#last night I finally got maybe 2 hours of sleep in between the nausea and shaking and stuff. and then today I was able to get a few

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some (late) holiday photos of the boye~!

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Words Unsaid

Summary: Bordeaux Pt. 2: “You know, Élodie asked me if you were single last night.” 

“Hm?” His heart stutters at this. The secret he’s held from you for a while now bubbling up with hot lava, singing the insides of his stomach.

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader

Warnings: antisemitism (not explicitly written, not from reader), talk of divorce, death of a spouse, translations given at the end, reader is French but no other descriptions are given to them

Word Count: 6.0k

A/N: Here she finally is! I hope you enjoy it! This can be read with the first part for more context or on its own. Thank you to @moony--stars for helping me with the French and to @pennyserenade for reading this over for me as well.

What had started as a relaxed game of charades, chosen specifically to surpass the language barrier between Marc and everyone else, had morphed quickly into a battle of sharp tongues and insults.

He thinks it’s political, but he’s not sure. Through the heated argument he’s managed to pick out the names of a few ministers and major contracts. 

Usually, with Steven’s help, he manages to understand quite a fair bit. But his alter’s been frustratingly stubborn on stopping the eavesdropping ever since the tense conversation Élodie had shared with you while he was playing on the ground. 

Even if he’s been abandoned by Steven, he’s still got Anaïs with him.

Exhausted from a long day at the beach and the excitement of the charades, she’s in the state between sleeping and awake, her eyes drooping heavily as she tried to follow the conversation around her and failing, in much the same way Marc is.

She’d given up quickly, and had crawled into his arms like a spider, holding onto his torso with all her arms and legs. 

Marc hadn’t been expecting to get along so well with Anaïs. He’d always assumed that he and children mixed together like oil and water. 

Yet he’d hit it off with Anaïs almost instantly. Sometimes, though he’d die than admit it, he prefers her company than that of some of the people here. 

There’s one of them, Adrien, whom he actively avoids. He’s your brother-in-law, and Marc’s tried, honest to God, to make at least some polite conversation with the guy but it’s impossible. It had been like trying to fight off nausea.

Then he tried, if not for you, for Anaïs. Tried to view Adrien as her uncle, since he’s starting to care for the girl a concerning amount. So he’d decided to help when it was Adrien’s turn to make dinner for the villa last night. 

And that lasted all of ten minutes before Marc wanted to throw the dinner set on the ground and decided instead to throw in the towel and go play Jenga with Anaïs. 

He drifts out of his thoughts and looks around the living room again, at the flushed faces around him. Their voices are starting to get loud, starting to get on his nerves. There are at least four separate conversations going on now, each overlapping over one another, twisting together like yarn. 

He tilts his head to the side and looks at the empty wine bottles on the table, wonders if everyone, including himself, has maybe had a little too much to drink. 

Anaïs shifts in his arms, restless like an ocean wave until she finds a more comfortable position and lays her head on his shoulder with a content hum. Looking now at the smooth, unbothered skin of her forehead, tinged a little pink from her insistence against wearing sunscreen, Marc can’t help but to envy the girl. 

Right now, he’d much prefer to crawl up into someone’s arms and fall right to sleep instead of whatever sort of chaos that’s happening around him. 

He wonders if she’s only chosen him because she knew that he for one wouldn’t be shouting the way Adrien is now. That really, it wasn’t that she trusted him to fall asleep on him like this, but because he was the only logical solution to her problem. 

Though he’s fairly certain that that is the case, the hours they’ve spent playing board games and wrestling until sand was caked into his hair no matter, he can’t help the implicit bitter taste it leaves in his mouth. 

Oh, Marc. Steven’s in the headspace again. Don’t think that, she adores you. 

Marc swallows down the pill of his alter’s words and it lodges at the back of his throat, stuck and persistent on not going down any further. His hand comes to rest on the girl’s back and starts to rub her comfortingly, maybe win some brownie points in his favour. 

Adrien cuts someone off for the third time, jumping away from his own conversation and to another one in at most five minutes, and he hears you suck in a frustrated breath and let it out slowly. You swallow down your words, finishing your wine, digging your thumb into the stem of the glass. 

He looks over at you now, at the mountains and valleys of your sloping profile. You’ve drunk the least out of all of them tonight. Your eyes are following the conversation, beady and focused; you’ve barely said a word since the abrupt change in conversation. 

Maybe he’s the one holding you back. 

Maybe if he wasn’t here you’d also be teetering on the edge between tipsy and drunk and yelling about things you have no control over, like politics. 

Maybe-

Adrien throws up his hands in frustration and mutters something under his breath that sounds like you’re hopeless and Marc can’t help the frustration that grows inside of him at having to look at the guy’s face, and he sighs out, softly, to not disturb Anaïs. 

Maybe this is why you moved away to London. 

The topic’s been pressing insistently in his mind for a while now, almost from the moment the two of you arrived in Bordeaux. Though he’s come to know you intimately, Marc’s not really sure of the reason why he’s come to know you in the first place.

First he was alone. 

Then you were there. 

And now Marc can’t imagine his life without you in it anymore. The time before you a hazy mess, the time after sharp and defined, crispy like the outer edge of fresh-baked bread. 

Well, Adrien could be one of the reasons why. In-laws at best were barely tolerable, and it’s clear that yours likes to balance on that border like a knife’s edge, but Marc knows it’s not a strong enough reason to uproot yourself the same way he did, plopping yourself in a foreign language with a sea of infinite variable accents. 

He has a sneaking suspicion it’s got something to do with Élodie’s frustrated reprimands from the other day, but he’s only got his gut to go by. 

A curl of frustration grows around him at being left alone in his thoughts and suspicions like this. At being abandoned by Steven, when he quite clearly understands everything going around them. 

The room suddenly goes quiet. Adrien is talking now, the multiway chitchat having stopped abruptly as his voice starts to reach the four corners of the room. The silence underneath makes his ears ring, and he latches onto it.

You fidget and take in a sharp breath, your body coming in closer to his on the couch.

He can smell you now. Your shampoo and moisturiser, the salt of the ocean and the sharp, tangy sword of wine. 

Your brother-in-law’s words seem a needle and thread as they sew a stitch into your forehead, turn down the corners of your mouth unpleasantly. Marc knows you well enough to know that there is a silent anger growing inside of you like you’re starting to enrich uranium. 

Another brief glance around the room shows shock and horror.

Marc’s about to send a half-ass threat to Steven to at least give some sort of translation when you straighten up beside him, your eyes aflame. 

“Hé!” It’s a loud shout and it makes Anaïs jolt awake, cutting Adrien off. The intensity of your gaze bores into him from the other side of the room. “Marc est juif!”

“Et alors?” he seems barely phased by your retort. 

It seems the wrong thing to say, for you scoff and mock him, muttering under your breath as you set your wine glass aside, “‘Et alors?’” You shake your head and gather your cardigan, your footsteps harsh as they go away, “T’es con!”

The air is heavy and tense around the room. Adrien is sputtering and stumbling over his words as he tries to recover from whatever you just said to him, but he’s just white noise now. 

Anaïs whines from having been woken up so suddenly and Élodie tsks, getting up, “Bon chérie, allons au lit.” She gathers her up and away from Marc and thanks him. She kisses her daughter’s head and quickly moves out the room as if it were filled with mustard gas. 

The moment they’re gone, Marc starts to miss her warmth. The feeling is so intense that, in combination with all the strange almost-glances he’s getting from around the room, it makes him stand up and go away. 

For the first time since arriving, he wonders if maybe it was a mistake to take you up on your offer. If he’s the reason for all the tension in the house now, the reason why your sister snapped at you and the reason why you snapped back at her a couple afternoons ago. 

He wanders aimlessly around the house, his only companion other than you getting put to bed at the moment. 

He finds himself on the back porch and lets himself enjoy the cool breeze running up from the ocean and into the leaves of the tree, the shade of which he’s fallen asleep in on many a hot afternoon to wake up to you and some of your friends drinking on the wooden porch together, laughing. 

He likes the image of you laughing so easily, your head tilted back and your chin tilted up. If he were more talented, he would have brought it out of marble with a convincing hand. Down to the last detail. The delicate gold necklace around your neck. The golden hoops in your ears that he’s never seen you without. 

A harsher breeze brushes past him like a thistle and he comes back to himself. 

There’s a restlessness inside of him that refuses to quiet and an ugly dissatisfaction settles in his legs. He goes back inside, this time set on finding you to see if you would explain to him what had happened, what your brother-in-law had done to make you so mad and almost ruin the vacation. 

He finds you on the balcony, half-heartedly eating a popsicle, your head leaned forward like it does when you’re deep in thought, your feet propped up on a chair in front of you, crossed at the ankles. 

“Hey,” he tries to say it softly but it still makes you jump.

“Oh…hello.” You straighten up considerably. 

“Mind if I-” Marc’s shy suddenly. Though he’s been living in the same house as you for almost a week now, he’s barely spent any time with you alone, the way the two of you usually do back in London. He swallows thickly and digs his nails into his palms, “Mind if I sit?” 

You hum in agreement and gather your legs up so he can settle in the chair across from you. 

Without thinking about it, he reaches forward and brings your feet into his lap. Your nails are painted red, the same colour as your hands, the polish faintly chipped from the ocean and the sand. 

The night air is humid and cool. It smells of saltwater and sunscreen and your perfume. The orange of your popsicle. 

You hold it out for him, “Want the remaining?” 

Though he could go without, he leans and takes it from you, if only to be closer to you. 

The flavour is synthetic, the sweetening harsh. It tastes the way your niece’s breath smells after meals. 

A sticky drop rolls down to his wrist and he licks it away. His other hand comes to rest on top of your foot. 

It seems he gives you the confidence to start talking, “I’m sorry about Adrien, I thought he would be…” you wave your hand around as you try to sort out your thoughts, place them neatly beside each other in English. “...more intelligent than that.” 

He shrugs, biting off a piece of the popsicle and sending a jolt of electricity from his teeth straight into his head. Steven curses out and calls him an idiot but he ignores him, “No need to apologise, I didn’t understand him.” 

“Not important,” you push back, that same fire starting to come back in your eyes, but much more tamed, and less direct. “He said bad things about you.” 

“Was it political?” 

You nod, frowning as you try to search for the proper word, “It was…was…” Sighing you give up, “It was antisémite.” 

Something inside of him falls at the word but he pushes through it, “It’s the same in English: antisemitic.” He wonders if Steven was listening when it was said, how he’s feeling about it now. 

You repeat the word, murmuring under your breath to add it to your vocabulary. In the sweet honey of your voice it loses close to all the negative connotations it usually holds for Marc. 

“I apologise,” you say regardless. “It was not good for him to say, no matter if you comprehended or not.” 

“It’s alright. You shouldn’t be apologising for what he said.” 

“Someone has to.” There’s guilt laced into your eyes. He can easily read it even if he can hardly make out your face save for the major contours in the low light spilling onto the balcony from the hallway. 

His hand trails forward and he holds onto your ankle comfortingly, “I don’t associate Adrien with you.” 

You hum, still deep in thought. 

Marc swallows and decides to leave it at that. For a brief moment he thinks about what else Steven has heard and has been keeping away from him, absorbing the blow of behind-the-back insults spoken clearly and deliberately under the guise of his supposed inability to speak French.

When he finishes the popsicle, he bites into the wood and bends it. 

“I understand…if you’d like to go back to London,” you speak suddenly. “I can leave too.” 

He entertains the thought for a minute, going back home, back to the sacred routine you two shared together. 

Lunch on Tuesdays. 

Brunch on Sundays. 

Late Saturday night movie showings, when it was just the two of you and he could steal handfuls of your popcorn and make you pout. When he’d buy you cotton candy afterwards to make up for it, cotton candy you regardless shared with him, simply because he’d bought it for you. 

The idea seems enticing. 

He misses you, that much he can admit. 

He’s barely seen you and usually when you talk with him it’s about trivial things. Asking about the name of the sushi place you went to together a few months before that had quickly become your favourite, if he wanted more wine or water, if he could help you set up the deck chairs. 

But in London he’s never seen you in your swimsuit, your face bare of any makeup, your hair loose and free. In London you’re constantly weighed down by the burden of a second language and work pants and blouses. 

Though he understands close to nothing of what you say, he’s come to appreciate truly how intelligent you are, your quick-witted retorts and your easy laughs. 

He also greatly appreciates your interactions with your niece, how much Anaïs enjoys spending time with you, coming into your room with picture books and falling asleep with you in the lazy afternoon sun. 

The images in his mind tug at something inside his chest, and he shakes his head, “That’s alright. I like it here.” 

“You do, really?” 

He nods, gives you an easy smile, “Of course. I needed a break from the city.” 

You exhale an easy breath, “It’s only Adrien that is the problem. The rest of them, they’re good…not…antisemitic.” You test out the word, the pronunciation perfect, the emphasis stumbling onto the fifth syllable instead of the fourth. 

Marc doesn’t correct you, though you insist on him doing so. He rathers you not learn a word like that. He rathers it not be reinforced as part of your vocabulary because of repeated use. 

He instead probes gently at the question plaguing him, trying to ask it without asking it, “Is that why you moved? Because of Adrien?” He anglicises your brother-in-law’s name deliberately, and revels when you don’t correct him, a bruise ringing out in pain as he thinks back to the argument in the living room. 

“Hm?” you laugh softly and shake your head. “Well, not just because of him. But he is stupid…and annoying.” 

“Is that what you said to him?” there’s a stitch in his heart that melts away as you laugh and your voice warms up towards him. “‘Con’. Is that what that means?” 

The corner of your mouth turns up mischievously, “More or less. It’s a good insult, you should speak it more.” 

“Okay,” he grins at you. “Okay, I will. Next time I run into him I’ll be sure to use it.” 

You giggle at his words delightedly, and stretch your hands above your head before a thought runs across your face and sours the mood. “Élodie will not be happy at me,” you groan and sink down into your chair.  

“Oh?” With both hands he starts to smooth up and down your calves. A selfish part of him delights at this information, that you’ve gotten yourself into trouble with your sister because of him. He rubs in it like a cat on concrete. 

You nod and look at him again, “Adrien and me, we never seen with the same eyes .” 

Frowning, he tries to make sense of your words, before laughing, “See eye to eye, you mean?” His bad mood has all but lifted now that he’s beside you and alone, the bitter taste gone from his mouth. Your old dynamic with him is starting to show again. 

“See eye to eye, that’s what I said.” 

He looks at you drolly, “No…you said you two don’t see with the same eyes.” 

“Same meaning!” you protest and roll your eyes playfully. “Besides, it sounds better when I say it like that.” 

Marc leans back in his chair and laughs easily. He wants to tease a little bit more, tell you that your English has definitely gotten worse over the past few days but he finds he doesn’t even mean it in a teasing way. 

You converse so easily in your native tongue. It makes him want to start taking lessons so he can talk with you, so he doesn’t hold the upper hand he does in your conversations together. 

Again, he wonders why you decided to move away. Away from your sister and your niece, your dickhead excuse of a brother-in-law. 

He’d hoped that this vacation would have helped him get to know you better, but you remain the enigma you’ve always been. He feels there’s a gaping hole in the image he’s created of you. He knows of the trivial things, and some non-trivial ones. 

You invited him over one weekend and he helped you make strawberry jam. Standing over boiling fruit and sugar you opened up to him, as he washed and cut the fruit, when you talked about your childhood, your parents and your sister. 

He was content with what you gave him. He returned much the same to you and he appreciates that you don’t try to stick your hands through the holes of his stories, why there’s the constant presence of his brother until suddenly it disappears, why memories of his mother are abruptly cut short at that time as well. 

But there’s a certain friction between you and your friends and family here in Bordeaux. It’s subliminal but the effect is still ever-present. In Élodie it manifests as some tough, older sisterly love. In everyone else, it morphs into quasi-resentment. 

And despite all his best intentions, he wants to know what it is. He’s not sure why he can’t let this rest, why he isn’t satisfied with the friendship you offer to him so selflessly. 

He’s murmuring your name before he’s had time to think it through. You look at him with a soft smile, softer than the blankets on your bed, he hates himself for what he’s going to do next, “Why did you move to London?” 

“What do you want to say?” The softness is fading into a hard defensiveness. Like the cornstarch and water experiment he did as a kid in a Chicago public school he’s long forgotten the name of. 

He goes suddenly shy at this, and he looks down at his lap, at your feet in his lap. The crash and sighs of the ocean behind him are a comforting white noise he enjoys listening to, as opposed to the argumentative chatter from earlier. 

With a shrug he tries to elaborate, “Well, you’d built a whole life here. There are people who care for you. I just…” with a deep breath he looks back up at you, at the wrinkles in your brow like the linen of the matching sets you’re partial to in Bordeaux. “Forget I said anything, hm? I think I’m drunk.” 

You tilt your head to the side, quite clearly neither letting it go or forgetting. He’d hoped it would have been both. “Marc, I don’t understand.” 

His hand is warm and soothing over your skin, he feels it is almost pleading with you. “It’s not you,” he waves his free hand around and tries to find a way to make it sound that he’s not breaking up with you. The alcohol having loosened the hinge of his jaw, he starts to ramble, “It’s not, really. It’s…I was being foolish, hm? What was it you said earlier? Con? I was being con, that’s all.” 

The last bit makes him wince. Steven would have pronounced it much better. Marc’s only gone and made a fool out of himself. 

“Why I left France, you mean?” you’ve barely noticed his nerves, eyes hazy as you look at him, almost through him. 

“Really, we don’t need to-” 

You don’t start to talk for a few, long minutes, but Marc’s stopped talking.

After a humid pause, you start to speak, “I…I wanted to go away. There was much going on in my life.” 

“Your sister misses you,” he says quietly, and regrets it almost immediately.

You laugh, a breeze running through your cardigan, “Of course she does. She was very persevering to stop me from going.” 

“Anaïs does too.” 

“Both of you manage quite well together, no?” 

His heart warms at the mention of your niece. Today, he’d played with her in the ocean for close to three hours. Had carried her in his arms until they reached the soft, warm sand and splashed around with her like two little ducks. He’d let her rub wet sand into his hair and his cheeks and his chest. She’d let him do it back to her and had burst out into a bouquet of giggles and the sounds had gone straight to Marc’s soul. 

He washed the sand off the both of them in the ocean, had held her underneath her arms and ran with her across the shoreline as she cried out in joy, her feet dragging through the water, so he kept going. He kept running to the point where a painful stitch started to form in his side. 

Once they were both considerably tired, he’d laid out a towel on the ground to let them dry off. Then she’d shown him the clapping games she plays at her daycare, singing along in words that Marc didn’t understand as her palm hit his over and over again. Her voice was soft like petals, slightly breathy and shy but gaining confidence the way a plant grows underneath the sun. 

“You’re her favourite now,” your smile is sweet. If he allows himself to read into it a little more, there’s an undercurrent of satisfaction, maybe even some smugness, “She doesn’t like her uncle Adrien nearly as much.” 

Marc is glad that it is dark enough that he doesn’t have to school his features into indifference. There’s a swooping seagull inside his stomach, it twists and bends and runs its wing in the clear waters of the ocean. 

Steven’s rings out in the headspace again, yet another smug, I told you so. 

Marc sometimes wonders if you would get along with Steven. If you would cherish your friendship with him the way he does yours. 

His alter is eager to meet you. On his best days, he’s always nagging about it and Marc always quips back that you’re still working at understanding English accents. Steven argues back that he wouldn’t even have to talk to you in English like Marc does, and that between the two of them he’s the more qualified one to be talking with you. 

That usually shuts the conversation up harshly. 

He’s considered introducing the two of you, and every time his fears get the better of him. Fear that one day a preference will grow inside of you like a weed and Marc will have to get shunned into a corner after having gotten a whole bellyful of your undivided attention. 

“Anaïs is a lovely girl,” he says, pulling himself out of his thoughts again. “I-I don’t really…get along with children well.”

“Really?” 

Marc is surprised to hear that you’re surprised. 

“Is-is that…” 

“You always seemed to me very good with kids.” 

He makes an embarrassed sound and looks down at his shorts, picks at some lint as his left eye closes in disagreement and uncomfort. “I don’t know about that.” 

He feels your eyes on him and he doesn’t look up. 

You change the subject again, which is strange because you usually push more on things like this. Times when he’s prone to brushing off kind words like dust off windowsills. First with the pad of his finger, then all at once with his palm, letting the dust pill up into uncomfortable little pellets that he’ll wash away with water and dishwasher soap to rid himself of the feeling.

“I got an email about a new play they’re showing.” 

The words are so familiar to him he may as well be on his lunch break with you, walking around London streets crowded underneath your plaid umbrella, your scarf a deep teal that compliments the colour of your hair. 

“Hm? What’s it called?” 

You shrug, lifting your chin at an angle as you try to think of the answer before giving up, “It was interesting. Should we go?” 

“When’s the showtimes?” 

“Next week, Saturday and Sunday.” 

He pretends to think about though he was already going to get tickets from your first mention of the show. “Alright, that’s sorted then, Saturday evening.” 

“What’s the idiomatic expression Americans say? It’s a date?” 

He nods, “It’s a date.” 

“But it’s not just for dates, is it?” 

He tells you that it’s not. “But try to avoid using it outside of it,” Marc finds he’s the most at ease when he’s talking to you about language. There’s very little ambiguity to it from his end, and if there is he usually can find the answer with a quick search. “It can cause confusion.” 

“So it’s not a date,” you tease back at him, bringing your knees into your chest. He misses your warmth and longs for it back, the lingering footprints of your touch against him a defiant testament against his wary mind. “You know, Élodie asked me if you were single last night.” 

“Hm?” His heart stutters at this. The secret he’s held from you for a while now bubbling up with hot lava, singing the insides of his stomach. You nod to set your words into stone, and he sighs trying to push through the panic wrapped around his lungs, “And what did you tell her?” 

You shrug, pick at a scab on your knee that you don’t know where from or when it came. “I said I thought you were.” 

“Why-” he tries to steady himself. “Why’d she care?” 

You shrug again. Marc leans forward and stops you from breaking skin again to let the scratch heal over without any setbacks. Your hand is both soft and rough. The saltwater’s been working away at it like sandpaper and he wonders if you’ve brought your hand cream with you or not. The one that smells like lilacs. 

“She likes to matchmake. Marie likes you, I think.” 

Marc’s embarrassed to realise that he doesn’t know who exactly Marie is. “I’m not…looking to date right now.” 

“Alright,” the word lies between your two chairs on the scratchy concrete. “I’ll tell her.” 

“Thanks.” He feels he should say something more, something along the lines of Marie being a great girl. Something that says he’s just busy with work at the moment, even if it would be a lie because he hasn’t clocked in overtime for close to a year now, the anniversary of your friendship looming up ahead in close to a month’s time. 

He swallows and tries to move through the cotton in his mouth, but you beat him to it. 

Marc should have read you well enough to know by the arch of your right eyebrow that you weren’t done with the subject. 

“I’ve never met any of your girlfriends.” 

Your persistence on this subject is like a thorn, but he answers you with the half-truth anyways, “That’s because I haven’t had any since we met.” 

You pause, but continue on, “Boyfriends, then.” 

He shakes his head, “No one. I haven’t dated anyone, not since we’ve become friends at least.” 

It’s clear you think he’s lying. You’re frowning and running your tongue over your bottom front teeth so that your lip juts out unnaturally.

He thinks about it for a moment and he feels like adding on that he isn’t lying about this thing, since he’s spending close to every prime date time with you. You’ve permeated his every free time like ivy. He’s turned his back on you and you’ve crawled up the walls and around the windows, filling in the spaces between his ribs inside his chest. 

For fear of more half-truths and quasi-lies eating away at the foundation of your relationship, he decides it’s time that you learn the truth about him. It’d been foolish of him to think that he could remain friends with you forever without you becoming curious as to his aversion to dating, his constant free time on the weekends, his eagerness to accept each and every suggestion you pose to him. 

“I-uh,” had he not drunk so much this evening, he thinks maybe he’d be more hesitant to say this to you. But it flows out of his mouth like sunshine from the sky and Marc for yet another time comes to learn how comfortable he’s become in your presence. “I’m divorced.” 

There’s a silence but Marc doesn’t know what to make of it. The night seems to have grown darker, the waning crescent in the sky not casting enough light for him to be able to pick cues from your body like flowers in a field. And even then, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you in such a situation for him to be able to recognise any familiar signs. 

“What was their name?” Your voice is soft, softer than he usually hears it. 

“Layla,” it comforts him a hair, through the pounding heart that’s ringing against his chest like a hammer, that her name doesn’t bring him any more pain. Right now, the greatest concern on his mind is losing the relationship he shares with you. “It’s been around a year and a half now.” 

“You miss her.” Your hands come to wrap around your knee and you let your other leg hang over the edge of the chair. Marc knows when you get up, there’s going to be indents of the wicker pattern in your skin like a shoreline. 

Though he can’t tell much, it comforts him that you’re only getting comfortable and not leaving. 

“I’ve gotten better.” 

He’s not sure he’s ever going to stop missing Layla, but he feels he stopped loving her for a while before they walked into that lawyer’s office together. He wonders if that’s going to make any sense to you, if he puts it like that. You must think missing someone means you love them as well. 

How does he explain to you the ten years he spent with her? The undeniable mark she’s left on his skin and the pieces of her hair he kept finding in his stuff as he unpacked and tried to settle into his new apartment. 

Maybe a little childishly, he turns the spotlight back on you, “I’ve never met any of your partners.” 

“I’ve never had any, since we met.” 

The words ring in familiarity through his mind. 

Something inside of him tells him that maybe you’ll understand the difference between longing and loving more than most would. He’d given up on Dr. Foster as a therapist because of that. 

He can’t help but chuckle at the similarities between your circumstances, as the true nature of the ease and comfort in your friendship is starting to get revealed to him like a new butterfly breaking free of its cocoon, its wings still crumpled and not ready for use. 

The heat of your breath falls over his legs and ruffles the edges of his shorts, “You asked why I moved to London…I was married once too.” Your hand runs through your hair and your leg is placed by the other, your feet on the cool concrete. Marc takes off his sandals and does the same. “He died. Five years ago. I moved because…well…” 

Finally you give a little shrug. 

The secrets the both of you have shared together rest on top of each other as would a precarious stack of books. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His words sound meaningless but he’s at a loss for what to say otherwise. He wonders what it was like for you, these past years when he didn’t know you. At least occasionally he gets to see Layla, hear her voice over coffee and meet the new girl she’s been seeing. 

“It’s alright,” you say it with a well-practiced ease. “It was a long time ago.” 

“Do you…” 

“Very much,” there’s a gentle pause and then you continue softly. “But I am like you, I’ve gotten better.” 

Everything seems to fall into place now, with low, quiet clicks. 

Why he’s gotten better, why you’ve gotten better. 

Why every single time he could have taken up Layla’s offer to get set-up with someone he’s instead made plans with you. 

Why every single Friday evening, you were free for a movie, or a play, or a concert or just had opened your door to him with Chinese in his hand and talked with him until the early hours of the morning over lo mein and egg rolls. 

There was a loneliness in you and was reflected in him. There was something inside you that seeked him out. And it’s been enough. For close to a year it’s been enough. It explains the familiar ease with which you and him share your time together. 

“So…” you continue in an easy voice. There’s a laugh hiding behind the corner. “You’re not seeing anyone?” 

“No,” his laughter comes so easily that it surprises him. “Not anyone at the moment. And I’m not looking to either.” 

The words you say next seem to hold a strange meaning for Marc, that he’s scared doesn’t actually belong there but he hears it anyways, “Me also, I’m not looking to.” 

From below, the ocean crashes like its kneading bread dough with itself, as if it’s the first time it’s happened, as if it’s done this for an eternity and will continue to as long as the Earth spins, as long as the sun shines, as long as you laugh and smile.

For the ocean, five years means nothing. The ocean understands what Marc feels for Layla, what you feel for your husband, what you feel for him, what he feels for you. It understands more than what Marc understands of himself. 

It understands from eternity to here. 

It understands from here to eternity. 

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here.

Translations:

Marc est juif! - Marc is Jewish!

Et alors? - So?

T’es con! - You're an asshole!

[hellfirexhoe]

Death of Me - Chapter 2: Polaroids & Sonograms

Chapter 2 | Series Masterlist

2.4k words

Warnings: 18+ content, minors you are not welcome here. Difficult pregnancy, vomiting, injury detail, hurt/comfort, smut.

Taglist: @haylaansmi​ @hellomothermoon​ @tlclick73​ @fieldofsecretss​ @likedovesinthewnd​ @xxlilyxx90​ @bebe0701​ @dotslabyrinth​ @e0509​ @steamystrangerfics​ @zeedramallama​ @alana4610​ @tyelikesbees​ @elyssa-writes​ @wheaty-melon​ @thegirlwhohides​ @mxcheese​ @witchofhawkins​ @munsonsgirl71​ @sammararaven​ @joejoequinnquinn​

Pregnancy sucked. Everyone was so keen to harp on about the miracle of life, and pregnancy glow, and how it’s just such a magical time. But for you it had been what felt like hours of the day spent with your clammy forehead against the porcelain of your toilet.

The grief you felt also served to exacerbate your symptoms. You struggled to sleep most nights, and when you finally could fall asleep your pregnancy hormones treated you to horrifically vivid dreams, until you were screaming yourself awake. When your nausea was abated for a moment you would see something that would remind you of Chrissy or Eddie and straight away you'd be head first into a toilet.

So no, definitely not a magical time. You wondered if it would have felt different if you could have had Eddie beside you on the cold floor of your bathroom, rubbing your back as you heaved, cracking jokes about you sporting a bump under the cheerleader uniform. You imagined that your ultrasounds would not be so anxiety inducing if you could watch Eddie's face looking at the screen, you assumed he'd have been beyond terrified, like you, but that the terror would lessen as your pregnancy progressed. You wished Chrissy could have been waiting for you after the first scan, excited to see 'Baby Munson', her obviously having claimed the title of aunt the second you told her you were expecting.

Instead, you're isolated. Your family seem unable to relate to the position you're in, not able to understand your steadfast refusal to admit that Eddie could have had anything to do with the murders. You could tell they were trying, in their own ways, but it was falling short in every way.

Downstairs you hear the doorbell chime, you’re home alone and not expecting any guests so you quickly rinse your mouth and splash cold water on your face after peeling your limbs off the bathroom floor.

“We could shave his head?” Robin’s head is tilted as she looks at Eddie in his hospital bed.

“That might actually be the most sensible suggestion I’ve heard.” Steve tilts his head in the same direction as Robin’s, considering the idea in earnest.

Dustin glances between Steve and Robin from Eddie’s bedside,

“Yeah, no. He’d kill you.”

“Okay, Dustin. What’s your plan for disguising the fact that this is Eddie Munson?” Steve gestures to Eddie, still unconscious.

“They haven’t noticed yet!”

“Yeah because they’re still absolutely baffled as to how ‘John Doe’ here is actually alive. When that sense of wonderment goes don’t you think they will think ‘Gee this John Doe sure does look like that murdering cult leader’?”

“What about a hat?”

“A hat?!” Steve’s eyebrows raise incredulously. “No, I’m sorry, we’ve got to shave his head.”

 “Touch... my fuckin... hair... I’ll kill you.” Rasped words escape Eddie’s lips, his voice cracking from lack of use.

Wayne Munson was standing on your doorstep, a photo album in his hands, a black duffel bag over his shoulder.

“Hey kid,”

“Hi Wayne.” Your lip trembles a bit, holding back tears at the memory of the last time you saw Wayne.

“I’ve, I’ve got some of Eddie’s things here. I thought, thought maybe you’d want some of it. I had to grab some stuff before I got turfed out.” Tears now spill freely from your eyes and you step aside, bidding Wayne into the house.

Wayne stands uncomfortably in your living room, you gesture to a seat, you go to sit but an idea comes to mind, a small gesture that might make the day less painful for Wayne.

“I’ll be right back, please sit.”

You run upstairs to grab the envelope on your desk, unopened since you first brought it home.

“I’ve got something to show you.” You call as you head back downstairs, handing Wayne the envelope as soon as you are standing before him. He opens it slowly, confused as to what you could possibly be showing him. He gently tips the contents out and smiles once he recognizes what you’ve handed him. He brings it closer to his face and gives a small laugh,

“Oh, that’s a Munson nose right there. You’re going to have your hands full that’s for sure.”

You crack a teary smile at this, “I was afraid you’d tell me that.” Wayne places the sonogram back into the envelope carefully, and passes it back to you, before lifting the photo album onto his knees from beside him.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any sonograms of Eddie, but I do have some photos of him when he was younger. I thought maybe you’d like to see?” Wayne looks at you, giving you a chance to decline seeing the photos, before he opens the album. You nod, shuffling closer to see the photos better, drawing your knees  to your chest, a small smile forms on your lips as you see the first photo.

Baby Eddie was gorgeous. Big toothless smiles that reach big brown eyes, a chubby fist grasping a lock of curly strawberry blonde hair belonging to the woman holding him.

“That’s Eddie’s mom?” Wayne nods,

“Lovely isn’t she? Always much too good for the likes of my brother.” The page is turned to another photo, Eddie being held by someone you can identify by the resemblance between their faces.

“Oh. Oh wow.” 

“Twins aren’t they?” You nod, it’s eerie - aside from the hair style being a buzzcut, the man in the photo could have easily passed for Eddie. You and Wayne go through the whole album together, a comfortable silence between you, broken occasionally by laughter at photos of Eddie as a child with chocolate smeared all over his face, another of him sitting on Wayne’s shoulders, tugging his hair as his father stands beside them, the grimace on Wayne’s face no doubt from the absolute iron grip that Eddie has on his hair.

“Henderson, c’mere.” Eddie’s voice still rasped, despite Steve getting him water. Dustin approached, leaning down to hear Eddie better.

“Did you... give Wayne... my necklace like I asked you to before?” Dustin nods,

“Eddie... you shouldn’t have got me to do that... I shouldn’t have told him you were dead, not if you weren’t.”

“No... no it’s fine. Not gonna stick around anyway. Better if they all think I’m gone. You did good.”

Dustin wants to refute this but Eddie drifts back off, no doubt a result of the pain relief given to him once he awoke. 

With Wayne gone you take the duffel bag up to your bedroom, unzipping it with shaking hands. A silver tin is resting on top of gently folded shirts, Wayne had mentioned this with some discomfort, saying he had dropped it while packing and it had opened but he swears he didn’t look at the contents. Curious, you pop the lid and roll your eyes,

“Oh you fucking pervert Eddie...” Inside the tin are polaroids. Some definitely not meant to be seen by others. You knew Eddie had taken the photos, you just never gave it much thought to whether he was keeping them or destroying them. Evidently he’d kept them.

You shuffle through some of the more explicit ones, ones that make you blush. While a majority are just filthy photos of you looking fucked out, or Eddie's ringed fingers clasped around your throat, there’s are sweet ones peppered throughout. Your favourite is one you’d seen only once after it was taken...

“Alright lovebirds, scoot a little closer but leave room for Jesus or whatever.” Wayne is holding the camera awkwardly, having been shown by Eddie at least three times which button to press. Eddie pulls you close by your waist, leaving absolutely no room for ‘jesus or whatever’, you laugh at this just as the flash goes off.

“Wayne! We weren’t ready!” Wayne is already shaking the picture that has come out, Eddie hops up to take a look as it develops and you see his face light up when it does. He pats his uncle on the back and thanks him.

“Right well now that I’m done playing cameraman, I’m off to work. Eddie, please make sure you get this lovely lady home before her parents send out a search party.” Wayne grabs his lunchbox and his jacket and leaves with a wave to both of you.

“Do I not get to see the photo?”

“Hmmm, that depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you’re going to be nice to me.” You laugh, its a laugh Eddie describes often as dangerous.

“No fucking chance.”

“Well, that’s not the answer I was looking for but it is the answer that gets me hard so sure, here you go.”

Eddie hands you the photo, you understand why he lit up the second he saw it, his arms are around you tight, smiling down at you while you look up at him, laughing, joy evident on your face. Shit, you look like you’re in love.

With you distracted for a second, Eddie scoops you up over his shoulder and carries you off into his bedroom, both of you giggling like idiots.

Door still open, he drops you down on the bed and is on top of you within milliseconds, lips capturing yours, staining his with red. Eddie kisses like he's suffocating, like you're the only oxygen available in the room. Ironic that it leaves you both breathless and panting when you come away from each other. You glance down and see Eddie has managed to unbutton the blouse you'd worn,

"When did this happen?"

"You're extremely easy to distract." Eddie replies with a cheeky grin, you laugh at how ridiculous he looks with your lipstick smeared around his mouth,

"Such a pretty boy." You tease, cooing at him, and he laughs back,

"Careful, I'll steal your look and devastate you when I look better." 

"You wish you could look as hot as me." 

Eddie sits up and pulls you onto his lap, pushing your blouse down your shoulders peppering your your newly exposed skin with kisses that stain your skin.

"So fucking beautiful," Eddie whispers to himself, but not quietly enough because you hear it. You glance at the clock behind him and groan. 

"Eddie, my curfew is in 30 minutes." 

"Noooooo." Eddie pouts, ever since you parents had found out you were dating your curfews had actually been imposed for the first time in your life. 

"Think you can be quick?" You ask mischievously, Eddie bites his lip as he calculates,

"Ass up princess." He's unbuttoning his belt and shoving his jeans and boxers down his thighs, sheathing himself inside you the second you're in position, shoving your underwear to the side and flipping up your skirt, setting a relentless pace that knocks the air from your lungs,

"Shit! What's gotten into you?" You manage to gasp out as Eddie slams into you relentlessly.

"You said I had to be quick." He answers as casually as if you'd asked him where the milk was. 

You can barely breathe, thinking is definitely out of the equation, all you can focus on is how good Eddie feels stretching you out, how the grip he has on your hips is bordering on divine pain, how fucking hot his grunts are as he pounds you into the bed, never slowing as you get closer until finally you're crying out in ecstasy while Eddie grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you so your back is flush with his chest as he finishes inside you. 

"Good little slut." He whispers before planting a kiss on the sensitive spot just below your ear. Eddie pulls out slowly, smirking when he sees the mess beneath you on his sheets.

"So messy." He watches as your cheeks flush when you see the mess.

"Fuck off. That was your fault entirely." You pant out, readjusting your clothes, Eddie laughs, and pulls you in for another kiss,

"You sure you don't want to stay?" 

"And sleep in the wet patch because I know full well you won't change these sheets? Pass. Also, you know, my parents might actually kill you." Eddie sighs dramatically as he fixes his trousers and allows you to pull him by the hand out of the trailer to take you home.

“Eddie, get back into bed.” This was rapidly becoming the most uttered phrase in Eddie’s room over the last 2 days since he’d woken up. He was still unsteady on his feet, the first time he’d fallen over and reopened the biggest wound on his hip, but that stopped him for all of 15 minutes while he was redressed.

“The hell did you bring me here for? You don’t think the police will be looking in hospitals?!” Eddie’s hands are scrabbling at the cannula in his hand, Robin grabs his hands before he can remove it,

“I am not mopping up your blood again. Just, sit. down.” Robin and Steve push him back gently into sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Stop talking and just listen for a second. Eddie, you were dying. Do you understand? If we didn’t bring you here you would have died. You needed blood transfusions, wound debridement, shit you nearly needed skin grafts, you tried to die on the table when we got you here.”

“Does Henderson know? How bad it got?” Eddie is horrified at the thought of all that happening to him with Dustin watching. He already felt sick knowing that Dustin had found him in the upside down the way he did, and that he’d been hurt trying to save him.

“No, Nancy kept him out of the room. Robin and I were there though, so don’t act like we were stupid to bring you here. You have no idea how lucky you got.” Steve’s voice is shaking, trying not to shout at Eddie.

“We’re going to get you out of here as soon as we can. But for now, you need to be quiet, and calm and don’t draw any attention to yourself. They’re still working off you being a John Doe that Steve found in the aftermath of the earthquake.” Robin steps in, trying to be the voice of reason, and amazingly it works. Eddie calms down a little, agreeing with them that maybe going on the run with barely healed wounds to his torso might not be the smartest idea.

[mean-hare]

august and september parts of my eddiary, as shitty as always but I need to put these notes somewhere so let it be here

part 4

august, 1 i had a lot of energy and almost no appetite. i cleaned my room, rearranged toys, watched movies, and even talked with danny. unusually good day

august, 2 i cant find my fav cheap and tasty 0kcal cola-like soda. now i should spend my money on more expensive cola to drown my inner self in it

august, 3 actually i spend money my mom give me. i have no job and maybe never will have. i am too nervous, too mad, too inacurate and too depressed for it. all days long i only draw shit, watch movies and go to market to spend money on junk foodd to harm my body or to throw up and on drinks to replace food with them. sometimes i buy toys or stickers but most of time theyre way too expencive

august, 4 i watched stupid comedy film with lot of stereotypic cliches and draw danny in various clothes and poses. i dont think ill show him, it looks like he dont want to talk with me again. our friendship may lookunhealthy but the only guy who blame and harm me there is me myself

august, 5 i woke up after 1hour long sleep, i used to sleep in late morning hours but today i couldnt. me and my mom arrived by the bus to the beregszasz town. its pretty close to the hungarian border and many people there talk in hungarian. i love it i dont really remember what i ate but not too much i think. i was feeden by emotions of homelike language. and also i wanted an energy drink all the time and finally got it

august, 6 days in town were and will be full of eating like a human being i think. i try to feel myself alright and try tasty meals in cafe. i love cafes. palacsintas, waffles, icecream, milkshakes, pizza. i walk with fluffy doggy bagpack, i have notebook and water in it. this child just need to have fun

august, 7 my mom realised how much energy drinx i drink per day and she doesnt like it

august, 8 i walked alone aimlessly down the hot towns streets with a can in my hand. streets was empty most of time. just one grumpy man called me an animal while walked in opposite direction. i donk know what he meant by that. and some granny said to me "its so hot, eh". i draw ppls attention to myself involuntary, as always

august, 9 wow much zero coke i drank here! there was a market with the cheapest cola cans i ever saw in past 3 years

august, 10 i just hope that many hours of intense sweating and headbanging to breakcore in headphones while sitting in hurrying bus back to a city burns a lot of calories but i cant stop it anyways

august, 11 still not enough sleep, overwhelmed by all the information i wanted to consume (pointless but interesting) few minutes ago, gnawed by a loneliness online and offline, all this shit led me to (obviously!) very stupid binge

august, 12 lived this day not better nor worse, just average boring

august, 13 hey you. they created a big pack of chips for a big merry company, not for lonely asshole with eating problems like you

august, 14 corpsey greenish moon gazing thru the night haze, pale as pus, menacing like in dying

august, 15 i walked down to the market to buy cheap icecream and cheap cola. bazaar near it was closed due to evening hours and there were no people on the ways between the iron and concrete walls. somehow liminal

august, 16 things went not perfect but better that could be. i decided to spend last money on energy drink instead of bag of cornflakes

august, 17 i started my day with nausea because of sound of fucking drills (my mysophonic panic), found and ate some pain killers, burned my mouth with spicy junk dinner and pointlessly fooled around my room till morning affected by another bunch of cola and energy drink

august, 18 i bought a pink plastic horse. brutal metalhead in toyshop looks hilarious. brutal metalhead who buys pink horsey looks very hilarious. i saw this toy almost year ago and i couldnt forget here sinse then. that mare looks special. most toys has neutral faces or slight calm smile on them. but that sassy gal had really bitchy moody face with grinned teeth. and finally i got her and feel no regrets. at least i knew what i want.

august, 19 i was at first time in little village house my dad bought for himself. it was simple boring house with almost no furniture beyond the kitchen and i think it never will be interesting because my dad loves stupid boring monochroom minimalistic design with wooden details. parents, sister and their friend went to a backyard to roast sausages. i dont eat meat so all the time i read library book or played with lil green car toy i found in this house

august, 20 you know who am i? i am a person who dont look like one who has an ed. i am a boy who look like a girl. am i? i trust the liars and suspect when people tell me the truth. im looking like cool adult with interesting life but im still that ugly child who feels itself the worst way posiible everyday.

august, 21 im into gabber music sometimes and i think it would be fun to learn hakken dance. i also want to dance tectonic, c walk, lezginka and csardas. but i dont know how to and dont think i can do in. i like dancing sometimes. but my body often feels to heavy and clumsy to move

august, 22 i failed. but at least i tried. but how i failed!

august, 23 parents leaved this city before ukrainian independence day because they thought that russia will throw much more bombs here and my mom was afraid. i stay because i dont want to go with them and better spend time here with movies and tumblr than in their boring little village with them for 2 days long. so i chilled all day along with few liters of caff drinx and little annoying kitten

august, 24 it was another chilling day alone. i bought some drinx again (but one l less than yesterday bc i a little nauseous of already consumed caffeine), i even find a little purple cheap pony toy and bought it. today was really more air alarms than other days but as i know nobody was killed (i may be wrong, i dont watch news)

august, 25 this normal late night i was ready to drowse with john frusciante songs in cold laptop light but suddenly i saw some movement on my bed. i saw one tiny TIC. i dont afraid insects but the tics. they are the main reason why i almost never walk in the forest. today i even didnt go anywhere but this little shit somehow appeared here. i took a piece of paper, kill and throw into a sink. im shocked

august, 26 i had one little job of redacting one little text. (i cant even call it freelance job, it was more like accident job) anyway i got some little money and spent it all on a toy. beautiful blue plastic toy dog. and unique rare (in this country) energy drink in beautiful 500ml can. im so glad, i smiled like an idiot all day. so cute doggyyyyy…. but now i have no money and no food

august, 27 my mom was concerned that i eat nothing but the junkfood. well i dont find other food tasty and dont want to choke on awfull tasting meal. parents went to the bazaar while i sleep (before 3 pm) and bought the boring fruits and disgusting vegs. now kitchen stinks because of beefroot

august, 28 i buyed pepsi black, cheap blue erergy drink bottle and some little wafers. when i went back some 12yo(i guess) teens laughed at me because i had an "emo" pin. i am probably the only emo in this city, its kinda sad

august, 29 my dear friend danny despise and rejects me. im going to starve myself to death

august, 30 i will never be ready for the cruel words from the last person i love. i cant stay sane after that.

august, 31 i watched the famous film "pianist". theres a melody the main character plays, chopins nocturn do diez minor or something like that. i cried because danny loves this melody. just because of that. stared with teary eyes at the screen, then tears went dry, i forgot about everything and watched that movie. and at the end he played that nocturn again. and i cried again, i couldnt stop, i cried till the end of the movie, cried after the end, cried painfully endlessly and was disgusted by my reaction. i watched a beautiful and sad film about loss and real suffering completely tearless but cried like an idiot just because of that damned melody just because my cruel friend loves it.

part 5

september, 1 sadness, yearning and envy driving me bad, my thin body will be a product of pain and limbo

september, 2 my dad is sick and stay at this house. i dont leave my room mostly. i dont want to be in same room with him. not that he is so bad, most of ppl considers him as good man. he just exhaust me without knowing it, we like a different species that cant live together without problems

september, 3 autumn is always fast in this city and september started with cold weather as always. i took a long walk. i love long walks when its cold and dusky, i just need money to buy something at the middle and end of my way. it makes me confident. i walked near the park that everybody call "a forest", i walked near abandoned shacks that once were paychecks, i swinged on wet swings and i felt better than yesterday (tbh i cant remember how i felt yesterday). i found a market near the "forest" there were many foreign items. i bought few cans of drinks and realised that only one had calories. i also boulgt a clipper. i dont smoke, i just love flame and that clipper was cool, black, with skull and "love dead" written under it. thats so relevant and relitable shit for me, even that funny mistake is symbolical

september, 4 i cant concentrate on reading, on every thing, everything is blurry, my head isnt working right, my stomach is hurting all day

september, 5 successfully restricted. i found the place where hobos live. theres some concrete blocks near the school and small church. i bought few drinx and sat on blocks to chill and drink one of them (one with watermelon taste) and then i hear harsh voise underneath these blocks: "fucking teens! get the fuck out from here!!"

september, 6 i saw so perfect boy working in the market. how thin he was and how delicate. i bought few cool zero cal drinks: barr soda with icecrem taste, cola, foreign cherry lemonade. i saw him once, he is cashier there, his name is volodimir and thats all i know about him. he reminds me lead singer of emo band marakesh, he doesnt looks alt at all but he is thin like an anorexic emoboy. i like him not judt because of it, he isnt just another thinspo stranger. i think about him constantly. i feelin like i love him and its stupid, very stupid. i dont know him and i dont think id talk with him someday, i am too bad for people, unatractive. and i dont talk. i am silent always.

september, 7 i only drank some dairy and took random quizes on idrlabs. almost all of them told me that i have mental problem

september, 8 i went to the market with my dad. it was wery strange, liminal experience. there were not many items and almost no people around. it was 9:30 pm. of course i binged (first time this week) but it was not the worst of my binges, and i throwed up some of it. perhabs it was tiring. my back hurts now.

september, 9 ate the rest of snacks and cokes and feelin really shit

september, 10 every day is so same, timewasting, tumblr and movies, day after day and times goes by so senseless, and what should i do, what else can i do? you are lucky if you have friends, if you have someone to spend some time with.

september, 11 its something like an instinct of bear. i bought sweet and greasy food but ate only bag of chips and 4 cookies. soon i felt asleep in unusual early hours, 10 pm or something like that, just lied under blanket in sweater and socks and jeans, i didnt take my clothes off. im feeling cold everyday and sleepy

september, 12 i drank low cal milk and black tea. then i ate jogurt with plums. and again milk. 900 kcals i started this dusky day with movies, not really good ones. then i just browsing aimlessly. talked with my friend danny. thought that he maybe loves me despite some of some of his earlier very mean messages, today he was kind. i send him pic of hobo who lays on concrete under the blanket and hugs his dog and wrote "we?". he answered "we". i said ":3". he also said ":3 i want to sleep more

september, 13 i wanted to eat nothing today but then i wanted to eat something and its bad. only good thing is my mom learned how to make low fat fries

september, 14 i woke up and ate homemade cookies and i even dont know their kcal values then i fall asleep. then i woke up and only drank tea and watched boring movie. im ill, i cant think

september, 15 good things: i restricted i found funny gypsy song about weed danny said something fummy to me (i forget what) i watched "the boys" bad things: i feel shit every minute my memory is getting worse and i forget everything (i forget)

september, 16 im sick. im cold. im coughing. im always irritated. every fuckin day i wake up in sweat, eat too much, feel like a shit and almost dead

september, 17 warm homemaid plain food, milk with honey, hot tea. common things. i probably loosing many calories when coughing that hard. it feels like someones heavy boots strongly kicking my ribcage

september, 18 spicy chips was the only food i didnt regret after consuming it. surprisingly it made my sore throat less sore for some time and made the pain weaker. but other food was ugly mistake, used again to fill that permanently rotting void, all in vain

september, 19 today after piglike eating i understood that every time i try to eat vegan it ends up with massive gross binge. maybe veganism is not an option for person who hate every vegan food option but few fruits that cant make body full

september, 20 mmy belly scrached by all the claws of mine, painted in shiny dark color. i will never be normal or alright, i kmiw it well.

september, 21 i am eaten by sorrow. i am gnawed by grief. why dont you understand me, dont you mind. why dont you listening to me?

september, 22 i wasnt in my room all day from 11 am til 9 pm. it started with a sound of drill and i leave the house bc i cant stand yhe sound of drill. it was there all that time so i couldnt back. i bought cheap bottle of blue energy drink in local market and went to auchan. it located at the very city edge. i walked familiar path thru the field when suddenly there appears the huge fuck. the fucking giant bog spot. it took me half of hour to find my way through. but i did it and i came to the market with boots full of mud and singing the cotton head joe i needed to waste more time so i walked many shops with toys, books, decor art supplies and other. then i spent some money for diet cheap cream soda, energy drinks, some little sweets, black nail polish and spicy chips. i sat at the 1 floor, ate chips and read book from library about pianist with heterohromia. then i walked down the trace down the one of the longest streets in this city. my backpack was heavy because of few litres of drinks, books and notebooks and ome other unknown items. i walked near the bus station where were many people and fat mongrels wanted to sniff me. then i walked in unknown part of the road, lost behind plattenbauen. there were bricks and trees and weird wet trees (today every plant was wet) and cat. i saw one very ugly and attractive buildind, i cant explain why it makes me like that. it looked like theres livevery marginalized and wrathful people and it looked like it slightly burned some time ago. i am obsessed with this one now. i walked those unknown beutiful decaying post soviet streets sometimes stopped to take photos and drink and the sky became darker and more gray. the sky became dark evening. and it started to rain, the downpur. i still walked that longest streets but i turned to its more popular and lighted part and waited for the bus at the buss stop. i was a little tired by the weight of my bag, i could walk some more but i didnt really liked the idea to wear wet clothes when 5 km far from my room. so i returned by the bus. when i walked last few metres to my house i quickly became wet and rain was pouring the rest of the day and all night long

september, 23 another boredom shopping and boredom eating, nothing new. my legs still hurt after yesterday i talked with one guy online about my yesterday walk and i searched that fucked building in google maps and found it. i also tried to find some information about it or at least photos but found nothing but the ad about selling room and private massage salon that may be no longer exist. i started feel paranoic feeling that theres something hiddden there. i thought that someones hides it, maybe to cover places that may be considered by strangers as repulsing, ugly, revolting, to show only fine, good or at least ok=ish places of the city. some may show some good buildungs in bad state with "the dark side of the city" and "scary and dangerous places in lviv" but it will still be something pop and plain and known. i feel that many dont know and dont find and some are hide.i feel that theres something tremedous in That building, something that should be found and shown, something that hidden by someones. i still feel that. well, i can be right or it can be just my paranoia or delusion.

september, 24 too many liquid calories.but also activities to burn it. i was in the countryside today where my grandfather live. i was climbing trees, picking fav sour apples, stinged by nettle, gathering wallnuts, shivering at cold autumn evening. some new bruises on my knees, it feels like a childhood

september, 25 i talk with danny, my last friend. i know that he is not really good friend but i have no one by my side. he is the only person who makes me feel loved even if in rare. sometimes he kind. sometimes he tries to understand what im sayin, sometimes he tries to be a good friend. i still love him. anyway i am much worse friend than him

september, 26 very gross binge on healthy food 1

september, 27 very gross binge on healthy food 2. fuck the healthy food

september, 28 i saw my almost naked body in the mirror at night when went to the bathroom. i was shocked by how ugly i am. i dont want to see it again. now i dont take my clothes, i sleep in jeans and sweater. i didnt wash myself for few weeks because seeing this body naked is really awfull and i cant stand it. i know its gross but i dont even contact with people so who cares. i hide my body from myself under clothes, i avoid looking in the mirrors and reflections. i dont want to see this body, i dont wwant myself.

september, 29 i dont remember what i ate thru tis day, but not too much i think. kitten ronald felt from the window. my mom ran down and pick he up. he is scared and meows painfully sometimes cus he broke his leg. he will be taken to the vet.

september, 30 average day. average restriction, average food intake bc theres so much normal food. average time killing. i dont feel good, nor bad. i dont feel…i dont care about anything, just nothin

[wanderingandfound]

Yesterday the headache and nausea got so bad that I ended up taking a nap maybe 5ish to 7ish PM? Which isn't exactly prime naptime. Especially when you went to bed at 10 but fell asleep around 2:30–3:00. ("Went to bed" like I haven't been stuck here for a fucking month. You know what I mean. Brushed my teeth, took my thyroid medication, used my BiPAP for the first time in weeks.)

Anyways, I didn't fall asleep last night until like 3:30ish, my alarm went off like normal at 7:15ish (clock runs fast and I haven't reset it since before the time-change). I emailed in to work yet again (and asked for my timesheet to be emailed so that I could fill that out and ugh do not want to manage the printer at home like this) and went back to sleep. Got a call at 8:44 from the pharmaceutical company that I should have just ignored but I woke up and answered it (and yeah the wake-up medicine has data of my COVID and soon my back pain as side effects of their medicine) and then afterwards even through my eyes really ache I couldn't put my phone down and go to sleep.

Finally got some more sleep between around 10:44 and 11:33 and in that span of less than an hour I woke up multiple times trembling. Like I do when I get too little sleep and too little food. But I was TRYING TO FIX THE TOO LITTLE SLEEP.

Hate bodies. Hate hate hate.

[bibbawrites]

Surprise! - Dad!Owen x Pregnant!Female Reader

Request: NONE

Word Count: 2133 words

Summary: Part 2 of the Dad!Owen series, you reveal to your friends and family that you’re having a baby

Warnings: swearing

A/N: okay here we go, telling your friends and family that you’re pregnant!  as i said in a post the other day, i didnt realise that on survey monkey you could only see 40 results for free so the baby name survey had to end, but if you didnt get a chance to vote and would like to please let me know and i can set up an alternate way to vote :) without further ado, i hope you enjoy! 

Charlie:

The first person who ended up finding out about your pregnancy was Charlie. You had meant to tell your families first, before anyone else, but things didn’t work out as planned.

It was three days after you had found out, and you and Owen were still buzzing. Charlie had been eyeing the two of you suspiciously the last few days, but didn’t call you out on your oddly happy behaviour until that night.

The boys had come home from set, only filming for a couple of hours to re-shoot a scene that needed changing slightly, and you decided to surprise them with pizza from all three of your favourite pizza place. Owen always texted you when they left set, so you knew exactly when to order the pizza to have it arrive just as the boys did.

And your timing was perfect, the pizza arriving almost in unison with your boyfriend and his best friend.

“Y/N, we’re home! You ordered pizza?” Owen called, and you left your bedroom to head to the kitchen, smiling at the boys.

“Figured you could use a treat after filming. Plus I didn’t feel like cooking, so...” You grinned, wrapping your arms around Owen, who lent down to kiss you gently, his hand resting on your stomach for a brief moment before he pulled away, not wanting Charlie to get any more suspicious.

You and Owen headed over to the table where Charlie had placed the pizza and sat down, waiting for Charlie, who had gone to grab drinks.

“Do you want your wine Y/N?” Charlie questioned, placing a beer on the table for himself and one for Owen. You shook your head.

“No thanks, I’m good.” You replied.

“But you love wine with your pizza.” Charlie frowned.

“Not tonight, thanks.” You said, hoping that he would give up.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked. You nodded.

“Yeah I am.” You told him, picking up a slice of pizza and exchanging a look with Owen, silently begging him to step in.

“She’s got this... thing.” Owen chimed in lamely. Charlie frowned again, before a realisation hit him.

“Holy fuck, you’re pregnant.” He exclaimed. Your eyes widened. Owen choked on his beer.

“What? Why would you think that?” Your voice was slightly shaky.

“You always have wine with pizza, no matter what. And that would explain why you two have been so nauseatingly happy the last couple of days.” Charlie reasoned. You glanced at Owen.

“You can’t tell anyone.” You said after a moment. Charlie’s smile widened.

“So you are pregnant?” He asked, and you nodded. He cheered.

“I’m gonna be an uncle!” You giggled at his excited reaction, watching as he hugged Owen happily, and then rushed around the table to throw his arms around you.

He pulled away, placing a hand on your stomach hesitantly. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“I can’t believe there’s a baby in there.” He said softly, kneeling down next to your chair. Owen copied, kneeling down on the other side.

“Right?” Owen’s voice was just as quiet. “My little girl.”

“We don’t know if it’s a girl Owen.” You reminded him. He shook his head.

“I just know it. There’s no way she’s not a girl.” He replied, and you rolled your eyes slightly.

“Can we go back to eating the pizza now?” You said, and the boys agreed, standing up and sitting back in their chairs.

And with that, the first person knew.

Savannah:

The second person to find out was Savannah. You had been pretty sick, dealing with morning sickness, so Savannah decided what you needed was a little bit of retail therapy. 

Which is how you found yourself trailing behind your best friend as she dragged you from store to store. And everything had been going perfectly fine, until you passed a smoked meat store, and the smell set off your nausea. 

“Sav, I think I’m gonna be sick.” You warned, and she reacted quickly, rushing you into the nearby bathrooms and holding your hair back as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. 

Once you were done you leant back against the wall of the stall, not even caring that you were sat on the floor of a public toilet. Savannah offered you her water bottle and you took it gratefully, swishing the water around your mouth before spitting it into the bowl and flushing the toilet. 

“Are you okay? You’ve been pretty sick and I’m kinda getting worried about you.” Savannah questioned. You paused for a moment, before deciding how to respond. Hopefully Owen wouldn’t mind another person knowing your secret. 

“I’m pregnant.” You admitted quietly, not wanting anyone in another stall to overhear. Savannah gasped, throwing her arms around your neck. You hugged her back gently. 

“This is amazing Y/N.” She exclaimed. “I can’t believe I’m gonna be an aunty!” 

“You can’t tell anyone yet, other than Owen only Charlie knows.” You told her as she let you go. She nodded quickly. 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” She promised. You grinned, letting her pull you off the floor. 

“Now, can we go look at baby clothes?” Savannah questioned once you were both on your feet. You smiled happily. 

“Of course we can.” You agreed, linking your arm through hers as you headed out of the toilets, so excited that you had another person who you could talk about baby things with. 

Owen’s Mum/Family:

Next was Owen’s mum, who had come to visit for a few days. You had thought of a brilliant way to tell her, after hearing how much she enjoyed building with nano blocks. 

You had gone out before Owen had arrived home from the airport with his mum, and you had picked out the perfect present, wrapping it nicely. 

Finally the time came to give her the parcel, as she sat across from you and Owen in the living room later that night. 

Owen handed her the box, the card you had written on to clarify the situation grasped firmly in his hand as he waited anxiously, his foot tapping.

His mother ripped off the wrapping paper, finding a box of large lego blocks, the kind designed for babies and small children. She looked up, confused, and Owen held out the card.

“Read it out loud.” You prompted.

She took the card, opening the envelope and pulling it out, before opening it up.

“I can’t wait to build with you. Lots of love, your future granddaughter or grandson.” She read out. She gasped, looking between the two of you.

“Are you having a baby?” She questioned. You and Owen nodded. Her hand covered her mouth as she began to cry.

“I'm gonna be an Oma?” She asked, as Owen got up from his spot next to you to go hug his mother.

“You can be whatever you want to be called.” He replied. His mother smiled tearily, holding an arm out for you to join the hug. You grinned, sitting down on her other side and letting her pull you into the hug.

“Can I tell the rest of the family?” She asked, still in the hug.

“Maybe don’t tell everyone yet, cause we’re only 10 weeks, but you can tell Dad and Luka, and everyone else I guess. Just no extended family.” Owen replied.

“Okay I can do that. Congratulations, both of you.” She said, and you both thanked her in quiet voices. 

She stood up, grabbing the box of lego and the card. 

“I’m off to bed if I can manage to sleep. Tomorrow we’re going nursery furniture shopping.” She told you, and before either of you could protest she was gone. 

“Well that went well.” You giggled and Owen nodded in agreement. 

“Three down, only a few more to go.” He said. You made a noise in agreement, snuggling into his side to watch a movie, and you fell asleep with his hands resting gently on your stomach.

Your Family:

Next to learn about the baby was your family. To tell them you had sent them a parcel, with the instructions to call you on facetime before opening it.

You, Owen and Charlie were curled up on the couch, Owen’s head resting just below your stomach and Charlie’s head in your lap, when your phone rang, signifying you had an incoming facetime.

Owen sat up and picked up your phone, handing it to you before curling into your side, and you smiled when you saw it was your mum calling.

“I assume they got the box then.” You spoke before answering, your mum, dad and big brother appearing on the screen.

“Hi guys!” You greeted. “Got the parcel?”

“We did, can we open it now?” Your mum questioned. Charlie glanced at you.

“Want me to leave?” He asked quietly, and both you and Owen shook your heads.

“You can stay.” Owen said softly. You turned your attention back to your family.

“Okay, open it.” You instructed, and your dad ripped the box open, pulling out four smaller boxes, one for each of them and a fourth, which was one of the positive pregnancy tests.

“One at a time?” Your mum suggested and you shook your head.

“Same time, or it will ruin the surprise.”

You watched as they ripped into the boxes, each pulling out a t-shirt.

“Promoted to Nanna?” Your mum read out, a confused look on her face.

“Mine says promoted to Poppy.” Your dad said. You grinned, waiting for the penny to drop.

“Oh shit, you’re not.” Your brother realised, and you laughed.

“Open the last box.”

“How have they not gotten it?” Charlie questioned under his breath, and Owen giggled at the comment.

Your mum pulled the pregnancy test out and gasped, finally realising.

“You’re having a baby!” She exclaimed.

“Surprise!” You laughed.

“When?” Your dad asked.

“Not for a while now, I’m only 11 weeks.”

“Congratulations!” Your mum smiled happily. 

You returned her smile and after a few more minutes explaining, you said your goodbyes and hung up. 

“Now it’s only the cast.” You said, and Owen nodded, repositioning himself so that his head rested next to Charlie’s in your lap. Charlie unpaused the movie you had been watching and you rested your head on the couch. 

This whole thing was getting very real. 

The Cast - Jeremy, Madi, Carolynn, Jadah and Kenny

Finally the time came to tell the cast.

“So, what do you guys think about having a baby around on set?” You questioned casually. Carolynn gasped and Jeremy shot her a concerned look.

“Babies are pretty loud.” Madi replied.

“Yeah, they probably wouldn’t be good to have when you have to be quiet on set.” Jadah agreed. You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. You met Carolynn’s eyes and she gave you an excited look. You nodded slightly and she squealed, ignoring the weird looks she was getting from Jeremy.

“Why are we talking about babies?” Kenny questioned, sitting back down.

“Y/N asked about babies being on set.” Jadah told him.

“As in working babies or?” Kenny asked and you shook your head.

“Just babies in general.” Owen chimed in.

“Wait...” Madi spoke up, realisation slowly appearing on her face. “Are you pregnant?”

You grinned sheepishly, taking a sip of your drink. The table erupted in noise, everyone excitedly talking over each other, asking all sorts of questions.

“Oh my god shut up.” Charlie yelled over the noise, and the table went quiet. “One at a time.”

“How far along are you?” Carolynn asked.

“12 weeks yesterday.” You replied.

“How long have you known?” Jadah was next to ask her question.

“About 6 weeks.” Owen answered for you. “We wanted to wait a bit.”

“I knew the whole time.” Charlie boasted.

“Only because you live with us and there’s no way we would have been able to hide it from you.” You told him.

“When do you find out if it’s a boy or a girl?” Madi asked.

“She’s a girl.” Owen said. You groaned.

“Stop saying that. We don’t know yet and we won’t know for a little while, but Mr Psychic here seems to be convinced that it’s a girl.” You sighed slightly. 

“I just know it.” Owen said with a huff. 

“Any more questions?” You asked quickly, before he could get sulky. 

“I have one, do you know what a condom is?” Jeremy joked. Madi and Jadah gasped, both hitting his arm.

“We are children.” Jadah reminded him. You laughed.

“Yes.” You answered simply. Jeremy laughed. 

“Fair enough then.” 

You sat back and listened as the conversation moved into baby names, with everyone throwing out suggestions. 

You smiled softly, placing a hand on your stomach. Somehow this had become your life, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

[xsarcasticwriterx]

Wonderwall-part 5

Summary: Steve get closer to you the more your pregnancy advances and tony tries to keep his distance as he come to realize his feeling

Pairing: Tony stark x reader x Bucky barnes, some stucky x reader

Warnings: swearing, alcohol , some minor angsty angst, 

Notes: Ok i really like wonderwall right now so i'm going to update this more frequently (i say and watch i suddenly just hit a wall for this story)

Wonderwall masterlist

It had been a month since your ultrasound and tony had been so distant but steve had been very close with you and bucky. if bucky was away he was everywhere you were caring for your every move. Bucky appreciated it  and loved seeing you and his best friend so close.

You currently were laying in bed with steve watching a movie. your head was on his stomach and he was playing with your hair. you two were eating chips and really only half watching it as yall kept joking around. 

Bucky was on a mission so steve has been caring for you these past few days. “you feeling ok?” steve asked and you chuckled “for the tenth time yes i promise i'm ok” you said tilting your head looking up at him. he smiled down at you and booped your nose. you laughed and smiled “just checking you've been silent for a while” steve said going back to playing with your hair.

“I was just thinking how nice its been being with you” you said reaching up and stroking his cheek. he smiled softly down at you. he cleared his throat “uh y/n-” steve started to say but the bedroom door opened. “oh hey steve figured you'd be in here” bucky said walking in “hey babe” you said. bucky walked over and kissed your forehead and gave steve a side hug.

steve's head landed on bucky's chest as he kept messing with your hair. “heard you've been taking care of her these past few days” bucky said. “he's been a perfect gentleman” you said with a small giggle. bucky laughed and out his stuff down sliding next to steve. you laying on both of them your legs on steves lap and head on bucky's.

“Tony said he's planning a party to celebrate our return” bucky mentions. you turn your head at the mention of tony. He had been avoiding you recently. Anytime you came near him or tried to speak to him he ran off in the other direction or suddenly had things to do. 

“tony spoke to you?” you asked. bucky knew how tony was avoiding you more so because he was also avoiding bucky. “nope he told nat and also told her to tell me something about him being too busy planning to do it himself. i don't know” bucky said with a shrug

“he still avoiding you two?” steve asked and you and buck replied with a simple nod. you were hurt by it, he had started this vow of silence to you since you had told him your past. you started to wonder if maybe he saw you were too broken. did he even want to be in the baby's life anymore? you sighed before shaking your head “lets go tony cant avoid me there” you said sitting up. 

“sweetheart honey you can barely spend an hour without puking or getting nauseas at least” bucky said stroking your hair “ill be fine. were going no if ands or buts about it” you said huffing and standing up. you walked to your closest and steve turned to bucky “there's no point in trying to change her mind” steve said and they both chuckled. you found a dress and set it up on the door handle. “now what time is it at?” you asked with a small clap. 

bucky gave a small laugh before speaking. He knew that he had no choice but him and steve would be on your tail the whole time making sure your ok. “9pm” bucky said. you gave a small nod looking at the clock which said 5pm in glowing letters. only 4 hours then tony has to speak to you.

at 8:00 you walked into the large bathroom attached to your room.stripping down you looked in the mirror touching your small stomach bump. you were close to the 2 month mark and your stomach was starting to prove that. you walked into the shower letting the warm water wash over you. you closed your eyes relishing in the warmth. you soon felt arms wrap around your waist, one human one metal. letting your head rest on bucky's chest he gave an approving groan before reaching for a bottle of soap and washing your hair. “how are you feeling today?” bucky asked massaging your scalp “mmm good steves been so much help and such a great friend when your away its nice” you said with a small smile. 

Steve was almost always around you and bucky. Anything you needed he got you any help you needed he helped. whenever you got sick he kept your hair out of your face. he’d always help you wash up after. he cared for you when your emotions got too prominent and took control. he kept you still doing small exercises and even researched what you should do when you got self conscious of all the weight you were gaining. He slept in your bed holding you close on days bucky was gone and you couldn't sleep. He cared for you, more than you or bucky knew. 

This isn't just for you though, he spent every moment not with you with bucky. they researched on the baby together things to do once their born how to be a good parent. They even tested how to make baby bottles even thought you had almost 7 months to go before the baby was born. you often walked into the room to find the two boys joking around, laughing. There was the one time you walked in on them slow dancing together to music from the 40′s. They said it was from the last dance they had gone to. You of course recorded it and kept it no matter how much they begged you to delete it. Steve cared for you two and would put his life on the line for you two even if it meant it'd be the end for him.

You stepped out of the shower and bucky followed after wrapping you in a towel. “steve is great isn't he” bucky said with a soft smile. “yea” you replied with a soft smile of your own but also a smirk. you looked at bucky's soft reaction to hearing your approval of steve. how his eyes glistened in happiness and a small smile stayed pressed on his face.

When bucky had first showed up at the compound the connection him and steve had lead you to believe they were together. One night you asked steve and he gave a small laugh before telling you otherwise. Not long after you started seeing bucky. You were honestly shocked nothing was going on between them and nothing had ever gone on. The chemistry they had was unbelievable and the sparks was as if someone was trying to start a fire.

Thou bucky had also thought you had a thing for bucky when he returned into steves life. The way you two smiled and laughed with one another. He saw it as a couple, he was never jealous just happy his best friend finally found someone. That was till you asked him out and he was confused. That lead to you telling him how you thought him and steve were together.

You slipped into your nice dark blue dress. you and bucky walked into the loud living room at 9:00 seeing everyone dancing and drinking. steve spotted you two immediately running over. “hey you two” he said with a large smile. “have you seen tony?” you asked. steve pointed to the bar where you saw tony drunkenly flirting with two girls. rolling your eyes you strolled on over leaving the two boys together.

 “shes gonna beat his ass if she has two isn't she?” steve asked and bucky patted his shoulder “that's our girl” bucky said before walking into the group chatting with other, That remark ‘our girl’ caused steve to chug down the rest of his strong drink. He wanted more no needed more but he really didn't want to enter the warzone known at you and tony.

You grabbed tony's jacket shoving him against the bar. the girl ran off in fear and tony put his hands up in surrender. you slapped him across the face before grabbing his jacket again “listen here stark your not getting away anymore ok. not happening nope. now your going to tell me why your avoiding me or ill keep slapping you till you do” you said pulling him forward and slamming him against the bar again. 

Steve had walked over to natasha stealing her drinking downing it too. “jesus what's up with you?” she asked seeing her tipsy friend. “thor you have any asgardian alcohol on you?” steve asked. thor nervously handed his friend a small shot of it. steve immediately downed it feeling the tingly sensation down his body “them” was all steve said “both of them” he said dropping his head onto the table. they immediately got it “so you finally admit it huh?” nat asked rubbin steves back steve lifted his head “you knew?” he asked. and thor laughed “of course we knew everyone did except tony,y/n, and bucky obviously” thor said. steve groaned and rubbed his face “what do i do?” he asked. nat patted his shoulder “tell them dumbass” and with that steve asked for another shot from thor.

You were still interrogating tony “I told you i cant say”  he replied and was hit with another slap. at this point his face was numb. “Bucky will slaughter me if i do and ill never be able to see my baby” he said tears brimming his eyes. “tony just tell me i wont let that happen” you said releasing your grip on him. “i cant” he said. you slapped him once more. tears fell “tony” you huffed out. he looked at you before rolling his eyes shaking his head “i'm in love you” he said tears flooding out, and with that he walked off. you felt your whole body freeze. you sat on the couch in the corner.

bucky walked over sitting next to you “you get your answer?” he asked. you cleared your throat trying to act natural “uh no no he would say i dont know” you said with a shrug. bucky groaned kissing your temple before walking back to the people. about an hour later a drunk steve plopped next to you. “heeeeeey” he slurred. you laughed before replying “hi stevie” you said ruffling his hair. it had grown out a little sense he'd been so busy caring for you he never had the time to cut it but honestly you thought he looked nice with it a little longer. “your so prettyyyyyyyyy” he said falling into your lap. you laughed and smiled down at him “your pretty too” you replied. steve pouted and you were confused but also adored it, he looked like a sad puppy. “what wrong stevie?” you asked rubbing his torso

“I have an issue” he said squirming and groaning. “what is it?” you asked tilting your head “i am in love with your boyfriend” he said. you laughed a little leaving steve confused. “I know” you replied. “huh?” he asked sitting up. “well yea i mean i knew” you said with a shrug “is that it?” you asked and he shook his head “i love you too” he said his head falling back. “me?” you asked with a small smile. “yes youuuuuu i am in love with 2 of the most perfect people and they love each other” he said slurring. “wait” he said looking at you “your not mad.” he stated. you laughed “no stevie a little shocked you love me? sure but i knew you love bucky always have and its not like you can control who you love” you said with a  shrug. “look tomorrow when your sober tell bucky just trust me. tell him. ill deal with him after” you replied. steve fell into your lap again.

once he was asleep you gave a small smile to him “i love you too stevie” you sai combing through his hair. bucky walked up to you “he asleep?” he asked. you nodded with a small smile. bucky lifted steve bridal style starting to walk to steve's room “where are you going?” you asked. bucky looked at you dumbfounded “to put him in his room” he said confused. “come on” you said entering you and bucky's room. bucky shrugged walking in, he layed steve down and he immediately curled into a pillow. “why here?” he asked. you gave a small shrug and smile “cause he has something to tell you tomorrow” you said leaving bucky confused.  Of course you still had no clue on what to do about tonys confession but that was another problem for another day. maybe one where bucky wont slaughter tony for it.

Tag list

@vicmc624 @mylifeispainandiloveit @frostay​

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 19: Prinxiety/Loceit (pt 3)

Part 1

Part 2 

Part 3 is here, with a little added something thrown in! Hope you enjoy!

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 19 - Everyone is born with a compass on their wrist, the needle of the compass points towards your soulmate. 

Trigger/content warnings!! Dissociation, PTSD, talk of conversion therapy and aftereffects/internalized homophobia, food mentions, nausea, anxiety/panic attack, unintentionally skipping meals, emetophobia/vomiting, pulling hair (does that count as self harm?).

Word count: 5k 

He barely remembered the hospital. It was all just a blur of doctors and police officers and more sleep than he’d gotten in weeks. After the first night of twitching in the dark confines of his hospital room and waking up screaming from nightmares the few brief seconds his consciousness faded, he was given sleeping pills, and the rest of the visit was quickly forgotten. The clearest part of the two week stay was near the end, when he was deemed physically well enough to give a statement to his social worker and a policeman, describing his ‘therapy’ and his life at the foster home, which quickly dissolved into a panic attack. They had enough though, and he was left with a sick satisfaction that they weren’t getting away with what they’d done to him. 

They’d lied to him. They had told him the system agreed with what they were doing, allowing it, condoning it. At first, he’d refused to believe them, because that made no sense. But they took his only form of contact, didn’t allow him to leave the house except for therapy, and his eventual addition of medication far too strong for him made him paranoid. Maybe he didn’t believe them as much as he was just trying to survive. He still didn’t know how they’d managed to keep up the charade when they were being checked on bi-weekly; he hadn’t even known when said visits were happening. 

“They’ll be spending some time in prison for child abuse. Not nearly enough, but still,” A social worker said quietly as he drove him back to his old group home. Virgil stared numbly out the window. “The kids were taken from them for the time being. They were deemed unfit parents. Foster care until they can find either some relatives or the parents are allowed them back.”

He didn’t react, although his heart nearly stopped in his chest. The parents hadn’t been great, but the kids had been happy enough. And now they were forced into a shoddy system… because of him. Virgil blinked rapidly to stop the tears that threatened to flow.

“You alright, Virge?” 

He finally turned from the blurry mass of green trees out the car window, turning blankly to the man driving. The worker glanced from the road to meet his eyes, sighing. 

No, he wasn’t alright. But he’d never say otherwise. Volunteering information about himself was how he’d gotten himself into this situation in the first place. He wasn’t about to do it again. 

----------

That had been almost a month ago, and he was still to break out of his selective mutism. It wasn’t as if he was choosing not to speak; it wasn’t stubbornness. He felt as if his brain and his mouth were disconnected, like his thoughts were less coherent and more just abstract emotion, and he couldn’t turn them into words. Any question that couldn’t be answered by a simple nod or head shake was met with a blank stare, a far off gaze, that was unnerving to anyone. They’d tried to put him back into therapy, but the moment it was mentioned, Virgil spiralled into the worst panic attack he could ever remember having. 

He’d gotten his old room back, with two new kids as his roommates. He quickly built up the same reputation as before: this room is mine unless you’re sleeping. No kid wanted to be near him when he was awake, staring at nothing, his only movements being his occasional blinking. Frankly, the younger ones were scared of him. 

And he didn’t care. 

Some days he fell so deep into dissociating that he didn’t even react when he was called for dinner. The world around him dissolved, blurry and unfocused and just quiet, retreating into his own mind where he could breathe. Reality was too much. It was just… too much. One of his doctors had said it might be a side effect as they eased him off his criminally high dose of antipsychotics they’d hidden in his drinks, but that was an afterthought. He was warm, he was full (when he was aware enough to eat), and so he faded into his head. He’d cope with his trauma another day. 

“You haven’t eaten all day, honey,” A soft voice said and he blinked, looking up from his bed sheets at the worker. She was one of his favorites; gentle, quiet, respecting his boundaries. In her hands was a plate with dinner on it.

He gave an almost imperceptible nod, barely more than a single bob, and she sat across from him on the bed, placing the plate in front of him. With heavy hands, he lifted a cold green bean to his mouth. It was gross, but the plate was empty in minutes. Apparently it had been a whole day. 

“Virgil, I want to talk to you,” She said. Now full, his brain would let him stay present for a little while until dissociation took over again. He pushed himself back against the wall and brought his knees to his chest, watching her movements. 

“It’s not anything bad, I promise. I’ve been talking with some other workers, some connections I have across the state.”

He didn’t like where this was going. 

“One of them suggested a couple that’s fostered for over a decade. They have a fantastic record, so I got into contact with them-”

“No.” The first thing he’d said in weeks, his voice scratchy from disuse. For once, the mess in his brain came together to form the single word, an immediate rejection. He pushed himself farther away from her, shaking his head violently. “No, no, no.”

“Virgil, breathe,” She reached out a hand and Virgil flinched so hard his head hit the wall. The hand retreated. “You don’t have to go with them if you’re uncomfortable, hun. Please just trust me, though, they’d never do anything that they did.”

He glared at her, trying to read her expression in the dark room. Silence stretched between them as Virgil’s thoughts drifted back to their state of quietude, leaving him unable to form words, beginning to drift away from reality. His eyelids flickered as focusing became harder, his mind’s eye suddenly alight with the blinding white lights of the therapy room. 

“Will you meet them at least, Virgil? Just for a few minutes? And if you still say no after, I’ll never bring them up again.”

He found himself nodding without properly meaning it. He just wanted her to leave… he just wanted to be alone. So he could drift away, without having to fear anyone hurting him anymore. 

She left, taking the empty plate with her. 

----------

Just because he knew today he was meeting his potential (not gonna happen) foster parents, it didn’t mean he was allowed to be present for the rest of the day. His favorite worker had come back again, motivating him to get ready and dressed, since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to find the energy to even just put on a sweater, much less get himself completely ready. 

Looking in the mirror hurt. His hair was starting to grow back, just barely long enough to run his fingers through, never mind getting anywhere long enough to cover his eyes like it used to. The bags under his eyes were darker than he could remember them ever being and his hands shook as he brushed his teeth. Biting down on the bristles, he grabbed a towel and threw it over the mirror, feeling a slight tinge of relief when he was no longer forced to look at himself. The social worker watched from the doorway, silently. 

He was tempted to go to sleep when he was done, completely exhausted from the little bit of work. But she brought him breakfast and his stomach growled in agreement, so he ate enough of the oatmeal to satiate his hunger, and not a bite more. A nervous nausea was already swirling in his gut and he didn’t need to add to it.

“Would you like to be left alone?” She asked, taking the empty bowl. 

Virgil nodded, already feeling the heaviness and emptiness that came with dissociation starting to creep through his limbs.

“I’ll come let you know when they’re here, okay?” He had no recollection of her leaving the room, but the next time he drifted back to the present, she was gone. 

He took a nap around noon, too tired and overwhelmed to stay awake for any longer. Plus, with new rushes of anxiety flooding his system every couple seconds, he was ready to not be conscious for a hot minute. He tried to convince himself that it would be okay, he’d struggle through an awkward meeting where the foster parents would eventually give up on him and leave, and he could spend his remaining year and a month in the system. Hopefully in that year he could figure enough out to survive when he was alone. 

A joyous child screeching downstairs woke him up three hours later, jerking him awake with a pounding heart. 

It wasn’t an hour later when there was a soft knock at his door and he threw himself into the corner, pulling his blanket up to his chest. No, no, no, he wasn’t ready- The door opened painfully slowly, spilling the light from the hallway into his pitch black room. 

“Virgil? I’m here with one of the foster parents, can I come in?”

She poked her head into the room and squinted to meet his eyes in the darkness, eventually finding his hunched form on his bed. Wordlessly, she opened the door all the way and walked up to him, flicking on the bedside lamp. A pleasantly soft light filled the room, illuminating the man standing at the door. Virgil began to shake. 

He wasn’t overly tall, probably just a head or so taller than Virgil, dressed in a plain yellow button up and black jeans. At first, he didn’t seem too intimidating, but neither had the other family at first glance. When he walked into the room, just so he was less of a silhouette, Virgil eyes were drawn to the large burn scar covering the left side of his face, just a shade darker than the right, but the skin mottled and textured. 

“Virgil, this is Janus Oakmen. His husband was unable to join him today, but-”

Husband? Virgil’s breath hitched. His husband, his husband, he’s gay, gay gay gay- His anxiety skyrocketed, and he couldn’t help the electric-like impulses that ran up his spine and out his fingers. He clenched his fist to hide the remaining twitches. 

She seemed to stumble over her words, trying to hide her shock. To her luck, the man interrupted, smiling softly down at Virgil.

“I’d like to speak to Virgil alone, if he’s alright with that.”

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door,” She said hurriedly, rushing out and closing the door behind her. And they were alone.

Janus looked at him for barely a second before taking a seat on the bottom bunk on the other side of the small room, folding his hands on his lap.

“Technically, I asked if you were okay with it, but…” He gestured weakly to the door. “Oh, well. I was told you don’t talk, Virgil.”

He stared in response, wrapping his fists up in the blanket. The man gave a breathy chuckle, but there was no animosity behind it.

“That’s okay. Just wanted to double check. Is it okay with you if I just talk, then?”

No adult had ever asked Virgil for permission for anything twice in under a minute. His social workers kind of just did what they had to, and he’d never been in a home where that kind of thing was the norm. It was more ‘the kids ask for everything, and the parents get what they want, no questions asked’. Needless to say, he was taken aback. 

He nodded weakly, realizing the man was waiting for a response. 

“Fabulous. Ignoring all the boring details you wouldn’t care about, my name is Janus. Like, from mythology, not a PTA mom. I’m thirty-five, and my husband Logan and I have been fostering since we were twenty-two, so we know what we’re doing. We love it.”

Virgil slowly let his legs unfurl, stretching them out in front of him under the blanket.

“We actually weren’t intending to foster this year, since Logan is looking for a new job. His current one just made it necessary for him to travel more than he would like to, so we wanted to press pause until he was happy at a new one. And then we got a call from good ole Bev out there.” He waved at the door again, cracking a smile. “She told us a little bit of your story, and Logan and I instantly said yes. If you’ll have us, that is.”

The vague idea of “why?” crossed Virgil’s mind, and it must have translated to his face, because Janus continued. 

“When I was fifteen, I came out to my parents as gay. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but they weren’t such big fans, and they put me in conversion therapy.”

His heart stopped. Another round of shocks through his arms. 

“We can talk about that more another day, if you want. I know that’s a tough topic for you. Needless to say, it didn’t work. Because it doesn’t work,” He shrugged, an annoyed tone finding its way into his words, “I understand what you’re going through, to an extent. If anyone can help you, it’s us. I’ve been there. And I promise, we’re fiercely protective. We’d never let anything bad happen to you.”

He stopped, leaning forward on his hands. Virgil realized he probably couldn’t see him that well except for his outline, due to him being pressed into the darkest corner of the room. Despite every cell in his body screaming that it was a trick, he scooted forward into the light of the lamp, still shaking. 

“There you are. Hello, Virgil.”

Virgil raised a trembling hand in a half hearted greeting. 

“I know this is a big, terrifying thing to ask of you. And I’ll understand if you say no. But if you feel safe, we’d love to have you for however long you’re comfortable with. Would you like to think it over?”

He nodded immediately. It wasn’t the hard ‘no’ he had expected himself to feel, and that was more unsettling than it should have been. 

“Okay. You do that. Take however long you need,” Janus said as he stood up, straightening his shirt, “It’s been great to meet you, Virgil.”

And he was gone. The social worker came back a short while later, but Virgil was completely gone by the time she did. He didn’t respond to her dinner calls, didn’t eat when the meal was placed in front of him, safely retreated into the silent part of his mind where he was safe from panic attacks and hard choices.

--- 

He said yes. Of course he did. He was far too intrigued by the man he’d met to refuse. He was scared shitless, that was a given; the first week after meeting Janus, he’d refused to leave his bed, refused to eat or shower or leave his huddle against the wall until the caretaker was basically pleading with him. Even then, it was a struggle to not throw up from sheer terror. 

But his social worker must have seen the way he was giving in, yearning for a grasp of hope in equal parts as his fear, because she set about to convince him. Promised more thorough checks once a week, daily phone calls to keep in touch, and an immediate pick up the moment he was unsure. Bit by bit his resolve was broken, until he finally agreed to give it a try, rushing from her presence moments later to hurl his dinner into the toilet. Hopefully his nerves would relax over time. 

The day came when he was to leave the group home, and he spent none of it in the present. He was so dissociated, so deeply embedded within his own mind, that he wasn’t even able to pack his belongings. His social worker was kind enough to do it for him (though the task itself took less than half an hour- he didn’t own that much) and he didn’t even notice she was in the room, talking, until his black garbage bag was placed on the bed in front of him. 

“ -unresponsive like this all day. We’re not sure what to do.”

“No doubt a response to his overwhelming fear of being placed in a new home after the disaster of his previous one. May I speak to him alone?”

“Of course.”

“Want me to leave too, Lo?”

“No, Janus, you can stay. It may be nice to have your expertise in the subject lest it become pertinent.”

There was some shuffling at the very corners of his consciousness, the light from the hallways lighting up the divots of his rumpled clothing bag, and one of the people were gone. His bedside lamp was flicked on.

“Thank you, Janus.” 

A weight on the bed was the first thing to really snap Virgil back to the presence, for the first time noticing the two men before him. The one standing, he recognized as Janus. The other sitting in front of him, though, he didn’t know. Virgil blinked rapidly, slowly pushing himself further back into his bed frame, despite how it dug into his shoulders. 

“Hello, Virgil. My name is Logan. I take it you’ve met my husband?”

Janus shot him a soft smirk, copying Virgil’s little wave from when they’d first interracted. He barely restrained a rush of twitches, playing it off as a shuffle to rearrange his blanket. 

“Do you think you could move forward just enough to place your feet on the ground? You don’t have to stand, just to begin the process of grounding?”

Virgil didn’t trust this guy for anything. He didn’t know his intentions, knew nothing about him, and his repressed mental state wasn’t making his cognitive reasoning any better. If Logan could help him ground, maybe it would be easier to figure out if they were trustworthy. Odd, that for this to work, he had to trust them enough to ground around them.

He scooted forward, letting his feet flutter off the bed and rest on the floor.

“Well done, Virgil. Press them to the floor firmly. Janus, do you have- ah, wonderful.”

Virgil looked up, nearly throwing himself back as Janus reached out a hand to him. There was something clutched in his fingers, but all the youngest could suddenly think was electrode electrode it’s going to hurt they’re going to hurt you don’t let it touch you don’tletittouchyou DON’T!

“It’s just gum, Virge, it’s okay.”

Oh. His hand paused as he reached out for the offering, a new thought coming to mind. Should he trust food from strangers? What if they’d drugged it, like his old foster home? He bit his lip, slowly retreating back into himself. 

The man seemed to see his hesitation, popping the piece into his mouth and offering one right from the package.

“I didn’t mess with it, I swear.” 

He took the gum, recoiling at the harsh taste almost instantly.

“Yeah, it doesn’t taste great. But I chewed like a pack of this a day when dissociation was a bitch. Snaps you back to the present like-”

“Language, Janus.”

“I’m sure he’s heard worse.”

“That doesn’t mean we should encourage it.”

Virgil couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. He hadn’t seen just casual bickering in a long time.

“We brought one more bribe-”

“It is not a bribe-”

He outright snorted at Logan’s aghast tone, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. Janus looked utterly pleased with himself, slowly handing over a bundle he’d had wrapped under his arm. 

“Again, to help with grounding. And it’s a bit of a drive to our place, so maybe you can get some sleep in the car.”

It was a deep purple blanket, almost impossibly soft to the touch. Virgil couldn’t help run his fingers over the plush material, fighting the urge to just smash his face into it. Keeping an eye on the two, Virgil unfolded it and wrapped it tightly around himself, settling to just let his cheek rub against where it was draped over his shoulder.

It took another twenty minutes for him to feel able to walk without stumbling, but if he left the group home in a fuzzy blanket and starting to feel safer than he had in months, that was his to admit. And he wouldn’t… not yet.

-----------

Virgil stared down at the piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand, re-reading his shitty handwriting for the millionth time. He knew it was proper grammar, and nothing was spelled wrong, and it was clear and concise, but a part of him was still nervous about the idea of giving it to Janus. He was still hesitant to speak, and his new foster family was more than accommodating, giving him a small white board to write on, and even teaching him the most basic sign language for simple questions (courtesy of Logan). One day, he hoped he’d get his confidence back enough to speak, but right now, he felt no rush. 

Being surrounded with these new people, even for the three short weeks he’d been there, had already been enough to minimize his dissociating spells. Logan didn’t have to leave for another work trip for another week, and Janus worked from home anyways, so he was getting way more love and affection than he was ever used to. He hadn’t quite given in to Janus’ offered hugs, or any casual touch at all really, but he was getting used to one of the two just sitting with him for hours, covering him with weighted and fuzzy blankets, and gently distracting him with puzzles or that god-awful gum or just repeating where he was, and that he was safe. Was this what being loved was supposed to feel like?

So he trudged down the steps, hearing the shower running as he walked past the master bedroom, and slowly approached Janus at the dining room table. The man turned to greet him, giving him that soft smirk.

“Morning, kid. Happy birthday.”

Virgil smiled shyly, remembering the sign for thank you after a moment, and dropped the note onto the table next to Janus’ mug. He took a seat across from him, hiding his shaking hands in his lap, and watched with bated breath as he took the slip of paper and read it.

“‘How long did it take you to feel okay with Logan after CT?’ As in, feel okay dating a man?”

Virgil nodded and then, just for practice, signed yes. 

“The short answer? Probably two years, and I was still hesitant going into the relationship. It took us a longer time to get to the comfort level we’re at now. You need to go at your pace, Virgil. You shouldn’t force anything.” 

And then, as he tended to do when no one was there to fill the silence, he began to rant. This was also something Virgil was surprised he had come to enjoy, pulling up his feet so he could sit cross legged on the chair and setting his chin overtop his folded arms on the table. 

“I think it’s ridiculous that our basic human rights are still up for debate,” Janus sighed, taking a long sip of his tea, “Soulmarks are more than enough proof that we have no control over who we love- not that we should need that kind of proof to be validated. But people are afraid of what they don’t know, so they portray us as monsters who need to be fixed.” He’d begun rubbing absentmindedly at his wrist and Virgil’s eyes tracked the movement, noticing for the first time the small compass that was just a couple shades darker than the man’s skin. It almost blended in, and he probably never would have noticed it, if the small needle in the center weren’t slowly rotating towards the stairs. 

Logan entered the dining room from that direction, greeting his husband with a small kiss on the head and his foster child with a relaxed smile. He must have noticed Virgil’s occasional glance at the other’s wrist, wordlessly flipping over his own arm. His matching compass was pulling towards Janus’, an ever present symbol that they were meant to be together. Then, he patted his husband’s shoulder, going to get the coffee his husband always made for him. 

“You’re not broken, Virgil,” Janus murmured. Virgil’s head shot up, surprised at his bluntness, “You’re not. And if anyone tells you differently, they’ll have to deal with me,” He said firmly as he took a long sip.

“No threatening, Janus!”

Virgil snorted into his fist, grinning as Janus winked at him and said, “Sorry, Logan,” into his mug.

“Incorrigible.” Logan sighed as he exited the kitchen with his coffee, dropping into the seat between the two. “And happy birthday, Virgil. Would you like to choose what we have for breakfast, or would you like us to decide?”

That was something they’d learned about him quickly; he had awful choice paralysis. Choosing between two choices was already anxiety inducing, but a variety of things, like having to narrow it down to one food item? Lethal. Virgil quickly pointed to Logan, who chuckled. 

“French toast, then?”

Virgil nodded.

“I’ll get started on that in a moment. Janus, do you have his gift?”

“It’s in the living room, let me go get it.”

And that got his heart racing. ‘Gifts’ weren’t good things. They were leverage, blackmail, with a promise of a ‘returned favor’ in the near future. Virgil didn’t like things held against him like that. What if they gave him a present, and then demanded he pay them back for it the moment things weren’t peachy? Who was he kidding, he was in the honeymoon phase of this new foster family. It would take a month, like it did with the others, and then they’d find something about him that they hated and they’d force him to change it and he wouldn’t be able to refuse because they gave him food and shelter and above all, a gift on his birthday, and he would owe them a debt and he was stuck and-

“Virgil? What are five orange things you can see?”

His head popped up- when had he grabbed his hair like that?- and he noticed how heavily he was breathing. His foster parents were looking at him in concern, not pity, but legitimate concern for his well being (wack), Janus holding his hands behind his back. It was Logan that had spoken.

“Five orange things you can see, Virgil. You can just point.”

Don’t disappoint them more, his mind screamed, so he pointed at the far wall, near the entryway.

“The bridge on the calendar picture, very good. What else?”

Point through the pass through window into the kitchen.

“The sponge, well done. Three more.”

In front of Janus’ empty seat.

“The letters on the mug-”

Quick point to the book shelf in the living room.

“-and the book on my shelf. Last one?”

It took Virgil a longer moment before he found a cup of pens on the small coffee table behind the sofa, gesturing to the orange capped pen amongst the others. 

“Wonderful. Are you feeling a bit better now?”

He didn’t respond, choosing to track Janus’ movements as he sat back into his chair, adjusting his hands so they were on his lap, most likely holding the gift he was hiding. Logan leaned against the couch as his husband spoke.

“Kid, I need you to understand something, alright? You don’t owe us anything. We want to give you a gift because it’s your birthday, and we want to celebrate you. This isn’t some favor that you have to return.”

How Janus understood Virgil’s distress, the younger could only guess. But his words of reassurance were enough to get Virgil to accept the wrapped package as he presented it with minimal shaking, for once demanding his brain relax. Neither of the men mentioned how delicately he unwrapped it, carefully tugging at the tape as to not rip the paper. Why risk it?

His mouth gaped when he saw the present for the first time, holding the box in a white knuckled grip.

“We were told yours was taken from you and never returned, and figured that you needed a new one,” Logan said. 

It was the first new thing Virgil had ever gotten. His clothes were from thrift stores or hand downs, his school supplies consisted of a found pencil and a ripped binder from the group home’s storage, forget ever having his own computer or video games or…

“This is a phone!”

“That it is.” Janus was smiling, taking a sip of his now lukewarm tea.

“I can’t- You can’t just- I don’t-” 

“We can, and we did. You’re seventeen, you kind of need a phone just for everyday life. And unless you give us a reason not to trust you with it, we have no worries.”

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t- 

Janus slid the tissue box across the table, but Virgil elected to ignore it, refusing to take his eyes off the box in his hands. 

“Thank you,” he barely choked out, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome, Virgil,” Logan responded for the both of them, returning back to the kitchen nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just given Virgil more than he’d ever gotten in his entire life combined. “I’m going to start on breakfast.”

“I can help you set it up. Then you can download some music… maybe contact the soulmate of yours again.” Janus switched chairs so he was next to Virgil, careful not to touch him, and Virgil couldn’t help grinning blindingly up at him.

It would only be after breakfast that Virgil would realize that he’d spoken. It would be a longer journey until he’d be able to talk again effortlessly, but he was a step closer. 

Part 4 HERE!

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[kaimelia]

Omggg I loved your fic “Overjoyed” I was wondering if you could do a part 2 where Amelia is really hormonal and it’s kinda funny? I love your writing so much!! Stay safe

overjoyed (pt 2)

a/n: hi! i also combined this with the like 4 other requests and ideas for a part 2, so if you sent one, it’s somewhere in here😅

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

"Hey, is everything okay?" Link had walked into the kitchen to see Amelia sitting on the floor, her hands cradling her bump as she cried softly. He kneeled down in front of her. "Amelia, what happened?"

"We're out of ice cream," she sniffled, wiping her eyes. Link stifled a laugh and bit the inside of his cheek.

"Do you want me to go out and get some?" She nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Alright. I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay." He kissed her forehead quickly, running his hand down her head before grabbing the car keys and rushing out of the apartment. Amelia slowly stood, cursing her shifted centre of gravity as she steadied herself on the kitchen island. She walked into the bathroom to see her eyes puffy, taking a moment to laugh at her crying over ice cream. "God, you two are already making Mommy's life difficult," she muttered, glancing down at her stomach.

Before finding out she was pregnant with twins, she had wanted to keep her pregnancy secret for as long as possible. But, with two babies occupying her womb, it wasn't quite possible to keep it hidden for very long. Every symptom she experienced was on full blast, bursting into tears at the slightest inconvenience, constant nausea, every inch of her body always aching and sore. Now, 17 weeks along, she was already forced to start wearing maternity clothes to fit around her stomach.

The front door opened again soon later, Link rushing through with a bag of different ice cream flavors. He pouted his lip out at the sight of her, opening her arms to embrace her. "Hormones are hitting me really bad," she muttered into his chest, sighing. "I'm sorry for being super dramatic about everything."

"Hey, you're allowed to be. I'm just glad that nothing bad was actually happening."

"It was a full-blown crisis. We didn't have ice cream." She stepped away, opening the bag and pulling out a carton of peanut butter flavored ice cream. "Thank you." He grinned as she pulled a spoon out from the drawer, settling on the couch and adjusting the pillow behind her.

"Better?"

"Much better."

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

"Who would've thought that being pregnant with twins would make me so much more exhausted," Amelia muttered, settling herself between Link's legs, leaning her weight against his chest. He locked his hands under her bump, his thumb caressing the bottom of her swollen stomach. "My back hurts so much." He moved his hands to her shoulders, massaging the tension she was holding. "Mm, thank you."

"You know, if you spent less time on your feet," he muttered, kissing her neck.

"I need to work. The odds are that I'll be bedridden before they're born, and it'll take me even longer to recover. If I stop working now, I'll go insane."

"I know, but this is different than your last pregnancy. Carina said we wanna get the twins to at least 32 weeks." Amelia sighed, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

"That's another month," she groaned, rolling her head to the side. "I can't not work for the next month, Link."

"I just think you should cut back a bit. I will too in solidarity if you want."

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

"Amelia, go to sleep," Link groaned into his pillow, having been woken up by his girlfriend's shifting around.

"I can't get comfortable. My stupid bump keeps getting in the way." He reached his hand out in the dark, searching for her. His hand rested on her knee.

"What're you worried about?" Her face softened at his ability to sense her nerves, and Link sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.

"I don't know how I'm going to handle two newborns," she confessed, her fingers drumming on top of her bump. "Whenever Scout would get super upset, it was just so overwhelming. And having two newborns? There are going to be so many meltdowns, all of the time." He moved his hand up to wrap around the side of her head, his fingers playing with strands of her hair as he pushed her head down to rest against his shoulder.

"Well, this time, we don't have three other kids to look at. And, we're not in a global pandemic where no one can come to help or visit us, so I think it will be easier in some ways." Amelia exhaled heavily, scooching closer to his body. "Plus, I kinda know what I'm doing this time, so I won't be as useless."

"You weren't useless," she laughed, finally cracking a smile. "You did your best, and once you found what worked, you stuck with it. And now you're a kick-ass dad." Link hummed and pulled the comforter up.

"This kick-ass dad thinks that this kick-ass mom," he poked her shoulder, "needs to get some sleep. Because otherwise, those two babies are gonna kick your ass tomorrow." He grinned at his joke, reaching over to turn the lamp off.

"I'm not tired," she groaned, laying down with him.

"At least close your eyes and try to sleep." Link placed his arm over her body, his hand settling on top of her stomach. "Goodnight, Amelia. I love you," he whispered, kissing the back of her head.

"Night," Amelia muttered sleepily, intertwining her hand with Link's before quickly falling asleep.

"And someone said they weren't tired."

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

"I don't think I can stand up," Amelia groaned, rocking back and forth in the fancy rocking chair she and Link had purchased. He looked up at her and smiled, looking back down at the pile of wood and screws below him. "You're sure you don't want help?"

"You just said you can't get up; I don't think you would be much help here."

"I meant calling Winston or something. You've been at this for an hour, and you have a whole other crib to put together." Link shrugged, flipping the instruction page. Amelia locked her hands under her baby bump, leaning into the soft cushion of the chair. "We're gonna have to move to a bigger house someday. They can't share a room forever."

"We've got a few years, at least," he muttered, standing up the frame he finished. "Okay, give me a list of everything we need to do before the babies get here." Amelia sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and thinking.

"Finish the cribs, wash all of their clothes, put everything away, and get the hospital bag ready."

"Cribs will be done in an hour; I've got the hang of this now." She grinned, digging her feet into the fuzzy carpet on the floor. "And, we can do the laundry tomorrow as well as the bag."

"What did I do to deserve you?" Link laughed, shaking his head in amusement.

"Made me the happiest man alive," he answered honestly, setting down the screwdriver beside his legs. "Now, can you kick that piece of wood towards me?"

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

"And, after twenty-seven hours of labor," Link brushed his hand through his hair, "we have two healthy, perfect little babies." Maggie stood up and clapped her hands, wrapping her arms around Link.

"Oh, I'm so happy!" She squealed, stepping back to let Meredith hug him. "When can we see them?"

"In a little bit. Amelia's completely passed out, for a good reason," he laughed, rubbing under his eye. "And Hayes took them to do all of their newborn tests. But, I have plenty of pictures." He pulled out his phone and handed it to the women in front of him, watching as they cooed over the baby pictures.

"A boy and a girl," Meredith grinned, passing the phone to Maggie. "They're adorable."

"Do they have names?" He shook his head.

"We talked a little before they were born, but just as I was about to bring it up, Amelia fell asleep, so it'll have to wait a few hours."

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

"Look who's awake," Link whispered, running his hand over his girlfriend's hair. "How're you feeling?"

"I feel fine, just the general pain of pushing two babies out of my vagina." She grinned. "Where are my babies?"

"Meredith and Maggie are with them on the peds floor so that you could sleep a little longer. Twenty-seven hours of labor is no joke," he took her hand, watching her eyelids struggle to remain open. "I'm exhausted. And, I wasn't the one pushing out babies."

"I'm just glad you were here this time," she mumbled, shifting to lay on her side. "It was much better having you here."

"I'm glad I was too," he kissed her hand before dropping it and pulling out his phone. "I'll get them to bring the babies back down." He sent a quick text, looking back to see her eyes closing. "Amelia?"

"I'm awake," she groaned, sitting up in the hospital bed. The door was pushed open a minute later, and Meredith and Maggie walked through with the twins in their arms.

"Hey, mommy," Meredith whispered, placing her niece into Amelia's arms. "You made some pretty adorable babies." The neurosurgeon grinned, brushing her finger over her daughter's cheek as Link took their son, lightly bouncing up and down. "Are they worth the twenty-seven hours of labor? That sounds like torture." Amelia shrugged, not taking her eyes off the baby in her arms.

"Absolutely worth it. Although, I don't know if I've got more in me for another baby," she joked, removing the pink cap to reveal a head full of thin blonde hair on their daughter's head.

"They're not even three hours old, and you're already thinking about the next one?" Link questioned in disbelief, moving to stand next to the bed. "I think these two and Scout will have us in over our heads."

"I'll come over and cuddle them whenever you want," Maggie smiled, watching Link sit next to Amelia on the bed. "But, I'm sure that you guys will kill it."

"Maybe that's not the phrase we should use when talking about taking care of babies," Meredith muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "But, Maggie's right. You two are the most competent parents I know. Managed to not screw my kids up too badly, so obviously, you're doing something right." Amelia looked up and beamed widely.

"We'll still take all of the help you offer. Even kick-ass parents need a break," she whispered, bringing her daughter up to kiss her forehead. "How did our lives get so perfect?"

"I have no idea," Link muttered. "Absolutely no idea."

[faofinn]

No. 2 - TALKING IS OVERRATED

@whumptober2021

@whumptober-archive

garotte | choking | gagged

Recovery had been really slow. Painfully slow, really. So long in hospital, Fao had lost track of the endless days dragging by. But he’d gotten out, and gone home, and done the endless appointments and physio and therapy and meds and jumped through all of the hoops they’d given him. Eventually, in an effort to find some of his old freedoms back, he found himself a flat in London, not far from where he’d lived as a student. Not long after moving in he acquired a housemate, through a mutual friend. Fao and Ollie got on really well, they clicked almost immediately, and it was nice to have someone who didn’t pity him, hadn’t known him before. The dog came not long after that, a little scrap of a puppy they found at the side of the road. Arrow was a sweet little thing, though he kept Fao up all hours of the night needing to be bottle fed. He was worth it. It was a purpose again. It made it so much easier to deal with everything when he had a little life depending on him.

He'd even started entertaining the idea of getting a job, which was as terrifying as it was exciting. But before that, he had one final surgery to get through. It was expected, it had been on the cards from the start. He'd spoken at length with his consultant, and it was a necessary evil to get things where they should be. At least it was planned, routine. They could schedule everything, and plan ahead, and nothing was rushed or panicked.

When Fao showed up to the hospital that morning, though, he felt awful. He knew it was the nerves, but he'd slept terribly and he had an awful headache already. It wasn't exactly off to a good start. Ollie had driven him in, which at least meant he had company, and as he nervously got settled in his bay, he didn't feel so alone. It really did make a difference.

He hated this side of things. Recently, he hasn’t felt like much of a doctor at all, but being back in hospital just made it so much worse. It was so familiar, it was almost like being teased. He longed to be on the other side, rushing around doing this and that. He'd kill for an elective list, even. Just for something to do. He desperately missed it. He sat chatting to Ollie, which kept him entertained enough, asking about whatever he'd done at work over the last few days. Elective orthopaedics wasn't that exciting, but it was far more exciting than overthinking everything.

He was so nervous he couldn't settle, shifting his weight about and fidgeting in his chair. Twice Ollie told him off for crossing his legs. Do you want a dislocation on top of everything else?! He'd asked, exasperated.

He didn’t have to wait long, though. Given his history, he was first on the list, and after speaking to his consultant and his anaesthetist, they took him down to theatre.

They let Ollie down with him, on account of him knowing his way around theatres. It was nice, to have him with him. They’d not known each other long, but Ollie seemed to know just what he needed, just how to keep him calm.

He didn’t even feel the cannula go in, didn’t panic as the drugs went in. Ollie was there, he was safe, and as the world faded to black he was surprisingly calm.

From there, he was intubated and quickly taken into theatre. Ollie was left to wait, and to update Fao's family. Thankfully, it wasn't a particularly long surgery, though it took longer than the surgeon had initially estimated.

Eventually, Fao was transferred out into recovery. Ollie could stop pacing the cold theatre corridors, and rushed to be with him. He didn't come around well, which was standard, apparently - Ollie had never been there before. But Fao had told him, as had Sheila. He held his hand and soothed him through the nausea and the shaking, and once he'd settled off back to sleep, he called Sheila to let her know things were done and he was okay.

Of course, as soon as Fao called her, Sheila headed in. She’d bargained with him before his surgery, eventually being allowed to visit after, instead of taking him in. She knew he needed his space, wanted his independence, but he was still her son. She was going to be there for him no matter what.

The staff recognised her from the countless previous admissions, letting her straight through. She met Ollie first, pulling the young man in for a hug (Whether he wanted one or not, really). It wasn’t a surprise that Fao had come round poorly, but it was a relief to know he’d had someone to be there with him. With Sheila there, Ollie disappeared to grab a coffee - god knows he needed it.

She sat by Fao’s bed, waiting for her son to wake up. He was fast asleep and she didn’t want to wake him. At least when he was asleep, he wouldn’t be in pain - she knew his options for pain relief were limited and the staff were often stingy.

He stirred after a while, pain pulling at his attention and dragging him from his sleep. He was warm and his limbs were heavy, but he shuffled in bed and blinked open his eyes.

“Mum?” He managed to get out, forcing his eyes to focus.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She smiled at him, taking his hand. “I’m here.”

“Mm. ‘m ‘kay.”

“I know. You did so well.”

“Ollie?” He asked, after a long pause.

“Sent him for a coffee.”

“Sleepy.”

“That’s alright. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

He nodded, his eyes already closed. It wasn't hard to drift back to sleep, despite the pain. He slept for a while, not stirring as they checked on him. He was aware of them transferring him back to the ward, the sound of the lift and the changing of the light as the bed moved.

He didn't properly stir again until a bit later, when Ollie was back with Sheila. Somehow, he felt worse than before. More woozy, and the taste of blood in his mouth was stronger. His breath hitched and he did his best to move in bed a bit, trying to sit up more.

“Easy, Fao. Take a moment, let me help.” Sheila was by his side immediately, trying to help.

Sitting made the dizziness worse, his blood pressure sinking, and he just felt wrong. He whimpered, trying to clear his throat. It was sore anyway, and dry from the oxygen, but suddenly it was as though he couldn't breathe. He coughed, and then he couldn't stop coughing, and then blood coated his tongue. It caught in his throat, too close to before. He tried to spit it out, but everything hurt, and he reached blindly for Sheila, panicked.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay, it’s okay.” She promised, stroking through his hair. “Just breathe, you’re okay.”

He couldn't breathe. That was the problem. The world was hazy and he was dizzy and he couldn't breathe. He was too hot then too cold and it was just like it had been after the crash. He coughed and then retched, managing to bring some blood up, but it wasn't enough. He was still stuck, choking.

Ollie shared a look with Sheila, worried. This was bad.

“You’re okay, Fao.” She continued, trying to keep her son calm as Ollie called for help. She pulled Fao onto his side, an attempt to help him clear his throat.

He whimpered as she pulled him over, between the coughing and gagging. Everything hurt, and the room span with the change in position, making him feel even worse.

Ollie was in the corridor at this point, barking orders at people. It wasn't often he was snappy, he rarely even shouted, but there was some sense of urgency needed.

There wasn’t much Sheila could actually do, trying to soothe her son. There was so much blood, far too much, and she knew it wasn’t good. She tried her best to get Fao’s attention, to try and ta;l him through it. He was obviously stuck in a flashback too, which only made things worse.

Soon enough, the bay was a hive of activity. The nurses called in the ward doctors who were desperately trying to get in touch with Fao’s surgeon. But he was in the middle of a list, and when his registrar finally arrived on the ward, he paled somewhat. They then had to find a consultant who was free, and an available theatre (and team) to find out what the fuck was going on, and fix it.

Things were quickly sorted, breathing got somewhat easier for Fao, just briefly, though the taste of blood was still overwhelming, between the retching. He was very quickly transferred back to theatres, and unlike before there was no taking their time. In a busy theatre he was out in seconds, no soothing words and gentle touches. There was just the ice cold burn of the drugs, and then nothingness.

That left Ollie with Sheila in an uncomfortably empty bedspace. She was covered in her son's blood, and he awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uh, Sheila, maybe you should, uh, change?”

She couldn’t help the jump, lost in her thoughts. “I’ve not got anything to change into.”

“Fao’s got stuff.” He said gently. “He packed way too much.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course. I’ll change.” She stood, going through Fao’s bag and pulling out a hoodie and top. “I won’t be long.”

Ollie nodded. “Go on, I’ll wait here.”

“Not like we’ve got anywhere to be.” She said as she left, mainly to herself. She didn’t take long, dumping her clothes in a patient bag and heading back to Fao’s room to wait.

“True. He’ll be okay. Finn around?”

“He’s working. Said he’d be up when he could. I text him to tell him there were complications, that he had to go back to theater, but he hasn’t seen that yet.”

“Oh, Fao did tell me he was on placement. Poor sod.”

"I swear they try and one-up each other on everything."

“So I've heard. He'll be okay.”

"Fao didn't have a clue where he was."

“All those drugs make it hard at the best of times.” Ollie said. “We can just hope he doesn't really remember it.”

"Fingers crossed." She said quietly.

There was a knock at the door, Finn appearing around the corner. He frowned at the pair in front of him, the lack of his brother, and the fact his mum was in one of Fao's hoodies.He gripped the doorframe to steady himself.

"What happened? Where is he?"

Ollie moved forwards. “Finn. It went well, but once he'd woken up a bit, there were… Complications. A bleed. He's back in theatre now.”

He shook his head, looking at Sheila. "You said he was fine."

"He was, he was out, he'd come round well enough for him, but…" She shrugged. "Like Ollie said, he had another bleed."

“I was with him when he came round, he was alright. But something must have happened, a bleeding vessel or a bad suture or something. I can find out later, if they don’t say. He’ll be okay, they’ll sort it. These things happen.”

"These things don't just happen." Finn snapped, jerking away from Sheila’s arm.

"Finn, that's enough. We're all stressed, it doesn't mean you get to be a dick. Sit down and wait."

He glared at her before he turned to Ollie. "Sorry."

“No, it’s alright. You’re right, Finn, it doesn’t ‘just happen’. It shouldn’t have happened. But it’s a surgical complication, surgical complications happen. He’s with a good team, all we have to do now is wait.”

He flopped into the chair by his mum. "He had a good team before."

“I know. It’s shit, isn’t it? Scared the shit out of me to see him like he was. He’ll be alright though. He’s been through worse.”

[splendidly-secret-sick-fics]

I’m Fine: An AtsuHina sick fic (Part 1)

@wraithpoison said:

an atsuhina sick fic please <3

This is a request from my other blog! I’m sorry it took me so long. Honestly, I had a lot of trouble with this one for some reason? I rewrote it like three times :/ and this one is actually going to be in two parts too! This part isn’t too AtsuHina heavy, but the next part will be. 

I’m Fine: an AtsuHina sick fic (part 1)

Part 2

Pairing: Sick Atsumu, caretaker Hinata (also caretakers Rin & Osamu)

Word Count: 2,360

Trigger Warnings: vomiting, swearing, stressed Hinata :(

“I’ll be home as soon as I can, Tsumu,” Shoyo frowned at him through their FaceTime. Unfortunately, the redhead was in an airport, sitting at his gate waiting for his flight and not currently with Atsumu. He had headphones in, but they were picking up all of the noise around him and it made Atsumu’s head pound.

“I know, Sho. Try not to worry so much, alright? Imma big kid now. I can take care of a little fever by myself,” Atsumu responded sleepily. He was curled up in a blanket, lying on their couch.

The Jackals were given about 2 weeks off and Shoyo decided to use that time to go visit some of his friends in Brazil for a week. He invited Atsumu, but the latter declined, saying that he wanted to go home and see his mom.

Atsumu got home last night and Shoyo’s flight was set to arrive tomorrow morning. The plans worked out perfectly so that they’d have a week on their respective vacations and a week together.

While Atsumu was driving home last night, he started feeling lethargic and heavy and just overall Not Good. He brushed it off as exhaustion and went straight to bed when he got back, only to wake up this morning feeling worse. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that he had a fever. The sticky sweat that plastered his clothes to his body despite the chills he felt were a dead giveaway.

Shoyo called him when he got settled at the gate. Atsumu tried valiantly to appear healthy, but after 3 years of dating, Shoyo knew him entirely too well to be fooled. Now he was all anxious and trying to magically make the 24 hour journey from Rio to Tokyo happen in less time.

“I know, but I’m just worried. And I feel bad that I’m not there to help you,” Shoyo pouted. Atsumu rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine, Sho. I’ll see ya tomorrow and you can make me better with all the overdue cuddles I’m owed.”

Shoyo’s lips quirked up ever so slightly and Atsumu felt a little better.

“Did you take something?” Shoyo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Are you staying hydrated?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Did you call Samu and Rin to let them know?”

“I just texted them. They’ll come runnin’ if I need ‘em,” he sighed.

“Do you want me to order you some soup from that one restaurant?”

“What? Sho, no-“

“They’ll deliver! I can do it from here. The airport has wifi and I might have to pay for it but that’s okay and if it means that—“ Shoyo started rambling frantically and Atsumu’s head spun.

“Shoyo, hey. Shut up, will ya?” He chuckled and Shoyo’s mouth snapped shut.

“Sorry, Tsumu. I just wish I was home already,” he looked down. (Atsumu obviously wasn’t with his boyfriend, but if he knew him at all, Shoyo was nervously picking at the hem of his shirt.)

“I know. Me too,” Atsumu replied. Truth be told, he was feeling a lot worse than he let on. At the least, he hoped Shoyo couldn’t tell.

His head felt like it was being squeezed, he was congested, those chills were still pretty prevalent, his body felt like it weighed 1000 pounds and he felt vaguely nauseous.

That’s what he was most afraid of, honestly. He really, really didn’t want to throw up. He’s never liked it; never handled it well. Hopefully he could stave off the nausea, at least until Shoyo got home.

Shoyo looked back up at him and Atsumu wanted more than anything for him to be home right now so he could physically rub away the anxious lines on his boyfriend’s face.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured. Shoyo nodded.

“I’m gonna take a nap, okay? Yer flight leaves at midnight yer time right?” Again, Shoyo nodded. Perfect. That meant that he’d be home by noon tomorrow. It was about 10 in the morning in Tokyo (so 10 in the evening in Rio), so Atsumu only had to wait about 26 hours for Shoyo to get home. Hopefully, he’d be sleeping most of that time anyway.

“Okay,” he said, “can ya stop worrying? It’s just a little fever.” Shoyo groaned.

“Fine! Fine. As long as you promise to text your brother if you start feeling worse. Please don’t push yourself, Tsum-Tsum,” Shoyo all but begged. Atsumu gaped at him.

“Me? Overwork myself? I’m offended at the implication, babe” he teased. Shoyo rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m serious, Atsumu. You always push yourself more than you should. Don’t do that this time, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Honestly,” he resituated himself, “I’m prob’ly just gonna take a nap and order take out. I don’t feel much like doing anything anyway,” he shrugged. And oops, he probably shouldn’t have said that. Immediately, Shoyo became more suspicious.

“You? Agreeing to rest? Are you sure it’s just a fever?”

“‘Course!” Atsumu forced a laugh and Shoyo’s eyes narrowed. “Have I ever lied to you, baby?”

“Yes,” Shoyo deadpanned, “all the time.” Atsumu bristled.

“Not about anything important, though! And my health is important,” he assured.

“Atsumu, please take this seriously. Fevers are no joke, okay? I know that all too well,” Shoyo said, a serious look on his face. Atsumu wanted to wash it away. He frowned, remembering nationals his second year of high school, watching Shoyo collapse on the court. They may not have been close yet, but it was scary nonetheless.

“I know. And I promise I am taking care of myself, alright?” he said, no longer trying to joke, but simply reassure. He hated causing Shoyo any sort of anxiety.

“I’m gonna go now, okay?” He said and Shoyo nodded.

“Okay. Alright. Take a nap. Stay hydrated. Text Osamu if you need to. Don’t be all proud,” Shoyo instructed.

“Yes, yes, okay. I love you. Have a safe flight,” he smiled. Shoyo’s face brightened and Atsumu felt slightly reassured that maybe, just maybe, Shoyo wouldn’t spend his entire 24 hour journey home worrying about him.

“I love you, too. See you tomorrow,” Shoyo replied and with that, the call ended.

As soon as Shoyo’s face disappeared from his phone, Atsumu sank into the couch and exhaled exhaustedly. Keeping up the appearance that he felt alright took way more energy than he thought.

He curled up on his side and wrapped his blanket tighter around himself. A nap. That’s what he needed. If he was asleep, he could ignore the headache and the nausea and the chills. And hopefully, when he woke up, he’d feel better.

With that thought, Atsumu went to sleep.

***

Shoyo stared anxiously at the screen that previously had his boyfriend’s pale, flushed face displayed on it. Atsumu was definitely more sick than he let on and Shoyo might punch him later for lying, but for the time being, there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t make his trip home any shorter.

Instead of letting panic take hold, he did the next best thing. He texted Osamu and Rintaro.

From: Shoyo

“Did Atsumu text you guys?”

From: Osamu

“Yeah. Sorry your boyfriend’s an idiot.”

From: Rin

“Samu, while you’re absolutely correct and should say so, maybe not right now.”

“Don’t worry, Sho. Samu is an ass, but he’s worried too. We’re gonna go check on that pig later today.”

Shoyo breathed a huge sigh of relief towards the ceiling. Osamu doesn’t show it, but he does care about his brother. And Shoyo could always count on them.

From: Shoyo

“Thank you guys. Let me know how he’s doing?”

“I just got off FaceTime with him and he was putting up a brave front, but he didn’t look good.”

From: Osamu

“Of course he was. I gotcha, Shoyo. I’ll knock some sense into the big stupid.”

From: Rin

“In other words, yes, we’ll keep you updated and make sure that he’s well taken care of. Don’t stress. Just focus on getting home and leave the time in between to us.”

Shoyo did feel better knowing that Rin and Osamu were so close to Atsumu and could check up on him. He’d be okay. So, for the time being, all he could do was wait.

***

Atsumu woke up to conversation. He squeezed his eyes and shifted around, groaning. Whoever was talking needed to shut up. The tightness in his head hadn’t let up at all and he was absolutely freezing.

“Oh, yer awake. Finally.”

Atsumu scrunched his eyebrows together and blinked his eyes open, only to find his brother and Rin sitting on the love seat next to the couch.

“Samu?” He croaked.

“Yeah. We’re actually here. It’s not some crazy fever induced dream,” he said in his usual monotone.

“More like a nightmare,” Atsumu mumbled. He sat up and the room spun. He moaned and put his face in his hands.

“How are you feeling?” Rin asked him. Atsumu glanced at his phone. It was about two thirty in the afternoon. Twenty one and half hours until Shoyo was home.

“Fine,” he responded, but it was muffled by his hands. “I told you you guys I’d let ya know if I needed ya. Why’re you here?” He looked at them again.

“Shoyo asked us to come.” Rin shrugged.

“‘Course he did,” he sighed.

“Well, it’s a good thing we did. Ya look like shit,” Osamu said bluntly and stood up. He left the room, but came back a second later with some soup and a ginger ale.

“Eat. Then take some more meds and then we’ll get outta yer hair.”

Atsumu stared at the soup for a second and his stomach turned itself over. He really didn’t want to put anything in his body right now.

“Did ya poison it?” He tried to disguise the involuntary curl of his lip off as an insult towards his brother.

“Wha—no, you stupid pig, we didn’t poison it.” Osamu almost yelled, his eyebrows furrowing together. In fact, Atsumu was sure that if he wasn’t feeling so awful, his brother would have yelled and smacked him upside the head. But Osamu also happened to know Atsumu entirely too well.

“It’s from some restaurant that Shoyo told us about. He said it was your favorite,” Rin said, his tone quiet. Probably because Osamu knew Atsumu had a headache and warned Rin.

Atsumu felt his chest twist. Shoyo sent them? And told them about his favorite soup? Atsumu wanted to cry.

“Are you crying?” Rin asked, wide eyed. Oh, maybe he was crying. He couldn’t tell, honestly. His face was hot, regardless.

“Ppppfttt,” Osamu held back a laugh.

“Hey! Don’t be an ass. I don’t feel good and I miss my boyfriend,” Atsumu sniffled. “Need I remind ya of the time Rin was gone for a week and ya whined to me about it nightly,” he shot back. Osamu shut up.

“Just eat it,” was all he said. Atsumu must look at lot worse than he thinks because Osamu wasn’t fighting back. He only did that when he knew Atsumu really wasn’t feeling good—physically or mentally.

Staring at the soup, he couldn’t help the twist of his face again.

“Tsumu,” Osamu sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does yer stomach hurt?”

Atsumu blushed (or was that his fever?) and shook his head rapidly.

“No! It’s...it’s fine. I’m fine,” he said probably too hastily.

“Don’t lie, please.” Osamu put a hand on his hip and stared Atsumu down. Rin looked between them curiously. Atsumu glared at his brother.

“It’s a little uneasy. But I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Are ya sure you don’t want us to stay with ya until Shoyo gets back?” Osamu asked gently. From the corner of his eye, Atsumu saw Rin’s eyes widen at the abrupt softness coming from Osamu.

Atsumu hesitated. Did he want them to stay? They were offering. It’s not like he was inconveniencing them in any way. Osamu may be a dick, but he was still his brother. And if he was going to puke later, he’d want someone else here. He opened his mouth to say yes please stay I don’t want to be alone, but was cut off by Sunarin.

“Samu, we can’t stay. We promised Akaashi we’d take the twins overnight since they went out of town with Kuroo and Kenma,” Sunarin said. He pulled his lips into a tight line and picked at his fingernails.

Clearly, he didn’t want to leave Atsumu alone. But the Bokuto twins were handfuls at best and nightmares at worst. There was no way that Rin could watch them alone. And Atsumu couldn’t very well go over there and risk getting them sick.

Osamu looked between the two of them and bit his lip.

“Rin, would you mind if—“

“It’s fine, Samu,” Atsumu interrupted. It wasn’t fine.

Osamu’s eyes burned holes into Atsumu’s face. He knew. He knew that Atsumu was nauseas. He knew that Atsumu hated vomiting. Atsumu appreciated it, he did. But he didn’t need his brother to come to his rescue.

“Sho will be home tomorrow morning. It’s fine. I’ll call if I need ya,” he tried to sound confident, but his voice shook. His throat hurt.

Osamu obviously didn’t believe him, the frown on his face and the pull of his eyebrows giving him away. He exhaled through his lips and nodded.

“Okay. But seriously, you can call if ya need to,” he resigned and sat down beside Atsumu on the couch.

Rin and Osamu stayed for a few more hours until they absolutely had to leave. Osamu was still reluctant and it made Atsumu happy when he remembered how much his brother cared, despite the way it looked to outsiders. With another promise to call if he needed to, the two of them left Atsumu alone once more.

He surveyed his body.

Headache? Crushing.

Fever? Scorching.

Body Aches? Heavy.

Nausea? Prevalent.

He moaned and curled tightly in on himself once more. The DVD player under the TV said it was nearly five pm. A little more than 17 hours until Shoyo was home. He could do this. He’d be fine.

***

He was not fine. He was absolutely not fine.

Atsumu heaved into the toilet, gripping the seat tightly. Everything happened so fast. One second he was asleep on the couch and in the next second he was sprinting to the bathroom, just barely making it before projectile vomiting into the toilet.

The room around him swirled and his throat burned with every aborted heave. What time was it? Would Shoyo be home soon? He felt so so terrible. It was so hot. Sweat covered every inch of his body, making it difficult to keep his hold on the toilet. Despite that, he was still trembling. His fever was probably way too high. He should do something about that, right?

His stomach lurched again and he belched wetly, but swallowed down whatever tried to come up. He refused. The loss of control that accompanied throwing up made him feel helpless and horrible and dammit what was that high pitched whine? It cut through his brain like a knife.

Finally, he was granted a reprieve and gasping, he sat back on his heels. He needed to move, needed to do something while he had the time. If he knew his body at all, he knew this was going to be a long fight that he would inevitably lose. It was such a surprise he didn’t have time to prepare. He wiped at his face.

Oh, he was crying. That was probably the whining that still hadn’t stopped. Pathetic.

Okay, it was fine. He could do this. Grabbing onto the sink, he hoisted himself up on unsteady legs.

In the next fifteen minutes, he managed to grab a blanket, a pillow, his phone, some crackers (not that he really wanted to eat them) and one of Shoyo’s nasty fruity sports drinks. The whole endeavor took way longer than it should have, but all of his movements were sluggish and difficult. It also became blatantly obvious that the battle against his stomach was not one he was going to win.

Just the thought of puking more kept a steady flow of tears streaming down his cheeks the entire trip.

Finally, he made it back to the bathroom and set up camp for the night. Smacking the screen of his phone, he checked the time.

“12:27 am” taunted him. Less than 12 hours. Good. He managed to sleep for around 5 hours.

Nausea swirled in his gut and he whimpered. Several unproductive heaves later, he was left reeling.

Somewhere in the haze of his mind, he thought to contact his brother. He couldn’t open his mouth though. No chance. Then he’d for sure puke. Where was Shoyo? He wanted Shoyo.

He picked up his phone in shaking fingers and sent a slew of what he hoped were coherent texts to their group chat with Osamu and Rin. Slowly but surely, he was losing his grasp on his surroundings, the fever messing with his brain.

Help. He needed help. He was scared.

Disgusting gurgles sounded from his stomach and he choked on a sob. He rested a cheek on the toilet seat, and gagged.

“No, no no no,” he cried, but he couldn’t stop it. He was too sick. Too weak. Too tired. Instead of trying to force it back down, he dropped his jaw and burped. Vomit poured out of his mouth and he sobbed between heaves.

When the fit ended, he collapsed onto the floor, gasping and crying. Why was this happening? Where was Shoyo? Why wasn’t his boyfriend here? Did he get tired of Atsumu and leave him? What about Osamu? Was he sick of Atsumu too?

Of course. Of course they were.

Shoyo. He just wanted his boyfriend. Why wasn’t he here? Why why why what did Atsumu do to chase him away?

Those were the last thoughts that plagued Atsumu’s mind before his surroundings faded away completely.

[brittledame]

Pairing: Semi Eita/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, A/B/O Dynamics, Creampie, Breeding (mentioned), Riding, Slight dirty talk, Knotting, Marking, Claiming bites, Blood (mentioned), Mating, Semi is a little possessive of reader, Reader is a little oblivious

Word Count: 11K

Summary: After your tryst with Semi in the locker room, he whisked you away to his room to spend the rest of the rut with him. The morning after, you wake up hot and disoriented, finding that your heat has come around early. The instinct to claim each other overshadows all other thoughts, leading to an enjoyable time for you both.

Series: Part 2 of Semi’s Big Blow Up

Notes: Ok it took me a while but I got there. This is literally 11K words of pure smut with side of fluff. Please enjoy my horny world splurge for the OG eboy Semi-Semi.

The warm sunlight filtering through the gaps of Semi’s blinds is what woke you up from a dreamless sleep. Cracking open your eyes, you were met with the drool-worthy sight of Semi’s bare chest. The sheets were kicked off during some point last night. Judging from the heat emanating from the male wrapped around you, it was safe to assume that it was Semi that did it.

Your bodies were close enough that the cool morning air nipping at you wasn’t an issue. If anything, you felt a tad too warm to be comfortable. You note that your shirt must have ridden up last night, as you feel his heavy arm was thrown over your hip that was almost bare thanks to the scrap of underwear you wore. Mind feeling as if stuffed with cotton, you notice that you were slightly sweating from the heat generated between the two of you. Shuffling back a little to give yourself some more breathing room, you relish the wash of cool air brushing over your heated skin, lending clarity to your disoriented mind.

The morning was quiet and warm, it was exactly the kind of morning where you would easily fall back to sleep if it weren’t for the breath-taking sight of the ash-blond man before you.

His long eyelashes fanned across high cheekbones, sleep-tousled hair looking wild against the pillow, and soft-looking lips parted as he continues on sleeping blissfully unaware of your enamoured stare. Fingers twitching, you were overcome with the sudden urge to run your fingertips across his skin, to map each dip and slight freckle and commit them to memory. Listening to his deep breathes, chest slowly moving up and down, signalling he was still deep asleep and surely wouldn’t mind if you carried out the desire. It was enough permission for your drowsy mind to go ahead anyhow.

Carefully, you move a hand from his well-defined chest and reach up to stroke the soft skin of his cheek. God, it was so unfair that he was blessed with a sweet personality, good looks and sexual prowess. The attractive asshole probably only washed his face with soap – if he washed it at all. Quelling the jealousy rearing its ugly head, you continued with feather-light touches now moving down to his lips.

Pressing your thumb slightly into the plump bottom lip, memories of those lips exploring and pressing lingering marks across your body rise to the forefront of your mind. Flushing, you silently curse at how smitten you were for him. He was literally sleeping with you loosely ensnared in his arms and here you were stroking him, feeling a little overwhelmed at how elated you felt to have the man of your dreams reciprocating your affections.

The wondering hand slides back to his chest and you bury your face into his chest, trying to hide your embarrassment as you recall everything that had transpired last night.

Honestly, if you hadn’t woken up in his bed, you would’ve played the whole thing off as a really horny dream and carried on with your life. You probably wouldn’t have been able to look your friend in the eye after having an explicitly detailed sex dream of him, but you would’ve at least attempted to carry on like you didn’t dream of him fucking you into mind-blowing completion.

Yesterday felt like a dream, it felt so distant and yet you could recall certain details so vividly that you couldn’t just brush off the incident off like you normally would. Your face feels like it could start melting as you blush fiercely while recalling Semi admitting his true feelings for you. Your heart lurches inside your chest. Everything felt like a blur to you, one moment he was unexpectedly distant, the next you were both arguing and then… fucking on the bench.

The rest of the night was kind of hazy to you, but you do recall him pulling you to his room, hands planted on your waist. You remember him whispering, “I hope you didn’t have any plans this weekend. I’m not planning on letting you go anytime soon.”

Your core pulses at just the thought of his words. He made a quick stop to the vending machines to get a few drinks and snacks, stating that he really wasn’t planning on leaving the room anytime soon. When you two were finally stocked up and alone in his surprisingly orderly room, you were both still fatigued from the previous round to go beyond a messy make out. Collapsing into one another, exhaustion from the long day finally caught up to you both.

And now here you were, in close proximity to the boy of your long-held affections. It would be scarily true to your fantasies if not for the sticky feeling of the sweat lightly coating your skin and the nausea swirling around your stomach. Skipping dinner never was a smart decision and it looks like you were suffering the consequences of your hindbrain doing the thinking for you.

You perk up when you inhale the subtle shift in Semi’s calming scent he started to unconsciously emit. He somehow sensed the slight distress in your scent before you recognised it. Turning onto his back and shifting against you, you hold your breath in hopes of not waking him up.

Pausing from his stirring, he sleepily opened his eyes a crack to take you in. Damn, that was cute. Even when waking up he’s stupidly hot. A smile graces his lips as he takes in the slight of your pink face and wide eyes.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” You had to beat back the horny side of you that jumped up at the sound of his deep voice rough with sleep.

Giving him a smile in return, you whisper back a good morning.

Pale eyelashes flutter as his eyelids shut. For a moment you were sacred he would fall back to sleep and leave you to face your traitorous thoughts. Rolling onto his side, Semi tugs you close to him, banishing the unreasonable fear. You tense slightly at the new position as it brought your tacky skin close to his, only relaxing minutely at the feel of his fingers running through your tangled hair.

Enjoying the soothing feel of his chest rising with each deep breath and the feeling his fingernails gently scrape against your scalp, you were lulled into a trance. Unthinkingly, you grind against the well-defined thigh that was sandwiched between your legs. Semi paused when he felt you move but continued when you didn’t make a fuss about it. Your light scent signifying contentment rather than the sweet arousal he came to know last night.

Your nails lightly scratch at his chest as you feel his other hand start to rub at the sensitive skin of the major scent glands based under your ear. Sighing in pleasure, your muscles release all tension under his thoughtful ministrations. You knew that if he kept this up for any longer you would surely start purring. His loving touches were sating an itch that hid at the back of your mind along with the rest of your omegan needs.

Semi was quite obvious in showing his enjoyment under your thoughtless attention, member growing hard with your thoughtless grinding. The air thickened with your candied scent, tickling his sensitive nose. His eyebrows furrow as he’s struck with the realisation of what the saccharine undertone signified.

“Uh, I think you just started your heat… Your scent is really heavy right now.” You blankly stare at the flushing male, blissfully hazy mind not processing the meaning behind his abrupt words.

“I’m two weeks out from my heat, there’s literally no way.” You reasoned. There was a lenient time frame with most heats, but that time frame was at most three days, not a whole fortnight out.

“You were with me as I started my rut, maybe mine kick-started yours?” His unsure tone did nothing to assure you. Although it did give you something to consider.

You mull over his suggestion. You’ve heard of long-established couples having their heats and ruts sync together, a biological response to help maximise the chance of baring healthy offspring. But you’ve never heard of a rut kick starting a heat in advance in two people that got intimate with one another not even 15 hours ago – long friendship notwithstanding.

If you thought about it, you were exhibiting all the classical signs of entering your heat. It was just little preposterous that Semi’s rut may have incidentally kick started yours. Maybe a quick google search would help? Or maybe you should hit up the nurse when this was all over with.

Exactly what this weekend would detail was still a bit lost on you, seeing as now a new variable has reared its ugly head. A deep and largely ignored part of you was satisfied at how well everything had aligned. Semi’s rut lead into increased frustration, which resulted in his blow up and subsequently into the unexpected confession. All of that led to this moment of you laying in his bed, smelling of him and blessed with the sight of his sleepy smile.

Your heat did pose a minor issue though. With Semi being in his rut it was already tenuous with you pairing up with him after shortly discovering each-others true feelings. Not that ruts – nor heats – drove people sex-crazy like so many adult films liked to portray. They did have the capacity to blur the line for your newly defined relationship.

It was a time that you were both at your most vulnerable. Afraid of driving him away from saying something wrong or maybe not being the person he actually wanted. You knew exactly what you craved during your heats and you did not want to embarrass yourself by asking for something Semi wasn’t ready to give you.

Semi breaks your train of thought by offering up his shower to freshen up. Literally jumping up at the opportunity to get out of your own head and clean up, you thanked him.

“Thanks, I’d love that.” You made it to the doorway of the bathroom before a thought hit you.

“Hey, uh, I don’t really want to get changed back into these clothes. Do you mind running to my dorm to get some clean ones for me?”

Semi rolled onto his back and raises an amused eyebrow at your uncharacteristic shy tone.

“Just steal some of my clothes, I don’t mind.” He gestures to his plain white dresser. He doesn’t feel it’s necessary to add that he would much prefer you wearing his clothes over the course of the next few days. Eita’s hell-bent in fulfilling a few of his fantasies with your consent. One of those fantasies included you wearing his clothes.

Nodding at him, you make your way over and sift through the draws before deciding on a plain black Shiratorizawa volleyball team training shirt and a pair of clean boxer shorts that you may have to roll the waist band for them to fit.

Secretly, you were slightly overwhelmed at how fast this was all going. Was it weird that you were more flustered about wearing his clothes than fucking in a semi-public room? Probably, but life was weird, so it was best to roll with the punches at this point.

Giving once last glance at Semi’s lax form splayed on the bed, you close the door behind you. The lock of the door seemingly taunts you with ideas of Semi joining you in the shower. Then again, it would probably be best to establish at least some boundaries before you both got lost in your respective throes. Flipping the lock, you make quick work of stripping down bare and starting up the shower, shivering at the feeling of the cool air caresses your heated body as you wait for the water to warm.

Hand stretch out under the spray, you judge the water temperature to be adequate and hop in. The decent water pressure was one of the many things you would praise about Shiratorizawa, alongside their amazing cooking staff and meal plans. One could accuse that the students are just little bit spoiled and they wouldn’t be exactly wrong.

Washing your hair, your mind drifts away from you, occupied with wondering thoughts. As you lather up your skin, a dark spot on your hip catches your eye. You have a double take when you notice the bruises etched into your skin from where Semi had gripped you from before. Heat burnt across your cheeks as you recall what had transpired not even a day ago. Carefully, your fingertips brush along the dark spots littering your chest and hips. You’re astounded by how dark they look against your flushed skin. They didn’t hurt nearly as much you would think from how pigmented they were. Kind of like Semi in that regard, intimidating exterior and benign on the inside.

Even though you were sure to lock the door, dirty thoughts of him joining you in the shower and skilled fingers buried deep inside of you fill your mind as you conditioned your hair and rinse. As the suds washed off, your hands autonomously drift towards the crest of your legs, fingers brushing against your faintly pulsing core.

Yup, if you weren’t sure before, you were definitely experiencing an early heat. At least you had someone to rid it out with, someone whom you loved and trusted. Plus, the direct presence of alpha pheromones should make the heat less intense.

Shutting off the water, you made quick work of drying off and slipping on the soft articles of clothing. Giving the lonely pair of underwear sitting in a pile of dirty clothes a second thought, you shrugged off the thought of putting them back on. Hopefully, if all went right, it would save some valuable time later on.

Just as you thought, you had to adjust the boxers for them to fit. Pat drying your hair to the best of your ability, you comb through it with your fingers, hoping it’ll dry faster. Examining your appearance in the mirror, a tingle of excitement went through you at seeing his larger clothes draped over your figure. They didn’t fit, that was for sure, but god did you love wearing them.

Tearing yourself away from the reflection, you walk out of the bathroom with a pink cheeks and smelling clean. Semi perks up from his seated position and puts down the phone he was frantically typing on just before you emerged.

A lazy smile makes its way across his face at how good you looked wearing his clothes. It felt like the stole the very breath from your lungs. Tossing his phone to the side, already long forgotten, he walks over towards you and winds his arms around your shoulders and buries his nose into your still damp hair.

“You look so good wearing my clothes. We should make this a regular thing.” He laughs at your shocked squawk, not immediately shooting him down. Leaning back, Eita takes in your scrubbed pink skin and the way his shirt almost completely covered the boxers you wore. It was all way to cute for his heart to take.

Not being able to help himself, Eita draws you into a deep kiss. He loved how his scent completely enveloped you from his clothes to his body wash. Eita was already becoming comfortable with how easily your scents intermingled. He knew that he was playing with fire by kissing you. It would be a true trial of strength to see if he could stop before he got too into it again, he really needed a shower too after all.

Semi probably didn’t intend for the kiss to become heavy, but your body immediately lit up as his lips melded into yours, making you crave more. While you still didn’t hear bells or feel rainbows sprout out of you when his mouth melded with yours, your mind did light up with a thousand fireworks as you felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip.

Ever the tease, it was as you opened your mouth to admit him entrance did he pull back and give you a smirk that had you wanting to both punch him and kiss him even harder.

“As much as I would love to continue,” Semi bops you on the nose, stunning you. “I really need a shower.”

You huff at his words and cutely pout up at him, driving his mind wild in return.

“You shouldn’t start things you’re not planning on finishing, Semi-Semi. You could get a poor girl’s hopes up one day.” Your teasing look belied the sad tone you adopted.

He gives you a deadpan look before snapping back as a reflex: “Don’t call me that.”

“Alright then, babe. What do you want to be called?” From the way his eyes lit up at the endearment, you had found the key to Semi’s heart.

Lifting your chin up, he whispers into your ear. “Surprise me.”

He inwardly congratulates himself for the way that you shuddered at his low tone. “Just don’t call me Semi-Semi. I should beat Satori’s ass for ever calling me that.”

He unwraps his arms from your body and you had to bite down the whine that threatened to embarrass you at the loss. Semi shot you a knowing look and effectively diverted your attention by pointing to the bedside table holding your phone on charge.

“I noticed that it was flat, so I put it on charge when you hopped in. It should be charged enough to turn on by now.” He said as he slipped through the doorway, not even bothering to bring clean clothes with him.

Touched at his thoughtfulness, you briefly contemplated how low your standards must be for someone being considerate to put your phone on charge was seen as heart-touching. Ignoring that and the tight coil of heat sitting in your abdomen that Semi had elicited, you went and grabbed your phone. Slumping down onto the bed, you impatiently waited for it to start up, taking a quick look of his room in the meantime.

Unlike most boys his age, it was neat and smelt of spiced bergamot paired with clean laundry. While there was a bit of chaos in his desk, it seemed to be organised in some fashion with different papers and books stacked in alternating arrangements according to a code only known to the ash-blond alpha. There was a few articles of clothing spilling out of the over-filled hamper. It was kind of funny that such a diligent guy like Semi would leave laundry until the absolute last second.

Thinking about laundry… You cosy up into the soft grey cotton sheets of his bed. You’d have to ask what detergent he uses because it was insane how soft the cotton felt beneath your hands. The smell of clean fabric and Semi’s grounding scent filled your nose as you buried your head into his pillows.

A quiet ‘ding!’ from your phone tears you away from your observations and into the real world. You had apparently missed a few messages from your roommate during your impromptu sleepover with Semi. After texting her a quick update of your situation and checking your emails, you decide to hope onto the school website to fill out the heat exemption form and after a short deliberation ended up filling one out for Semi too.

Who knows how long this will last and it’s probably best to be safe and use your last moments of coherency securing you both an easier week ahead – give or take a few days. Finishing up the last section, you heard the shower turnoff and the shower curtain open. Judging that he was going to come out soon, you submit the form and place your phone on silent.

Semi emerges from the bathroom with a cloud of steam rushing out behind him. Stunned, you look over, only to be hit by déjà vu. Looking tantalising standing there covered only by a towel dangerously low on his hips, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders.

Stalking over to the bed, he pounces on top of you and buries his nose into your neck. Giggling at his childish behaviour, the temptation to scolding him for not drying his hair died on your tongue as you feel him press a chaste kiss onto your neck.

“I couldn’t bare another second without you at my side” he murmurs, unwilling to leave your comforting scent. Blushing at the sentiment, you give a short embarrassed laugh at how cheesy he was.

“You’re such a romantic. Satori will have a field day if I tell him that.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He growls out. Eita hated the idea of Satori knowing any intimate details your relationship together. Also, the fact that Satori would never let him hear the end of it didn’t help Satori’s case of being let in the know-how of your sexual activities.

You laugh at the weak deterrent, full well knowing Semi would never follow through. A friendship spanning across high school let you gain insight to a lot of Semi’s quirks and behaviour. Never in the three years you’ve known him has he ever acted maliciously. Discounting the moment he was ready to tear Shirabu a new one yesterday – but that was a whole different situation.

You smirk at him in response. “You have no idea how far I’ll go to have some decent entertainment.”

“If you’re so bored, why didn’t you just say so?” Semi moves out of your grasp, now hovering over your body with his towel hanging onto his body through sheer will at this point.

Lips slotting together, Semi doesn’t give you the chance to retort. Not that you minded in the slightest. His mouth tasted of cool spearmint, contradicting the heat of his tongue mapping the inside of your mouth. You moan as he runs his tongue along your hard palate whilst giving a light suck.

Nudging his tongue out of your mouth, you bite his bottom lip and tug at it. Grip tightening on your hips, Eita refrains from pinning you down and kissing you until your begging him for more. It was the heady smell of need filling the air that knocked the idea away and replaced it with the burning desire to be buried within you. That’d be much more beneficial for the both of you, he grins to himself.

Eita notices the wet spot forming on the boxers he lent out. God, he was never going to be able to look at that pair the same ever again. The old shirt was way too big for you, hiding your gorgeous form from his hungry eyes. Fixing the sacrilege that it was, he grabs the hem giving it a slight tug to warn you of his intentions. At your nod, he rips the offending article of clothing off and is met with the heavenly sight of your bare chest still baring his marks from the night before. Eita’s dick twitches at the sight.

Dipping in for another kiss, he whispers against your parted lips. “God, you could make a grown man weep, baby girl. You should see how good you look laid out for me.”

Your heart flips at the comment. Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you  pulled him into another searing kiss. Hands that you’ve watched serve a thousand no-touch aces dragged down your sides, callouses rough against smooth skin. Fingertips danced along the band of his boxers, teasingly dipping just under it.

Nipping at him, you silently voice your frustration with his teasing. Any other time and you would be all for it – hell half of your wet dreams revolved around Semi edging you into a teary mess. Now though? You felt like you could spontaneously combust from the heat building steadily with you.

Hands falling over his, you help him push down the boxers and kick them off the side of the bed. The hands that you’ve admired for so long drift further southward. Completely skipping over your core, you note with disappointment. Eita grips your thighs, admiring the way the soft flesh molded around his hand, loving the contrast the two of you made together.

Hard and malleable. Rough and soft. Eita and you.

From the very moment he met you, he was blinded by your personality. Kind to those who warranted it and never backing down from your morals. He loved how gentle you were with the younger years and conversely never refraining from scolding Shirabu if made any vitriolic comments to Goshiki. Unknowingly, you had set up a home inside of Eita’s heart and he’ll spend every moment with you to show you as such.

Semi took in every inch of your body under his hands as he manoeuvres you into a pose that made his mouth go dry. Top half pressed against the bed, ass swinging in the air in front of him, you made such an appetising sight, it truly tried Semi’s self-restraint to not just slam on home and take everything you’d give to him.

Feeling his gaze burning into your skin, you could resist the temptation to tease him even more. Wiggling your hips, you shoot him a sultry look over your shoulder.

“Are you ready yet or am I going to have to start without you?” You move your hands from beside your head in preparation to slide them down your front and into your waiting hole.

The growl fills the air dampens your devious side. By all accounts, teasing him like that during a rut, even a mild one, was not a smart move on your side. A dangerous glint fills his eye at your unintentional challenge.

Semi removes the towel and tosses it to the side, revealing his already swelling member to your greedy eyes. The towel hadn’t even hit the foot of the bed before his hands were back on you.

Settling a hand between your shoulder blades, he presses his weight onto you as he lowers himself to your cheek not pressed against the sheets. Your breath freezes in your chest as he brushes his lips across the delicate skin with a wicked look on his face.

“You are such a brat sometimes you know that right?” He breathes out, lips both so close to yours and infuriatingly too far. “It’s alright though, maybe I could teach you some manners.”

He moves back with those final words, grinning at how you shivered at them. You were half tempted to whine at the loss of contact, already starting to push up on your elbows before he forcefully stops you by pressing even harder on your back.

Your heart and hole simultaneously pulse in anticipation at Semi’s more forceful nature coming out to play, not so secretly loving concealed strength coming out to play. Semi was usually respectful and kind to a fault, that was why you privately loved it when Satori riled him up. It was only during those times you could see Semi’s true passion, the fire burning inside his soul being exposed to your keen eyes. There is also the moments when he plays which unfortunately occurs occasionally now that Shirabu usurped him as a starter.

Before, you were slightly apprehensive you your heat coinciding with Semi’s rut, now you were grateful. Thanks to your heat, you didn’t require extensive foreplay like last night. Naturally prepared, your hole was more pliable and slick now than any other time, as a natural occurrence to prevent both omega’s and their partners from hurting themselves during the thick of the heat. The last thing on their minds is to properly prepare themselves.

That fact doesn’t stop Semi from dipping in a finger, soon slipping in another inside as he noted how easily you stretched around it. You tilt your hips up, encouraging his long fingers to press in deeper, to fill you in a way yours couldn’t. Scissoring his fingers, he twists his wrist in a way that had you grasping at the sheets.

“Shit.” You gasp out between clenched teeth.

“You really like my fingers,” Semi states. He slips in a third and fans them out inside of your leaking hole, watching the way your pink hole engulfed his fingers without complaint.

Having enough, you reach down and grasp his wrist. Fixing him with a pleading expression that had him melting in your hand.

“Please, I need you. Now.”

Unable to refuse your plea, he withdrew them with a slick sound. With the way you looked at him, he would steal the stars out of the sky if you asked him.

“That didn’t take long at all, look at how polite you’re being now.”

Bringing slicked-up fingers to his mouth, his tongue flicks out to lap up your juices. Your viscous slick coated his tongue and triggered his voracious appetite, now feeling the strong urge to spend the next hour eating you out until you were a sobbing mess on his tongue. This was the second time you had derailed him, without even speaking or looking at him.

Eita forcibly shoulders past the idea, not willing to keep you waiting anymore, especially now that you were being so cute. Meanwhile, you ignored the dig in favour for quelling your excitement as he lines himself up.

The ash-blond alpha moans as he slips inside, not bothering to tease you now. You clench around him as you shiver at the sonorous sound he releases. Just like you thought, he slipped in without an issue, leaving only the pleasurable burn from stretching around his rigid cock.

Eita relished at how receptive you were of his touches, whether they be stroking or digging, you received each one with delight.

“You take me so well, baby girl.” He thrusts in deeply, punctuating his statement. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

The slick sounds and sensations of sex consumes your senses, adding to the fire your heat flaring up within you.

“Semi, please –“ You haven’t half an idea of what your begging for. All you wanted was something more. Voicing your greediness felt like admitting defeat to your omega desires but you needed him so badly that you no longer fought against them.

Long and deep strokes halt as he grabs your hip and you forcibly flips you onto your back. Eita doesn’t waste a single second to grab your leg, hiking it over his shoulder and re-entering you. Immediately Semi slides in even deeper. The new angle had starbursts exploding across your vision. You spared no thought to his poor neighbours as you let out a loud moan. Supposedly the dorm rooms were supposed to be sound-proofed, so this would be a good test to see if that was true.

Not being able to deny himself, he indulged the desire to mark you in a superficial way, unsatisfied that he couldn’t claim you as his. Yet. The day would come, hopefully sooner than later. Latching his mouth over faded splotches, he sucks them back into vibrancy before moving to a new spot. You arch your back as he sucks a few marks onto your breasts, one hand coming up to squeeze them and flick your erect nipple a few times.

Continuing fucking into your tight hole in the meantime, he admires his own handiwork. A masterpiece of pinks and purples of varying shades decorated you, looking stunning to his eyes. A promise is made to himself to not let them fade while you were in his care.

Driving his engorged dick in and out of you at a punishing pace, Eita has the one-minded focus of bringing you both to the peak. Eita wanted nothing more than to pull out and cum on your back and mark you up even more, but he knew that the urge to mate wouldn’t stop until he knotted you.

Knotting was a huge part of breeding and a significant factor to tempering heats and ruts alike. One could couple a dozen times a day during a rut and still not feel satisfied until the rush of hormones released by one is triggered. Having you here was both a blessing and curse in disguise, as he was now more driven than ever to breed you until your stomach was full and round.

The mental image alone made him clench his teeth, trying to reign in what little remained of his self-restraint. He’s had a partner before you during a rut, but it didn’t feel nearly as intense as your fucking did right now. Previous experiences didn’t hold a candle to being with you. This was better than any fantasy coupled with his right hand.

Knowing exactly what to do to drive you over the edge, Semi didn’t hesitate to deliver you to completion. Scraping his sharp canines against the delicate skin of the column neck, you tighten around him even more.

Fastening his lips over your scent gland, he gives a rough suck while pressing his teeth into the area, imitating a claiming mark. To your sex-hazed mind though, it felt like the real thing and that was the last push you needed to topple over the edge, his name on your lips.

“Semi!”

Lust becoming all consuming, your inner omega frustrated at being tricked out of a claiming bite went ignored as sensations threatened to drown you under unrelenting waves. You were only distantly aware of Semi chasing after his orgasm within your warmth. Mind feeling like a separate entity from your body, your vision fades to black.

When you come to, you instantly become aware of his knot locked inside of you. Okay, maybe you weren’t out of it for as long as your heavy eyelids suggested. Semi groaned at your restless shifting, accidentally tugging the sensitive appendage.

“You literally fucked me into unconsciousness for a moment there.” You state, not bothering to hide wonder in your tone. Honestly speaking, you thought that was a feat only achieved in porn, then in comes Semi to blow away every single expectation you held.

If things were to ever end badly between the two of you, Semi has wrecked you for anyone in the future. Your sexual expectations have been set too high now, bar raised to an incredible height.

Disbelieving, Semi just stares at you to gauge if you were telling the truth. He hadn’t actually noticed that you left him for a moment there. It was worrying that he was so absorbed by satisfying his instincts to fill you that he didn’t even notice you mentally checking out. Your weighted stare confirms that you didn’t lie.

“Damn.” He simply puts. The word alone couldn’t convey the myriad of emotions he was experiencing from hearing that.

On one hand, Eita was proud of himself for being able to do that. On the other, he was scared that he didn’t notice. The confusing mixture was enough for him to soften, knot deflating enough for him to pull out.

Cum drizzled out of your hole in thick globules, staining your upper thighs a transparent white. A deep primal part of him hated the waste, wanting nothing more than to gather it onto his fingers and shove it back into you, not wasting a single drop.

Mentally shaking off the intrusive thought, he gives your thigh a pat as he gets up to grab his towel off of the foot of the bed to clean himself off. Propping yourself up on his pillows, you don’t argue or bat him away when he starts to wipe you down and leaving the occasional gentle kiss behind. You were loving the feeling of being pampered by the alpha.

Throwing the dirtied towel into the hamper by his door, he lays against your side and rests his head on your chest. Your fingers brush through his almost dry hair that you knew was going to dry funny since he didn’t dry it properly. Eyelids feeling heavy from both physical and mental exhaustion, you didn’t want to leave the comfort of the bed for a shower. It wasn’t long before you peacefully dozed off with a just as tired Semi pressed against you.

A few hours later, you wake up feeling as if your burning up from the inside out. Irrationally scared that you may actually be on fire from how hot you were, you pat yourself down. Your dizzy mind registers the fact that you’re probably in full swing of your heat now, seeing as there was no sheet nor clothes suffocating you. Blindly, you reach out for your phone to confirm if you got at least some rest.

Movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention. Turning to your side, you’re met with the sinful sight of a flushed Semi jacking off. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, trying to keep himself as quiet as possible while you slept beside him, not wanting to wake you up just yet. Too focused on the task at hand, he failed to notice you waking up.

Seeing his lack of awareness, you eyed his painful looking erection being handled quite roughly as Semi attempts to rush himself towards a much-needed orgasm. Both pity and arousal fills you at the sight, causing you to deliberate whether to jump in and offer some assistance or watch for a little longer and memorise as much as possible for another night.

A moan slips out of his mouth as he twists his hand just as he pumps his hand up. It seems the decision was made for you as your body automatically moves forward, mouth already salivating.

Grabbing his hands, you move them off of him and secure your mouth around his swollen-looking tip. Looking up, you match his shocked look with an innocent one, fluttering your eyelashes at him while giving a gentle suck to the flared head. Throwing back his head, he groans again.

“Babe,” he mutters, threading his fingers through your hair. “That mouth of yours is going to be the death of me someday.”

Choosing not to respond, you take in more of his length, licking over the veins protruding from his shaft. It seemed to be the correct choice as his hips automatically jerk up, almost shoving the entirety of himself into you if it weren’t for your hand on his hip.

Sending him a warning look, he gives you an apologetic look.

“Sorry, sorry.” He murmurs, using is other hand to stroke your hair in apology.

Accepting his apology, you roll your eyes at him before proceeding to take him to the root. The action had Semi sputtering. The sight was funny enough that you had to physically swallow down the laugh that threatened to come up. Feeling you swallow around his length, tongue simultaneously rubbing against him, his dick traitorously jumped inside your mouth.

Smiling around his length as best you could, you knew that Semi was already close from that small move. You knew a rut made alphas physically more sensitive compared to other times, you didn’t know it went to this extent. You knew yourself that while omegas became more sensitive as well, it took about three hand cramps and an hour of toy play before your body was satisfied enough to allow a fitful sleep.

Lucky bastards.

Feeling a bit petty, you give a hard suck while you draw back and stroke his tip with your tongue. His body shudders under your hands, his breath now coming out in moans that caused slick to start leak out of you. Even sleeping during a heat, slick was continuously produced so while you were wet when you woke up, you could feel it start to trickle out from you at how sensitive he was.

You always loved seeing his softer side come out, whether that be helping Goshiki out with his spiking or joining you in your after midnight baking sessions when the exam insomnia became too much. This was a different side to his vulnerability. Much different to late night talks about his insecurities related to both the court and his musical talents, you still cherished it just as much as those other moments.

Hips jolting up without his permission, you let him go, not at all minding the way he made you gag on his cock. The rough noises that would leave his bitten lips at the feeling of you choking on his length was enough payment for you. Not wanting to draw this out any longer, you remove a hand from his hip and fondle his balls. Rolling them in your hand and giving them a gentle squeeze while giving a harsh suck.

Semi’s eyes fly open, harshly tugging at your hair as he thrusts his hips up. This time, he does make you choke in earnest as he just about shoves his entire length down your throat.

You could feel the exact moment he hit his peak before the cum sprayed inside your mouth, balls tightening in your hands as his entire body tenses. A guttural moan electrifies the air as you diligently swallow his cum, not wasting a single drop.

Licking his dick clean, you feel him twitch against your lips as the orgasm left him over-sensitive. Sitting up, you throw a leg over his and straddle a well-defined thigh. You grind down on him, trying to draw him back to earth and to alleviate the deep-seated need to alleviate the pressure that has made its presence well and truly known.

Semi’s post-orgasm face was something classical artists could try to capture but never succeed. His normally furrowed eyebrows and tense mouth finally relaxed. Like this, he looked like his age and not a stressed-out salaryman with a hardass boss.

“I knew your mouth would kill me.” He mumbles, popping an eye open to meet your eager smile.

You laugh at his over dramatic words and stroke the sweat-matted hair off of his forehead.

“Well you have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands to myself when you have the audacity to look that hot while jacking it.” The ash-blond alpha blushes at your crass words but isn’t overly surprised that he woke you up.

Catching your hand in his, Semi has a sincere expression on his face.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I did try to keep quiet at the beginning, at least.”

Warmth fills your chest at his consideration. Solo ruts were tough, exactly like heats, so when one finally found a partner to help them through it, not much thought went behind letting them sleep in favour for reliving the unbearable pressure.

“You didn’t wake me up.” You assured him. “I woke up because of how hot I felt. I’m pretty sure I’m in full heat now.”

You grind against his thigh in demonstration of both how horny and wet you were. Taking in the scent of the room, the air was thick with a mix of aroused pheromones. Semi could already feel his dick getting hard from the mixed scent and how wet you felt against his leg. He hadn’t even touched you and yet you were this affected.

Heats weren’t anything to look down on, he inwardly muses.

“Oh yeah?” He quirks a brow at your comment, acting like he couldn’t feel you dripping onto his thigh.

His hands come up to grip your hips, pushing you down onto his thigh as he pushes it up against your core. You moan at the pressure against your core, but it wasn’t nearly enough to relieve the burning desire. You pout up at him, knowing he wanted to tease you a little before getting to it.

Not wanting to lose at this game, you put on your best faux dejected expression. Sighing heavily, you place your hands on his chest and push him back slightly. A mixture of amusement and confusion played out over Semi’s fine features.

“Yeah… Too bad this alpha I’m with would rather play around. Oh well, maybe the next one to come around will be more to the point.”

If you were a sensible person, you would’ve avoided making a bad habit out of getting a rise out of Semi just to see how he would react, scarily similar to how Satori treats him. The difference was that Semi wouldn’t hesitate to smack Satori over the head when he pushes too far, meanwhile with you he can be creative in getting back at you now.

“I see.” Semi blandly says while releasing your hips.

Panic flashes inside you. Maybe you pushed too far, hit a little too close to home. It was a dick move of you to hit him in a place he couldn’t protect. Some would like to pin Semi as a little egotistical when in reality he knew his strengths and was his own worst critic when it came to every aspect of his life.

Fearing that you completely ruined the moment, you lean over to cup his cheeks. Heat be damned, if he wanted you to leave, the door wouldn’t even hit you on the ass you’d be running out of here so fast. Never in a million years would you ever want to upset Semi, you’d do anything for the deeply caring alpha. The very same one who gave you his team jacket at the Spring Interhigh when you foolishly left yours on the bus during the tail-end of winter.

“I’m so sorry, Semi. Forget what I said, I didn’t mean it.”

Eita sat there, bewildered that you looked close to tears at the prospect of insulting him. His heart did a flip in his chest. Not being able to hold up against the worried look etched into your pretty face, he snakes his arms around your waist and rolls you both over to your sides.

Man, he was too soft for you. Eita smiles at the thought.

“It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean it.” Semi pauses. Curious, you look up to see his eyes glittering in mischief. “You’re still a rude little omega, though.”

Those were the words that launched the two of you into an impromptu wrestling match. Semi obliterated you, surprise surprise. That’s not to say you got in a few shots that had Semi keeling over and proud that his partner could defend herself. Safe to say he was very proud about a lot of things relating to you, not that you would find out until a much later date.

Winding down, you grudgingly admitted defeat when he puts you in a headlock to stop you using your infamously fatal kicks on him. Laying side by side, shoulders touching as you both try to calm down heated blood. Hindbrain not knowing the difference between sexual and nonsexual activities, the match served to further rile you up.

Eita knew when you became restless, told by your twitching legs and fidgeting fingers twisting the bedding. A really effective way of venting that excess energy came to mind and Eita couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t feeling aroused in the slightest. Addicted to the cute noises you made and the expressions you made when he hit the right spot, he needed little reason to indulge you.

Thinking over the times he’d taken you, an idea struck him. It gave him a mental image of you hovering over him. The position deviated from the other ways you’ve fucked before, but he knew you’d love it. There was definitely nothing wrong with taking you from behind, in fact he preferred that position, but being able to see your face during it would be worth it.

Sensing Semi staring at you, you turned onto your side and gave him a languid smile. Smiling back at you, he placed a hand on your cheek and drew you into a languid kiss that had you wanting more. Tongues sliding against each other and teeth clacking together as you both move closer to one another. It felt like hours were spent like that, hands running up and down each other’s body as you both lazily made out.

Your lips chased after his retreating ones, Semi chuckles and gives your bottom lip a chastising nip.

“Let’s try something different.” He says. The words alone were plain and ordinary, but dressed with context, it caused excitement to join the arousal stirring within you.

Laying down onto his back, Semi makes himself comfortable by propping his upper body up on his pillows. Once satisfied, he shoots you an expectant look. You just stare at him blankly, not understanding what to do now. Eita gathers that he will basically have to spell it out for you to hop on top.

Eita pats his thighs in invitation. “Come on, get up.”

Confused, you follow the order without question and place yourself over his thighs. What the hell were you going to do on his thighs? Your sinful mind conjured images of ridding his thigh until you came. From the way Semi grabbed his dick and gestured to move up, that idea was immediately crossed out.

Shuffling up, you shoot him a questioning look that had him want to both laugh at odd innocence it held while completely nude and want to cry at how oblivious you could be sometimes. Eita was infamous now amongst his peers for making heart eyes at the most oblivious girl. If only he knew back then how to read your subtle language of love, he would’ve acted much sooner than in his final year.

Oh well, he’d a lifetime to show you his unwavering affection. The thought gave him pause. It was a big jump to make from confessing to fucking to silently vowing himself to you, but it all felt so right to him. However, he didn’t want to chase you away by voicing those promises. Later, he swears to himself.

“Have you ever ridden someone before?” He bluntly asks. In situations like this, it was best to be as direct as possible, even though his hindbrain wanted nothing more to bury himself in you and not stop until –

“Oh. That’s why I’m on top.” Your revelation interrupts his devious train of thought. “I haven’t. I like the view though.”

What a view it was to have Semi Eita under you. His tip-dyed hair sticking up at odd angles from not drying it properly, proving yourself correct. His dark eyes fastened on yours, full lips tugged into an encouraging smile, you could melt under his unadulterated attention. Semi Eita was not good for your heart, much like all the other things you cherished in life.

Shaking off the sudden introspection, you remembered why you were here in the first place. Raising yourself up on your knees, you placed a steadying hand both on his chest and one on top of the hand holding his dick. Nudging the still wet tip at your wet entrance, you pause.

You’ve never ridden someone before; you knew the theory behind it: up on your knees and down you go. Rinse and repeat. Still, you hesitate.

As if sensing your internal discord, Semi helps you out by placing his hands onto your hips and start slowly lowering you. Meeting your gaze in wordless question, you nod him your consent, delighting in the way his strong hands lower you onto his rigid dick.

Without having to do anything, Semi stole your breath away. Semi was a genius and if it weren’t for the angle you had to hold yourself up to prevent falling apart at the seams, you would kiss him.

Walls fluttering around the intrusion the entire slide down. You have to close your eyes to truly embrace the sensations washing over you. Soon, your hips met his pelvic bone, where you just sat there, shivering at the full feeling of him throbbing inside. You don’t think you could ever get sick of the feeling of Semi pulsating withing you.

“You’re doing so well. I’m proud of you babe, look at you go.” He praises.

Taking in a deep breath, you look down at Eita and give him a shaky smile. His hands tighten in encouragement, giving you a rakish grin that just about drove you wild.

Slowly lifting your body off of his dick, Eita leaves just the tip in before he drops you onto his dick. The next few minutes were spent with him guiding you up and down his dick, letting you learn and try and get the hang of things.

Okay, maybe ridding someone was a little more complicated than you were led to believe. It took you at least a dozen haphazard thrusts before you finally place your hands on his chest, ready to go solo. Biting your lip, his eyes darken at the silent message you gave him.

Releasing your waist, his hands slide down to grab a handful of your plump ass cheeks, waiting for you to take control. With a shaky breath, you lowered yourself onto him and flexed your thighs to lift yourself off, all while intermittently tightening around his member.

It took a few tries before you got the hang of it. His fat cock slipped out of few times, but thankfully he fixed it before it could end in disaster. Once you gained confidence, you doubled down and really started to enjoy yourself, reveling in Semi’s humid, soft pants and the way the vein on the side of his dick dragged along all the right places against your walls.

Slick squelches fill the stagnant air of the alpha’s room. You’ve never been so thankful at the soundproof dorms more so than at this very moment. You would spontaneously combust if anyone asides from the male under you hearing you moan and pant like the bitch in heat you were, regardless if you were both in the throes of your respective hormone-driven fucking.

“Look at how well you’re ridding me, beautiful. If you keep it up this may become my new favourite position.” Butterflies unfurl their wings and take flight inside your stomach at his words of praise.

Praises kept falling unthinkingly from his lips, your heart jolts at each and every one. Your hole greedily sucking him back in, begging him to not leave you empty for too long. Impaling you on his dick, he could not name a more beautiful sight than you ridding his cock, mouth open and head thrown back. Eita wanted nothing more than to take a picture of you in this very moment and frame it. No artwork he’ll ever come across could possibly hold a candle to your ethereal expressions.

The friction generated from your combined relentless pace was enough to have your toes curling and fingers dig into his abdomen. Eita growls at the flash of pain, hips jerking up in reflex.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as the motion forces the head of his cock to push past the lip of your cervix, pressing impossibly deep inside. Your walls grip his cock so fiercely, Eita was half afraid that you stopped his blood flow for a second there.

“Baby girl,” Eita groans. Hands tightening around the globes of flesh he held in his hands, signalling how much he liked that.

“Again!” You demand. Eita rushed to meet your call, readjusting his grip from your ass onto your hips for better control and rams himself up into you at the same angle. Knees locking up, it was less you ridding him now and more of him ramming up into you while dropping you down onto his cock. Eyes rolling back into your head at the new angle and the force he places behind each and every thrust. You had completely conceded all control and you never felt so good in your life, body buzzing in ecstasy.

One particular well timed thrust had your spine tensing into an perfect arch as the mild buzzing sensation intensified and struck through your body like lightning. Creaming around his cock, you draw blood as you dig your nails into his flesh to try and anchor yourself to him and not join your mind that was trying it’s hardest to leave this earthly plane of existence.

Unable to help himself, he fucks up into your outrageously tight hole a few more times before he grows frustrated with slowly building orgasm and takes matters into his own hands. Obviously, this position just wasn’t going to do it for him.

“Sorry gorgeous, but let’s change this up little, yeah?” With that said, he swaps your positions all while still buried within you.

To your post-orgasmic blissed out mind, you magically found yourself under him as he frantically seeks out his orgasm within your slick hole. Hindbrain completely taking over, he pumps into and out of you like a man possessed, hands creating imprints into your hips identical to the first set.

Thoughts of him biting into you, permanently marking you as his, were provided by your inner desires. They refused to leave you as he growled as your walls flutter around him at the mere idea of being claimed. Maybe it was just your omegan side finally coming out to play, but you couldn’t deny how pleasant the idea of Semi being yours was.

“Eita,” You try to catch his attention. “Claim me.”

His brutal pace falters. He clenches his eyes shut and chokes out a groan. “Don’t say that stuff, baby girl. You have no idea how much I want to.”

If he wanted this as bad as you did, then why did he hesitate? Yes, granted it probably wasn’t the best time to bring it up while in the middle of sex, but what better time than now, in the present. Your heart felt so light and warm thinking of a life with him by your side, how could you not ask him.

“Eita, I love you and I can’t imagine my life with another. If you don’t claim me now, we’re going to end up doing it later. Lets do it now and save some time.” His breath shudders at the way you say his given name. Meanwhile, you were surprised at how articulated the words came out while he was buried balls-deep in you.

Not needing anymore encouragement to fulfill his deepest desire, he sheaths himself deep within you with one last thrust. Simultaneously, Eita sinks his canines into your major scent gland as his knot locks onto the rim of your hole, blood rushing into his mouth.

In that moment, the universe clicked into place as you felt your very being interconnected so thoroughly with Eita’s, it was hard for you to distinguish where you ended and he started.

As the new bond settled over your entwined bodies, self-awareness soon floods back in to carry away the crushing feeling of losing that split-second deep-seated connection. Now you knew why bonded couples said mating was an entirely different sensation once bound. Nothing could compare to the high Semi and yourself flew into.

Being so thoroughly and intimately connected with you had Eita’s inner-alpha put at ease. Rumbling happily, Semi slumps onto your body and wrapping you up in strong arms, careful of the inflated knot still buried deep inside. Basking in the shared warmth of the new connection, you unconsciously began to purr in kind, satisfied to a base level.

A sudden question stirs you out of the stupor, one that leaves you burning to know the answer.

“Hey,” Semi hums, showing he’s listening. “Does that mean we’re partners now?”

Eita knew it was still a delicate moment and yet that didn’t deter the laughter that spilt from him. He professed his feelings to you, made love to you multiple times, fell asleep in your arms and mated you and yet you were still unclear where his feelings lied. The jolting of his chest bumped your head around. The feeling of being slighted was wiped away by the joyous sound and coaxed you to laugh alongside him. Not once in the years you’ve known him to laugh so freely, it was a beautiful sound that you wanted to hear more of.

Pulling you up and cupping your face, Eita’s thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks, leaving behind trails of a tingling sensation. Gazing deep into your eyes, he gives you a soft and open look.

“Of course. We’re mated now, so you’re stuck with me.”

“You promise?”

Semi shakes his head at you, knowing he signed himself up for a lifetime of your antics. A short reel of images flashed through his mind, mapping out his future with you. It was a future filled with laughter, passion and endless nights spent together. It was a future so bright it made his heart hurt from how full it felt.

Eita could spend a thousand nights trying to convey these feelings and still never truly encompass how far that love stretched. Instead, he presses a loving kiss onto your mouth; it was a good start. Closing your eyes, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in deeper.

The movement knocked Semi’s slowly deflating knot from your hole, signified by the sensation of his cum slowly escaping your hole. Saddened by the loss of the physical connection, your pout was replaced by Semi’s lips as he pulled out with a slick noise. Lust did still nip at you, but it was sedated and easily ignored. Breaking the kiss, Semi placed three pecks in succession, causing you to instantly cheer up. The new bond breached all senses of physicality, proven by the wave of love that washes over you from his end.

“We really need another shower.”

“It can wait. I want to cuddle.” While you did feel gross from being covered in drying body fluids, it didn’t stop you from caving to his wish.

“Fine. You have to help clean me up, though. It takes two to make this mess.” Semi shakes his head at you with an amused expression. You both knew how that will go down. Eita could swear that his hands felt magnetised to your skin, so he’d probably dirty you up more in the shower.

Clutching you to his chest, you found yourself listening to his heartbeat. The satisfied scent permeating the room was soon joined by one of elation exuding from your tired forms. Between the pacifying scent of bergamot, the steady rise and fall of his chest below your cheek, and the circles he drew onto your back, it was a lost battle against the exhaustion weighing down your eyelids.

Reaching behind himself, he fishes for the long-forgotten blanket that had been kicked to the side and draws it over both you both. A comfortable warmth radiates from your intertwined bodies as you both drift away to sleep, heads filled with nebulous thoughts of the future spanning before the two of you.

Notes: Critiques, Comments & Notes are always appreciated!!

[joa-quin-phoe-nix-fan]

The Interview -Joaquin Phoenix FF

!TW! Emotional abuse, death mentioned, grief

The Interview

It was a very bad idea to drink the night before this interview. You knew it then and you also knew it as soon as you woke up that morning, so hungover you could barely distinguish your feet from your hands. “This is bad...” you mumble to yourself as you walk over to what you could only assume was your medicine cabinet, desperately trying to take some ibuprofen before the inevitable headache and nausea kicked in strong.

After a lot of fumbling and trying to shake pills out of a dental floss container for way too long you finally find the ibuprofen and take 2 with a swig of tap water. Then you walk over to your bedside table hoping that your last nights drunken self had remembered to put your phone there. ..you had remembered! Feeling a slight feeling of pride as your phone finally came into focus you turned it on. Although you had remembered to put your phone in the right place for once, you had sadly forgotten to plug it in. It wasn’t dead but you only had 15% left. “Ugh, I can relate...” you sighed as you plugged it in and looked at the time 9:45. Alright so- wait, 9:45?!? You only have 45 minutes to get to a place 30 minutes away by taxi, but that’s only if you somehow managed to immediately get a taxi as soon as you left your building. Which is practically impossible during tourist season. This means you only just have 15 minutes to get completely ready and, more importantly, get sober.

You do a strange mix of stumbling and running to your kitchen grabbing at anything to fill your stomach. You by some miracle manage to successfully make a (maybe slightly too full) bowl of milk and a cup of coffee. You chug the coffee, burning your tongue in the process and you cool it down by chugging your cereal. You look at your phone, 4 minutes have passed. You jump up off your chair and run blindly back to your bedroom stopping only to glance at your face in the mirror of your bathroom and cringe at the streaks of last nights makeup still on your face. Running into the bedroom you desperately look around for the outfit that you had prepared for today, you had kept it in the same spot for a week making sure that it wasn’t in the wash and unavailable to wear today. You look in the spot, now covered in underwear, a scarf and 3 unknown lipsticks probably exchanged in the womens restroom at the bar last night. Underneath it all...the deep green suit you had planned for today! Thank god!

You throw it on and run back to the bathroom, knocking over an array of furniture on the way, grabbing around for your makeup remover and a cotton pad. You desperately wipe at your eyes, not really caring if every bit is wiped off just wanting the giant streaks of sleep-covered makeup gone. You get most of it off, leaving only slight traces of eyeliner and mascara right in your lash-line and practically jump on your makeup bag, trying to check the time at the same time. Sadly your phone had run out of battery at some point while you were attacking your face. “Ah, fuck it!” you mutter as you just chuck it at your bag, thinking that you’ll just have to go without a phone today and that you’ll charge it later. With shaky hands you draw on your eyeliner as precisely as possible, at the end feeling proud that you only fucked it up twice and that they weren’t even that noticeable. You then run to the door, grabbing your bag, vaguely grabbing inside it to make sure you felt your money, your keys, your slightly crumpled resume and your dead phone and run out the door, hoping that there was a taxi just waiting out there. As expected, there wasn’t one. You have no choice but to wait. The minutes pass like hours until finally, just when you were about to give up and start running towards the nearest bus stop (which is 10 minutes away and is twice the journey time) a yellow taxi peeled around the corner at the highest speeds. You wave to it desperately and luckily it screeches to a stop. You climb in and almost yell the address at the driver, you didn’t want to be rude, you were just so desperate.

As soon as your body settled down in the back seat, you started to feel rather dizzy and like you were going to pass out. You try to breathe deep to calm yourself down but it just kinda makes you suddenly nauseous so you resolve to just looking out the window to distract yourself.

As you watch the people and cars zooming past you try to remember what your uncle told you when he said that he got you this interview. “The man who’s going to be interviewing you is named Joaquin Phoenix, you will address him as Mr. Phoenix. You need to tell him about your college, your high school, the two other jobs you’ve had, how long you’ve had them, the fact that you haven’t been fired or reprimanded in the 2 years that you have had those jobs. Don’t get too sappy or tell him about your possible eviction due to your now ex dropping financial support, that will probably just make him think that you’re making it all up because it all seems to sad and ridiculous to be true. He’ll think you’re just trying to work off of his sympathy and will probably not take it well.” You sigh, although you hated how strictly he said it, you knew it was true, and you need this job.

After you broke up with them, you lost everything. They had helped you with taxes, they helped move and put together all your furniture, they were there for you when your father passed away, in fact, they had been with you for the better part of four years. Losing that broke you, physically, mentally and financially. You weren’t mooching or anything, you had your two jobs to pay for most of the bills, and they had their job. They just always helped when you were a couple hundred short, one time even a whole thousand short. This happened practically every month, being a barista and waitress didn’t pay as much as you expected, but they never minded. They always payed the amount, but then they would guilt-trip you. Forcing you to do things that you didn’t want to do because of their false sense of you “owing them” due to how much time and money they had spent on you. Sometimes you weren’t in the mood to “mess around”, sometimes you were too socially anxious to go to a party, sometimes you were just busy with your two jobs to spend every second of your day with them, but they didn’t care. You owed them these things and if you said no, they would threaten to not help you pay next month, or guilt you by bringing up your dad’s death. Both hurt just as bad and they knew this. They wanted to make you get in trouble at work, by making you not go, so you’d lose your job and have to depend on them more but they never succeeded. Although they had manipulated you in so many other ways, they never affected your work ethic. You knew that you needed to be there every day and no matter how much they guilt-tripped you and sent you text after text, voicemail after voicemail, threat after threat, you stayed at work. Once you got home you would fight and fight and scream and cry, they would yell at you, then as soon as you yelled, made their voice calm and condescending, making you seem like you were crazy.

Sometimes, you would even believe it yourself, but 2 weeks, 14 hours and 25 minutes ago, you didn’t bend, you kicked them out and called your mother, uncle and oncle (the uncle on your mothers side was gay and married a french man that you called oncle because that’s uncle in French) and they stayed over that night, with you crying and sobbing, and with them supplying you with chocolate, vodka and no phone. Your mom kept your phone from you like she had done when you were a child, and you’re glad she did, you surely would’ve called them and gotten back together and gotten back to being manipulated.

Since then, your mother, uncle and oncle had been visiting you one by one, checking up on you, making sure you were doing alright. The first night that they hadn’t done this was last night, the night that you went out, got shitfaced, came home, got more shitfaced and destroyed the house. It was the worst night for them to not check up on you, but you didn’t blame them. It was getting old to them, or maybe they were busy, maybe they just thought you were already over it. You weren’t obviously.

You were so deep in thought that you barely heard the taxi driver say “we’re here.” He was patient but he definitely wanted to get paid sometime today so to grab your attention he raised his voice a tad “We’re here ma’am!” You snapped out of it and looked out the window, you were here. You blushed, embarrassed and hastily thanked the taxi driver, paid for the ride and ran out towards the tall silver building in to the left of the car. The quick jump from sitting to running, though, made you reel and you almost fell onto the pavement when you suddenly stopped in mid-air. It took a moment to realize that someone had grabbed you and held you up before you made your face a pavement-pancake. You looked up, it was a man with silver hair, he had a medium sized beard, quite close to his face, not clean-shaven but not a lumberjack beard. Somewhere between there. He wore a shirt, tie and zip-up sweater. Kinda strange but nice-looking. His eyes were a lovely bright green in the morning light but they were so light you at first thought that they were silver. He held you close, with genuine concern written all over his face. “Are you okay, Miss?” His voice was sweet and gravely, and you felt the vibration of his vocal cords run from his chest, through you like a warm shower, slow and comforting.

You had kinda zoned out for a second, and suddenly realized what had happened, what situation you were in and how embarrassing it was. Your face became hot and stung, like as if you had instantly gotten a sunburn. You tried to stand up but your legs did not seem to want to cooperate. Instead of planting on the ground, steady and firm, to support your body weight, your legs decided to just kinda flop about like fish out of water, desperately trying to find the ground. They finally did and you wobbled up, standing, facing him embarrassed out of your mind.

He was patient and held you tight in case you fell again, “It’s okay, I’m here.” Why did he have to say that? Tears welled up in your eyes and the urge to hug this stranger became overwhelming. “Are you okay? What happened?” He asked as the tears fell down your face, worried that he had said something wrong. You started sobbing now, “I’m-I’m fi-i-i-ine..” you said between sobs, “I...[sniff]...I just had a bad morning...[sob] and-and now...I’ve got a job interview here right now and...and...I need this job but...I-I can’t do it!” At this point you were both sitting in the ground in front of each other, him still holding you and listening. “Keep going, I’m here for you” He pressed on, trying to get you to talk more. For an hour you both sat there with this stranger, you telling him everything and him listening carefully. Not really giving any opinion of his own yet, just asking questions to make you tell him more, tell him about how you felt, what you did next, what you remembered in the moments. Slowly at first, you started to feel better. The more you talked, the less you cried, the less you cried, the more you noticed about this man and how handsome he was, he had a small line on his lip, it was hard to see at first through his moustache but you noticed. Maybe it was a scar? You also noticed his teeth as he asked questions, not straight but not completely crooked. Yellow, he was either a coffee drinker, a smoker or both. His fingers were tobacco-stained, he was a smoker. His eyes were perfectly lined with long lashes, giving another layer of beauty to this man’s face. The more you noticed, the more you wanted to know about him. Life went so slow and sweet with him.

You finished everything that you had to say, finally calm and content. He quietly turned his head and furrowed his brow, processing everything you said. He stayed this way for about 5 minutes. You didn’t mind though, it just meant you could simply watch him and forget everything else in life. After a while he spoke, slowly and carefully, choosing each word as if it was the most important decision of his life. “Wow...that is definitely a whole lot to go through in one lifetime. I understand what it’s like to lose someone, I lost both my father and my brother. My brother died of an overdose right in front of me and I lost my father to cancer in 2015. I have no idea what you will need to heal...but for me, I chose to create. I overworked myself at times, hurt the people I love, I came close to giving up at times, but I kept going. Lots of people tell you to never look back but...I find that looking back sometimes can help you heal. You need to look back to know where you came from. The important thing is to not do that forever, otherwise you’ll never move forwards. You seem to have been overworking yourself, both with your work and your relationship. The man, that you were going to have an interview with...he’s me.”

Your stomach dropped. You had completely forgotten about the interview. The words of your uncle repeated in your head. “Don’t get too sappy...that will probably just make him think that you’re making it all up...he’ll think you’re just trying to work off of his sympathy and will probably not take it well.” You instantly drop your gaze and lower your head, ashamed and unbelievably worried. “I’m so sorry Mr. Phoenix, I made it so you weren’t working. I told you everything about my life. I promise you it’s all true and I swear I didn’t try to play off of your sympathy...I had no idea you were...” You glanced up, meeting his gaze. He looked profoundly confused and not at all angry. You blushed beet red and looked down again in apology. You sat there for a couple minutes, tears forming again, blurring your vision. Then something slowly reached for your face. As the tears fell off your eyelashes and landed on your leg, you saw that it was his hand, he slowly placed his pointer finger under your chin and gently pushed your head upwards. You complied and lifted your head, completely ashamed and met his gaze again. What took you completely aback was, that he was smiling at you. “Miss Y/N...I never thought that. I actually was supposed to have time-off during the time of our interview but your uncle is very good at convincing people.” You both laughed at this, for it was indeed true “So I wasn’t kept from work. Finally, I’d be more surprised if your life story wasn’t true, I would say that you’re an amazing actress if that was the case. I know that everything you’ve said has been true, I could even tell that quite a bit was wrong as soon as I saw you left the taxi. It all made sense as soon as you said it.” You smiled at him. You had only just met him that day but you already felt so comfortable around him. Was this love at first sight?

“Well, now that we are properly acquainted, do you want my number so we can make another interview time or maybe even...to go get a coffee?” You blushed again, getting your phone out of your bag, forgetting that it had run out of battery. You cursed at yourself, you should’ve just let it charge. “I’m sorry, but my phone is out of battery...do you have a charger?” “No, I don’t on me...do you want to come over and charge it?” You nodded, unable to speak because you were so flustered and walked with him to his car, excited to see where this day would go.

PS Hey! This is my first FF! I hope whoever reads this likes it and if you want to request a fic or if you want to give tips on writing FFs I'll happily write any FF or take any advice.

[super-secret-sick-fics]

ouu yes ive been so obsessed with them (osasuna) recently and there’s barely any fics for them in this department lol i wanted to see something like suna coming to school sick with the stomach flu or something and osamu taking him home to take care of him (i feel like it’s ooc for suna to go to go school if he’s not feeling well so it’d probably be one of those where it gets progressively worse throughout the day) sorry if this is too long haha

Okay!! Thank you for this request. Sorry it took so long. Honestly, I had a lot of fun with this and it ended up being so long, that I’m gonna post it in 2 parts!!

You can totally read either as a stand alone though. Part 2 should be up soon :)

Suna and I have the same birthday, so I actually kinda put a lot of myself into him in this one since we share a star sign lmao. I hope it’s not too ooc for either of them. It’s my first time writing sunaosa!

Sick at School: a SunaOsa fic

Pair: Sick Suna, Caretaker Osamu

Word Count: 3,024

Warnings: vomit & swearing & soft cuddles

Part 2 Here

_________________________________

Suna was confused.

There was a strange gnawing in his gut that wasn’t there when he woke up this morning. In fact, when he woke up this morning, he felt perfectly fine. Maybe he was a little more tired than usual, but he didn’t sleep all that well, so he brushed it off and got ready for school.

But now, he was sitting in class, his eyes burning as he tried to stay awake. It was only Monday and only the second class of the day, but he felt like he’d been at school for days already. On top of the grumbly feeling in his stomach, his brain was muddled, so paying attention to whatever his teacher was saying was taking every bit of energy he could scrounge up.

It didn’t make sense. He slept his eight hours (even if it wasn’t the best sleep), he ate a good breakfast, he was hydrated, there weren’t any tests or games coming up to make him anxious at all. So the unsteady, uncomfortable, unusual feelings he currently felt simply did not make a single bit of logical, rational sense.

And because they didn’t make sense—because there was no rational reason for him to feel that way—he ignored it.

Ignoring it proved to be more difficult than he anticipated as the fog in his brain solidified into a consistent pounding and the gnawing in his stomach started to feel more like his stomach acid was boiling. The sun shining on him through the window didn’t help any, and he started to feel rather warm. By his fourth class, occasional cramps rolled through his body, forcing him to tense every muscle in his body to keep from wincing.

When the teacher finally released them for lunch, Suna folded his arms on his desk and hid his face in the crook of his elbow, ready to take a nap. Within three seconds, he heard the chair in front of him scrape the ground, grating on his ears, and felt his desk shake as someone sat down. He adjusted his head and peeked over his arm to find Osamu staring down at him, his usual bored look gracing his features.

“Yer sick, Sunarin,” he deadpanned and took a bite of his sandwich. Suna blinked at him several times.

Sick? Was that why he felt so weird? But he wasn’t sick this morning. There was no way he would have come to school if he felt bad.

Still, it would explain why he slept poorly. It must be a fast acting bug.

“I guess so,” he mumbled and buried his face in his elbow again.

“Hmmm,” Osamu mumbled. They were quiet for a minute or two before Osamu spoke again.

“Wanna go to the infirmary?” he asked, his mouth full.

Suna looked up at him again and sighed before sitting up. The world spun around for a brief second and he closed his eyes until the feeling went away. When it righted itself once more, his stomach was hurting worse than before.

“How’d you know anyway?” he asked and rested his chin in his hand.

“You’ve been lookin’ bad all mornin’. Wasn’t hard to tell.” Osamu shrugged. His sandwich was gone and he started making his way through the onigiri he most likely made himself. The fact that Osamu could tell he wasn’t feeling well from across the room made Suna blush. Or maybe he had a fever?

“Plus,” Osamu continued, “Tsumu’s home right now with a pretty nasty stomach bug. Threw up all over his bed last night.” He scrunched up his nose cutely, probably remembering the disastrous scene from the night before. Atsumu was never good at being a sick person. Or an injured person. Or a person at all, really.

“Wouldn’t be all that surprising if ya caught it from him since ya slept over at our place last weekend.”

Suna nodded in agreement.

“What about you?” he asked. Osamu shrugged again.

“I’ll probably be spewin’ my guts out by Thursday. Usually how it goes. One of us catches something then the other is sick within the week. We’ve only been sick at the same time a handful o’ times.”

“Mmmm,” Suna nodded and put his head down once more. It was suddenly very difficult to hold his head up.

“Infirmary?” Osamu asked again. Suna shook his head.

“Can’t move,” he whined before he could stop himself. Osamu looked at him with wide eyes.

“W-well, I’ll help ya out, dumbass,” he stuttered and Suna returned the wide eyed look.

“Uh, sure. But finish your lunch first. I can wait. You should eat. Wake me up when you’re done,” he said and closed his eyes.

“Alright. Lemme know if we need to go sooner though…” Osamu said hesitantly and Suna tried to ignore the implication behind the phrase.

Just because Atsumu had a stomach bug didn’t mean that Suna did too. He wouldn’t throw up at school. The increasing nausea absolutely had to be related to the growing migraine that slammed away at his head. He definitely would not throw up at school.

Before he started overthinking himself into a downward spiral, Osamu placed a hand in his hair. Suna was tense at first, but then Osamu started gently scratching his scalp and he immediately relaxed. He was a little embarrassed, honestly. Not because this was unusual though.

Osamu knew it helped Suna with his frequent headaches, so Suna was sure he somehow knew about the incoming migraine. It was just that this was usually something Osamu did for him in much more private settings. He’d do it on the bus on the way back from away games, or in one of their rooms after school or during a sleepover. To be so affectionate in the middle of their classroom was unheard of and if Suna wasn’t feeling so poorly, he’d probably smack Osamu’s hand away.

“Ya got a slight fever there, Sunarin,” Osamu whispered gently.

“Mmmm.”

“Okay. I’ll let ya know when I’m done eatin’.”

“Mmmm.”

Within a few seconds, Suna felt himself drift off.

When he woke up again, it wasn’t because of Osamu.

A violent cramp rolled through his gut and he shot up in his seat, ignoring the startled looks of his classmates. The cramp passed quickly, but left behind a foreboding feeling of nausea so intense it left him paralyzed and glued to his seat.

A second later, he noticed that Osamu was nowhere to be found and his anxiety increased. The situation was becoming increasingly urgent and there was no way in hell he could move or speak without throwing up all over his desk.

His chest tightened and he swallowed back a gag. He needed help. He needed Osamu.

“Suna-kun?” a girl from his class touched his shoulder and he flinched. She withdrew her hand.

“O-osamu—“ he forced out and she nodded urgently and ran away and out the door. Less than a minute later, she came back, Osamu hot on her heels. She pointed to Suna and Osamu nodded before rushing over and stood in front of him.

“Sunarin?” he tried and Suna shook his head.

“Are ya gonna—“ Suna nodded before Osamu could finish his question. The eyes of all of his classmates burned Suna’s already flushed cheeks and as if to let everyone know what was going on, a gag forced itself through his body painfully and he leaned over his desk. He brought the back of his hand up to his mouth and whimpered.

“Can someone bring me a trash can, maybe?” Osamu snapped at their peers. The girl from before nodded and dashed to the corner of the room and dragged the trash can over to Suna’s desk.

Everyone froze again and stared with scared eyes at the situation unfolding. Suna shook with effort, trying to stop the inevitable. He really really didn’t want everyone to watch him throw up.

Thankfully, Osamu had his back.

“Leave?!” He shouted and everyone ran out of the room.

“I’ll bring the nurse, Osamu-kun,” the same girl said and Osamu nodded, but his eyes were focused only on Suna. They’d have to remember to thank that girl later.

“I’m sorry, Rintaro. I finished my lunch and you were sleepin’ so peaceful I thought I had time to go to the bathroom before I took ya to the infirmary,” Osamu apologized and cupped Suna’s face in his hands. His voice was much softer than a second ago. It was the voice reserved for those quiet nights that they spent chatting before they fell asleep. Or on the team bus early in the morning when everyone else was still too groggy to pay attention to them. And it comforted Suna in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

“I feel sick, S-samu,” Suna forced through gritted teeth. The swirling in his stomach grew more insistent by the second and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was leaning over the trash can.

“I know, Rin. I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’ve got ya,” Osamu smiled softly at him and brushed his hair back. He frowned when Suna unconsciously leaned into his cold hands.

“Fever got higher,” he mumbled. Suna gagged again.

“Alright, c‘mon,” he said and circled around the desk behind Suna. Osamu gently grabbed his trembling shoulders and positioned him over the trash can. People’s leftovers from lunch filled about half the bin and the smell of all the different foods made Suna dizzy.

“Rin, ya gotta relax,” Osamu sighed and forcefully rubbed between Suna’s shoulder blades.

“N-no,” Suna said stubbornly.

“Yer an idiot.”

“Y-yeah.”

“It’s gonna feel worse if ya don’t just let it happen,” Osamu tried. Suna shook his head.

“Alright well, be mad at me later, then,” Osamu muttered. Suna was about to turn and look at him questioningly, but Osamu wrapped a hand around Suna’s front and placed it on his stomach. Even the minimal contact forced a wretch that left Suna reeling.

“D-don’t,” he tried, but the request was punctuated by a painful hiccup.

“I’m sorry. Can’t do that,” Osamu responded before starting to rub up and down on Suna’s stomach quickly. The motion shook the contents nauseatingly and Suna couldn’t stop the watery burp that followed. He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

Osamu didn’t relent. He started patting Suna’s back with the other hand, forcing belch after belch. The conflicting motions wreaked havoc on Suna’s already chaotic stomach.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever, before Suna grabbed Osamau’s wrist tightly.

“S-stop—hurrk. P-please, Samu. No m-mor—hic,” Suna begged. All of his limbs felt like they were about a thousand pounds and he shivered, cold despite the sun beating down on his back.

“It’s okay, Rin. I got ya,” Osamu muttered. He pried Suna’s sweaty hand off his wrist and replaced it with his hand. Suna squeezed hard when a wet belch jolted his body. His other hand grabbed the rim of the trash can in a white-knuckled grip. Osamu used his free hand to rub gently between Suna’s shoulder blades again.

Suna squeezed his eyes shut when he wretched. His throat felt tight and he tried to swallow the accumulating saliva in his mouth, only for it to come back up with a noisy gag. He opted to just drop his mouth open and let the spit fall into the trash can disgustingly.

“S-Samu—“ he tried but was interrupted by a guttural, wet, burp that left his head spinning. Two seconds later, he wretched and a weak stream vomit dribbled out of his mouth. It burned his throat and coated his mouth. The disgusting taste left him more nauseous than he thought possible and a belch gurgled in the back of his throat. He heaved, but nothing else came up.

“Ah, Rin, I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry,” Osamu shushed him. Suna didn’t even realize he was crying.

He continued heaving for what must have been an eternity before another painful gag jolted him forward and brought with it a torrent of pale vomit into the trash can. At least he didn’t have to see everyone’s discarded lunch anymore. Not that his new view was much prettier.

“There ya, go Sunarin,” Osamu soothed. Suna sputtered and coughed, trying to catch his breath. His body was relentless though, and before he felt like he had sufficient oxygen, he was lurching forward with more forceful vomit pouring out of his mouth.

Suna’s body didn’t let up. It was stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of gasping breaths abruptly interrupted by a fountain of vomit forcing its way out. Eventually, he was just left heaving over the trash can, his stomach trying but failing to expel whatever might be left. Anxiety crawled up his spine and the room spun. He wanted to breathe, he really did. He just couldn’t.

“Fuck, Rin, breathe. Please,” Osamu demanded and his voice shattered through Suna’s panic. He nodded and closed his eyes to try and collect himself. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled heavily through his mouth. A minute or two of that, and he was able to take in his surroundings again.

At some point, Osamu wrapped an arm around Suna’s chest because apparently, his own arms gave out at some point and hung limply at his sides. He spit the residual nastiness out of his mouth and squinted up at Osamu.

“Can we leave?” he asked plainly. Osamu stared at him owlishly and then chuckled.

“It’s the middle of the day Rin, I can’t just—“

“Please?” he all but begged and grabbed Osamu’s arm. Osamu hesitated for the briefest of seconds before relenting with a heavy breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course. Want me to call yer mom?” Osamu responded. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off Suna’s face. Suna shook his head.

“Is it too much to ask if I can stay with you? I don’t want to risk giving this to my little sister and grandma.” His voice was quieter than he wanted, but he was wiped out. He cleared his throat and spit in the trash can. He was fading fast. All he wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep whatever bug this was off.

“Yeah okay. I’ll ask my Ma. Shouldn’t be too much of an issue since Tsumu’s sick too.” Osamu pulled out his phone and massaged Suna’s scalp. It felt so good that he leaned over and buried his face in Osamu’s stomach. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall asleep here. Hopefully Osamu’s mom would be okay with it and come quickly.

“Ma, can you come pick me and— no I’m not sick— well, if you’d just let me talk ya crazy—Ma I do have a good reason to be call— would ya stop talkin—yer damn right I’m being disrespectfu—Ma!” As Osamu argued with his mother over the phone (it was nothing new) Suna took inventory of his body.

There was no denying he was sick. That much was obvious. His head was pounding and his stomach still rolled and swirled uncomfortably. Shivers danced up and down his body, exacerbated by the sweat that coated his skin. He was sure that he had a fever. All of his limbs weighed him down and he didn’t think he had any sort of energy to move them. It was taking all he had to stay awake right now.

“Osamu-san!” The girl from before returned, the school nurse right behind her.

“Suna Rintaro, you poor boy. Caught that bug going around, I see,” he heard the nurse and pulled his face away from Osamu’s body. Blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision, he sniffed and stared at the old lady in front of him.

She stuck a thermometer in his mouth without saying a word and pulled a water bottle out from her coat pocket. While they were waiting for his temperature, Suna glanced at Osamu, who was now leaning against the desk behind Suna’s. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, his other still holding the phone to his ear as he continued listening to his mother rant.

Without thinking, Suna reached over and grabbed a hold of Samu’s shirt with one hand. Osamu looked down in surprise before his face softened and he put a hand on Suna’s shoulder.

The thermometer beeped and Suna winced.

“38.7,” the nurse read and pursed her lips. She pulled out some medicine from her lab coat and gave some to Suna. He grimaced. Even in his hazy state, he knew putting something in his stomach wouldn’t go over well.

“Suna-kun, you need to get that fever of your’s down. I know it’s not ideal, but please try.” Suna turned his head away. She sighed.

“Okay, but make sure you take something at home. Does someone need to call your mother?” Before Suna could answer, Osamu interrupted.

“I’ll take him ma’am,” he said, apparently off the phone with his mother.

“Osamu-kun, don’t you be thinking you can just skip out on school,” she warned.

“I would never,” Osamu charmed, “I think it’s the smartest move, ya see. Atsumu is at home with the same illness right now and so there’s no way I ain’t carrying the germs for it. Wouldn’t it be safest if I go home too? Before I infect anyone else. And I can take Sunarin with me.”

The nurse gave him a skeptical look, but then glanced over at Suna. She noticed his grip on Osamu’s shirt and the former’s hand firmly on Suna’s back. It must’ve made Suna look pretty pathetic because she relented almost immediately.

“Oh fine, fine. Does someone need to call your mom?”

“No, ma’am. Just got off the phone with her. She’ll be here soon. Said she’s got no problem taking Sunarin in ‘til he’s all better.” He squeezed Suna’s shoulder and Suna relaxed knowing he wasn’t at risk of infecting his little sister or aging grandmother. He sighed and smiled gratefully at Osamu.

It was comforting to know that Osamu was going to be looking after him. Because, if the swirling in his stomach told him anything, he was in for a really long night.

[joezworld]

Fools in Love (2/10)

This, and all the stories after it, exist because I saw this post. Damn you @mean-scarlet-deceiver I was using my free time!

Thank You Donna Summer

1977

"I'm telling you, there's something wrong with me!" Bear protested as the workmen slammed his maintenance hatches shut. He'd been feeling unusual for some time - nothing major, but a niggling feeling of something being off. It was driving him nutty, and the men could find nothing wrong.

"Well boy-o," said Clive the foreman. "At this point the only thing we haven't done at this point is take you to pieces - and we aren’t doing that!"

"But it feels weird!"

"Tough. We'll deal with it during your next overhaul." The man said firmly, before following his men out the door of the shed.

"And people call Henry a hypochondriac." Muttered Gordon sleepily.

"He actually had boiler sludge and you know it!" The Hymek snapped as his crankshaft did another flip-flop. "And I'm not saying this just for attention - do you think I like having my hatches pulled every night?"

"Considering how often it's happened this month, I'd say that you must." Gordon sighed as he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Bear seethed for the rest of the night, and was still snappish when he was backed down onto The Limited in the morning.

"You are in a dreadful state today. Are you feeling all right?" The lead coach asked as the passengers boarded.

"No, I'm not." Bear scowled, and said no more.

"Right," the coach murmured. Hopefully nothing goes wrong today, or he'll be apoplectic. She thought to herself.

-------

Kellsthorpe Road

Predictably, things went very wrong.

Late passengers, late connections, a cow on the line, and a broken signal arm meant that the train was almost an hour late by the time Bear and his coaches staggered into Kellsthorpe.

To add injury to insult, something was now noticeably wrong with Bear.

In addition to whatever imagined maladies he had, there was a new shooting pain in his gearbox that got worse each time his driver changed up or down. 

As they set off from the station, there was a loud CRACK from Bear's gearbox, and an even louder shout of pain from his mouth as the train ground to a halt.

"I told you that there was something wrong!" Bear hissed as his driver slid underneath his front bogie.

He came out moments later, drenched in oil.

"Well, that's torn it!" He groaned as he wiped his hands. "A seal failed and all the oil is gone from your transmission. I'm surprised we made it this far before you disintegrated something."

And that was that. Bear couldn’t move under his own power, so a rescue engine was summoned while the passengers grumbled unhappily about the delay. Bear was also unhappy, but had passed the point of being able to speak without turning the air blue with swears, so he stayed silent.

"As much as I sympathize with them, they should be grateful that they aren't taking a bus!" The lead coach whispered as the signal arm dropped, indicating that the rescue engine was approaching.

Bear hoped it wasn’t James - he'd never hear the end of it if the red engine discovered a perceived weakness.

As the engine puffed into view, Bear's anger and frustration evaporated as he saw that it wasn't James, but instead Henry.

"Am I ever glad to see you!" He called out, eliciting a broad smile from his friend.

"What kind of an engine would I be if I ignored a friend in need?" Henry said as his crew coupled them together.

Bear smiled in return, ignoring the sudden resurgence of his nausea.

---

Talking seemed to help settle his systems - then again, talking with Henry always seemed to help his emotional state; conversation flowed between them with an effortless ease that Bear couldn’t really replicate with anyone else - and the trip to Crovan's Gate was filled with idle conversation about what had gone on since they'd last spoken:

James had once again annoyed a visiting diesel into apoplectic fury with an inane series of questions,

Douglas was still fuming over the officiating that cost Cronk's rugby team their match,

Thomas was still driving everyone on his branch crazy with ABBA - he knew the words, but had no singing ability at all,

And there was a new song that was sweeping the Island's record stores, to the point where a lot of the younger cleaners were bemoaning their long work days, as it meant that they couldn't get to the store before all copies sold out.

"I heard a bit of it in the sheds last week," Henry confided as he rolled tender-first towards Crovan's Gate. I think I'm getting old, because I did not like it at all."

"And yet you look just as dashing as you did on the day I met you."

"One of the perks of being made out of metal I suppose. It's the secret to my eternally good looks."

"But I'm made of metal, so isn't it my secret as well?"

"Gasp. I guess that it will have to be our  secret to eternal beauty then."

Bear's smile couldn’t cover the wince that accompanied another unusual feeling from deep within his frame.

"What's wrong?" Henry asked, his voice colored with concern.

"I don't know. I've been feeling unusual for a while now. They've gone through every one of my systems and they can't find anything."

"What does it feel like?"

"It's very strange - my driver says it sounds like indigestion. At some points I get this feeling of, like, like my insides are moving in a way that they shouldn't be, and everything feels light and fluttery... are you all right?"

Henry didn't answer. His concerned expression had suddenly turned into a painful grimace, while steam began pouring out of places it shouldn't be.

For the second time that day, The Limited ground to halt as Henry’s driver stopped the train and dampened his fire.

"I think this train is just cursed," he said as he poked his head in-between Henry’s wheels. "Something has ruptured, but I have no idea what."

Bear closed his eyes in frustration. "If Spamcan shows up as our rescue engine, I..."

He trailed off as Henry laughed.

--

More than an hour later, the train finally limped into Crovan's Gate. A very bemused Class 46 that had been summoned from the mainland was now towing Henry and Bear, neither of whom could stop laughing long enough to explain the joke.

As she shunted them into the Works yard, they finally were able to tell her why they were laughing. The 46 regarded the two with amusement in her eyes. "You two are a pair and a half, you know that?"

"I had an inkling." Henry said, grateful that he'd been laughing too hard to pay any attention to his ruptured steam line before the men dropped his fire. Now that there wasn’t any steam pressure, it hurt a lot less.

Bear, whose gearbox had gone numb, was still chuckling at the absurdity of this 'superb rescue'.

The 46 rolled away as the workmen arrived, and any further conversation was halted as they began pulling tools from cases.

--

That night

"Oh, that's right! I wanted to ask you," Henry said suddenly. "What did those feelings feel like? Indigestion?"

"Yes," Bear said after a moment. "Indigestion, crossed with a broken motor mount. It feels strange, like I'm being filled with helium and lead at the same time."

"This is going to feel incredibly strange, but I feel the same way." Henry said after a moment. "It's like I have an ache in the pit of my boiler, but at the same time I feel energetic - like I'm pulling the express."

"Does it change sometimes?"

"Yes it does. Are you going to tell me that sometimes you feel better and nauseous at the same time?"

"Yes! I feel that way right now as a matter of fact."

"As do I. " Henry paused to acknowledge the incredulous situation they were in. "What a pair we are - Miss Spamcan was right! We break down on the same day, and we have the same phantom illnesses."

"And we're both green."

"And we're both green! How could I forget that? If you squint hard enough, we're essentially the same engine."

"Will you two shut up!" Came a cry from across the works. Several of the workmen were clustered around a radio. "We're trying to listen!"

Turning back to the radio, the man turned up the volume knob, allowing a thumping bass line to fill the works.

"I think this is that song I was talking about earlier." Henry whispered to Bear.

Ooh it's so good, it's so good

It's so good, it's so good

It's so good

Ooh I'm in love, I'm in love

I'm in love, I'm in love

I'm in love...

--

The song was very long - apparently it was some kind of "extended club mix", and the workers were very enthusiastic about it.

Henry and Bear... were not.

"Honestly, I'm quite nonplussed." Bear remarked after spending a few moments searching for the right words. "It's just the same words over and over again."

"It's for dancing mate!" Said one of the men as he swept up. "You're supposed to feel the beat and get moving!"

"I can't dance." Bear looked down at the rails. And I can only really move forward and backwards."

"Maybe you could spin around on the turntable, and that would count." Henry chimed in.

"I think I'd just get sick."

"Perhaps."

"I cannot believe you two!" Cried a young cleaner. "That was an amazing song! How can you not like it?"

"It's repetitive and goes nowhere." Henry said. "It's repeating the same words over and over again. I understand that she 'feels love', but she never said what she was feeling. What does love feel like?"

That brought the entire works to a stop. The men looked from each other nervously. Henry was puzzled. "What did I say?"

"Nothing!" Said one of the men quickly. "It's just... uhh... oh would you lookatthetimegoodbye!"

He fled into the staff break room, followed by several of his co-workers.

Henry and Bear watched with bafflement as the shed emptied at lightning speed. Soon, only two cleaners were left - Karl, the senior cleaner who had been on Sodor since the 1940's, and a young man whom neither engine knew.

"Children, the lot of 'em." Karl groused as he cleared up a patch of spilled oil. "It's like they've never been asked a difficult question."

"What was the question?" Henry, Bear, and the young cleaner asked together.

"Seriously?" Karl looked up from the oil slick. "None of ye know what 'e said?"

"No."

"Nope."

"I have no idea."

Karl groaned as ge held his head in his hands. "Love, you great ignoramus! You asked about what love felt like!"

"So?" None of Henry’s confusion was lifted.

"You're an engine!" Karl said after a moment of shocked, silent, gesticulation. "Engines don't ask what that means!"

"Why not?" This came from the young cleaner, who cocked his head in confusion.

"I- I- you- it's just..." Karl trailed off, his boisterous shock deflating into a curious silence. "I don't know. Now that I think about it, I don't think it's ever happened before."

"Well it's happened now." Said Bear, now genuinely curious about the answer to the question. "What does love feel like?"

Karl looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He turned to the young cleaner for help, and got none.

"Don't look at me. I'm still single. You're the one who married his childhood sweetheart."

Karl glowered for a moment before pulling himself together. "Fine. You lads want to know what love is? It's like a sickness. And you enjoy it. Just thinking about whoever you're smitten on and your pulse races, breath quickens, and you feel like you're going to vomit. Every time I saw my Maria before I told her how I felt, I wanted to run and hide, but never wanted to be more than more than a foot from her. She made me feel like shouting from the rooftops that I loved her, and I was fookin' terrified that she'd find out. It was awful!"

"What did you end up doing?" The young cleaner asked.

"I told 'er! It helped that I'd known her for years, but I just sacked up and told her how I felt." He paused, fiddling with his wedding ring as he did so. "And she said she loved me too. And then I threw up on her shoes."

He smirked slightly. "I was not smooth. But she still said yes! And that's all that matters."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "So you feel sick and that's love? That's what that song was about?"

"No! It's enjoyable! I wouldn't trade how I felt for all the gold in the world, and neither would Maria. We've been married for 38 years, and I still love her with all the strength in my body. I'd do anything for her."

He glanced over at the now-quiet radio. "That song is about how it feels to be in love, from a youngster's view - your emotions run hot, and you can't imagine anything but the object of your affections."

He turned to the young cleaner, caught up in the passion of his speech. "And you would do well to remember that it won't always feel like that, laddie! At some point, those emotions will calm back down, and you'll be left with a quiet set of feelings. And if you're stupid, ye might think that it's over, but it isn't! That just means that you've pulled the iron out of the fire, and it's cooled into a strong, solid love that will last the ages. You follow that advice and you'll stay a happy man!"

Henry and Bear watched in surprise. They'd both known Karl for years, and had never seen him this openly emotive before.

Karl blinked as he calmed down. "Well, I wasn't expecting that to come out, but yeah, that's what love feels like."

Glancing at the clock, his eyebrows raised into his graying hair. "Cripes, it's past quitting time. I've got to be home in time for dinner!"

He quickly packed up his cleaning supplies and dragged the young cleaner into the break room. In just a few short minutes, the works were empty save for Henry and Bear.

"Humans are strange." Bear said finally.

"That statement assumes that we are normal."

"What makes you think that we're not?"

"Fair point."

"Bear."

-

As the night wore on, easy conversation slowly turned into sleepy conversation, then yawning, before the two engines decided to turn in for the night.

About 15 minutes passed before Bear's eyes snapped open. The penny had just dropped, and it felt like the farthing wasn’t too far behind. 

"Henry?"

"Yes?" Henry evidently wasn't asleep either.

"Do you remember how we acted in 1971?"

"Why yes, I do. I also remember how we acted in 1969, 1972, 1973, 1974, 1975, and 1976." Henry’s voice sounded calm, which meant that he was probably on the verge of screaming.

"Interesting." Then again, Bear wasn’t too far behind him on 'nearly screaming' front. "Do you also remember that the indigestion that we both seem to be suffering from -"

"Increases whenever I see or talk or think about you? Yes."

"Henry, are we feeling love? Right now?"

"Yes. I believe we are."

"Good. What do we do now?"

"I have no idea."

"Neither do I."

"Fuck."

[feverishbangtan]

of migraines and other things

It’s 2:30am here but I’m finally done with it! Here’s some sick Yoongi for you all!

Sickie: Yoongi

Caretaker: mainly Seokjin and Hoseok

Word count: 3170

TW: emeto

"Welcome back to Korea! What are your plans for the next week?" One reporter yells loudly.

Someone else shoves their camera into the members' faces, trying to get a good shot of them.

"How was the last concert? How are you feeling now?"

"Are you working on a new album right now?"

Questions upon questions are being thrown their way but the members ignore them, giving a tight-lipped smile at most.

Seokjin has a scowl on his face, obviously annoyed and stressed with the situation. But his hand on Yoongi's back is gentle as he guides him through the packed airport.

Reporters eagerly awaited their return from Tokyo, the last stop of the Asian tour leg before they'll have a one week break.

Fansites of the boys gathered there as well. They are a lot more tiring to deal with. While the reporters stay in one place, taking pictures of the members and throwing questions at them, the fansites follow them around the airport, invading their space and shoving their cameras into their faces.

Seokjin ignores them, his attention divided between moving forward and the man next to him.

Yoongi suddenly stops walking and Seokjin nearly stumbles into him. His hand moves up to rest on Yoongi's neck, squeezing gently as he leans down to inspect the smaller.

"What's wrong Yoongi-yah? C'mon, just a bit more and we'll be out of this crowd," he encourages. Yoongi swallows visibly and nods, grabbing Seokjin's hand as they continue walking.

They only make it a few more steps before Yoongi stops again, squeezing Seokjin's hand to make him stop as well.

"Hyung-" Yoongi inhales shakily and swallows hard. He squints his eyes behind the sunglasses, the noise and bright lights irritating his migraine.

"I- I'm gonna be sick," he breaths out, trying to suppress the urge to throw up last night's dinner in the middle of the airport.

"You- what? Like, now? You have to puke now?" The panic is evident in how Seokjin's voice rises a few octaves.

Yoongi screws his eyes shut, trying to breathe through his nose as he presses a hand to his mask-covered mouth.

"I- okay. Just- Let's just- Let's go over there. You can sit down on the chairs, maybe that'll help," Seokjin suggests desperately, tugging the younger in the right direction.

The crowd seems to calm down a little as more airport security personnel arrives. Seokjin lost view of the others shortly after they left the plane but he knows they must be a few steps ahead of them.

Just as they reach the seating area, Yoongi starts gagging. He pulls the mask under his chin when he realizes it's inevitable, mouth already watering and the taste of vomit in the back of his throat.

Instead of sitting down on the chairs, as Seokjin suggested earlier, Yoongi leans over the big trash can, dry heaving a few times as he tries to fight it. He spits out the saliva and burps, whole body tensing as he tries to not throw up in such a public place. All the effort is futile, though, when he burps again and it brings up a stream of puke.

Seokjin stands in front of the smaller man, trying to shield him from the cameras that are still pointed at them, while simultaneously rubbing his back to comfort him.

"It's fine. It'll be okay," he tries to reassure the younger.

Once Yoongi is finally able to breathe again without gagging, Seokjin asks: "Are you done?"

Yoongi nods and uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth.

"Okay, then... Do you need to sit down for a bit? Or are you alright to leave?" Seokjin assesses their surroundings. There are still a lot of people and even with the security they have, it would be a mess to walk through that crowd.

One of their managers walks up to them, looking worried as he eyes the rapper. "There's a VIP lounge down that way," he tells them, pointing in the right direction, "The others are already waiting there and you can stay until the mass dissipates."

They move slowly and Seokjin's hold on Yoongi is tight. The younger has his eyes cast downward, trusting his hyung completely. The airport security does a good job, keeping all the people away from them and they arrive at the lounge quickly.

Seokjin sits Yoongi down on one of the couches, not paying any attention to the other members watching them worriedly.

Hoseok crouches down in front of Yoongi, gently placing his hands on the elder's knees to get his attention.

"How are you feeling, hyung?" He asks so quietly even Seokjin, who sits right next to him, barely hears him.

"Head hurts... and still nauseous," Yoongi mumbles and closes his eyes.

The loud noises and bright lights surely don't help his migraine at all.

Taehyung had given him his sunglasses before they left for the airport in the morning and Jimin had given him his noise-canceling headphones. Yoongi had to take off the headphones because he felt too disoriented when he had left the plane, but the shades were helpful.

They all feel bad for Yoongi. They felt horrible when they found out he had a migraine, knowing how bad they tend to get for the rapper. Jungkook had tried giving him medicine but that didn't help at all. The maknae felt a bit guilty, thinking he should've known this would happen when Yoongi and he went out for a midnight snack the night before and Yoongi ended up eating even more than him. But Yoongi was sure to reassure him that it wasn't his fault at all and there's nothing any of them could've done. He'd just have to push through it.

Pushing through it is a lot harder to do, though. Especially with how overwhelmed he felt when they walked through the airport. Now that he can rest in the quiet lounge it's a bit better and the members make an effort to be quiet.

"We'll be home soon and then you can rest," Hoseok promises.

He squeezes Yoongi's knees but the older tenses and groans. Right, Hoseok thinks, sensitivity to touch.

They all just sit there in silence for a while. Almost an hour later someone informs their manager that they got the crowd to leave and it is safe for the members to head out to their cars.

Jimin and Taehyung stay close to Yoongi, helping him maneuver out of the airport and into the backseat of the car. The ride home takes another hour or so and they are all exhausted. Jungkook ends up falling asleep and Yoongi wishes he could, too. He wants nothing more than to sleep but that is an impossible task in the moving car. He's very relieved when they finally stop at the gates of the big building their shared apartment is in.

Jungkook and Namjoon take Yoongi's bags so he doesn't have to carry them. Once inside, no one turns the lights on. It's late afternoon anyway, and there's still enough sunlight to illuminate the rooms. Hoseok drops his bags in the entrance in favor of helping Yoongi to his room.

"Do you want to shower first?" he asks as Yoongi slowly slips out of his pants.

"Can't. Head hurts too much," Yoongi whispers and crawls into his bed once he's changed.

"Okay, rest well hyung." Hoseok quietly closes the door to let the older sleep peacefully.

—

Later that evening Hoseok sneaks back into Yoongi's room. No one has heard even the slightest noise from him and the younger rapper is getting a little bit worried.

Yoongi looks up at him sleepily when Hoseok opens the door. He must've just woken up, hair messy and face flushed.

"Hi hyung, how are you?" Hoseok keeps his voice down in case Yoongi’s head is still hurting.

The older hums, "my head's feeling better. Thank you for asking Seok-ah."

His head doesn't feel like it's going to explode anymore but there's still a dull pounding behind his eyes.

Hoseok smiles brightly, happy that Yoongi's feeling better. "Good! Jin-hyung made dinner, do you want me to bring you some?"

The smile slips off his face when Yoongi shakes his head and burps into his fist.

"I'm not hungry. Actually, I'm still a little nauseous. I'll shower and go back to sleep."

"Maybe it's nausea from not eating all day. I'll tell Jin-hyung to bring you something." Hoseok leaves before Yoongi can even open his mouth.

He doesn't think he feels nauseous because he hasn't eaten all day. It feels different but not quite like before when he felt sick because of his migraine. Maybe he caught a bug or something.

Seokjin comes into the room after announcing his presence with a hard knock on the door.

"Yoongichi, Hoseok-ah said you're feeling sick?" He places a bowl on the nightstand.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, mustering the younger. Yoongi looks pale and generally unwell. Seokjin purses his lips as he presses the back of his hand to Yoongi's forehead.

"You feel warm. I think you have a fever," he announces, "Try to eat a little bit, and then you can go back to sleep."

Yoongi is hesitant to try the stew. His stomach feels tight and queasy. But Seokjin insists so he tries it.

It was a mistake. Yoongi knew it was a mistake but he tried it anyway and now he regrets it.

"I-" is all he manages to get out before he gags into his hands, luckily unproductive.

Seokjin curses and looks around the room. He grabs the trash can and shoves it under Yoongi's chin.

"I shouldn't have made you eat. I'm sorry, Yoongichi," the older apologizes and rubs Yoongi's back when he gags again. Seokjin pats his back to move the process along when he retches unproductively once more. With another heave, he throws up the little bit of stew he had. His stomach stops rumbling and it makes him feel a little bit better, nausea subsiding for now.

Seokjin grabs the bottle of water Yoongi always has on his bedside table and pours him a glass, "here, drink a little bit."

Yoongi's hands are a little bit shaky when he grabs it. He takes tiny sips, just enough to get rid of the horrid taste in his mouth before he gives it back to Seokjin. He doesn't try eating any more after that and Jin doesn't bug him about it.

Yoongi takes a shower and curls back up in his bed right after. He's exhausted and all he wants is to sleep. It's getting late anyway and all of the members must've been tired because it's very quiet in the dorm, all of them probably asleep by now.

—

Yoongi can't have been asleep for more than an hour when he jolts awake again.

His stomach lurches and saliva gathers in his mouth. It takes him a few moments to collect himself and realize what's happening.

He jumps out of bed and sprints to the bathroom. He barely makes it in time before he's bent over the toilet and throws up the water he had earlier before going to sleep. This isn't how Yoongi planned for the night to go. He just wants to sleep off the bug and feel better in the morning but it doesn't look like that is going to happen.

Even after he brought up everything that was left in his stomach, Yoongi still feels nauseous. He just took a shower earlier but his skin is already coated in sweat again. It makes his hair stick to his forehead and his clothes feel like they are glued to his body. It's very uncomfortable on his sensitive feverish skin.

Still feeling sick he does not dare move away from the toilet. And it turns out that is a good idea. Just as Yoongi's dozing off again, back leaning against the cold tile wall, a nauseating burp leaves his lips. Then another before he scrambles back over the toilet. Continuous unproductive heaves make his body shake. It's tiring and painful, his stomach cramping and his throat raw.

Yoongi doesn't realize when the door opens. He only notices that he isn't alone anymore when a soothing hand rubs up and down the length of his back.

"Ah, Yoongi-yah. I don't think you have anything left to throw up." Seokjin's soft voice whispers.

Yoongi isn’t loud when he throws up but Seokjin has always been a light sleeper so it’s no surprise he woke up. The younger has half a mind to feel bad about it, considering that none of them have gotten a lot of sleep lately and this is the first night they can all rest at home and don't need to worry about a schedule in the morning. But he doesn’t have time to dwell on that thought when his stomach cramps again and forces up a trickle of bile.

"I'll be right back," Seokjin promises and leaves the bathroom.

Yoongi wipes his lips with toilet paper but he doesn't have the energy to get up and wash the rancid taste off of his tongue. Instead, he just leans back against the wall, shivering at the cold seeping through his shirt.

When Seokjin comes back he brings pillows and blankets with him. He spreads them out on the floor and makes Yoongi lay down on the thick duvets. Jim puts one of them around Yoongi, who curls up underneath it, trying to get warm. He knows it’s probably just the fever making him feel so cold when his skin actually feels warm to touch.

"Here, drink a bit. It'll make you feel better." Seokjin pushes a water bottle into his shaky hands.

Yoongi takes a few careful sips but not enough to upset his tummy again.

Jin hands him a small pill. "Try to take this, too. It'll help with the nauseous feeling," he instructs and Yoongi swallows it with another sip of water.

"Thank you, hyung," the younger murmurs and curls up in the nest Seokjin created for him.

Seokjin stays with him throughout the night. He knows not to be too overbearing with the rapper, that would just make him uncomfortable. Yoongi can take care of himself, and Seokjin knows that but he doesn't want to leave him all alone.

So he stays, reminding the younger to drink a little bit whenever he wakes and staying next to him when Yoongi has to throw up again.

In the morning they're both even more exhausted than before. Yoongi from getting sick all night and Seokjin from waking up every hour to take care of him.

—

Namjoon is the one to find them in the morning. He walks into the bathroom, rubs the sleep from his eyes, and yawns. He jumps in surprise when he sees both Seokjin and Yoongi sleeping on the floor.

Namjoon goes to crouch down next to the eldest, shaking Jin's shoulder. "Hyung. Hyung, wake up."

Seokjin blinks up blearily at him. He looks around himself before recognition settles on his features. He puts a finger to his lips, signaling Namjoon to be quiet.

"Hyung, you should go to bed," Namjoon whispers and glances at Yoongi, "both of you."

Jin untangles himself from the sheets carefully, freezing for a second when Yoongi makes a noise in his sleep. Once he settles again, Seokjin gets up.

"Did you sleep here all night?" Namjoon asks, thinking about how uncomfortable that must've been.

Seokjin only nods tiredly as he walks up to the sink and splashes water into his face, waking himself up. He turns around and leans his back against the counter, mustering Yoongi, considering what to do next.

Eventually, he sighs and kneels back down, shaking the younger awake. "Yoongichi. Yoongi," he murmurs, "wake up. It's morning. You should go back to bed."

Yoongi grumbles but opens his eyes, blinking sleepily up at the two members standing over him.

"Good morning hyung!" Namjoon greets him happily. Yoongi does not return the cheerfulness.

"Yoongi-yah, you should go to bed. Sleep some more. I'll bring you breakfast later," Seokjin promises.

However, Yoongi turns back around, cuddling into the pillow, "I'll just sleep here. This is good enough."

Namjoon shakes his shoulder again, rougher than Seokjin. "No, hyung. You should go to bed or your back will hurt."

Yoongi lays still for a bit longer, debating on whether it really is worth it. He's achy and tired and just wants to sleep. He already spent all night on the bathroom floor so why can't they just let him rest there for a few more hours.

But there’s that tiny rational part of his brain that's trying to get his attention. Yelling at him that they're right and that he'll regret sleeping on this hard cold floor, even with all the bedding he's laying on. He should gather his leftover energy and drag himself back into his bedroom and sleep there instead.

Seokjin helps him back to his room and tucks him. He then places a bucket next to Yoongi's bed - just in case. He leaves with another promise to bring him something to eat later and get-well wishes.

—

Yoongi sleeps for most of the day. The fever and puking are taking a toll on his body and it leaves him tired and aching. He still has to throw up occasionally but it's less frequent than it was during the night.

The other members wake him up to give him something to drink - "You don't want to get dehydrated on top of this, hyung!" Jimin reminded him earlier.

Seokjin didn't want to be too obvious about it but he is worried. Yoongi has been throwing up for two days already and he still has a fever.

"How is he?" Hoseok asks when Jin walks into the living room.

He looks up to see everyone gathered on the couch. Seokjin sighs, "Not so good. He's still warm and he threw up again just now. If he's not better by morning I think I'll take him to the doctor."

"Hmm," Namjoon hums, "he doesn't usually get this sick."

"He doesn't usually get sick at all..." Jungkook mutters. It's obvious that they're all just as worried as Seokjin is.

"I'm sure hyung will be better soon!" Taehyung tries to look at it positively. The others agree with him, hoping he’s right.

—

That night Yoongi spends in his bed instead of the bathroom floor. He hasn't thrown up in a few hours, to everyone's relief. His fever finally breaks during the night and even though he's very sweaty and uncomfortable in the morning, he feels better.

Yoongi's still a bit weak and shaky and he refuses the meat Taehyung offers him for breakfast. "I don't think I can stomach that yet, but thank you Taehyung-ah."

He actually manages a smile and Taehyung is glad to see that his hyung is feeling better. They all are.