#SprainedAnkle

[benjitoum]

This was probably a very painful situation. He probably fell and hit both feet very hard, with one getting more of the brunt than the other.

[mager31]

[il0veaphr0dite]

HURT

A/N: IM BACK!!!! sorry I've been gone awhile, I was going to start writing last month but the school started and all that AND as an apology I will be doing kinktober for the first time! (let me know if i made any errors)

PAIRING: gn!reader x minho

SUMMARY: Minho came back from the maze with a sprained ankle after running into a griever.

WARNINGS: nun but a little spice and Minho being down bad

WORD COUNT: 1665

You were in the Medhut organizing the new supplies that came up the box, while Jeff and Clint were lying on the beds.

You sighed, turning towards them “Could you guys at least help me?”

Jeff propped his head on his arm, turning towards you “We could”

Clint sat up as he added “But we don't want to”

You rolled your eyes as you turned around to continue organizing when you heard the beds creek behind you.

You turned around to see Jeff and Clint had stood up from their previous positions, their eyes on the door.

You followed their gaze to see Ben with his arm around Minho.

Instantly, you all rushed to action, helping Ben get Minho to one of the beds.

After you all laid him down, you went to grab some supplies and came back to see Minho trying to get up.

Jeff lightly pushed him, his head hitting the pillow again “You need to lay down”.

He rolled his eyes “I'm fine”.

“If you were, you wouldn't be here,” You countered “Is there anything that hurts?”

“No, because like I said before—I'm fine”

“What happened out there?” Clint said.

“We were doing our normal run then a shucking griever came out of nowhere” Ben explained “We ran hoping to lose it so we don't lead it here” Ben gestured towards Minho “We turned a corner and this shank tripped on a vine”

Jeff made a move to touch Minho’s ankle but Minho slapped his hand away.

“I can’t look at your ankle if you don’t let me touch you” Jeff snapped.

Minho glared at Jeff “I don’t shucking trust you”

Jeff scoffed then turned to you asking “You got this, right?” before he and Clint dashed out of the Medhut.

You sighed, turning to look at Ben with a pleading look.

He locked eyes with you before saying “Look, I would stay, but I have to go map.”

You sighed as you watched him leave.

As you were grabbing supplies, you felt Minho's gaze on you.

Once you turned around you made eye contact. Flustered, you look away as you set the supplies on the table next to Minho’s bed.

Helping Minho sit at the edge of the bed, you grabbed a chair and sat facing the edge of the bed, carefully taking his ankle and placing it in your lap.

You reached to the table by the bed and grabbed a pack of ice, carefully placing it on his ankle, earning a hiss from Minho.

You look up at him, apologizing “Sorry, tell me if I'm applying too much pressure”

He gave you a nod, watching you adjust the ice pack to a different part of his ankle.

After a moment of silence, you ask “Are you okay?”

“Honestly, I thought I wasn’t gonna make it,” He said with a sad smile on his face,” I told Ben to run, but that idiot shank helped me. But then again who could leave the most handsome glader behind?” he said, causing you both to laugh.

You were relieved that nothing worse happened to him. You would never admit it but you had a crush on Minho. You didn't know if it was the way he always asked you how your day was, or how he always helped you carry the new supplies to the Medjack hut.

Newt knew about your crush on Minho—well everyone did but you only admitted it to him—and he encouraged you to confess. But you never did because—truth be told— you were scared of being rejected and potentially ruining your friendship if he didn't feel the same way.

You had your suspicions at times that he felt the same, considering the amount of time you had caught him looking at you but you always thought it was nothing.

You began to wrap his ankle, trying not to put too much pressure—when a hiss escaped his lips.

Your eyes shot up to his, quickly apologizing “Sorry, I’ll be more careful”

You expected him to nod or give you an “Okay” but instead, a smile reached his lips, and he let out a small laugh.

“I'm kidding, lighten up,” he said.

“Very funny shank, you're lucky it wasn't worse.” You retorted as you finished wrapping his ankle. “Be more careful out there”, you said, getting up and placing his ankle on the chair you were sitting on.

He smirked, looking up at you, “I will”

After gabbing supplies to clean his cuts, you stood in between his legs. You put one of your hands on his jaw, turning his head slightly to the side.

You began carefully cleaning his cuts, too focused to notice his eyes on you.

He loves watching you worry over him and how gently you are when cleaning his wounds. And he especially loves the way you tilt your head back when you laugh, and how your smile instantly energizes him after a long day of running. To put it simply, he was…in love.

You being this close to him makes him want nothing more than to kiss you but he had to take it slow—after all, he wasn't completely sure you liked him. So instead he let his hands rest on your hips.

This action made you instantly aware of the situation, your breath hitched as your eyes locked

His hand reached up and cupped your cheek.

You let out a whisper, “Minho..” but it came out as a plea.

As his name left your lips, his heart began to beat faster and faster as your face grew closer. The smell of grass, wood, and a hint of sweat filled your nostrils.

Then he kisses you, tasting the sweetness of your lips, he never wants to stop. It went from a passionate kiss to something more. It was as if he’d gotten something he’d longed, craved, and ached for.

You both came up for air, his eyes searching for any sign of regret before hungrily pressing his lips against yours.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise.

You could feel his lips turning up into a smirk as you attached your hands to his hair, tugging on it.

He let out a groan, his hands sliding under your top, grazing your bare hip.

Tugging you forward, your legs moving between his. You feel his hard erection press against your pants.

You move your hand into his pants and begin palming his erection gaining a whimper in response.

You suddenly become aware of your surroundings, making you realize anyone could walk at any time.

You pull away “Minho..we can’t, not now.”

He looked up at you with passion, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“Please (Y/N)..” he pleaded, that only made you want to give in but you knew you couldn't— at least not now.

“It's not that I don't want to, it's just that anyone could walk in on us.”

His grip on your bare hips tightened, “So let them, they’ll know you’re mine—you always were.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping away but couldn't fight the smile that appeared on your lips, “Come on Minho, you need to get some rest”

A frown places itself on his lips, “But I don't want to rest—I want you”

You gave him a quick kiss before carefully moving his leg off the chair and onto the bed.

“Get some rest Minho, please” you begged, knowing how hard-headed he was.

A defeated sigh escaped his lips. Just as you were helping him lay down the door to the Medhut opened.

Newt, Jeff, and Clint walked through the door stopping at Minho’s bed.

Rolling his eyes he asked, “What do you shanks want?”

Jeff opened his mouth but quickly closed it before sending a pleading look to Clint and Newt.

Neat sighed as he stepped forward and began,” Minho, you’re going to have to take a few days off— maybe even a week.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Minho sat up from the bed, getting ready to leave.

“Minho wait-”

“You need to rest-”

“You can't run like this”

Everyone began protesting at once, going to lay Minho back down.

He turned his head to Newt, “You can't be serious, I have to run.”

“But you can't Minho.” Newt protested.

“Come on Newt, we both know that once you leave here I'm going to find a way into that maze”

“That's why (Y/N) is going to take care of you and make sure you’re not going anywhere near that maze.”

Your eyes widened at the next set of information, “Why me?”

“Because while he's not letting Jeff or Clint lay a hand on him, he seems to have no problem with you touching him,” he said, gesturing to his bandaged ankle.

“I don't need a babysitter,” Minho said coldly

“Really?” Newt said, slightly amused. “You’re the one who said you'll head straight into the maze as soon as we leave.”

He stared at a defeated Minho before adding,” Stay and rest or you'll be taking more than a few days off.”

He glanced at Minho one last time before he, Jeff, and Clint made their way out of the Medhut.

You glanced down at Minho with pity, you knew how badly he wanted to find an exit.

“Minho I know you want to find an exit but we can't have our keeper of the runners run with a sprained ankle.”

He sighed,” I know..”

You wrapped your arms around him, his head nestled into your neck.

Pulling away you said,” Get some rest”

He shuffled to the left side of the bed, patting the space next to him,” Lay with me?”

Nodding, you lay down next to him. He moves his hand to your waist, pulling you closer and nuzzling his head into your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Goodnight, Minho”

“ ‘Night, (Y/N)”

And you both fell asleep holding each other.

lmk what you think and if i should do a part 2 !!

[libsanonymous]

apple music targeted attack

[cherrycolazwr]

julien baker's music is like heroin

[chiltern100]

[littlist-oblivion]

JULIEN BAKER PLAYED REJOICE AND I WASNT THERE GUYS IM NOT OK

[lilimonarch]

Overthinking the Injury - Haikyu!! Oneshot

WC: ~4452

Yaku has been overthinking a little too much lately. His fencing performance has not been to par and he needs to redeem himself if they have any hope of qualifying for nationals. He has his strategies planned out and everything is going to according to plan! Well... until he hears a cracking sound on the strip and realizes it's from his ankle.

Or

Yaku sprains his ankle at a fencing meet but decides to keep going anyways.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56901724

~

Yaku has been overthinking everything as of lately.

School was being more annoying than it should be, his fencing was not as good as it should be, and the Nekoma Men’s Fencing team was on a very annoying losing streak as of lately. If there is something Yaku hated more than his perfectly functional techniques not doing their job, it was losing, as a team. Of course, in preparations to hopefully break their losing streak, Nekoma was up against Nohebi Academy this weekend… with Coach Nekomata unavailable, and Kuroo was stressed.

This left the big three; Yaku, Kai, and Kuroo, in the locker room on Friday night with their captain pacing back and forth, overthinking everything almost as bad as Yaku was, at this point of the evening. “Guys what if I like… die,” Kuroo looks at his fellow third years, his squad, with a look of idiotic worry. “Who’s going to coach the second years and do all this work if I die?”

“Your vice-captain, me.” Kai sighs.

“You’re not going to die,” Yaku rolled his eyes, but deep down, anxiety was eating at him. He knew he was off his game, and if they continued this losing streak (half of which was Yaku’s fault, he swears it), he could kiss their shot at nationals goodbye. “Just don’t get injured between now and tomorrow, we beat Nohebi, and then all is right in the world.”

Kai shakes his head, locking up the room as the three of them exit and start to finally call it a night. “Yeah, we’ve just got to hold the fort down. We can last one competition without Coach. You got this, substitute coach Kuroo,” Kai gives a gentle punch at Kuroo, only feeding into Kuroo’s shenanigans.

“Damn… it sounds like I got demoted. Captain sounded way cooler!”

The three of them start to walk home, and Yaku notices his mind starting to wander. It wanders to their last meet the weekend prior against Fukurodani, losing an embarrassing 2-7, and much to everyone’s surprise, Yaku couldn’t snag a single bout. Sure, all his bouts were close, two 5-4 losses and a 5-3 loss against Bokuto, but that was terrible! He was considered one of Nekoma’s best, how did he manage to fumble all his bouts the week prior… that badly?

Practice this past week was not much better. He kept consistently losing to Kuroo, the only person who was much of a challenge on their team, and he even let Lev score two whole points on him. Lev! If Lev is even managing to score points on him, it must be a terrible practice.

It's just a slump, Yaku figures. He just needed to get his groove back and all would be right in the world. All he had to do was get it together, try a little harder, and not be the reason Nekoma did not qualify for nationals because of their regular season record.

“Yaku?”

Yaku shakes his head, and he realizes he is standing at the intersection where he is supposed to turn while the others continue forward. He was totally overthinking it all again. "Gosh, sorry guys. I must have zoned out. I’ll see y’all tomorrow,” he flashes a grin and starts to turn away but is stopped by a gentle tap on his shoulder. “What is it?”

“We got this,” Kuroo reminds him, giving a dorky thumbs up. “Nohebi? It’s lightwork. We got tomorrow in the bag.”

“Oh… right. Of course we do!”

~

This meet was far from being considered lightwork.

With Kuroo running from one end of the gym to the other to make sure all the sheets were filled out to each squad’s liking, and Kai being off making sure the blades passed weights, it left Yaku alone in his thoughts to overthink his strategies until it was time to face the Men’s Nohebi Academy Fencing team: Kuguri, Numai, and that bitch called Daishou.

Yaku stammers at the thoughts. No, be polite. It’s Kuguri, Numai, and Daishou. Just their captain.

Of course, Yaku was the first one on the strip, against the bitch.

He knew Nohebi Academy and Nekoma had their… rivalries, to put it lightly. Especially Daishou and Kuroo specifically, which extended to the rest of the main lineup. With Daishou being their captain and likely their best player, the feeling could be described as annoyed when Yaku figured he had to go first.

No matter, he’s fenced Daishou before, and beaten him. He’s got this.

The referee is about to start the clock. “On guard. Fencers ready? Fence!”

The first of many exchanges had begun and Yaku, finally, seemed to be getting his groove back. The first point was his! The second point was his! He was winning 2-0 in the first match of the day with no issues!

Maybe we do have this in the bag.

“On guard. Fencers ready? Fence!”

Out of the gate of this exchange, Daishou is practically charging at him. Yaku’s eyes widen in surprise as the sudden attack completely catches him off-guard, and Daishou scores his first point. Even beneath the mask, Yaku can vividly see the evil smirk from his opponent. Almost as if… he’s being mocked!

That bitch!

Okay… in and out. It’s just one point. We just have to go back to what we were doing before. It was working, no problem!

Yaku takes another deep breath, gets into position, and the next exchange begins. Strategic movements turn into attacks of desperation, as Daishou scores again and again. Here, the overthinking began again, because in theory, Yaku should be winning the match! He’s doing everything right and correct but Daishou can just run in and take points which should be rightfully his? Yaku was winning 2-0 before, how is he trailing 2-3 now?

“Yaku! Shake it off!” Kuroo shouted from the sidelines, Yaku nodding from underneath his helmet and banging the sides of his legs. He’s better than this, and with the way the match is going, he can’t afford to lose, especially not to Daishou.

It was eternally frustrating, watching his opponent rush in recklessly and still score those points. The worst part of it all, Yaku knew that was Daishou’s game, to bring his spirits low enough to where the bout would be lost, and he would be off his game for the rest of the match!

Daishou was taller, and would have point priority from the start, but Yaku was quicker. Sure, Daishou was good at offense, but Yaku was great at defense. All he had to do was retreat faster than Daishou could advance. All he had to do was use the open distance to hit that stupid blade and go in for the attack.

All he had to do was work a little harder.

“On guard.”

Yaku took a deep breath in, feeling the flow of his blood throughout his body, his presence anchored to the ground.

“Fencers ready?”

He extended his blade, bringing it back to position with the tip of the foil aimed for his opponent’s eye-level. He was not going to lose.

“Fence!”

As predicted, Daishou practically ran at him right out of the gate, but Yaku was prepared this time. His back foot retreated, followed by his front, repeated until he felt the space open up for him-

Crack!

It all happened too fast for Yaku to even understand what happened. One second, he was retreating on the strip, attempting to open the distance to prepare his parry-repost. The next, he had heard a crack-like noise from his left ankle before he came crumbling to the ground, his entire side hitting the gym floor with a bang.

He didn’t hear the halt! From the referee. He didn’t hear how the rest of the gym went silent. All Yaku felt was the instant throbbing in his ankle, the odd sensation not perfectly described as pain, but a numbness.

Yaku immediately went to sit up from where he was pathetically laying on the ground, going to clutch his ankle while he watched Kuroo jump up from his spot on the sidelines. “Yaku!” He shouted, rushing to his side with a spare hoodie in hand. “Don’t get up too quickly, okay? Does it hurt?”

Yaku looked up, still trying to formulate his words and compose himself after the adrenaline spike while Kuroo used the hoodie like a sling, lifting up Yaku’s ankle and elevating it as the referee neared the duo, Daishou standing at the other end of the trip with a look of almost concerned. “Do you need five minutes? We can call a medical timeout and…”

A medical timeout?

“We’ll take the five minutes,” Kuroo answered, the referee setting a clock for five minutes. While they waited for the athletic trainer to arrive, Yaku just sat there, acknowledging the growing awkward feeling in his ankle.

No, this can’t be happening! It’s just a little twist, I moved it wrong. It’s not actually sprained. Not now! Not like this!

“Yaku.”

He blinked a few times, looking up to see Kuroo lowering the makeshift sling, the medical trainer now standing between the two of them. “Hi, Yaku, let’s see what’s going on with you, okay? What happened?” She asked, and Yaku tightened his fists as he tried to form the words.

“I fell on it.”

On the inside, his brain was running a million miles an hour. He’s never needed a trainer before, he’s never missed a competition before, he’s never had to forfeit! What if he has to forfeit this match, what if he’s benched? There is nobody at his level who can replace him, they would be absolutely screwed! He could kiss their chance at nationals goodbye and it would be entirely his fault!

Oh my God, Kuroo was left in charge! The one meet where Kuroo was left in charge of the team, Yaku goes and gets injured! He’s screwed!

The trainer brought her hands to Yaku’s ankle, pressing down on an area he already felt swollen up, Yaku doing his best to suppress a wince at the awkwardness. That’s what worried him the most. It was not exactly pain; it was something else. He was not sure if not being able to feel the pain was a good thing or a bad thing. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad does it hurt?”

Seven.

“…Three?”

Again, it didn’t necessarily hurt. It was more an awkward feeling of his muscles being ripped apart on the inside, but maybe the pain was starting to set in. Yaku figured that it would be fine, he could still fence… right?

“I think you’re fine.”

Oh, thank God.

Slowly, Yaku got up on his feet, slightly staggering as he tried to stabilize his left foot again. His eyes move to the score on the strip, down 3-2. He hasn’t scored a point in over a minute. “You ready to go?” The referee asks him, ushering Kuroo back to the sides.

Yaku holds the helmet in his hands, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest and the continuing throbbing in his ankle. He looks at where Kuroo is sitting on the edge of his seat, a face of worry. Shifting his stance so his weight is balanced better, Yaku flashes a smile at his squad before turning to the director and giving them a thumbs up.

“Alright. On guard, fencers ready?”

It’s only the first bout, and Yaku hates how unsteady he feels on his feet. That being said, it was not as if he had better options. He would not be caught dead losing his only bout just to get injured.

Not yet at least.

“Fence!”

Once again, Daishou is practically charging at him with his blade far out leaving his body open. Yaku attempts to retreat once but feels this numbness start to grow, crouching down on instinct and stabbing up as Daishou does not have time to stop himself.

Two seconds and a sigh of relief later, the point is awarded to Yaku. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from outwardly wincing as he returns to the starting line of the strip, gripping his blade extra tight.

“Nice! Good job!”

“Way to go, Yaku! That’s how we do it!”

That’s the reason he did this. This sport was practically his everything… and he was plenty good at it too. The added bonus was watching that smirk wipe itself off of Daishou’s face. Yaku was back in this.

Back in it enough to win.

He wins. He watches as Daishou walks away in defeat, and the bouts continue on and Kunimi is easy enough to beat.

He wins again.

His ankle is getting worse.

Yaku keeps overthinking.

“Damn, you can’t be serious, why is it always on me?” Yaku rolls his eyes and groans at the realization that both Nekoma and Nohebi were completely tied 4-4, and the winner would be determined by this final bout; Yaku’s final bout. “Kuroo, how do you sell to Daishou? You said you were going to beat him 5-0!”

Kuroo huffs as he sits down on the bench with a huff as Kai helps Yaku hook into the machinery, sneaking worried glances while Kuroo rants about his damaged ego. “I don’t see you criticizing Kai for selling too!”

Yaku rolled his eyes, shifting his weight onto his good foot as he clipped the wires on. “Well at least he got points, Kuroo.”

“Okay… so it was bad. Just focus on your game, little guy.”

“Oh- you little…”

Kai gives Yaku a pat on the shoulder, Yaku wincing at the sudden increase of weight on him. “Are you okay?”

No.

Stop overthinking it. You’re fine.

“Yes,” Yaku forces a smile, even though his ankle is starting to kill him. “I’ll be okay.”

Yaku heads up to the strip, Nohebi’s anchor on the other end. He was taller and stronger, and a much more offensive player (as Nohebi does, Yaku can’t help he will always be a defender first). While the bout proves incredibly difficult at first, Yaku manages to get his footing with a healthy lead of 4-1.

It’s as if his past matches have come to hunt him when his ankle starts to throb.

It’s the desperation as his injury worsens to get that final point and get the hell off the strip.

Yaku will admit it later, it was a reckless first lunge forward which is the start of the change in pace. He stumbles a bit on the lunge, leaving his torso wide open for a counterattack from Numai.

Current score: 4-2.

“Shake it off! Focus!”

The next exchange begins, and Yaku is advancing further into the other side of the strip, holding his blade out in hopes of that final point. When Numai advances towards him, Yaku rushes in for an attack which is quickly parried as another hit lands in the center of his chest.

Current score: 4-3.

“Come on! Watch your distance!”

Yaku can feel the pressure building up, and the ache in his foot as he is practically limping back to the starting line of the strip. He can feel eyes looking down on him, as if he is weak.

He’s not weak. It’s just a slump.

His breath is shaky as he gets into position again, giving a nod to the referee to show that he is okay, he has to be. Once again, Yaku is rushing it, but so is Numai. The distance is closing in and the shouts of his teammates begging Yaku to get out of that battle, to reassess his options before going in again, go unheard.

The infighting continues, and Yaku is pushed down in hopes of getting a clean shot in the flurry of remises when he is aiming from a lower level. His back knee is touching the ground as Yaku desperately tries to hit something, anything to end the exchange.

Crack!

Yaku’s ankle twists the wrong way, feeling the bang as the side of his foot hits the floor.

The machine blares white, an off target from Yaku’s side.

Current score: 4-3.

Yaku shouts in agony before he falls to his knees, clenching his fists as he tries to catch his breath, the pain traveling from his foot up to his lower leg. His vision blurs from the pain as tears threaten to pour right in the middle of the strip. Yaku’s used up his only medical time out, he can’t back out now.

In the corner of his vision, he sees Kuroo jump up and call a timeout, the referee nodding before she can card him for the outburst. “Yaku, just breathe. Alright, I’m going to help you up and then we’re going to talk strategy,” Kuroo brings his hands to Yaku’s, slowly getting him back on his feet.

For the first time in ages, Yaku is genuinely doubting himself. His breath is heavy, beads of sweat are pouring down his forehead, and his hands are visibly shaking. “I’m so sorry, Kuroo,” he mutters, looking at his opponent across the strip. “I don’t think I got it.”

“Oh, shut up, you got this in the bag. Lightwork, remember?” Kuroo leans down a bit and forcibly lays his hands on each of Yaku’s shoulders, pushing weight down to stabilize him properly. “You got this. You’re the one who’s up, remember? Why the hell are you trying to force that last point when you’re winning and there’s only 15 seconds left? Especially on an injury, just play defense. Wait for him to mess up, he’s the one rushing for a point, not you.”

“Timeouts over, on guard?”

“You got this.”

Once again, Yaku is left alone on the strip.

His breath is shaking as Numai stands across the strip, getting back to where they stood before that unexpected pause. Behind the mask, Yaku watches as Numai flashes him a smile, genuine even.

Right, I’m up. I got this.

“Fencers ready?”

Play defense, Yaku. You’re good at defense, just do that.

“Fence!”

Immediately, Yaku holds his blade out, threatening a touch as he slowly retreats backwards, biting the inside of his cheek as his ankle throbs with ever step. 15… 14… 13… 12… There are only 11 seconds on the clock now as Numai cautiously tries to find the opening to tie the game.

Defense. Just play defense.

10 seconds left and Numai charges in with his blade too low. There! That’s the opportunity Yaku was waiting for! A quick tap on his blade and the tip is flying straight to the middle of Numai’s chest. The opening has never been clearer as the buzzer in the background goes off, glowing with a satisfying green.

“Touch left. Score is five to three, bout,” the referee finally lowers their hands signifying the end, and Yaku breathes a much-needed sigh of relief. Taking off his helmet, he brings it under his arm and goes to shake Numai’s hand.

They won! Losing streak? Eradicated. They won and nothing went wrong! Yaku is practically beaming as he makes it back to his teammates, but collapsing right into Kuroo’s waiting arms, his ankle absolutely doing him no favors.

Shit. Almost forgot about that part.

“Yeah, sit the hell down. We’re getting the trainer back, and you’re not getting on strip again for a while,” Kuroo sits Yaku down, Kai propping Yaku’s left leg on the rest of the bench.

“What? Kuroo, I swear I’m-” a shock of pain soars in his leg, and Yaku is immediately shut up. “But what about shaking hands? Signing scores?”

Kai shook his head, ruffling Yaku’s hair much to his dismay. “I got that. You don’t move a muscle,” the vice-captain nods before heading to the referee to do all the sportsmanlike activities while Kuroo runs to get the athletic trainer. It leaves Yaku alone to gather his thoughts, trying to take his mind off the never-ending pain in his ankle.

What if he’s out for longer because he pushed himself too hard?

What if he hadn’t, and they had lost? What if this was the deciding match before their win-loss record became too low and they were out of the running for nationals?

What if when he returns, he won’t be able to fence the same way he did before?

“Um… Yaku?”

Yaku blinks a few times before adjusting the ice on his ankle, looking around him to see the three players from Nohebi Academy surrounding him, Numai being the first to hold his hand out for a handshake which Yaku accepts. “Good game, hope the ankle is not too bad. I just came back from an injury; I know how much it sucks.”

“Yeah, thanks. Good game,” Yaku is typically the much more talkative one, but now, he can hardly muster the energy to do anything but briefly compliment his opponents and shake their hands before laying down across the bench, waiting for Kuroo to return, with Kai to keep him company.

He even shook Daishou’s hand. That really took a lot out of him.

“You really pushed yourself there, didn’t you?” Kai comments, sitting on the bench beside Yaku, taking an absentminded swig from his water bottle. Post-match fatigue was no joke, but that’s just Yaku overthinking it again. “We would’ve found someone to sub you in. I’m sure Yamamoto would’ve jumped at the idea of being on the main lineup and delivered…” he pauses. “Or were you overthinking everything again?”

Yaku’s face lifts up at the thought, glancing at Kai who had this all-knowing soft smile only someone like Kai could wear. “How did you…”

“It’s obvious. Both you and Kuroo were stressed out of your minds about this. Him more outwardly than you, but it’s pretty easy to see,” he chuckles, handing Yaku his water bottle.

“This means everything to him… and to me. I haven’t been doing the greatest at practice, I wanted to redeem myself!” Yaku sighs, bringing his hand to try and ease the pain in his ankle. “I’m usually so reliable, last week really shook me up. And now?”

“You like fencing, right?”

“Yeah! Of course!”

“Then remember that part first. It’s a sport, stop overthinking it. Sure, there are all the strategies, but you’re just a good fencer. It’ll get you out of your head,” Kai smiles, Yaku absentmindedly nodding at the advice before seeing Kuroo start to make his way back.

“Yaku! How are you doing, buddy? Hanging in there?” Kuroo jumps up from the side, the same athletic trainer from earlier arriving.

“Hanging in there is one way to put it.”

The trainer shoos the two other members of the varsity lineup to the side, repeating the same process as earlier in the day. “I want you to be honest this time when I ask if it hurts, okay?” She sighs, rather exasperated. If Yaku was not going to before, the glares from Kuroo and Kai are enough to keep him honest. The trainer moves her hands to the middle of the ankle, before Yaku immediately winces at the touch. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s pretty swollen, definitely a sprain. I’m going to wrap it up for you, and I’m sure your lovely teammates can help with your stuff and making sure you don’t put any weight on that for a while.”

Yaku feels his heart sink. No weight on it, how is he supposed to train? “Any? But…”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll make sure he stays off of it. Right, Kai?” Kuroo smiles and Kai nods, the trainer finishing the wrap and taking the ice away, giving a quick smile to the three of them before leaving them be.

“Guys, I swear I’m okay,” Yaku gives a nervous laughter, moving his foot down to the ground and attempting to get up, immediately being stopped by Kuroo.

Kuroo shakes his head, looking at how the rest of their team is doing at the meet. “No, Yaku. You’re deflecting. It’s fine, stop overthinking it. You’ll be back before you know it. If that’s not before next competition, that’s okay too. We’ll manage.”

Yaku looks at the sincere look from Kai, many nods of agreement from Kuroo, and lifts his leg back up to be elevated and lays against the bench. He brings his hand to cover his face as silent tears start to pour. “Yaku? Are you okay?” Kai asks.

“Of course I am! It’s just, the gym lights are bright. Pollen making my eyes water,” he chuckles, though the words come out in between sobs. Yaku can’t even tell why he is crying: if it’s the pain in his ankle, the constant overthinking, or everything finally settling in, and he did not actually fail his team.

He’ll be okay.

A few minutes go by and Yaku finally composes himself, sitting up and seeing the younger squad across the gym. He’s trying to get a good look at the strip, but there are too many people in the way and it’s hard to see from his current spot. “Guys, can we go watch the second year’s match?” Yaku asks, gesturing to his wrapped ankle.

Kuroo immediately grins, but instead of sling Yaku’s arms over his shoulder like expected, he goes down and swoops and Yaku up into his arms, carrying him easily. “Oh my gosh, Kuroo! What are you doing?” Yaku shouts, giving annoyed glances to both him and Kai, who is bursting with laughter on the sides.

“The trainer said no weight on it, I’m just doing my job and making sure of it,” Kuroo shrugs, carrying Yaku across the gym with Kai close behind, giggling relentlessly. “Just stop and relax. Who’s going to judge?”

Yaku huffed, but his shoulders sank, and he finally relaxed. Kuroo sat him down on the bleachers closer to where Kenma, Fukunaga, and Yamamoto were fencing. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t overthinking anything.

Maybe a break doesn’t sound too bad-

“Fuck. Guys, I think you actually have to prepare my funeral,” Kuroo exclaims slightly dramatically, curling up and covering his face. “I think I’m going to die.”

“Kuroo?” Kai turns at the captain’s antics. “What are you even talking about?”

“The one meet where Coach Nekomata leaves me in charge, our best player gets injured… and continues on an injury! On my watch! He’s going to kill me!” Kuroo shouts, groaning at the prospect.

“Yeah… shit. My bad, you’re actually screwed,” Yaku jokes, much to the annoyance of Kuroo.

“Not helping!” Kuroo huffs, leaving the other two laughing in the middle of the bout, Yaku’s smile going from ear to ear.

For real this time, maybe a break doesn’t sound too bad.

[mine-taylorsversion]

I NEED this t-shirt in my life. ITS SO JULIEN BAKER.

[windowsdownheateron]

six hour drive and Julien Baker playing in my AirPods is an evil combination

[mager31]

[moonyicons]

hii could you maybe do messy cute julien baker layouts?? :D

hi hi!! sorry this is so late

jb layouts ˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ ·

pls like and reblog if u use, tag me on twt ihrtnialler

[zestezele]

I haven't posted enough to call it a regularity, but I intended too draw at least once a week, and it's starting... not as expected XD

Some context! During the previous years, I was playing volleyball in a mixed, coachless team where, to be honest, no one knew how to play and know one was available to teach us how to do so correctly. And almost no player was trying to improve seriously. On my side, I searched online to get pieces of advice and so, I progressed, slowly. Despite the teammates being nice, I needed to find a better club to evolve.

So I asked the "biggest" club of the department (I don't know how to translate it, it's like the French administrative division between town and region ;-; ...) if I could try to play with them, and despite having many, many weaks points, I think they noticed I was listening and willing to improve, and I got to join the boys team for the departmental tournament!

Two first trainings went very well, last week. Honestly, it changes a lot, it's intense, demanding and tiring, so I was happy! Even if I'm asked to train the rudimentary skills, it's something I'm eager to do. On Monday night, we were focusing on defense. After having done 1h30 of receptions, we moved onto the block techniques. The drill was easy, we paired up, facing a teammate, the net between each pair of players. One holds the ball above his head, the other jumps, catches the ball and brings it back to his side of the court, without touching the net in the process...

One unfortunate jump, I should have made a little too much forward, and I landed on my teammate foot and double-sprained my left ankle, which means, a full Tuesday at the hospital, no drawing yesterday and no more playing for at least three weeks. XD

I don't know if I could join this team for the rest of the year, given how many trainings I'll miss ;-;

[mamaonmymind]

guess who got TICKETS TO JULIEN BAKER’S 2024 TOUR OMIGOD

[maleteenanklesprains96]

Male teens spraining ankle skateboarding

[chiltern100]

Socked injured foot (sprained ankle?).