-high-in-the-sky-my-love i hope you dont hate it :)

[jackrrabbit]

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

[movedtodykedvonte]

We know the lords can't be injured easily due to their regenerative powers, but can they get sick?  Drown?  Get an infection, or something?  If so, how do you think they'd handle it?

fSo I’ve thought I’d this and I imagine they can die but it isn’t permanent if it’s not the case like when they crystallize in game. It’s just like a long coma. While I do think they can get sick, I doubt it’s in any natural way or has regular symptoms:

Alcina Dimitrescu

Gets sick the least out of the lords actually. It’s mainly due to how strong her regenerative abilities are but also she rarely interacts with others outside her daughters and meals.

Though when she does get sick, it’s bad. Mainly because it only happens when she hasn’t been able to feed

Mix the headache and stuffy feeling of a bad cold and insatiable hunger. Her eyes would be blood shot and dull, skin cracking like before her boss fight, maybe a little clogged sinuses.

It be super easy for her to transform at this point so her mood is even more shit. Snappy and cruel, rude and impatient even to her daughters

She feels bad about it when it’s towards her girls but Momma’s having a rough time rn.

Needs to feed A LOT during this time to feel remotely better so they lose a lot of staff.

Probably one of the only times you’ll see her in down clothes and casual attire as getting all pretty is too taxing

Donna and Angie

Surprisingly gets sick the most out of all of the lords. This is mainly because she’s always had a weak immune system and the cadou didn’t do much to make it better. Also she makes tea outta of not necessarily edible flowers

Most human so she get the most normal symptoms, but they are super intense. I’m talking bad headaches, upset stomach, dizziness, the poor girl can barely get out bed.

Angie takes care of the house and dolls during this time and goes as well as you expect, but she’s trying. Doesn’t help as the cadou messes with Angie and all the dolls. The dolls act sick like Donna and Angie can barely move around.

Sometime when it’s really bad Angie calls Moreau and Alcina. Moreau was a doctor so he would know what to do and Alcina has the physical capabilities to help. Also Angie can’t make food without burning it.

Because of this Donna tries to hide whenever she is ill or feeling bad, hides behind her veil more wears gloves to hide how pale she’s getting, attends more meetings and such. She doesn’t want to be a burden. This all stopped after an incident in which she passed out on her pin cushion.

Since she tries to hide it, it takes her a lot longer to recover as she starts to medicate for it later. Only time the other lords show compassion to one of their own (Donna is the most helpful and least annoying)

When she gets better she makes little dolls for the other Lords as a thankyou, only Moreau keeps them all but Karl and Alcina would never let her know they get rid of them.

Salvatore Moreau

The lord that gets sick the least. Yes, he constantly vomits and has various physical complications but when it comes to colds, flus, or whatever happens to him rarely happens between all the lords.

When he does start to get sick, he barely notices it as it just feels like when his cadou is acting up on a bad day. However, when he finally realizes, after too many bad days in a row, absolute dread and despair washes over him

Being sick for Moreau is a deeper ring of hell in his already torturous existence. His tumor growths become enflamed and more sensitive to the point a gentle wind feels like agony. He loses immunity to his acid bile and it burns his throat raw along with him in general. He feels weaker and this it is harder to move with the weight of his parasite.

Cries a lot. Not necessarily over the pain (he’s used to that) but just the extra reminder of how fucked up he is, is never good for his psyche.

He hides away both to avoid something hurting him as his body is super sensitive now and to avoid his family picking on his further. Donna knows the signs of a sick Moreau and will bring him herbs and teas for him to make medicine (I like to think they care the most for each other)

Also stays in his fish format the bottom of the reservoir most of the time as the pain is more disbursed and the water feels better on his enflamed tumor eyes

Gets better over time but always forgets how bad it is, so he’s never prepared for when it happens again, smh.

Karl Heisenberg

The biggest baby about being sick because he refuses to do the right things to take care of himself. Like he starts getting sick and purposely over works himself out of spite.

When he gets sick his electric organs go into overdrive so he kinda has to leave his factory if he doesn’t wanna get magnetized to a wall for like a week.

Randomly gets shocked by his own ability and hates it. Not to mention he has regular cold symptoms like blocked sinuses and a cough. Still tries to smoke his cigars, hacks up like half a lung.

Hates how the medicine makes him feel and tastes. Tastes like ass and makes him feel loopy, out of his element which he hates. The other lords have to hold him down just to give him a single dose.

Over heats super easy and has been found in his factory slumped over something. Donna and Moreau have to beg him to rest just because Mother would be very unhappy if her “favorite” died

Huffs and whines the whole time, “Its too hot.” “I don’t want that.” “This tastes like shit.” The other lords are tempted to just let him suffer, but he’ll whine even more.

Gets better fast and honestly shouldn’t complain as the other lords are literally in pain due to how their cadou fuck up their symptoms but he has a flare for the dramatic.

Fuck this post and fuck google for making me write it over and over again.

[alkasden]

Managing to shove away from Valentino and burst through the thick smoke that was around them, Alkas glances around in shock to see the room empty. Where were all the party-goers?! She had no time to try to figure it out, ears perking high to hear the sound of the pistol click. It set a fire under her figuratively and she took off to where she assumed an exit would be.

The spike of fear sent a rush of adrenaline through her, slipping on the floor with her own oil while she grabbed at the first door she could get to. It did not budge, a soft whine leaving her while she was breathing harder now, not caring that she was quite literally running naked through this club. Would anyone even help if she did find someone? She needed to focus on just getting out of here, even a glance at her wristwatch in some desperation. If he were to help he would have already...

Taking off again, she made her way down hallways, seeing the many doors at the sides she assumed may have been private rooms. She would not stop to find out, stumbling along while the drug effects were still making her dizzy. Pausing at a corner, she coughs, her breath still tinted red with each hack.

Then, Valentino’s voice carried through the halls already behind her setting her hair on end and shamefully a heat up her neck enough to bubble the oil there. Fuck. She cursed internally as she needed to either keep running or try to hide.

Another dash to a door she would assume as an exit just was completely locked, yanking at it doing nothing but rattling it to make noise. She had no time to find another, jerking her head back to the hallways and the lines of private rooms. So, she went for the nearest one, trying the door to manage to open it and dart inside the dark room.

A couch sat in the dark that she stumbled into, biting her lip to avoid making any sounds. In the distance, she could hear doors being kicked open and Valentino’s voice growing closer. Time was up, so she pushed aside the couch just enough to slip behind it to duck and hide. She was not a small Sinner, but with a slip of her peets, she at least hid her body fully behind it, and in the dark, she could only hope he did not check the whole room.

A deep sigh comes out of Valenino’s mouth, seeing the sinner flee through the red smoke that surrounded them. She was fast, quickly moving away from his field of view. The darkness around the dance floor started fading away, revealing the lights and the empty room that they stood on.

“Fine..” The overlord kneels down to reach for his coat to grab a pistol, cocking it before picking his phone and sending a voice message to his guards. “Lock everything up. Time to play a little game.”

The club was giant, many corridors and doors spread all across many floors. One could easily hide and it would take the entire night for him to find them there, but as she fled, the trail of smoke gave away her path. A stream flowed like a river through the corridors that Valentino followed slowly.

“Conejitta~~” Valentino teased, yelling at the corridors as he followed the stream of smoke. “I believe we were in the middle of something..”

Each door Valentino passed by he kicked it open, making sure Alkas knew how close he was from her. 

“You better stop these things…” He starts moving faster, opening doors at a quicker pace. “It’s a matter of time.”

[choco-exe]

the one where akaashi and tsukishima react to their girlfriend hiding that she’s sick

genre: fluff? ig type: scenario status: proofread pronouns: female warnings: none

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒 . . . 🖉  [𝟾𝟹𝟽 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜]

   ♕ you know he’s a very observant person (it scares you sometimes) so you consider just not going to school the day you found out you were sick    ♕ but you reconsider because you walk to school with him since he isn’t a dick and waits for you    ♕ you sucked up the confidence you needed, exited your house, and went up to akaashi, a scarf tightly wrapped around your neck that also covered up half your face so he wouldn’t see your rosy cheeks and runny nose    ♕ he smiled softly because you looked adorable, just bundled up in your scarf     ♕ “are you cold, love?” he asks and you play along with his question and just nod your head. he takes out another jacket from his bag and drapes it over your shoulders bro where can i find a person like him oml    ♕ his fingers brush your skin slightly as he adjusts his jacket to fit your body snugly, and he’s alarmed at how warm you are, since you don’t emit that much body heat    ♕ he’s quick to pull down your scarf and cup your cheeks. sure enough, your body is on f i r e. he also notices how red your cheek area was, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from skin contact    ♕ you’re internally panicking when he presses his forehead to yours    ♕ “y/n, do you have a fever?” he would ask as he looks directly into your eyes cuz he knows you can’t lie when you two make eye contact    ♕ you try to look away but he held your head firmly, preventing you from breaking from his gaze    ♕ "it’s nothing.” you murmured, hoping he wouldn’t see past your bluff    ♕ he didn’t buy it because he’s a smart boi and clicked his tongue. “stay home”    ♕ you roll your eyes as you pulled away from his touch. “it really is nothing, keiji. let’s just get to school.”     ♕ as you started walking away, you fail to notice akaashi frowning deeply    ♕ so it surprised you when he picked you up in his arms, literally swooping you off your feet. . . “Keiji!” You squeaked, automatically looping your arms around his neck. “Let me down!” Akaashi ignored your request as he casually walked over to your front door. You sigh as he unlocked it easily nani dafuq he’s carrying you with both his arms this magical man how Subconsciously, you snuggled into his chest, since he was just so warm; his body heat was basically radiating all around him. You almost fell asleep, but the familiar door creaking open to your bedroom snapped you awake. “Keiji, you’re gonna be late for school-” You swerved your head around and sneezed, careful not to face Akaashi, nor get anything on him. He stayed quiet as he gently laid you down on your bed, draping your blanket over your body, and tucking you in. “I love how you worry about me, even when you aren’t feeling well,” he began, as he sat down on the edge of your bed. “But, even for these few moments, can you please just let me take care of you?” He stroked your cheek affectionately, patiently waiting for your response. damn akaashi you have your way with words Your heart fluttering, you nodded as you leaned into his touch. He smiled gently and kissed your forehead, then got up. “I’ll be back, princess.” He said, swerving around and practically running out the room, although he tried to step very gently so he wouldn’t make that much noise. A few minutes of you staring at the ceiling go by before you begin to think that Akaashi left for school, so it surprised you when you heard gentle footsteps hurriedly getting louder. You slightly shrink back into the mattress, but your face lit up in delight when you saw that it was just Akaashi, who walked into your room with a bowl with warm water and a cloth. He set the bowl carefully on your nightstand, dipped the cloth into the warm water, and placed it on your forehead. “I’m assuming you ate and had your medicine already.” He said in a low voice. “Mhm..” You replied sleepily. He thought your reaction was the cutest thing ever, but he kept it to himself as he pat your head. “I’ll give you some soup and medicine when it’s lunchtime for you, then.” You slowly nodded as you reached up to grab his hand, but stopping at the last second. “..you’re gonna be super late, Keiji.. go to school; I’ll be fine by myself.” Akaashi hesitated, putting his hand over yours and squeezing it gently. “Don’t worry about me.” He said. “Just get some sleep, okay?” “Okay..” You mumbled, your eyes closing. Within seconds, you were fast asleep.  Akaashi stood up and headed his way to school, your homework also in his bag. Someone would have to turn those in and take notes, and it certainly wouldn’t be you.

𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚊 . . . 🖉 [𝟾𝟸𝟹 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜]   ☾ so you’re avoiding tsukishima at all cost; you know you can’t skip school because your grades depend on it, so you’re just very cautious about where you go   ☾ he would find out, though, when you don’t visit his classroom   ☾ like he’d just be listening to his music until the bell rang   ☾ he wouldn’t really be worried because sometimes you oversleep lololol   ☾ when break began he wasn’t that concerned and was just waiting patiently, but when it ended, he was confused   ☾ like why haven’t you visiting him yet?? are you dead??   ☾ he actually made the effort to go to your own classroom when lunch started since you’re not smart like he is T^T   ☾ and when he asks one of your friends about your whereabouts she just look at him all confused and says, “wait i thought y/n went to your classroom already?? she just left??”   ☾ k now he’s really concerned; he also notices that your stuff is at your desk   ☾ the panic isn’t visible on his face, but he’s conjuring up a plan to try and find you cuz we all know he’s secretly head over heels for you   ☾ then he gets a message from his phone from you! he almost flings his phone across the room, taking it out so quickly   ☾ you told him that you wanted a snack from ukai’s store, and that he should eat with the team without you   ☾ but he knew if you wanted to go somewhere you would just complain your ass off to him, so he’s running around campus trying to find you   ☾ the last place he checked was the infirmary; he just glanced in it and walked away..   ☾ ..then he immediately whirled around and stared right through the window on the door   ☾ you were chilling on one of the beds, although you didn’t look that healthy with red cheeks and coughing ever so often.   ☾ tsukishima barges into the room, and you look up in surprise. . . “K-Kei?!” You sputtered, and then went into a coughing fit. He frowned and crossed to the bed you were on in a few long strides. “How dumb are you to come to school while you’re sick?” He harshly asked, staring down at you. You look down and fiddle with your fingers. “I didn’t want my grades to drop..” You murmured, staring at your lap. “..and I didn’t want to worry you-” “You think avoiding me would make me not worry about you?” Tsukishima snapped, glaring at you. “Do you think you’re the only one who has feelings? That the world revolves around your thick skull?” You stayed silent, contemplating what he just said. When the silence became heavy, he realized he went a bit too far with his words, judging how you subconsciously sank a bit lower than you were before, and you were now squeezing your hands together tightly. Sighing, he placed his hand on your forehead. “How’d you get sick in the first place? Did you stay up all night watching.. Kimetsu no Yaiba, was it?” “I had a really important test coming up.. so I studied all night for the past week..” It was then that Tsukishima realized that you had very dark circles underneath your eyes; it was like someone smudged charcoal under them. “Did the nurse give you medicine?” “Yes..” Tsukishima took out his phone and typed something in, then shoved it back into his pocket. With you watching him curiously, he turned around, kneeling so his back would be exposed fully to you. “What are you..?” “What do you think, idiot? Get on my back before I leave you to walk.” Hesitantly, you get off the bed and placed your hands on his shoulders; he lifted you up easily and started to stride out of school. When you two walk out the gates, you realize something. “Kei, everything is still at my desk. Can we go back-” “I’ll drop it off to you later.” He interrupted. “Don’t worry about being absent, either; I already told Yamaguchi to tell your teacher that you won’t be attending your classes for the remainder of the day. Try and rest for a few minutes, so I don’t have to deal with you talking.” You slightly giggle at his statement, although you hacked out a cough immediately after. “You’re the one who’s been talking a lot,” you said as you eyed his headphones, since they were just laying around his neck. Using one hand, you grab them and put them around your ears. Tsukishima said nothing to this as you rested your forehead on his shoulder, the soft music and the slight sway of him walking lulling you to sleep. Your soft breathing indicating to him that you were no longer awake, Tsukishima let out a soft sigh and started to come up with ways he could indirectly apologize to you.

[blxeblur]

ASK-ROSY—

Rosy was still concerned about him, more when he winced but..she did her best to at least hide that feeling. Her ears perked up a bit when he placed said hand there and her eyes widened a bit, her expression showing a hint of surprise at first and when she noticed his concern, she gave him a reassuring yet lighthearted smile, trying to reassure him that she is fine with the situation. •”H-He won’t.. D-Don’t overthink Rosy-“• It was a part of her thoughts, trying to keep her tail quiet as her gaze remained focused on his face, staring in silence while her blush seemed to get a bit more noticeable. Rosy had a small sweat on her left cheek, absentmindedly keeping herself close to both him and his hand as her eye seemed to get bright as well when she heard that. Her expression showed a hint of confusion, as his actions were making her feel nervous but despite that, she allowed him to do what he wished, having her ears folded by her sides as things were happening. And when the kiss happened, her face soon became like a tomato and emitted warmth, her ears perked up slightly and her eyes widened in surprise, this causing her tail to be like a blur due to how fast it is wagging. “I-I-“ She seemed to be speechless and flustered just by this, tempted to place her hands on her cheeks and gaze away from him but- she didn’t. Instead, she rested a hand on his and held it, nuzzling the palm softly as long as she could while she seemed to be purring a lot now. Rosy shook her head a bit before she stood up, most likely being ready to help if something were to happen. “I..wouldn’t mind having to carry you, I should be fine! But Are you..sure..? It’s..okay if you need help! No one will judge you, o-or..think bad of you! You..don’t have to go through things by yourself, nor force yourself..” It was all she could manage to say and ask, willing to insist and let him know that. If anything were to happen, she wouldn’t hesitate to pick him up and carry him.

He sighed as he picked himself up, clearing up his throat, small droplets and streaks of blood running down his body, dripping onto the grass. He inhaled, and sighed, trying to keep himself calm. He stared at the ground, seeming a bit tired. He was super light-headed, just one step away from fainting. He closed his eyes, before shooting them wide open, perking his body up, shaking his head. He needed to stay awake.

He quickly folded his ears down, looking to the side, slightly bending his body over, placing both his hands on his wound, making it seep a large amount of blood through his gloves, staining onto his hands. God, it looked like a crime scene on his body. Not a pleasant feeling. Not pleasant at all.

He sharply inhaled, and sighed, standing his body up, staring at Rosy, his ears still folded down. He..didn't even try and smile this time. But, he still looked reassuring, clearing his throat before he spoke, as a soft, calming voice came out of his mouth.

" Hey, listen- I'll be fine. I promise. I can walk on my own, it'll be okay. Plus, I don't wanna trouble you anymore. After all, it's nothing I ain't able to handle, right? I can walk it off like it's nothing. It'll be alright, I pro- "

He perked his ears up, as he stopped talking, holding up his pointer finger, as he bent down, holding a hand over his mouth. He started coughing, more violently than last time, quite literally hacking up his ribcage. He pounded on a part of his chest, where it wasn't covered with the wound. Blood splattered on his gloves, as a tear started to streak down his face. As he stopped coughing, he pulled his hand away, wiping away the tear, and a blood streak ran down his chin. Jesus christ.

" ..Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll just get some water or something else to drink, my throat is dry as hell. "

..what the fuck why is he so calm about this. He literally just coughed up blood two times, and he's acting so calm about it. What. Why. All he's worried about is his throat being dry. What is going on with this hedgehog.

“I won’t let you bleed out!” Guess who- :> /lh

Sonic looked down at his wound, pretty much cutting almost all the way down to his chest. He was very lightheaded, but he tries his absolute best to stay conscious.

He took a sharp inhale, tears forming up in the corner of his eyes. He put a hand on the wound, leaving blood stains all over his gloves. He wiped his tears away with the other hand.

He looked up with a smile. A soft one. He chuckled, and rubbed his nose, looking to the side for about one second, before turning his attention back. Once he spoke, his voice was quiet. Very quiet.

" H-Hey, listen, I'll be alright! You don't gotta worry 'bout me, I've dealt with worse!..Probably. Besides the point, I'll be fine. There's no reason to- "

Before he could finish his sentence, he widened his eyes, perking his ears up, before coughing a bit violently. He covered his mouth with one of his gloved hands, before he slowly pulled it away, showing a splatter of blood. Must've coughed it up. God, as if the wound wasn't enough blood.

[pillage-and-lute]

Thicker Than Water (Part 6)

lPart 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, (here) Part 7,  Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

TW for hypothermia, illness, talk of self-isolating behavior, mention of Yennefer’s self harm scars.

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The trek to Kaer Morhen was a penance, and that was just getting from the city to the base of the path that the witchers called ‘The Killer’. Autumn was truly giving way to winter now and fine flurries came down with more ferocity than was warranted from a few snowflakes. 

They were all on foot, Roach pulling the cart with their supplies. As they advanced up the trail Ciri and probably Jaskier would sit in the cart. The path was called killer for a reason, it could kill witchers. For now, though, they let Roach rest as much as she could. It would be a tough climb for her as well, and whenever they stopped Geralt gave her extra brushing down and treats. 

Geralt...hm. Well, since Jaskier had snapped at him back in the city their relationship, already tense as a bowstring, had gotten worse. They didn’t snap at each other, but tiptoed instead, walking on eggshells. Jaskier was waiting, had half expected Geralt to cast him aside again, or to gripe about Jaskier’s uselessness. Instead the witcher walked around like he’d been kicked. 

He was always looking at Jaskier though, glancing at him with that piercing, penetrating gaze. He was examining the bard for something, but for what, Jaskier didn’t know. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let Geralt have the satisfaction of seeing it. He kept walking, head up, eyes straight ahead. He didn’t complain. He barely spoke. Making himself as unlikely a target for Geralt’s ire as possible. 

That was the odd thing though. Geralt didn’t seem to have much ire, per say. It was almost an overbearing sort of concern. Jaskier tried to make it fit in his head, there was something there, Geralt’s anger at Jaskier for sleeping with the innkeeper, the care with which he’d carried Jaskier into town, this awkward caution. It meant something. In his heart Jaskier knew what he hoped it meant. He couldn’t trust his heart with this though, he needed to use his head. There was a disconnect between Geralt’s words and his actions. Between the mountain and now. He needed to use his head.

His head was aching.

Jaskier really barely could think, much less work out the complexities of Geralt’s character. His chest ached. That little, half-ache had taken root in his lungs and bloomed into a great, heaving flower. He was coughing now, which he was trying to hide, he knew, without much success. The cough had started dry and grating, but had progressed to a hacking wetness. It would have been bad enough, but it was upsetting Ciri. Jaskier wouldn’t go within six feet of her, for fear of making her sick too. Her big, grass green eyes watched him almost as consistently as Geralt did, and she was picking up the little crease between her brow as well. Sometimes, when a particularly vicious cough made him double over her lip trembled, and that was a special sort of torture. Yennefer kept giving him tea, too, which was a weirdly kind, somewhat pitying gesture.

“I’m not good at healing,” she grouched at him from across their campfire the first evening on The Killer.

Jaskier shrugged. “’s fine,” he said, taking another hesitant sip of the tea. It was herbal, not in the way that mint was herbal, but the way that a handful of leaves and moss tasted herbal. 

“Mh,” Yennefer said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “It’s one of those things you have to specialize in, magical healing. Magic heals magic injuries best, anyway.”

“I’m okay,” Jaskier said, fully aware that he wasn’t, but glad that Ciri and Geralt had gone to fetch more wood so he wouldn’t have the big witcher sniffing out his lie.

“You need a healer.” Yennefer skewered him with her gaze, purple meeting blue like a lightning storm. “You’re sick.”

“I don’t see why it should bother you.”

Yennefer sighed and stood up, grabbing the kettle from the fire. She poured herself a mug of the tea and sat down with it next to Jaskier. After a brief examination she drank it, then winced. “Eugh. It bothers me because we’re friends.”

“We are not.”

“Eh, well, Geralt screwed me over, he screwed you over, the enemy of my enemy...”

“Geralt isn’t my enemy--”

“Could’ve fooled me with that shouting match back in town.”

“Anyway he screwed you over more...literally.”

Yennefer looked at him, a little smirk on her lips. “Is that what this is about? That I slept with Geralt?” She looked at Jaskier, squinting at him as he studiously examined his tea. “No, that isn’t it,” she decided. “You aren’t upset he slept with me, you’re upset he never slept with you.”

“I’m upset that he decided he loves you!” Jaskier shouted, unable to take the prodding. He regretted it as it kickstarted a coughing fit that made him double over. He spat out some phlem and straightened up in time to see Yennefer’s grimace. 

“He decided he loves you,” Jaskier said, panting a little. “After only just meeting you. He decided he couldn’t live without you in his life, so he bound you with that djinn to keep you safe. And that sucks for you, it does, and he shouldn’t have done it. Melitele knows the man never thinks things through, it’s just...”

Jaskier looked into the fire and Yennefer waited.

“He barely knew you and he couldn’t bear to be without you. I spent two decades at his side and he’s never called me a friend.” He scoffed ruefully. “Called me a shit shoveler though.”

Yennefer nodded. “I heard.”

“You did?”

“I hadn’t gone that far when, well...you’re a pain in the ass, bard, but you didn’t deserve that. Men like Geralt...” she twisted the mug in her hands, turning it round and round and Jaskier saw flashes of scarred skin at her wrists. “People like Geralt and I,” she continued. “We pull at our safety ropes until they come undone. It’s just how we are. We were hurt so much, so long, that when we hurt we reach out and undo any ties that could help us.”

Jaskier was at a loss, so he bumped his shoulder against Yennefer’s. “You’re so much more fashionable about it though.”

Yen smirked and returned the shoulder bump. “Definitely. Geralt though, he cut all his safety ropes that day.” She didn’t have to specify which day. “I cut mine first though. I didn’t want him romantically, not really. It’s djinn magic, he’s not my lover, and I can’t fix him and I don’t want him to fix me.”

“Fix him?”

“I think people like Geralt and I can heal, but we can’t heal eachother. Ciri helps. I’m a mom to her, you know? She called me Mama the other day when she was really sleepy and it felt...” Yennefer trailed off, then she looked over at Jaskier. 

“I don’t love him, not like you do, and he doesn’t love me. But I’m not good with these things, and I can’t help you two fix what he broke that day. More than that, I won’t. It’s not my job to fix you two, or to deal with your problems for you, and if you two can’t communicate on your own then maybe you shouldn’t at all.”

“I communicated,” Jaskier said. “Twenty years. I thought those were the best years of my life, and I gave them to him, and did all the communicating. I’m not doing anymore. If I’m not...” Jaskier was ashamed to find a lump in his throat. “If I’m not a curse and a burden to him then he has to tell me, has to say it, because I can’t keep going if his words are just going to contradict his actions.”

“Good,” Yennefer said, standing and pouring her tea out onto the ground. “Don’t. Make him communicate. It’s up to him. And to make it be up to him, that’s up to you. He has words. If he can use them to hurt you then he can use them to heal. Don’t give in.”

It seemed that portion of the conversation was over because Yen began setting up her magic tent. “You’ll sleep in here tonight. The cold isn’t doing you any good.”

Jaskier shook his head. “Can’t. I could make Ciri sick.” 

Yennefer sighed again. “You’re right, of course, but you’ll sleep in Geralt’s tent. He can’t get sick and he’s a walking heater.”

Jaskier was about to protest when his lungs heaved again and he began coughing. The force was so great he swore he felt his ribs creak. Despite all the mucus his throat felt torn and raw. He dragged air back into his lungs then spat. Blood came out.

Of course, that was the moment Ciri and Geralt returned from getting firewood.

Ciri gasped, eyes wide, and Geralt dropped the armful of logs he was holding. They scattered but the witcher paid them no heed as he advanced towards Jaskier, stepping over the rolling wood. Geralt gripped Jaskier’s face and tilted his head back, holding his mouth open. 

Jaskier wondered what he could see with his witcher-enhanced eyes.

“Throat’s raw,” Geralt grunted after an awkward moment of peering into Jaskier’s mouth. “Probably nothing internal.”

Geralt wiped the blood from the corner of the bard’s mouth with his rough leather glove, then he peeled off his glove and pressed a hand to Jaskier’s forehead. Jaskier just leaned in to the warmth of Geralt’s palm, but it was obviously chilled, the temperature of a normal human, not the furnace heat Geralt normally held. 

Geralt frowned and stepped closer, taking his hand away and pressing his cheek to Jaskier’s forehead instead. It was a gesture that Jaskier’s nursemaid had sometimes done, an easier way to check for fever if one’s hands were too cold to tell. He wished he could linger there, in the warmth of Geralt, so close, with his cloak still smelling of the pine forest all around them and the copper-sharp scent of snow as well. 

“Fever,” Geralt grunted.

“Dandelion,” Ciri said, eyes filling.

Jaskier pulled away and bowed theatrically, ignoring his aching joints’ many protests. “Never fear little princess,” he said. “’twould take more than a fever to best the bard Jaskier.”

Ciri didn’t giggle, but at least she didn’t begin to cry. 

That night Jaskier and Geralt tucked in together, sharing not just a tent but a bedroll. Geralt had turned onto his side and pulled Jaskier in so that his face pressed to Geralt’s collarbone and he was surrounded by the witcher. It was as if Geralt was shielding him with his body, protecting him from an enemy, but that enemy was inside Jaskier already, and he could feel the fever burning through him, even as he relished the warmth.

His mind drifted to other times. Days and nights when coin had been tight and they’d shared beds, shared meals. They’d shared lives for so long, orbiting around eachother. Geralt like some bright planet and Jaskier his moon. He ached for it to be like that again, but he couldn’t do it alone, Geralt had to be part of it too, had to want that life to exist, not just allow it to happen. 

The next day dawned white. Snow had fallen and continued to do so, the little flurries of before now a full snowstorm that whipped and raged. Geralt loaded a pack full of supplies onto his back to lighten Roach’s load, then they set off. 

Ciri and Jaskier walked as long as they could, but the wind beat them back. Yennefer was struggling too, pushing magic in front of her so that the snow buffeted off of it, streaming around her and making the walking easier, but Jaskier could tell it drained her, and her shield flickered sometimes. 

Ciri stumbled once, around mid morning, and Geralt picked her up by the back of her cloak, scruffing her like a kitten. He patted some snow off of her and placed her int the cart with the supplies. Jaskier was going to go at least a couple hundred more feet, but Geralt scruffed him too, bundling him into the cart alongside Ciri. Jaskier prayed he wouldn’t get Ciri sick, but with the wind howling around him he imagined that whatever ill humors he could exhale would get swept away. He curled up opposite the princess, the pair of them ducking down miserably as the snow blew over the sides of the cart. He heard Geralt speaking to Yen. 

“We can make it by nightfall, if we push. Can you make it?” His voice was pitched above the wind, but still barely reached Jaskier.

“I can make it,” Yen said. “I’ll have to, they need warmth, and Jaskier needs medicine.”

“Vesemir knows herbs and potions, he can heal him.”

“Then we’d better get a move on,” Yennefer said. Her voice was strained, but they forged on anyway. 

Jaskier took occasional peeks over the sides of the cart. It was a winding path, a goat track, really, but the northern mountains were said to be beautiful and he imagined it must be very scenic. As it was, the wind and snow obscured most of his vision. What he could see were ancient pines, large and weather worn. Nevertheless, they swayed like reeds in a current in the hellstorm that whipped around them. 

“Ciri,” Jaskier wheezed. “Let’s play a game.”

Ciri, tucked into her cloak so far that he could barely see her, gave a muffled, “okay.”

“How many red things can you name?”

“...apples,” was the muffled reply. 

“Cherries.”

“Rubies.”

“Wine.”

“Chili peppers,” Yennefer said, the wind almost stealing it, but Jaskier and Ciri smiled at eachother for dragging her into the game.

“Raspberries,” Ciri said.

“Blood?” Geralt grunted.

“Gross,” Ciri said, at the same time as Jaskier said, “What a witchery answer.”

“Tomatoes,” Yen said.

The game trailed away for a while as the cart rattled worryingly across some tough ground. Geralt and Yennefer ate while they walked, and Ciri and Jaskier chewed on some dried meat. Mostly Ciri, Jaskier dozed, too exhausted to even chew. 

When he opened his eyes again the wind was still howling, but the sky looked darker. It must be evening.

“Dandelion,” Ciri whispered. “are you awake?”

“Mmhm,” he said.

“I’m cold.” 

Jaskier was too, the snow had soaked into him so he was damp, but then it froze again, taking him with it. 

“We’re almost there,” Geralt grunted. His voiced sounded strained and weary, but Jaskier didn’t have the strength to look and find out why. “C’mon girl,” Geralt said, clicking his tongue at Roach. “We can make it, do it for me.”

“Hey Ciri,” Jaskier slurred, tongue heavy in his mouth. 

“Hm?”

“Roses are red.”

He imagined Ciri smiling at him tiredly, but he couldn’t see her, bundled in the blankets. He could hear her teeth chatter though. “Jam is red, sometimes,” she said. 

“Eskel’s shirt is red,” Geralt said, raising his voice above the wind. 

“N-no fair,” Jaskier muttered. “I’ve never even seen him.” To his surprise he was drifting off again. It felt different though, a little like drowning. Some part of him felt he should panic, but he hadn’t the energy. 

“You can see him,” Geralt said, sounding a little frantic. “He’s right there, standing on the path ahead of us. We’re here, Jaskier, look at Eskel.”

Jaskier wanted to, but his eyelids were too heavy.

“Geralt--” began a new voice.

“Eskel please, they need help.”

“I know, give her to me, I’ll carry her the rest of the way.”

Carry who? Jaskier wondered, then he realized that he hadn’t heard Yennefer speak lately.

A whistle came from up ahead. “C’mon Pretty Boy,” another new voice. “I’ll take your pampered horse, you lay them in front of the fire.”

There was some rustling and Jaskier wreched his eyes open with his last ounce of effort. An older man with a moustache and a face like a wall of granite was lifting Ciri from the cart. He took care with her, cradling her and walking away quickly. Vesemir? Probably. His eyes fell shut again. 

“Jaskier c’mon,” Geralt said in his ear. His breath stuttered warmth across Jaskier’s cheek. “You’re gonna be okay, we’re here, just don’t fall asleep on me, please.”

Jaskier wanted to open his eyes, just to reassure Geralt but everything seemed to be drifting away. He was laid down on something soft and felt the heat of fire on his face. There was the scent of pine logs, snapping and cracking as their sap burned away. Hands, Geralt’s hands, rubbed up Jaskier’s arms, forcing the blood to move. His soaked cloak was stripped away, leaving him chilled but dry, and then soft, dry fabric was pulled around him. Someone had wrapped him into a blanket and was rubbing his fingers. Both his hands were cupped between two larger ones and warm air was blown across them. The blood returning to his hands felt so hot it burned and hurt and he squirmed, but he was too tired to pull away. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he heard Geralt say as he rubbed more heat into Jaskier’s fingers. “Ciri’s okay, and Yen’s okay. You have to be okay, Jaskier. Warm up. You need to be warm.”

“Give ‘im some time, Lad,” Jaskier heard. Another new voice. Must belong to Vesemir. 

“He’s so cold,” was the whispered reply.

“The boy trekked after you for years, he’s resilient. He’ll be okay.”

“But--”

“Keep doing what you’re doing, let him rest.”

Jaskier heard no more, but it was so nice, the fire and the fur beneath him, and Geralt, holding his hands. He couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They finally got there! 

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Tags are being weird, if I missed you, or you want to be added, let me know

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Somehow Technoblade had managed the spectacular achievement of becoming the odd one out in an entire community made up of rare and strange beings.

The fact that all the other residents were non-humans happened to be what made him different though. Wilbur had told him the history of the commune, how their town was founded with the direct purpose of being a safe place for mobs and hybrids to live in peace, secluded from the humans who hunted them, enslaved them, or would otherwise harm them. Their location was kept secret, hidden from most by enchantments, and they were almost completely self-sufficient in the way they were run in terms of food and stuff.

Only occasionally would somebody wander out to another village, to trade or just to seek a little adventure for themselves. Phil especially was prone to do this – a traveler at heart, his Elytrian nature – and he was the one who had found Technoblade in a rather... compromising position.

If by compromising you could mean having an arrow sticking out your back.

People didn't like Technoblade. And Technoblade generally didn't like people, but he liked it even less when they chased him out of their villages with their bows drawn. Phil had been kind enough to remove the projectile. Technoblade had bravely said it didn't hurt but then secretly dug his blunt nails into the palms of his hands hard enough to leave white indents. Then Phil had insisted on taking him home to get a proper look at the wound and clean it up.

Not all of the other residents were thrilled with Technoblade's presence at first, scared it could compromise their location. A lot of their tunes had changed when they found out other humans were the cause of his injury, even more so when Techno revealed this was hardly an isolated incident. People didn't like Technoblade at all.

(Most humans had little tolerance for that which they did not understand. And according to them, Technoblade was weird and very hard to understand. Techno understood himself perfectly fine, he always thought they were the weird ones.)

So he stayed and overall things worked out great. There were only minor issues caused by the 'only human around' thing. Their pub was a good example. A few of the others in the commune could simply fly or teleport, and those that couldn't had no problems either since they could rely on inhuman stamina to make the climb tolerable. Techno had a hundred rungs of a ladder he needed to brave with his pitiful human physique if he wanted to get up there. Same thing for Phil's ridiculously high-up birdhouse.

And then one day he got sick.

It was probably his own fault. Last night when it was storming he'd been coming home from mining and gotten completely soaked out in the rain. A small voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably take his drenched clothes off and get warm and comfortable as soon as he got home – the voice sounded suspiciously like Phil when he lectured Techno about fixing his terrible sleeping schedule and eating more regularly. But he had gotten distracted by putting away the materials he'd mined into his chests and starting to smelt the ore and by the time he noticed he was shivering at how cold it was, his clothes were damp more than wet. He lighted the fire and felt too exhausted to bother getting changed, crawling under the covers as he was - though it didn't completely ward away further trembling.

When he woke up his head hurt and there was this annoying tickle in his chest, feather-light touches against his lungs. The clothes had become sticky and uncomfortable, peeling off his skin. Techno coughed into a fist and set out as normal, intent on resuming his tasks where he left off yesterday.

It would probably go away on its own.

Except the coughing didn't stop. Small bursts of it kept coming up when he needed them least. He was in the middle of one when a voice rang out behind him.

"Techno, are you okay dude?" He must have jumped a solid three feet into the air and for a moment Wilbur only chuckled at his reaction.

"I told you to stop doing that," Techno grumbled, a little too sharply. Just because Wilbur could literally appear out of nowhere didn't mean he had to use that ability to sneak up on him for no reason. Techno coughed again, hiding it in his elbow.

"You did," Wilbur acknowledged with a smirk, but didn't apologize. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look I'm doing, I'm headed to the mines." Techno swung his pickaxe up on his shoulder, kind of almost nearly dropping it in the process with how clumsy his hands were being. Stupid.

"It looks like you were hacking up a lung, really." Wilbur's features softened. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Techno responded. He started walking again, knowing Wilbur would have a hard time following him while in corporeal form. Especially in the daytime.

"Are you coming to the pub later? I've got some new plans to unveil, think they'll be sick." Wilbur did make a valiant attempt at following him, though he quickly started falling behind, floating inches above the ground and unable to keep up with Techno's human strides.

"Uh, I'll think about it?" Techno answered evasively. He wasn't looking forward to braving that ladder in his current state. His arms hurt just thinking about it.

Wilbur stopped to call after him. "What do you mean you'll think about it?"

But Techno was far enough gone to be able to pretend not to hear him as he descended down his mineshaft.

Techno liked Niki's hair a lot. He'd even told her so not long after meeting her.

It was long and wavy and a nice shade of pastel pink that reminded him of the sunset. Technoblade would consider growing out his own hair that long if he didn't know it was way too unruly to keep in shape and stay untangled. And if dyeing it wasn't such a chore – one he knew he'd be too lazy to undertake as regularly as he should – he might have dyed it from its boring brown shade into something more interesting.

Niki was glad he was keeping her company while she tended to it, combing through it with what he presumed was a comb made of a seashell. Techno didn't tell her he had only really left the mines early because his lungs were starting to strain from the dust down there, the coughing fits getting closer together with less time in between to let him breathe. He sat on the sandy shore and traced patterns into the sand with one finger while they talked.

Niki was telling him about her builds, and expressing her disappointment over how she couldn't easily show them to her friends. None of them could breathe underwater or deal with the pressure common at the depths Niki lived. But she loved describing them in detail.

She was just explaining the sea glass she was intending to use when Technoblade started coughing again. His lungs expressed their displeasure through a series of sharp pangs that shot up into his neck. The sound he made was wet and disgusting, like there was something liquid rattling around inside his chest. Niki stopped talking to look at him worriedly.

"Are you alright? Techno, what happened?"

He tried to wave her away but it was kind of hard with his body still intent on making it impossible for him to get oxygen. Techno closed his eyes against the blurriness of his vision to concentrate on inhaling slower instead. "M'fine." He could feel the phlegm in his throat.

Niki was pulling herself onto the beach a little, trying to get a closer look at him. "Are you sick?"

"No." Getting up so fast was a bad idea. His head spun and he felt incredibly shaky. Techno ignored it. "No, I'm not. It's fine. I think I'll just head home now."

He started walking away quickly. The afternoon sun felt unbearable suddenly, scorching. Or maybe that was the beginning of a fever.

Niki called after him to wait but confined to the water as she was, it wasn't like she could do anything to stop him. Technoblade walked until he crested the hill, already seeing the shape of the other buildings in the distance. He made it halfway through the grass field and then he felt too drained to continue. Deciding to sit down for a bit, he lay back and closed his eyes.

"Do you think he's dead?"

"I dunno, we should poke him with a stick to find out."

Techno groaned at the sound of loud voices, ringing painfully around his aching head. He cracked his eyes open – not sure when he had even fallen asleep - and tried to blink the three faces hovering above him into focus.

"Oh, I think he's alive. Kind of." That was Ranboo.

"We could still poke him, just to make sure." Tommy.

Which meant the third person had to be Tubbo.

Techno pushed up on his elbows to get into a seated position, hating how difficult it was. His limbs were weak, as if they were made of jelly or some shit. The light fever had escalated into him feeling like his entire body was on fire.

This was not good.

"-chno? Hey, anybody home?" Tubbo was talking to him, waving one hand in front of his face. If his frown was any indication, Techno had been spacing out for a while.

"Hm?" he asked.

"I think there's something wrong with him," Tubbo said to the others.

"I'm fine." Techno tried standing up but fell back onto his ass a moment later when dizziness plowed into him with the force of a boulder. Tommy snorted.

"Yeah, we can tell." He reached out but pulled his hand back as soon as it came into contact with Techno's skin. "Fuck you're almost the same temperature as Jack Manifold. Pretty sure humans aren't supposed to run that hot."

"I'll get Phil," Ranboo offered, teleporting before Techno had a chance to object.

He covered his face with his hands and sighed. This was going to be a thing now and that happened to be the exact opposite of what Technoblade wanted it to be. He just wanted to go home and sleep this off.

"You're not..." Tubbo broke through his thoughts. The boy hesitated, wings vibrating a bit with nervous energy. "You're not like... actually dying are you?"

Techno tried to answer but was interrupted by another coughing fit first. When he was done Tubbo looked even more anxious than before. "Probably not. It's just a cold."

It was definitely not a simple cold. Pneumonia, more likely.

"Oh good."

Techno agreed. Not dying would probably be good, even if he currently felt like death warmed over.

Philza took him to the pub, much to Technoblade's horror.

All his protests and insistence he'd be fine if he was just taken to his house were brushed off easily, especially when Phil took flight with Techno barely able to keep from falling off his back when dark spots took over his vision. If it weren't for Phil's supporting hands keeping him steady he's probably have fallen off.

Normally Techno didn't dislike flying with Phil – despite the other always making some quip about how little Techno weighed for his height. But this time the vertigo was horrible and made him want to puke. Maybe it was fortunate he had skipped breakfast this morning.

They landed on the wooden porch softly, Phil keeping Techno's arm around his shoulder as he put him down to make sure he wouldn't collapse. Techno wasn't about to admit he probably needed that, though he muttered a quick thanks under his breath, which was starting to get more wheezing by the minute. There wasn't an inch of his body that didn't ache.

There were a few beds in the backrooms of the pub, sometimes used for newcomers to temporarily reside. Techno found himself dumped into one, not really caring where Phil went when he left the room. Not when the sheets were so blessedly cool and comfortable. He could have probably fallen back asleep soon if Phil hadn't returned almost instantly.

"I checked with Sneeg, he said this should help a little." Phil sat down on the bed, holding up a cup with the nastiest-looking brown tea inside it Technoblade ever did see. "I'm sorry we don't have any real potions to give you, but he's closest to you in physiology, so I'm hoping this will be enough. We don't exactly have a lot of experience with human illness."

"Did you ask him if it was poisonous?" Techno asked, eyeing the steaming liquid.

"Don't be dramatic." Phil handed him the cup. Techno sighed and downed the herbal tea in one go, suppressing his gag reflex. Medicinal and earthy, it somehow tasted worse than it looked. He didn't think that was possible.

"Great, can I go home now?"

Phil shook his head as he got up again, taking the cup from him. "You're not going anywhere until your fever breaks. You think I flew you all the way up here for fun?"

"Possibly."

Rolling his eyes as he leaves the room, Phil once again came back only a moment later. This time he was holding a bowl of what Techno could only presume was water going by the cloth that was soaking in it. Phil gestured for him to lie down properly and this time Techno obeyed without complaint.

"I think it's best if you stay here for a while," he said while folding the cloth and putting it on Techno's forehead. The coldness of it did feel nice against his pounding headache. "The pub is the best place for us to take turns keeping an eye on you."

"I don't need you guys to keep an eye on me, though. I'm not a child."

"No, you're just a stubborn asshole with pneumonia." Phil drew back a bit, smile faltering. "And also the only human currently living in the commune. We don't have the needed supplies to treat you should this get worse, so I'd rather not take the risk."

And while he did a fair job hiding it, it was undeniably clear Phil was worried.

"Fine, I'll stay." Techno made an effort of showing how annoyed he was by huffing and pulling the blankets over himself. "But can you at least get me a book or something? Won't help much keeping me here if I'll be bored to death."

Phil laughed – light and teasing. Techno liked that a lot more than he did the worry.

"I'll see what I can do."

He spent a solid week in bed.

Much to Phil's relief, Techno's sickness did not get worse. But without proper medicine, it didn't improve as quickly as they would have liked either. He had to get better the old-fashioned way: waiting for his body to fight off the infection on its own.

Most of his time was spent sleeping. Whenever he woke up somebody else was at his bedside, to make sure he could eat and drink. Phil hadn't been kidding when he said they'd take turns. It was almost comforting to know there was always someone watching over him while he slept, though Techno didn't feel the need to say that out loud.

After that first week, he was recovered enough to at least limp out of his room and around the pub. He was too weak to attempt the ladder and any sudden moves were still likely to throw him into a coughing fit that could last several minutes. But he could sit at one of the tables and talk to Niki when she visited.

Or to the others, who all seemed to be coming by a lot more often than was usual.

Wilbur unveiled his plans and talked Techno's ear off about what he was working on. Fundy came all the way to the pub to try and sell him stolen trinkets. Ranboo was always coming around with some new book for him to read, asking him if he liked his previous recommendation.

(None of them visited as often as Tommy though, who always complained about having to be there while fluffing up his wings, yet always stuck around the longest even when Techno told him he'd be fine on his own.)

And with them around, Techno realized that despite being the only human, he had never felt less alone.

[vampcubus]

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇

hanahaki!izuku midoriya x reader

a/n: i’ve never written for hanahaki disease before but i’ve always wanted to try so here have a side of angst.

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘! angst, izuku with hanahaki disease, pining, a not-so-unrequited love, blood mentions.

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘! 2.4k+

He could feel the petals getting caught in his throat, robbing him of his oxygen as he doubled over in a series of barky coughs. He raised his hands to cup over his mouth to catch the bloodied petals as they lurched from his mouth. Salty tears prick at the corners of his emerald green eyes, blood dribbling from his bottom lip onto the handful of petals. Izuku struggled to catch his breath, no longer hacking up flora but still shaken with a sore throat. Izuku clenched his eyes shut tight, trying to regulate his erratic breathing as he stands just outside the classroom. He was lucky to have recognized the symptoms before a coughing fit and quickly requested a restroom break. He couldn’t let his classmates see what’s become of him, he couldn’t let you see him this way. There were times, often during or right after coughing up petals, when a part of him wants to blame you. But he couldn’t. You couldn’t control how others felt about you. It wasn’t your fault that he’d gotten so attached to you. You’re not to blame for how helplessly in love with you he was. It wasn’t your fault he hadn’t the guts to tell you about his feelings. How much just being your friend was hurting him, now physically as he grew sicker with each passing day.

He didn’t want to be robbed of his right to love you. The mere thought was heart-wrenching, an unbearable worst-case scenario that he’d have to live with for the rest of his life. Loving you tore him apart, it reminded him of every insecurity that kept him from telling you, how you could never possibly return the feelings of someone like him. It spurred a fit of burning jealousy inside him to see others flirting with you. It made him weep at night because he knew one day you could be swept right off your feet into the arms of another and he’d be forced to watch. And yet…

Loving you made him feel complete. The butterflies in his stomach whenever you talked to him, brushed his shoulder against yours, locked eyes across the room and your eyes skittered away just as quickly. Sometimes even just thinking of you brought a smile to his face, lit a candle when his world felt the darkest. Some of his best daydreams consisted of a future he imagined with you. Where you were a couple. Where he could hold you with confidence and tell you how much he loved you without consequence.

As much as his feelings for you were literally slowly suffocating him to death, seeing your beautiful smile punctured breathing holes in the butterfly jar of his heart. Allowing him to continue breathing. He wanted to become a hero that could protect you from danger and one day be a symbol of peace just like All Might once was.

That is if he survived that long.

He’s coughed up so many petals already. He wasn’t sure how much time he had left. Izuku startles when he heard the classroom door open and felt two hands fall on his shoulders. When he looks up, his words get caught in his throat when he is met with your worried eyes staring back into his. Suddenly everything else fades away and all he can see is you, your beautiful face so close to his, the way your eyes searched his own. The softness of your delicate hands on his shoulders as you tried to keep him steady. “Are you alright? I heard you coughing from inside and came to see if you were okay. What happened?” You interrogated, your sweet voice dripping with concern as he remains blank and silent. He finally snaps out of it, rushing to hide the petals in his hands and gasp out an explanation. “I-I’m fine! just um… a cough! I have a cough. Don’t worry about me, L/n! I’m fi-” And then came the choking, the coughing, and the gasping as he began to hack again. He hunched over, the petals falling from his fingers as he held his throat in pain. 

You stumbled back, unsure of what to do as he continued to cough his lungs out. It pains you to see him in this state, and your mother-hen mode was quickly kicking into overdrive as you watched your friend heave and gasp for air. But you’re not a doctor, and you haven’t a clue what you can do to help him.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You hug him. Izuku’s coughs continue as he clings to you for support, too busy spitting out orange and red petals over your shoulder to process that he’s being held by you. Once he does notice, however, he feels his heart begin to frantically pound against his chest. Despite his agony, butterflies flutter around in his stomach, his cheeks heat up and he stutters—raspily from the stress of his illness on his vocal cords. “Y/n I’m r-really-” He coughs again, almost wheezing and barely audible as he forces the rest of his sentence out. “Really, I’m okay-” You don’t let him finish, too distraught by his condition to listen to his excuses. “You don’t look okay! Stop telling me you’re fine when you’re clearly not! Here, I'll take you to Recovery Girl.” “Recovery Girl can’t help me!” Izuku exclaims with a tremble, ripping himself away from you, eyes watering as he choked on his own emotions. But it wasn’t his emotions stuck in his throat, but another stray petal that forces itself out moments later. Your eyes widen and your face changes from frustrated and worried to horrified as a tiger lily petal is choked out of his trembling lips. You catch the petal in your palm wordlessly, staring at its familiar shape. Tiger lilies had always been your favorite flower, so unique and strikingly beautiful in all the colors they came in. 

But now as you see the pretty orange petal drenched in the blood of someone so precious to you, it’s hard to admire its beauty. “Izuku… is this…? A-are you…” Your confused, helpless gaze meets his own jade pools. There are a lot of emotions swirling in those big eyes of his, the most prominent being fear. There was only one possible explanation for someone to be coughing up flower petals. Hanahaki Disease. And then the look you give him is the saddest thing he’s ever witnessed, an emotion stronger and more painful than pity. Izuku can see the heartbreak in your eyes as they fill with tears. The green-haired boy doesn’t know what to say, how to react to you discovering his secret. How was he supposed to explain an illness that spawned from a love you could never return? “Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, voice cracking as your hand squeezed the bloodied petal between your fingers. He couldn’t tell you, that was the short answer. Because then he’d have to know how you felt. He was dying to know and yet it terrified him at the same time because he’d have to endure your rejection. Suddenly your arms are around him, holding him tightly to you as you gently weep. Selfishly, Izuku lets his arms wrap around you just as tightly, relishing the gift of your embrace as you held him and cried for him. Why did you care so much about him? Izuku felt his tears streaming down the sides of his freckled face, trying not to hiccup and rupture his already raw throat. “Who?” You asked suddenly, sniffling as you pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes. You looked a mess, cheeks tear-stained and nose running as you wiped at your flooding eyes with the heel of your palm. He scrunched his brows together in confusion, not understanding what you were asking. “You have Hanahaki… who did this to you?”

Whoever the hell had the mindset that they could shove aside someone as sweet, caring, and amazing as Izuku was about to feel your wrath. 

Izuku avoided your eyes. “I… I can’t t-tell you.” He shuddered, and you cupped his reddened cheeks, forcing him to look at you. Izuku’s hands grab your wrists but don’t pry them from his face. “You won’t like the answer.” “It’s Uraraka, isn’t it?” You lamented, a solemn shadow casting over your face. Izuku jolts and his hands slap over yours on his cheeks. “No! It’s not!” Izuku wailed, full-blown sobs erupting from his chest now as you tugged him away from the classroom and to a more private hall. “Uraraka is my friend, I don’t even know why you...” Izuku squirmed out of your reach when you reached out for him again, his face twisting into one of anguish and something close to anger. “This has n-nothing to do with her, w-why would you even assume that!” Izuku couldn’t stop the outburst as it ran its course, so disturbed by the thought of you believing he loved someone else it actually made him feel sick. He didn’t even realize that he was yelling until he saw the lost expression on your face.

He felt awful for blowing up on you who he knew was only concerned for him. He supposed it wasn’t an unwarranted assumption that he had feelings for his brunette friend, it’s not as if he didn’t get flustered every time she spoke to him as a first-year.

“I’m… sorry I… ahem,” You cleared your throat awkwardly, and Izuku felt the guilt fill the pit of his stomach. Deep down, a small part of you feels relieved. But your worry overrules your confusing feelings for the boy before you. “If not Uraraka, then… who?”

Izuku tries to sort out his inner turmoil in time to give you an answer, but only one comes to mind. Whether it was his brain telling him any lie he could come up with would fail or his heart begging him to be honest with his feelings, something pushed the word from his mouth before he could stop it.

“You.” Izuku���s voice shakes as he speaks, finally confessing what he’s wanted to tell you for months. Months upon months of fear and choking on tiger lilies have built up to this very moment. “It’s always been you.” This is the absolute last way he wanted you to find out, not at all how he had wanted to confess to you. He always imagined he’d do it in some romantic and thought-out scheme, perhaps swooping in to save you from a villain and spilling his heart out to you as he carried you away from danger and into the sunset. Perhaps even love notes or a scavenger hunt that leads to a picnic spot where he’d lay it all out on the line. “I love you.” And yet when he says it now, it feels so incredibly right. He means it. With the strength he still has in his fragile state, he smiles at you. It’s a sad, defeated smile tainted by the tears cascading down to his chin. He uttered the phrase as if he already knew your answer; like he has accepted that you couldn’t possibly feel the same. 

And yet the way his smile quivers tells you he might still break if he hears you say it out loud. But then he feels your lips crash into his and his heart explodes within his chest, eyes staring at you as you throw yourself at him, trying to express all of your emotions through the clumsy yet passionate press of your soft lips against his own. His world slows down, and before he can even reciprocate your desperate kiss you’re pulling away. “I’ve always loved you, Zu-chan.” The way his childhood nickname falls from your lips like a prayer makes his knees wobble as he feels his body grow weak and unsteady. And then the pain starts. Izuku chokes, coughing so violently he almost bumps into the wall. You notice how he’s gagging, body lurching forward and you realize what’s happening.

You shove him into the nearest restroom and he dashes to a sink to empty his lungs into. All at once the tiger lilies come up and out into the porcelain bowl as he heaves and gags. You’re right behind him, a hand stroking his back comfortingly accompanied by soft whispers of just let it all out, it's okay I’m here, take it easy now, breathe for me.

And once all of the orange flowers have been discarded, Izuku finally feels as if he can breathe again. The moment his wits have been regained he turns and embraces you strongly, pressing you to his chest as he tries to hold in his hiccups. He always hated that part about crying, when you couldn’t stop the violent hiccups that followed. “I love you.” You feel the need to reassure him of that, and he shrivels against you. And after he’s finally stopped his hiccups, he kisses you again. Half because he wanted to feel your lips again, and half of him worried that this wasn’t real, that you’d disappear and he’d wake up choking again. But all he let was your soft lips pressing gentle kisses to his own, your fingers clutching a handful of his shirt, and your eyes as they flutter open and closed between each kiss.

hanahaki disease - an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals.