#the fever is gone and the headache is gone and the weird sweats are gone

[red-dead-do-over246]

Hi there! Thank you so much for doing my request 💕 It absolutely made my day 🥰🥰

I am back for some more of your wonderful stories. Can I please get #47 "I can't lose you" and #225 "No one has ever made me feel like this" with any VDL boy of your choice? Looking forward to it as always!!

Sure thing!💖💖 Thank you! I was stuck between Micah, Arthur, and Dutch (but we all knew how my choice was made clear XD)

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Rocky Mountain Fever

You contract an illness that leads Micah to do something he’s never done before. He prays.

#47 “I can’t lose you.”

#225 "No one has ever made me feel like this."

It began with a headache. Then, it slowly moved to a fever and chills. Eventually, you were too weak to move and were forced to be on bed rest. You slept for most of the time as this unfamiliar illness made its way through your body. It got to the point where you were even a bit unresponsive. 

This all started as you guys escaped Blackwater and rode up into the Grizzlies. You felt a bit off, but as the wagons ascended into the blizzardly hell of the mountains, you started to feel worse and worse. The gang has already lost so many people, and now they were on the verge of losing you as well.

It was something that Micah just couldn’t deal with.

Ever since he joined the gang, he’s kept his distance from everyone else, preferring to be on his own. However, for some reason that still alludes him, Micah was drawn to you. Of course, he’s never voiced that and has actually hardly ever spoken to you. 

Feelings...they just weren’t something he was good with.

But when you got so ill...he sure as hell felt something and it was a combination of two things that he’s never experienced before.

Fear and regret.

“Get lost!” Karen hissed as Micah walked into the main cabin where everyone was staying in Colter. Anyone but the hardy men were staying there were it was warmest, you included. You were resting in a cot close to the fire near John, who was also out of commission now. 

“No need to bite Miss Karen, I’m just...checking in.” Micah said, his eyes moving to look at you, who was sleeping.

“It’s Y/N...but you’ve been here five times already Micah. Nothing’s changed.” Abigail, who took her attention off of John, said while Jack snuggled further into her embrace. Micah’s jaw tensed as he thought of a response.

“I know...I’m here to check up on everyone.” Micah quickly said as he pushed through the crowd of women and old men.

“Bullshit.” Uncle muttered while crossing his arms. Micah turned to glare at him, a scowl forming on his face.

“You say somethin’ old man?” The blonde outlaw asked in a threatening tone. Uncle merely grumbled under his breath, giving Micah his answer as he moved towards you. It was difficult to see you so lifeless. Sure, Sean (no matter how irritating Micah thought the Irish bastard to be) was the life of the gang with all his (shitty) banter. 

However, you were also life to the gang.

While you weren’t as witty or loud, you were sweet and thoughtful. Maybe him lacking that in his life made him so attracted to you. But now your smile and your kind eyes had vanished. You were asleep, miserably so, chest rising and falling in a pitiful attempt just to keep you alive. 

“Hey there, Y/N...you doin’ any better?” Micah said, eyeing you over, knowing the answer already. Like he assumed, there was no response. You just continued to lie there, sweat lining your brow as a fever raged your body. 

People were giving him weird looks, but no one said anything. Truth be, they were just as worried as he was, but they didn’t understand the extent of Micah’s worry. They can whisper and have their ideas, but no one would truly understand his feelings.

Only you would.

After looking over his shoulder to see that everyone had gone back to their own activities, he reached for your clammy hands. His own gloved hands couldn’t truly feel how warm yours were, but he knew you were suffering.

It made his heart twist in an unfamiliar fashion.

“I can’t lose you.” He whispered, almost nonchalantly to himself as his gloved thumb stroked the back of your hand. Micah didn’t even realize that he said that until Mary Beth spoke up.

“You say something Micah?” She asked kindly, probably being the only member of the gang who was even nice to him. Her voice startled the outlaw, and he dropped your hand quickly. Micah’s eyes darted about as she continued to stare at him. Other gazes soon joined in, so Micah did what he’s does best.

He left the scene.

“Nothin’.” He grumbled as he moved past her, almost running over Arthur as he stepped into the room. As Arthur took a couple steps in, he quickly looked back over his shoulder and yelled something to Micah.

“Micah! Dutch wanted to see you! Micah!” Arthur shouted, but Micah just kept walking. He didn’t know where he was going, but he just knew that he wanted to get out of there. Soon, his mindless walking led him to behind the barn, where he collapsed against the wooden walls in the snow. 

Micah felt his heart twist and cramp as a weird sensation came to his eyes. It was a feeling that he hasn’t had except when he was a small boy. A feeling of intense sadness, but he quickly wiped at his eyes.

Micah Bell doesn’t cry.

Nor does he do what he’s about to do.

“This is stupid...a fairytale...but I have no one...n-no one else...” Micah said as his voice stuttered, the tears finally catching up with him. 

He prayed.

He truly wanted to shout and say how he felt, but he knew he would be mocked. That’s why he had to keep all the grief and love hidden. Everyone in this gang had someone to lean on, to turn to, but Micah had no one. He had no one to share these deep yet foreign feelings to.

And that made his heart hurt so bad.

“Reverend Swanson is a damn fool...but if there’s any truth in his words...than I need you...even though I don’t deserve you.” Micah said, folding his hands in his lap as he turned his head up to the sky, his eyes glossy with tears that haven’t seen the light in decades.

“Please...Please God...save Y/N...save them...” As Micah said this, he couldn’t contain his emotions. He placed his head in his hands and started sobbing for a bit. It was uneven and shuddering breaths as his body was not used to this sensation.

He did that for a few minutes.

"No one has ever made me feel like this." Micah nearly sobbed after he took a deep breath, removing his hand from his face. His heart was full of so many emotions to the point where it ached so badly.

He was so distraught.

Micah was always capable of solving his problems, whether it be through a bullet or a fast horse. However, if there was one thing that he couldn’t kill no matter how hard he tried, it was disease. 

And that was exactly what you needed help with.

He sat there for a few more minutes, occasionally sniffling as he sorted through his emotions. Micah wanted his tears to dry before he even considered going back. Also, he was still in shock from the fact that he prayed to a being he didn’t even believe in. 

But if God was as divine as he heard, then it was worth a shot. You needed it more than ever, even if he wasn’t worthy of it.

“Micah! There you are!” Javier’s voice caught his attention, and stoic Micah quickly returned as he got to his feet. Javier eyed him for a minute as a frown came to the blonde’s face.

“Were you...crying?” He asked and Micah snapped.

“Shut your damn mouth.” Micah growled as he began to storm past him. Javier grabbed his arm, and Micah nearly punched him from the contact.

“Hey, I didn’t come here for that. It’s something else.” Javier told him and Micah nearly rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Dutch is pissed and wants to see me.” Micah said with a sigh. But now Javier just shook his head, a slight smile on his face. 

“No...well yes...but it’s Y/N. I don’t understand it, but they are doing much better!” He said and Micah couldn’t stop the relief and grin that came to his own face upon hearing those words.

For once, the two men who’ve never been friends, were brought together by shared joy.

Micah took no time in rushing back into that cabin to find everyone else there. You were sitting up, awake, your skin back to its lovely color, but there was one thing he was more relieved to see than anything.

Your smile.

It’s warmth practically lured him towards you. Moving past everyone else, Micah wasted no time in engulfing you in a hug. Normally, he would never have done this, but seeing you alive and well made him so happy that he had to allow his feelings to act.

Your warmth, your scent, and the fact that you hugged him back were all things that just made his heart soar even more.

“Thank you...” He thought to himself as he looked up towards the ceiling, a smile on his face. You hugged him tighter as if you could sense all that he tried to do for you.

Perhaps Micah wasn’t as heartless as people took him to be.

[mysynthfetish]

Omicron and on and on and on and on

What was that 90s song, "Onward ever ever on, destination Eschaton," Shamen or something? Weird how I recall random shit like that but ask me what I had for dinner yesterday and I'm like duhhrrrr... but anyway so yeah Omicron got me.

So that was fucking loads of fun. I've had three vaccinations so far. Time came for the 4th and I was like nah. So would I have caught this if I'd went and had that vaccination? Who knows. Anyway, I felt kinda funky Friday, then Friday night around 2am the fever hit and hit hard. Chills and cold sweat while simultaneously burning up with fever, and my knees and lower back were screaming, what the hell? Took some Target brand Advil, one of the staple take-back-to-japan things I buy when in the US, fever went down. Went to the local PCR test center, result was negative. Hmmm? But then Sunday it was roller coaster fun between normalcy and feverishness, headache, and then the sore throat from hell started. Seriously the worst sore throat I've ever had. So I went to the local outpatient clinic and did the double whammy flu/covid two-for-the-price-of-one test and welliwelliwell, positive. Doc said I probably did the first test too early or the reliability of the test I took was questionable. I don't care which. Told the doc about the sore throat and he was like "ah, omicron!" So he gave me these drops you flip in a glass and then dilute with water and gargle with, check the color of this shit out:

Funky! If I wasn't half out my head at the time I woulda busted out the UV LED flashlight I have and seen if it glowed. Shit worked wonders though. Wife went on full panic mode. Basically sequestered me off in the gear room and forbid me to come out except to use the loo, after which I have to wipe down everything with disinfectant flushable wipes, or to use the shower after everyone else has gone, then she goes in with a spray bottle of bleach and douses the entire bath/shower unit. Gotta wear a mask and plastic gloves when I leave the room. Madness. All this and my older daughter still caught it. Unavoidable really. And I offered to fuck off to a business hotel for the duration but no that costs money. Hmph. Anyway... Hell of a way to end the year.

Yay officer K's spinner from Bladerunner 2049. I've been watching that movie on repeat for the past three weeks now. And the original, both theatrical release and final cut versions, of course. I'm very intrigued by the sound design and soundtrack. They had some serious shoes to fill following Vangelis with the original, but I think they did damn good. I'd love to know what they used as far as synths/softsynths go, effects too. The piano at the start of the film sounds like it was run through an Eventide processor, the H9 and the H3000 I had way back when did stuff like that, reverb and reversed, pitched delays. Super neat but not cheap.

Well I hope you peeps out there had a better end of the year than we're having here right now. Who knows what madness awaits in 2023. More shenanigans for sure. Be well, and remember, слава україні, путін хуйло, йована русня!

[nella09archive]

Marriage. 94

Chapter 94: Just a Fever

Great only two weeks into the year, and I’m already not feeling too good. It takes me a bit more to fly to school, and when I get there, I almost trip over my own feet. During class, I feel so weak, that I’m feel sleepy. Same time why is it so hot? I feel like I’m burning up.

During lunch, me, Videl, and our friends are hanging on the roof. “Yo, nerd boy. You ok? You don’t look so good.” I try to pull off that I’m fine. Maybe I just didn’t get enough sleep or something. Once lunch is over, everyone starts heading to class before me. I even tell Videl to go ahead. I just need a moment to myself. Once everyone leaves, do I finally realize the huge headache that I been having all day. Also, how badly my body aches all over. I also notice that I didn’t finish my lunch. Oh boy. I threw up next to the entrance. Not good. I haven’t felt in this bad in a good while. What gives?

…

This morning was weird. My poor Chichi was burning up, and that’s what woke me. Also, she’s sweating a lot, and her face is all red, but not the angry or blushing kind. When I try to shake her awake, she groans in pain. What’s going on? Cause she be sick? Last time I handle her sick was so long along. I should get her some water, and find where she keeps the thermometer.

As I head to the kitchen, I see that Gohan was making breakfast. But he too doesn’t look so good. I try asking, but he brush it off. I ask her where the thermometer is, and I grab a cup of water. Before I head back upstairs, I check on Goten. Usually the little guy would be buzzing with energy by now, but is nowhere to be seen. I check on him, and he’s still asleep. His face is also uncommonly red, and I place my head on his forehead. He’s also burning up. I put the water down, and check his temperature. He has it at 50C. Looks like the little guy is running a high fever.

By the time I head back to the kitchen, to get Chichi’s cup of water, Gohan is already gone. I check Chichi’s temperature, which is 40C. Looks like she too is running a fever. This isn’t good. I hope Gohan is ok. I go and get Goten, and bring him to our room. That way I could watch them both. He groans as I carry him. He’s really burning up. Poor guy. Before I reached our room, he threw up on me. This is bad. I quickly pass the bed, and head to the bathroom. I clean his mouth with a wet towel, then set him in bed.

I quickly fetch a blow of cold water and a rag. Let’s see if I remember how to do this. I also grab the spare trashcan from downstairs; just in case they need to throw up. After I set the can down, and drape a wet cloth on their foreheads, does the phone ring. When I answer it, it’s a person saying to be the principle at Goten’s school. They’re asking where is Goten. “He’s sick today, and will not be in. I’m sorry.” With that, I hang up the phone, and check on them.

When I enter the room, Chichi is sitting up. I rush to her side, and tell her to lay back down, but she won’t listen. Any other time I would love to challenge her about this, and end with me deep inside her. But this is not the time. I keep telling her she needs rest. Our back and forth wakes Goten, and that’s when she notices him. Now she really doesn’t want to rest. “Mommy, daddy, I don’t feel so good. It’s very cold, but very hot.” Chichi hugs Goten to her side, before couching into her hand. I tell them their temperatures. I also tell Chichi that Goten school called, but I already told them that he’s staying home due to being sick.

Chichi finally agrees to just rest. And so, it’s left to me to make sure everyone gets better. Boy, it has been forever since I’ve done this. Last was when Gohan had a fever, when we were training in rosat. Hopefully they can stomach soup. After they ate, or try to eat, they just stood in bed and rested. Once they were settled, I tried to make myself pancakes. Burnt, but better than making Chichi get up. During the rest of the morning, I kept a close eye on them, as I worked out in the den.

It was a little passed lunch, when there was a knock at the door. It was Videl, as she held up a very pale Gohan. I quickly grabbed Gohan, and helped him to his room. Videl had followed me, and said how he acted funny all morning. And after lunch, she found him throwing up on the roof. My poor Gohan. He must have a fever too. I thank Videl for bring him, and then I helped Gohan to his room. After I settle him down, I thank Videl for bring him. She also insist on helping me take care of everyone.

I was so thankful for her help. The rest of the day we made sure everyone was taken care of. Videl even stood the night, for being so worried. The next day was no different. But at least everyone showed signs of getting better. It wasn’t till the day after that Chichi was the first to be in good health. And funny enough, it was also when Videl started to feel ill. Thankfully, with the help of Chichi everyone was fine the next day. It was now Saturday, and everyone was just taking it easy.

…

I can’t believe I got sick, and my babies too. I should have been more careful. I also should have been the one to take care of them. But I have to admit, it felt nice having Goku take care of me, again. The first time he dealt with me sick, was the month before we found out I was having Gohan. He was so panic then, and now he’s so calm. Well, he still panics, but at least he knows what to do now. I’m even surprised that Videl was here, helping out. Well, until she got sick.

It was finally Saturday, when everyone was at full health. The kids were in the den, catching up to missed homework. While I was in the kitchen, cooking lunch. Goku was keeping me company, doing pushups in the corner. When lunch was ready, Goku helped me bring the food to the table. He wasn’t letting me do any lifting. As we ate, I could just be imagining it, but it felt like I was being poured energy. I was feeling slightly stronger than I did a few minutes ago. I then looked to Goku, who just seems to be enjoying the meal. So, I ignored the feeling, and kept eating.

I was going to start on the dishes, when Videl asked if she could. Saying how it’s the least she could do. I was about to argue no, when I felt Goku pull me away, and told her she could. Goku dragged me to the den, with the boys, who were still doing homework. I was feeling really bad that Videl was doing all those dishes by herself. But before I could protest, Gohan got up and walked to the kitchen. From what I was able to see, he was helping Videl.

It was after dinner that we got a knock at the door. It turns out to be Videl’s dad, asking where she been. He wouldn’t even give the poor girl a chance to speak. Saying stuff like if she had ran away, and was trying to do things behind his back. I couldn’t stand the nerve of him. I march right over, and stood between the two. “Listen here mister. Your daughter was just helping my poor Gohan to feel better, since he came down with a fever. Yes, she was in the wrong to not tell you. But that doesn’t mean you should accuse her for something she didn’t do. On top of that, she also caught a fever, and I was helping her back to health. So, calm down. Your daughter has done nothing wrong, except calling you, to let you know what was happening. Do I make myself clear?”

I could tell he’s shaken up, but soon stands tall, as if challenging me. “You listen here! She’s my daughter! I was worry sick about her! And then find out from the school she took that good for nothing—” I just punched his face. Nobody calls my Gohan a good for nothing. He’s a very sweet boy. How dare this man? He then stands back up, and is holding his nose. Oh, stop being a baby, I didn’t punch that hard. “I apologize. I was just extremely worried is all. Can you please forgive me?”

Well, he better be sorry. I forgave him, and asked if he wanted to come inside. He said that it was ok; he just wanted to know how Videl was doing. He was going to take Videl home, but she asked him, and me, if she could stay one more night. I didn’t find anything wrong with it. But her father kept asking if she was sure, before he told her yes. After that, everyone was back in the den. I was still slightly frustrated by his comment, and I think Goku noticed. He was rubbing my arm, and suggesting to everyone if we should have a movie night. They all agreed. I quickly went in search for some blankets, while Gohan made popcorn.

While we watched movies, we were wrapped up blankets and eating the popcorn. Goten so happened to be sitting on my lap. While Gohan and Videl were wrapped in one blanket, sitting on the floor. This was a fun night. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep, while hugging Goten, and Goku hugging me.

…

I can’t believe I got sick. To top it off, Videl had to take me in her copter home. And she gave me a bag, in case I threw up. On the way home my body was burning up. When we got to my place, she helped me walk to the door. Thankfully dad answered. So, turns out I wasn’t the only one sick. It was also nice having Videl helping dad take care of use.

Then she got sick too, and mom helped take care of her. When everyone was better, it was Saturday. We were in the middle of catching up homework when her dad came. He got an ear full from mom, and turns out Videl was allow to sleep one more night. We even made it a movie night. We ended up falling asleep on the floor, night to each other.

When I woke up, I was extremely happy to sleep Videl sleeping next to me. And it was tempting to touch her cheek, but I kept my hands to myself. I tried to get up, and not disturb her. That’s when I saw that dad, mom, and Goten sleeping on the couch. Well, I thought dad was sleeping, but he gave me the shh sign.

It sure was cute seeing them like this. I then looked at Videl. I then felt all warm inside. What would it be like to wake to her every day? Then I looked back at dad, and he was smiling at me. I then felt my cheeks burn. Having Videl next to me was tempting to touch her. But having dad, and mom, in the same room makes this even more awkward and embarrassing. Don’t tell mom, please. Dad just smiled. It’s a good feeling, isn’t it? I felt my face burning more. I then nod my head, before I turn my face away. Just then mom had to wake up. As she handed Goten to dad, and left to the kitchen, I couldn’t help spot dad giving mom a weird smile. Eww. Don’t give me that face. Beside. He then pointed, and that’s when I saw that Videl was looking at me.

I watched her sit up, and tried to hold back a snicker. She looks really cute with bedhead. When she looked at me, more awake, I could have sworn she was blushing. I wonder what for. And that’s when I remembered that dad and Goten was still on the couch. When I looked their way, Goten was smiling at me. I felt my face go up in flames, and I tried to quickly get up. I need to get away.

After breakfast, I asked Videl if she wanted to go to the lookout, to continue doing homework. Goten then jumped in, saying he wanted to go too. I was hoping mom would be against it, but instead she said he could go. And that’s when I saw mom give dad a weird look. Yeah, it would be a good idea is he came with us. Before we left, mom gave me to jags of water. One for Mr. Piccolo, and one for Dende. And tell us to let them know she said hi. At first, I thought nothing of it, until I saw dad back away from mom, scared. Eww. So, mom really is as bad as dad. I don’t know if I should be happy for them, or grossed out. Probably a mix of both. Shortly we stepped out the house, we heard the door slam. We all looked back confused, till I felt my face burn up, and saw Videl’s become red. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” I agree.

…

The moment Chichi slammed the door, I didn’t know what to do. I was both excited, and fearing for my life. “Goku. I know what you did yesterday, and this morning.” I asked her what she meant. “I know you pouring energy into me.” Oh, that. I tried to make a break for it. She hates when I do that. As she’s chasing me around the house, I try to tell her it was for her to get better faster. “Goku! That’s a lie! Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you been looking at me! On top of that, how you been acting the moment I did feel better!”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Grabbing my breasts, the moment I was feeling better, and alone in the kitchen! Attacking me in our bathroom, when Goten is sleeping in our bed! For goodness sake Goku! Our boys, AND VIDEL, were sick, and I had to give them proper care! Not get attacked by my husband every little chance he gets!”

“So. You didn’t like what I did to you Friday, while you were doing the dishes?” Her face became red, and I she stormed over to me. She then punched my chest. “Or what I did in the laundry room?” That redness had spread to her neck, and I could only imagine her shoulders. “What about when I did this?” In a single motion I tripped her, and took off her pants as she fell. She was now trying to keep her legs closed. I grabbed her ankles, and took off her socks. I then started to kiss the bottom of her foot. She tried getting away, and I let her.

She quickly got up, and looked at me full of rage. She then jumped me, and I fell backward. “When in the world did go through the book Lisa gave me for Christmas?” She screamed as she tried to choke me. I told her it wasn’t my fault that she had it under one of MY gi. “GOKU!” I flipped her, and had her pinned under me. “WHERE DID YOU HID THE BOOK?” I roughly squeezed her breast, and pinched her nipples through the layers of clothes. “AH!”

“I won’t tell you, until you admit you liked it. And that you want to do it again.” She still looked so angry, as lifted up my shirt. For a brief moment I let her go, to finish taking it off. I then grabbed her breasts again, and demanded she tells me. She wants me to tell her where the book is first. “Damn Chichi! You’re not making this easy!” She then surprised me, by flipping me on my back, and having me pinned under her. She quickly finished taking off her clothes, before holding my shoulders down.

“Tell me or I’ll do it!” You wouldn’t dare! She smirked, before getting up and running up the stairs. She can’t be serious. I chase after her, into our, only to come face to face with her actually doing it. Damn my wife is hot when she does that. She had on one of my gi tops on, while playing with herself. And the bottom of the gi, she was rubbing it along her wet core, socking it in her juices. Damn it! There’s no way I’ll be able to wear that top now, without automatic smelling her, and getting hard.

She did that one time, during the 3 years, and I couldn’t train at all. That day I ended up staying home, and having sex with her, while she wore the top. Having my clothes smell like her is one thing, but when they smelt of her arousal it’s a whole different story. It was taking everything in me to stay by the door, and watch her. That’s when I finally see the gi pants under her, as she climax. Oh Dende, I’m not going to be able to train in my gi for months. Especially after what I just saw.

I tried my best to… Oh what the hell. I quickly made it to the bed, and had taken off my pants before I had her pinned her under me. I opened her to me, and thrusted inside. I grabbed the pants she came on, and breathed in that very spot, as started a fast and hard pace within her. When I felt she was getting close, I withdrew from her. Wrapping some of the pants on two of my fingers, I thrusted them in her, and toyed with her sensitive pear. She came so heavy that it socked the fabric to where even my fingers were socked. She was panting as she demanded I tell her where’s the book.

My only answer where me thrusting back into her. Before I came, I lifted the shirt above her breasts, pulled out, and came on her. Seeing her in my gi, covered by my seed, and having her scent all over my pants was driving me mad. So much, that without warning to either of us, I came again, all over her. As I tried to catch my breath, I went into kiss her. As we kissed, I felt her stroking me, and her other hand raking across my tail stub. I came a third time. I then finally told her that the book was on the top shelf, in the closet. As I watched her, head to the closet, I couldn’t stop admiring her in my gi. Today is going to be super fun.

…

“Goku, I can’t believe you.” I slap his chest, as I tried to get up from bed. But was quickly pulled back into his embrace. “Goku, we have to clean up. It’s almost time for dinner, and the boys should be heading home soon.” He didn’t seem to be listening, as he hover over me, before thrusting into me. “Goku.”

He was licking his lips. “I know it’s not the full moon, but for the just this moment call me by my other name.” I was speechless, but I nodded. As he thrusted into me aggressively, and basically raking my body, I kept screaming his sayian name. I screamed it even as I came, but he didn’t let up. I came two more times, before he roared his climax. He then held me close, as we kissed. He then finally let me get out of bed. He slapped my ass, as he told me to go clean up. I looked back to him, to see he finally powered down from super sayian.

“Don’t look so smug.” That’s when he walked over to me, picked me up with one hand.

“I can be as smug as I want, because I love you. And I could do this.” That same hand that had lifted me, its fingers entered my core, and I felt its thumb work my clit. He did all this while walking us to the bathroom, and I had to grabbed onto his shoulders. When we entered the bathroom, I finally came. We shared a passionate kissed, before he had set me down. He purred in my ear. “I love you, my Chichi.”

I felt giddy as I hugged myself. I then looked to his smiling face. “I love you too, my Goku.” He then raised an eyebrow, as I laughed. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. “My wonderful, strong, sayian warrior, Kakarot.” I then saw how his face grew a shade of pink, as he smiled at me.

I just finished cooking dinner, that our boys finally came home. When they came in, I happened to noticed that Gohan looked very upset. At the same time, Gohan looked sad, and was even tearing up. He kept saying sorry to Gohan, but Gohan just turned away. What’s the world happened?

As they sat down to eat, it was upsetting to see the boys like this. Goku tried asking what happened, and Gohan just huffed, as Goten started to cry. “Boys!” Goku tried to get the boys attention. It only caused Gohan to excused himself from the table, and Goten to cry even harder. Before Gohan could even make it a few steps from the table, Goku grabbed him and made him sit back down. “What happened?”

In between sobs, Goten said how they were all just playing, and he was trying to get away from Gohan. How it ended up him grabbing Videl’s leg, and Gohan trying to get him off. He accidently squeezed a little too hard, and cracked a bone in Videl’s leg. When they heard the crack, Goten went into a panic, and flew away from Videl. Even though Dende healed Videl, Gohan was still upset it happened in the first place. How Gohan even went super sayian, and Mr. Piccolo had to hold him back. Even when Gohan calm down, he wouldn’t accepted Goten’s apology. Videl said it was ok, because it was an accident. But Gohan is still mad at him. Then Goten cried even harder, as he went around the table, into my arms. Gohan on the other hand, had turned super sayian and was looking away.

Oh boy. What are we going to do? I tried calming Goten down, and looked over to Goku, who looked stud. Gohan looked straight at Goku, as once again, he excused himself from the table. This time Goku, let him leave. After a moment, Goku ruffled Goten’s hair, asked if he sure it was an accident. Goten swears he didn’t mean it, and that he’s really, truly sorry. “In that’s case, give Gohan some time to cool off. He’ll forgive you.” With that Goten asked if he could sleep in our room tonight, and we agreed. After I put the food away, we settled to bed.

…

After I got into my room, I was still fuming. I know it was an accident, but it shouldn’t have happened. Damn it Goten! Why didn’t you just let go? My little brother is going to be the death of me. I walked over to my desk, and turned on my laptop. Hopefully Videl made it home all right. I setup a video call, and wait for an answer. As I wait for an answer, I work on one of the math assignments. As I work on question 20, do I hear Videl say hi.

When I looked up from my book, I felt frozen in place. Videl was wearing nothing more than her super small, and tight shorts, and a sports bra. I always seen her with a long shirt on, and knee length spandex shorts. But this was more skin I’ve seen of her. She was currently standing as she drank from a water bottle. I felt my face burned, as I notice her well define ads, to her tone thighs and arms. Seeing her like this was so mouthwatering, and made it irresistible to look away. But I had to make myself look away; it was not polit to stare. Even if she’s my girlfriend.

When I heard her say my name again, I was afraid too look. When I didn’t finally look, after the 5th time she said my name. To my relief, and disappointment, she was wearing one of her typical baggy shirts. We ended up talking for hours, about a lot of stuff. Like how I was sorry for what Goten did, and homework. I then told her how I had to get off, so I could get ready for bed. But she insisted we stayed on the line. “But I have to change, Videl.”

“Please, Gohan. I would even change, if it makes you comfortable. Please. I don’t want to hang up.” I felt my face and shoulder burning up, at that very comment. What a little peak going to hurt? I then shook my head. I can’t do that.

“No Videl. We can’t do that. But I’ll just cover the camera, so we don’t have to hang up. You do too. we uncover after we change. Deal?” She gave a straight, unreadable face, before agreeing. Once I covered the camera, we continued talking about upcoming events. For example, valentine’s day. As we spoke, I settled for a comfy short sleeve under shirt, and a pare of gym shorts. Don’t want to stand up and she sees my boxers. Even though I maybe wanted to just be in my boxers, and see how she reacts to me. The day she came swimming with the family, I did wear my swim trunks, but also a shirt.

It’s not that I’m ashamed of my muscles. Ok, maybe I am. I am more define than most teenagers; heck, even more than adults too. When I undercover my end of the camera, I was shock to where I fell out of my chair. She was walking around in a tank top, and her panties. To top it off, her panties were red, with a little devil on each cheek. Dende, I have died, cause no way I was alive to see this. I could feel my heart beating really fast in my chest, and I started feeling a tightness in my pants. To top it off, when I finally got back to sitting, she had moved her laptop to her bed. So, I was seeing her laying down on her pillow. I did the same, and we talked the night away. We did make sure to set our laptops to shut down after an hour. We ended up doing this every night. And every night, different color panties with littles devils, but sometimes angels.

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

Ch93

[hobisexually]

x

[easygoing8888]

Gaara having food poisoning

Warnings; Fluff. Gaara not feeling good. this is kinda long. mention of throwing up and flushing a toilet.

Your poor, sweet, baby Gaara, also known as (the kazekage) is laying on you like your a teddy bear.

His body is between your legs, head on your chest and his arm's are around you with his hand's on your upper back, and he's been like this for about 20 minutes, it's probably the longest he hasn't moved all day,

you feel bad you don't get to lay like this that often, and about him feeling bad, all you can do is help him feel more comfortable while you cuddle close together,

earlier today

You didn't have anything to do today so you figured you'd sleep in and go to Gaara's office to say "hi" later, because most likely he'd be gone for work by the time you got up, and you talked about it with him a little and what he'd be doing today before going to sleep,

you wake up to Gaara tapping you gently on the shoulder, you can see from the light in the room as you peek your eyes open that it's really early, most likely 7am, you were pretty irritated but that all goes away the second you look up at gaara's frustrated face,

he's standing at your side of the bed half way dressed looking very uncomfortable, you sit up as quick you can "what happened? are you ok?" you say groggily

Gaara sits on the bed and starts telling you about how he woke up like normal (smiling at your sleeping face against the mattress) and as he was getting dressed his stomach started feeling weird, so he sat down & waited a little longer before going to work to see if it would go away. five minutes later, he was throwing up,

after saying that he looks down and a weird look comes over his adorable face,

Gaara stands up quickly and goes to the bathroom and shuts the door behind himself,

You were pretty sure you know what he has since you went through something very similar and it ended up being food poisoning, so you know it's only gonna get worse,

you get up and go to the bathroom door and when the (noice) stop's, you knock softly,

"honey? did you call in to work already?"

a few seconds go by and you hear the toilet flush,

"no. do I have to?" he says as he opens the door,

you put your hands on his cheeks and his skin feels warm, "yes, you do sweetheart I think you have food poisoning, I had it once and if it's like mine was it's gonna get worse."

He looks down and furrows his "eyebrows" and deeply sigh's,

You lift up his face to make him look at you and smile "hey, go get in some comfy clothes and lay down, I'll call in for you & get you some soup, okay" you say in a soft voice,

he nodded and smiles softly "thank you, love" then he walks past you to the closet.

the first thing you did is put a bucket next to the bed just in case he doesn't feel like he can make it to the bathroom,

then you called in for him which was more of a struggle than it needed to be.

A few hours go by fast and chaotic,

IT DID, it did get worse, he's been sweating and throwing up, he got a headache and a fever,

And here we are, 6 hours after the start of this bad day, and he's been tossing and turning in bed all day,

you've stayed off the bed all day for some reason, he complained about how it was so difficult to sleep, "will you lay down with me please?" he said with tired eyes,

so now your laying on your back, up against some pillows,

a half eaten bowl of soup and a electrolyte drink on his side table, he had some but couldn't keep it down,

Gaara's head is on your chest which seems to be one of his favorite places to lay, his arms around your rib cage, hands on your upper back hugging you tightly but not enough to hurt,

you've been reading a book while he's been what you think is sleeping on you, sometimes you read a few words out loud and he'll shift a little,

"I'm sorry I ruined your day off" he mumbles

you look down at him, eyes still closed cheek still against your chest,

"Sweetheart you didn't ruin anything" you say looking at him with furrowed eyebrows,

he opens his eyes and looks up at you shocked at what you said, "did I say that out loud?" he asks,

you drop the book off to your side, and kiss him on his forehead then his cheek while hugging him close with your legs and arms,

"there's no way I'd rather have spent today Gaara, I love you so much and I'll always be right here to take care of you when your not feeling good, okay?"

He puts his arms around your neck and hug's you back as he barries his face into your neck trying to hide his pink face, that some might be from being sick, "I love you too, and I'm feeling a little better" he says, muffled by your shirt,

"I hope you haven't been feeling bad about that all day."

"I kinda felt bad about waking you up that early"

"it's okay honey, you could've woken me up when your stomach first started feeling weird and it would've been okay"

"Okay, thank you y/n, I think I'm gonna try to get some more sleep ok?"

he lays back on your chest, soft smile on his face you what to squeeze him and squeal about how adorable he is but your not sure if it will make him toss his cookies again so you hold back,

"Okay gaara" you say kissing him on the head and running your fingers through his beautiful red hair.

[shozaii]

could I request some dabi, aizawa and hawks taking care of their s/o who is maybe sick or has had a rough day? 💕

(a/n): hello hello anon! ahh thank you so much for sending this in! always wanted to write for dabi too <3 enjoy, love! ❤❤

masterlist.

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

rough day.

pairings: dabi x reader, aizawa x reader, hawks x reader.

warnings: none!

i’d like to think that dabi does care, and would even go as far as he could to show you that he does. maybe when you two first started dating, he would tend to be a little reserved, quiet.

well, of course he has the love. of course he has the affection. then again, of course he has to take time to ease himself with you - to give his all for his s/o.

a scenario; it was a long, long day of constant stress and pressure. it wasn’t like your body wasn’t used to this. you knew what you signed up for - might as well endure it, put your heart and soul into it when you can. after all, rest would always come later on.

or so you thought. it went even longer, the more you started thinking of your bed. more jobs, more deadlines within a day. more ruckus. geez, what was with the world today?

the world took most of your precious time, because by the time you stepped your foot into home, it was nighttime.

more like, the next morning.

you groaned, looking at the time. 

“babe...? your boyfriend called out in what seemed like a groggy voice. “damn, look at you. rough day?”

your figure sloppily fell into dabi’s chest, inhaling his enthralling scent. he let out a little ‘oof’ before saying, “you did, huh. come on, stinky. bath time.”

your arms have never felt this tired after so long, because when it reached out to punch him by the chest, it wobbled. “i have a name, you know.”

“yeah. stinky.”

“shut up.”

mans came prepared. doesn’t show it but he’s super duper aware of your schedule. doesn’t need to write it down, doesn’t need any reminder. on the dot. a fine gentleman indeed.

leads you carefully to the bath he prepared for you. he helps you scrub your back (i headcanon him being a master of massaging) he then pecks your scars/stiff areas. “seen this a lot on the shows. hope it works.”

yup, you both had a good laugh after that.

he then gives you your towels. offers to dry your hair because you nearly tucked yourself into bed while your hair was still soaking wet. 

even bought you your favorite dinner, and then chuckled softly when he watched you yawn as you rested your jaw on your palm. “bed.”

“wow. another way of saying, take me to bed, my dear prince,” his gosh darn attractive smirk appeared again. 

oh my god he is a sucker for you. 

when you both are finally on bed,  he pulls you close, peppering you with the last few kisses before you both fell sound asleep. the best part is that sometimes you two stay like that until the next morning.

oh wow. let’s be real here, we have three wonderful gentlemen in this area. now aizawa is a little different. he knows what rough days are like, especially when he himself has gone through them. almost everyday. 

resulting in the yellow sleeping bag. 

but that does not stop you from caring for him. most nights when he returns home late, you treat him like a king because hey, he deserves it. he works so hard taking great care of his students, watching them overnight at the dorms (which results in no sleep). ah, the things you do make him so happy and loved.

so he vows to do the same to you. 

this time he was home earlier than usual - which was weird because usually you come home first. he checked every room, but to no avail. he tried calling you, but you didn’t answer.

okay, weird. where were you? maybe he’s been so used to seeing you return first till the point where he completely forgets about your schedules - basically anything you were doing. and damn does he feel terrible. 

which is why he decides to own up to it.

mans dashes through the apartment, getting the stuff that you like, ditching the stuff that you didn’t like seeing when you got back home, made sure he was wide awake for what he was about to see right in front of him - a representation of him (except that it’s not his son��shinsou) or you, still in your best form.

.....maybe he didn’t need to think of the second choice. he was right with the first.

“my back hurts. so, so, bad,” you whined softly as he walked towards you.

“come on, kitten.”

“you should’ve gone to bed, shouta.”

“unfortunately my senses told me not to.”

“but they tell you that everyday.”

“....today was different.”

he lets you sit down on the couch for a bit, worried that you might as well collapse and then fall into the deepest sleep. once that was settled, he lightly tapped your shoulder. “you rested enough. bath time.”

conversations stay light with shouta. he knows what it’s like to be tired, and to constantly have noise around him. at the same time, he doesn’t want you sleeping; hence the small talk.

“are you sure, love?” you asked him. “you know i can-,”

“too late.”

you laughed drowsily. oh, what a man.

he frowns when you were hesitant to take a few bites from the light supper snack he prepared for you. they were your favorite.

“eat up. then we could sleep for as long as we want. i’ll even join you and never leave.”

best wild card pulled out of his pocket because you chomped down on your snack.

i headcanon him to be a little scared when it comes to massaging his s/o, worried that he might hurt them, but when he does, it’s god-tier. his hands work like magic. your back pain was almost all gone in that instant.

the both of you were already pooped out, so at the same time, you headed to bed, finally landing on your fluffy pillows, taking it all in.

and right next to you was the man of your dreams.

okay! two rough day scenarios, now for this majestic bird boy’s s/o who isn’t feeling well!

you weren’t at your best. your nose was runny, you sweat a whole lot. for a while you felt really really hot, so you put on your blanket. suddenly you were freezing COLD. pulled them back up.

gave up and covered one half of your figure. your headache was not getting any better and you used ointment/took a painkiller to get rid of the stinging pain on the top part of your head; but to no avail. it kept getting worse. 

the worst part was that you had to skip your work schedule, and you were really precise with it no matter what. but you just couldn’t when your body hurt as if tons of rocks were placed on your back. this was definitely not going to end soon.

lucky for you, keigo was taking a nap right next to you. he got up abruptly. “um, i had a nightmare. i was...falling down....oh my god, y/n, you are RED! what did you have?”

“i had the same thing as you dummy,” you replied with a different tone in your voice. “ugh, my head.”

“you’re sick, chickadee.” he placed the back of his hand on his forehead. “nothing.” he then did so on your forehead. “you are burning hot.”

“why thank you.”

“y/n, i love you but i’m serious. your temperature is soaring hot.”

“aw, man. i can’t ditch my schedule today.”

“in this house, a ‘schedule’ does not exist. you’re staying at home, and i’m going to spend the day with you. got that?”

you blinked a few times with your sore eyes, before replying with a sniffle. “okay.”

“good little birdie.”

and boY does he finesse his way to giving you the best treatment. 

he may or may not have learnt making chicken soup over the years he has been with you, so cue him making probably the best one for you. (we all know why he learnt this anyway)

feeling cold? gives you warm water for your sore throat. feeling warm? puts a little stand fan for you to take in all the fresh air. might as well even fan you with his wings because keigo loves being extra for his s/o. 

he sits with you and holds your hand. he doesn’t like seeing you like this - who does? all he wanted to do was to head out with you, hold hands, fly with you if he could, eat some yakitori.

no, no. must cure y/n first.

he’s such a cute lil baby 

he’d place the wet cloth on your forehead, and comes checking on you every 10 minutes while he’s out of the room. 

bath time? yes please. the right scents for your already blocked nose and to also prevent you from feeling dizzy from the stronger ones that you owned. even offers to wash your back 🥺

gives you his clothing because you look so darn cute in them. he breathes this huge sigh of relief when your temperature decreases from where it was initially. then proceeds to kiss your cheeks.

“keigo! you’re going...to...get...sick!” 

“i’m practically immune. so don’t worry.” he smirked.

you started feeling a little bit better, so you moved to the living room. but the pains were still there.

“y/n. these medicines would help. you came prepared.”

“that’s because i was worried i’d get the flu once again. i hate this.”

“come on. it’s fine, love. you will get back in action in no time. i’m here for you, aren’t i?”

the day ends with more cuddles, more kisses, chicken soup, laughter, little naps, and finally to bed. it was a long day, and you were feeling a lot more better. the fever died down even more, the pains reduced.

and it was all thanks to this lovely number two hero - more so - your lover.

“get well soon, birdie. i love you.” you heard before your eyelids sealed shut.

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

(a/n) : i. am. so. sorry. this took so long. ARGHH FORGIVE ME😭😭😭

but i do hope this is a wonderful read! 🥺❤

[theninjamouse]

Sick Day

You're not sure if it's a monster thing or a Grillby thing, but you've always thought that Grillby just doesn't get sick. The closest he even gets is headaches, which you may or may not have caused on a few occasions of reckless activities that landed you at the hospital.

Turns out you were wrong.

Waking up in a sweat is a common occurrence given Grillby's tendency to lock you in a teddy bear hold during the night, but on this particular morning you wake feeling more liquid than person. Gah, gross.

Kicking your feet free from the thin sheet, you swipe at your face, blinking blearily. The light coming in from the window is the dull blue from a sun not yet risen. The room, always warm, is unbearably hot.

The debate of whether to poke Grillby awake or just camp on the couch for a few more hours dies as your eyes fall on your still slumbering partner. It's normal for the edges of his face to get soft and fuzzy when he's sleeping but nearly all definition of his head is gone. The color is weird too; waves of uneasy green and deep red sweep over his face and bits of flame hiss and spit erratically.

"Holy sh- hey, Grillby." Reaching out, you gingerly touch his shoulder, wary of waking him into a panic if he's having a nightmare. "Grillby?"

A deep throated groan rumbles from his chest. He shifts and you think his head turns towards you. He makes a questioning noise and you just barely catch that his eyes have opened to thin slivers.

"Hey," you say gently as you sit up. "Are you okay? You look more like...a regular campfire than usual."

He doesn't answer for a moment, blinking owlishly. Then he lifts a hand, looking down at the fingers that have molded into stubby digits. "Ah," he rasps before a terrible crackling cough shakes his shoulders.

Alarmed, you move to help him sit up, patting his back. The fabric of his shirt is scorching hot. "Holy crap, are you sick?"

Wheezing, he tries to speak, fails and then just nods miserably.

Your mouth drops. He’d been quiet and subdued last night sure, but you thought that he was just tired from a crazy work week. "I thought you didn't get sick!"

It takes him a moment to get the breath to mutter, ".....very...rarely."

"Geez, okay, um. Here." You take your pillow and add it to his, fluffing them up against the headboard. "Lean back here."

He follows your guiding hand with meek compliance, which more than anything tells you he's out of it. What the heck do you do now? None of the human cures for colds or fevers will work here. No point in a glass of water or medicine made for human bodies. Maybe there's monster medicine? Would a monster candy work?

Leaning over, you grab your phone off the nightstand. It's a little after six. Hopefully Toriel is already up and moving since it's a school day.

"Good morning Shore," she greets after just a few rings and you breathe a little sigh of relief. "Is something wrong? You're rarely up this early."

"Yeah, um, Grillby's sick." You look over at him to see he's closed his eyes, head slumped against the wall.

"Oh dear! Is he alright?"

"I don't know, I think so?" You try not to let your voice hitch. "He's burning really hot and his colors are weird and he's got a cough. Do you...have you ever dealt with monster sickness?"

"More than my fair share," she says sympathetically. "Though it has been a very, very long time since the last fire based illness I cared for."

"But you have cared for one? What do I do?"

"He needs to stay fed; the excess heat is his core attempting to burn out the illness."

"Like a human fever."

"Exactly." There's a noise in the background and you hear Toriel respond as if she's placed her fuzzy paw over the phone. "My dear, I'm terribly sorry, there's a bit of a crisis happening this morning, I need to take care of this but I will call you back. For now, keep him comfortable and keep him fed. Oil heavy foods, perhaps sprinkle on some butane-”

Bu-what now.

“Oh dear, there goes Frisk. Call me if you have any other questions, I’ll be by with a pie later!” Click. 

Ah. Great. You sigh and set the phone down. At the slightest shifting of the mattress, you say, “Dear, where do you think you’re going?” 

Grillby freezes, one loosely formed hand gripping the edge of the blanket. “Kitchen,” he rasps. “...I need...”

“To eat, yeah, Toriel told me. I’ll get it so you stay put.” Scooting over, you push him back against the headrest. It’s a fight to quell the urge to put your hand up on his forehead. It’s obvious enough without feeling that he’s literally burning up. 

“Normally this would be the point I’d go get a wet rag or something,” you joke weakly. “But I don’t think that’d be helpful to you.” 

Grillby mumbles something that might be a sassy remark or just another groan. 

“Got any butane?” 

The noise this time is definitely a groan. 

You pat his thigh. “Sorry, queen’s orders.” 

He gestures towards the kitchen and you slip off the bed. Grillby’s kitchen is always stocked so it’s easy to gather together ingredients for a stew. It’s no chicken noodle soup but at least it’s soup like. You do indeed find a canister of butane in one of the cabinets. The large ‘Highly Flammable’ warning on the side has you pausing. How exactly do you add butane to a stew? How much? Eh, probably best to just bring the whole thing and ask Grillby. 

It’s not long before the stew is bubbling and a rather lovely smell fills the kitchen. You’re no Grillby, but you can make a very solid stew. You grab a bowlful, the butane, turn and yelp, nearly dropping them both. 

Grillby has either ignored your orders to stay put or just forgot because there he stands. But the effort of moving seems to have stolen away what energy he had left because now he looks more like a matchstick than a monster. His head is just a simple flame flickering with the same harsh colors and his shirt hangs loosely on his thinned frame. 

“Oh geezum, you scared me,” you wheeze, wincing at the hot stew that splashed on your hand. “Are you okay?” 

He...maybe shrugs? It’s hard to tell with how little mass he has right now. You set the butane down and guide him to sit on the couch. When you offer the bowl and spoon, he forgoes the spoon altogether and cups the bowl in his now fingerless hands and chugs the entire thing down in a matter of seconds. 

You blink. “Oh. More?” 

“...Please.” 

More you get, bowl after bowl until the pot is empty and then you remember the can of butane still sitting on the counter. When you bring it over, Grillby sparks with a low disgust but takes the can. With a low cough, he gestures for you to back up before taking a deep swig. 

The burst of heat and flame has you wincing, even at a fair distance. Your jaw drops a little at the sight of him chugging down the liquefied gas like it’s an ice cold glass of water on a summer day. By the time the bottle is empty, some of the shape has returned to his head, though the edges of his face remain fuzzy with dark green flames.

You cautiously approach as he sighs heavily and sets the bottle on the floor. “Better?” 

“Hmm.” He certainly looks a bit better, at least a little. He blinks sleepily at you. “Hi.” 

“Hi matchstick.” 

The whine he makes at that is so utterly adorable you can’t help but take his little matchstick flame head in your hands and plant a kiss where you best guess his forehead is. Totally worth the slight singeing of your lips. 

“Do you wanna go back to bed?” you ask as you card your fingers through his headflames. Ow, hot. 

He grunts and shakes his head. “Stay....here,” he mumbles, tugging on your shirt. 

A grin pulls at your mouth. “Fine, but you should get some more sleep. Even an elemental needs rest when sick.” 

You sit and Grillby immediately slumps over so his head rests on your lap. He snuggles his face into your stomach and tucks his arms in close. Oh heavens above, you’re not happy he’s sick but he is unfairly cute like this. 

“Comfy?” you ask gently, rubbing his head again. 

He hums quietly. “Sorry,” he tacks on as a mumble. “It...will pass...quickly.” 

“It’s okay to be sick, it happens to everyone.” 

He mutters something else, but sleep is already claiming him. You stroke your thumb over his cheek. “Just rest,” you whisper, though you’re fairly certain he’s already slipped into slumber. “I’ll take care of you.” 

[cuddlepilefics]

Hug me again, I don't feel good

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jeongin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

Prompt: Fever @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Stray Kids members always tended to drown their maknae in affection and although he always pretended to hate it, Jeongin secretly liked it. As long as the didn’t undermine his independence that is. Him pretending to hate their hugs, led to the members toning it down a bit, only going full out when they were in a teasing mood and felt like going on their youngest’s nerves. Today they had had to get up early, having a packed schedule ahead of them and not having slept much, the mood ranged from sleepy to grumpy. Jeongin certainly fell into the latter category. He wasn’t usually moody when he was tired but when he was woken up this morning, he felt more exhausted than he had when going to bed the previous night. As soon as they were in the car, he leaned his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, dozing off again. Considering it was a rather long drive, most of them were trying to get a few more moments of shut eye. Their day would start with a photo shoot, followed by an interview and an afternoon of dance practice. To say Jeongin wasn’t looking forward to it would have been an understatement. He didn’t mind the photo shoot, which was comparably the least tiring activity of the day. The interview wasn’t too bad either but he really dreaded their dance practice, feeling too tired to move. Maybe he’d just need to wake up properly and he’d feel more energized over the course of the day.

While they took turns getting their make-up done, the group slowly started to come to life more. Chan had had his second coffee of the day, making the mistake of getting Felix one too, who was now going through a variety of fortnite dances and hyping Jisung up. The rapper didn’t even need coffee to go crazy, merely someone else he was sharing a braincell with. Together the two tried their hardest to get a reaction from Changbin by annoying him but the older kept a straight face, simply ignoring the pair. At some point, even Chan joined them. Minho and Hyunjin had originally started planning their dance practice but had soon gone over to teasing each other, which escalated to Minho threatening his dongsaeng. Seungmin and Jeongin really seemed like the most normal ones in the group. On other days, Jeongin might have joined his hyungs, having fun and fooling around but today he just couldn’t seem to shake his sleepy haze. Maybe he should get himself a coffee too, since it seemed to have worked wonders on Chan and Felix. Unfortunately, the photo shoot started before Jeongin had the chance to get coffee but the boy pushed the thought away. Busying himself would certainly do the trick too.

The photo shoot didn’t go as well as Jeongin would have liked. Usually, he had no issues with the bright lights surrounding him but they sure made the temperature on set toasty. The maknae was sweating much more than he was used to during photo shoots, even having to get his make-up retouched multiple times. This wasn’t like him and it was humiliating. The staff already clicking their tongues at the boy constantly needing his make-up fixed. Aside from the humiliation, Jeongin felt plainly disgusting with his clothes sticking to him. As his mood was dwindling, his discomfort became more apparent to himself and to the photographer, who kept reminding him to smile authentically. How could he smile authentically right now? He was sore from exercising the previous day, he was burning in his skin, his clothes stuck to him and pretty much everyone on set was annoyed with him. No, smiling seemed like the least thing he wanted to do right now, yet Jeongin always smiled. Maybe not as convincingly as usual but he smiled.

The more time passed, the more the hectic surroundings were getting to him. He was pretty much melting in the thick clothes and was slowly developing a headache, with how bright everything was. The flashing lights were worse though, leaving him feeling disoriented as he tried to follow the instructions given to him as fast as possible in hopes of getting things over with. Sweat was beading his forehead but instead of sending him to get his make up retouched once again, the photographer decided to take a few last pictures, which he’d edit later on, before releasing the boy back to the waiting area. A few of the members still needed to get their individual shots taken, so it was rather quiet back there. Jeongin debated removing his make-up completely but he didn’t want to bother anyone to put another full make-up on him for their interview later. This wasn’t his first photo shoot, so why had he been struggling so badly? In a matter of minutes, the smile he had plastered on, faltered and a single tear trailed down his cheek. Then another. Pursing his lips, Jeongin tried his hardest to calm down and hold the tears back. He didn’t want to mess up his make-up even more. The harder he tried though, the harder it got to keep it together. Yet he only allowed himself tiny, quiet sniffles after already being a burden to so many people so early in the day. He just wanted to be professional.

His efforts were in vain though, when Chan entered the waiting area after finishing his shots. He knew his dongsaeng well enough and calmly went over hugging the younger. “What’s up?”, the leader hummed, taking a step back when Jeongin tensed in his arms. The maknae was already sweating and he didn’t want to be touched, feeling as disgusting as he felt at the moment. “Frustrated”, Jeongin muttered, avoiding eye contact with his hyung, “was holding everyone back with how often I needed to get my make-up fixed.” – “It’s alright. Don’t worry, everyone who’s stood under those floodlights will understand. It does get toasty there sometimes”, Chan assured. He knew he’d probably feel the same if he was in Jeongin’s position, so he made a mental note to make sure the boy wouldn’t get teased for it. The maknae had already accepted that crying had ruined his make-up beyond what could be fixed and accepted the make-up wipe his hyung handed him. Still sniffling quietly, he scrubbed at his face to get it all off. He already contemplated what to tell the staff, who’d need to reapply everything for their interview earlier. At some point, he had managed to pull himself together but still looked a bit gloomy, besides, his face had taken a flushed pink shade, probably from how roughly he had rubbed it. Handing him a bottle of water, Chan sighed: “You feeling better now?” Jeongin shrugged. Did he? He was still just as hot as he had been previously and his head still hurt, through he wasn’t as disoriented. It was nice and quiet now, there were less people and it was less bright, so he had probably just gotten overwhelmed earlier. “I think today’s just not really my day”, he pouted, “I feel like I still haven’t managed to wake myself up and my head hurts from all the chaos.” – “Should we go and get you some coffee? Might at least help for the interview”, Chan offered, “Come on, let’s get out of here for a bit.”

Chan took his dongsaeng to a coffee shop nearby. They could have gotten coffee somewhere closer but he wanted to give the younger some space from their work environment. Jeongin however shuddered the moment he stepped foot outside the building. It wasn’t cold outside but the temperature change messed with his body. The maknae didn’t even notice how he started to walk progressively closer to Chan till the older wrapped an arm around his shoulders, asking: “Are you cold?” Jeongin shook his head but was betrayed by another shiver running down his spine. ‘That’s odd’, Chan noted but decided not to point it out. Instead, he just let the younger stay as close as he wanted. That proved to be of great help when Jeongin stumbled, tripping himself and only being saved the fall by the leader’s arms around his middle. “S-Sorry”, he laughed shakily, already tearing up again. “No, it’s okay”, Chan assured, moving away when the younger regained his balance. That resulted in a whine from Jeongin, who moved along, leaning against the Aussie. “Innie, what’s going on?”, the leader frowned worriedly, confused by the maknae’s behavior. Realizing his actions, Jeongin straightened up and mumbled: “Dizzy.” Why couldn’t the other hug him again? It was exactly what he needed right now, with how upset and cold he felt.

From that moment on, Chan kept a very close eye on Jeongin. He really didn’t seem to be himself today. After they had gotten coffee and returned to the venue, the youngest had gotten comfortable against Felix’ side, who absentmindedly ran a hand up and down the younger’s back. Felix noticed how damp and sticky Jeongin’s shirt still was and offered him to get changed into a fresh one. “No, don’t want to take it off. I’m cold”, the maknae protested, catching most of the members’ attention. Shaking his head, Felix sighed: “Yeah, no wonder you are cold. Your shirt is wet. You’ll feel warmer in a dry one.” – “Hyung, can I have your hoodie?”, Jeongin pouted, giving Hyunjin puppy eyes, who was quick to give it to him. By now, all of them had caught on to their youngest acting weird but could they blame him? They had slept so little, none of them could possibly be in their right mind. At least Jeongin seemed satisfied, pulling the long sleeves of the dancer’s hoodie over his palms. Knowing they’d have the interview next, they all filed into the van.

As soon as they were settled, Jeongin cuddled into Minho’s side, the dancer sitting next to him taken a back. It wasn’t usually Jeongin initiating the skinship but that didn’t mean he minded it. Smiling softly, Minho played with the maknae’s hair and studied the younger’s face. His closed eyes seemed a bit puffy, brows furrowed while sweat beaded his forehead and a small droplet dripped down his temple. Not knowing whether the boy was awake, Minho didn’t dare ask Chan if anything had happened while they were gone. Instead he just decided to let the boy rest on him. Looking up, he met eyes with Jisung, who seemed to think the same. Something wasn’t right. When they arrived, Minho went ahead to talk to Chan, leaving a sleepy Jeongin in his seat. Jisung had stayed behind to wait for the younger, linking their arms but still lagging behind. “Is everything okay, Innie? You seem off”, the rapper asked quietly. At this point, the maknae didn’t feel like keeping up appearances anymore and hesitantly admitted: “I kinda feel off.” – “Are you sick? You know we could let you sit out if you’re sick”, Jisung frowned but his dongsaeng was quick to shake his head, muttering: “I don’t think I am. Probably just slept too little and don’t feel like myself.” The older nodded thoughtfully as he guided Jeongin to get his make-up done again.

Jeongin was the only one needing his make-up done, which gave the rest of the group some time to talk. “He isn’t usually that clingy and he just admitted to feeling off”, Jisung informed and Chan nodded, sighing: “He was really emotional earlier and after almost falling over, he said he was dizzy.” – “Don’t you think he might just be tired? He does tend to get more affectionate when he’s tired”, Hyunjin mused looking at Jisung who had talked to their youngest mere minutes before. Nodding, Jisung pointed out: “He doesn’t think he’s sick and told me he slept to little but I need, who hasn’t? Yet he is the only one that out of it.” – “He seemed to be in pain when we drove here”, Minho disagreed, looking at Chan worriedly. The leader shook his head and sighed: “Let’s just wait, I’m sure Innie would talk to us if something was badly wrong.” Not feeling satisfied with that, Seungmin slipped out of the room, to check on his only dongsaeng privately. He quietly stood in the doorway, watching the younger doze off in the chair. “Do you feel alright, Jeongin-ah? Your face feels really warm”, their make-up noona asked, carefully applying a thick layer of concealer under his eyes to cover the lack of sleep. Jeongin smiled a bit and hummed: “I think the bright lights at the photo shoot heated my skin up a bit. I’m okay.” Seungmin however was only more convinced that the younger was not. Especially now that somebody else was sensing something off as well.

When his make-up was done, the make-up noona glanced at Seungmin and smiled before leaving the two boys alone to talk. “Hey”, Seungmin hummed, sitting down next to Jeongin, “How do you really feel? Something’s not right.” That was enough to bring the younger to tears again and he chewed on his lip, desperately trying to not ruin his make-up again. “H-hyung, I -I don’t know”, he breathed. He cursed himself, why did he have to be so emotional today? When he didn’t elaborate further, Seungmin got up and pulled Jeongin into a hug. He too noticed the heat radiating off the maknae and gently brushed his hand against the boy’s forehead, calmly asking: “Can you describe what you feel? Maybe we can make sense of it.” Jeongin nodded and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “I-I just feel really out of it, like I still haven’t woken up since this morning although I’ve been up for hours and even had coffee with Channie-hyung. My head hurts since the photo shoot and I keep sweating although I’m not hot at all anymore. I’m pretty cold actually”, he admitted with shaky hands, “For some reason I don’t feel really steady on my feet and kinda dizzy and I’m really sore from exercising yesterday. Could – could you hug me again? I don’t feel good.” Seungmin complied instantly, hugging the younger tightly and whispering: “I think you’re sick, Innie. To me it feels like you’re sporting quite a fever, which would explain why you feel the way you feel.” – “I can’t – I can’t be sick. My stomach feels perfectly fine, so it couldn’t be a stomach bug but my nose and throat are perfectly fine too, so it couldn’t be a cold either. None of this makes sense, why does nothing make sense?”, Jeongin whimpered, getting worked up again. “Shh, some bugs come only with a fever but that doesn’t make you any less sick. Does that make sense?”, Seungmin soothed, running his hand up and down the younger’s back. Sniffling quietly, the maknae nodded. Unwrapping himself from his dongsaeng, Seungmin smiled: “Alright, let’s go to the others and see what we’ll do about it, yeah?”

He pulled Jeongin to his feet too but the boy stumbled as soon as he was upright, crashing into Seungmin’s chest. Luckily, the older was quick to react and tightened his arms around the maknae, holding him steady while they waited for the dizzy spell to pass. Then they walked back to the room where the rest of the group was waiting. “Hyung, Innie’s sick and running a fever”, Seungmin announced as they walked up to Chan. Pressing the backs of his fingers against Jeongin’s forehead, the leader frowned: “You’re burning. Why didn’t you say anything?” – “I-I …” – “Hyung, we pieced it all together just now. He wasn’t aware”, Seungmin explained, reassuringly holding the younger’s hand. Jeongin nodded, face crumpling as Chan pulled him into a hug. “Do you want to wait here for us to finish the interview?” – “N-no, I can do it. They don’t have many questions for me anyway”, the youngest insisted. Minho joined them, agreeing: “We can cover for him, he just has to sit and look pretty. It’d be more frustrating to be dragged here for nothing. Afterwards we’ll take you home, yeah Innie?” – “No, I want to go with you”, Jeongin whined, always hating to be alone when he was feeling poorly. “We’ll see about that, let’s just get this interview over with”, Chan settled, seeing that it was their time to go on stage.

It went quite well with Jeongin just sitting there in silence. When they walked off the stage though, the maknae broke down, the tears he had held back, now spilling over. Felix was quick to pull him to a quiet corner of the room, cooing: “What’s wrong?” – “Do-Don’t know”, the younger choked out, his voice cracking pitifully. “Just really emotional, huh?”, Jisung hummed, running his hand through Jeongin’s hair. He had followed them worriedly, only getting more worried when the maknae desperately tried to pull himself together but failed. Watching him struggle like this really broke their hearts. Holding his dongsaeng tight, Felix whispered lowly: “You can cry, Innie. Don’t suppress and bottle it up. If you feel like crying, that’s alright, we don’t judge.” The younger nodded, hiding his face against the dancer’s shoulder. Giving them some privacy, Jisung went to get changed. When he was done, Hyunjin had already taken a bunch of make-up wipes and traded places with Felix, so the Aussie could get changed too. “Come on, let’s get your make-up off, so you can sleep. I bet you’re tired”, Hyunjin hummed, gently removing his dongsaeng’s make-up. He did his best to make the younger boy comfortable and couldn’t help but coo at how adorable Jeongin looked in his hoodie.

They got back into the car, where Jeongin settled against Seungmin, shivering slightly. Chan carefully hung his jacket around his youngest dongsaeng’s shoulders and smiled when the boy’s eyes closed. With how exhausted Jeongin was, it came as a surprise to none when the calm movement of the car lulled him to sleep. Not having the heart to wake him, Chan ended up carrying the maknae up to their dorm and to his bed. Minho soon followed them with a bottle of water and fever-reducers, which he placed on Jeongin’s nightstand, along with a note to take them later, when he woke up. When the two oldest members were satisfied their dongaseng was settled, they left the room and got ready for dance practice. Jisung plugged the maknae’s phone in to charge before leaving his roommate to get some rest. While Minho and Hyunjin discussed their dance practice, Felix grabbed a few plushies and took them to Jeongin’s room, so he wouldn’t feel too lonely while they were gone. They were almost ready to leave, originally scheduled to head straight to the company building from the venue of their interview, so they were running a little late. Changbin decided to make one last trip to the bathroom, running a washcloth under cold water and taking it to the maknae’s room. When he gently brushed Jeongin’s hair out of his face, the boy’s eyes fluttered open, disorientedly blinking up at the rapper. “Shh, go back to sleep”, he shushed, carefully spreading the cold compress on his dongsaeng’s burning forehead. He didn’t want to mention the medicine because that would’ve probably woken the younger up completely and they had agreed to let him sleep at all costs. Jeongin would find the medicine when he woke up. Hoping he’d sleep through most of their dance practice, so he wouldn’t feel lonely, Changbin promised: “We’ll be back before you know it.” Then he snuck out of the room and joined the others, eager to get their practice over with and back to the dorm as soon as possible.

[bigballofstress]

Pickpocket Part 2(Avengers x Child!Reader)

Description: After Clint takes you back to Avengers tower, the rest of the Avengers realize who you are, and most of them are not very happy with you.  It’s certainly an interesting conversation when you wake up, but slowly, they start to warm up to you.

Tell me if you want a third part, guys!  Part one here

To @prepareforsomestrangethings @captainam-erika-trash @bxtchboy69​ @creation-magician​ @viarogers​ @queenshadow142003​ @witchxaf I know I’ve said this already, but seriously, I can’t thank you guys enough for everything.  I love you all!

The living room went completely silent at the arrival of the two master assassins, everyone staring at the little bundle in their resident archer’s arms.

“Lady Natasha, Brother Clint, you have returned!” Thor, who had just returned to Earth from Asgard, shouted gleefully as he walked towards them, completely oblivious to the awkward atmosphere that had appeared in the room and asking the question that was on everybody’s minds but which they weren’t quite sure how to go about asking.  “Who is the young maiden in your arms?”

“She tried to rob Clint and then fainted, so we brought her back here,” Natasha stated bluntly.  Clint glared at her in frustration before turning back to the others, who were already on guard.

“The kid was starving,” he attempted to explain.  “I think she passed out from hunger.”  The others in the room glanced at the bundle of coats, still obviously wary, and Clint rolled his eyes.  “For God’s sake, the poor thing weighs next to nothing, and she’s freezing to the touch.  I’m pretty sure the coat is heavier than she is.”

“Lay her down on the coach.  I’ll grab some blankets,” Steve finally piped up.  Clint sighed in relief and brought her over to the very long couch where he gently set her down, resting her head on one of the throw pillows.  He brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, frowning when she still felt colder than a block of ice.

“Let me take a look at her,” Bruce offered.  Clint nodded in thanks and stepped back.  Bruce paused, his eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” Clint asked, his stomach turning in worry.  Was he too late?  Was she already gone?

“That’s the girl from the library.”  Everyone froze at the words that fell out of Bruce’s mouth.

“No frickin’ way, let me see,” Tony rushed forward, peering over the back of the couch.  “Oh my god, she’s the kid who took my watch!  It really was the same girl!”

“And the one who stole my money,” Steve added, setting the pile of blankets down next to her before moving to start a fire in the nearby fireplace.

“Well, I guess that solves that mystery,” Tony crossed his arms.  “She couldn’t have been actually starving.  There’s no way that watch sells for anything under 2,000.  She lied to you so you wouldn’t turn her in.”

Clint shook his head.  “No, that doesn’t make any sense.  She’d already gotten away when she fainted.”

Tony rolled his eyes.  “Alright, so then she stashed it to sell later so she wouldn’t be caught.”

“If you had a 2,000 dollar watch lying around, why would you ever wear a ratty old coat that obviously doesn’t even keep the cold out?”  Natasha commented thoughtfully, gesturing at the flimsy piece of clothing.

That seemed to knock Bruce from his thoughts.  “She’s soaking wet, we need to get her out of these clothes.  Nat, do you have anything she could wear?”  Natasha nodded and silently left the room to fetch the clothing as Bruce started to peel off the soaked-through layers one by one until she was left in just a t-shirt and sweatpants, both littered with holes and tears and both obviously far too short for her but still loose against her skeletal frame.  Natasha took the job from there, exchanging the old clothing for a pair sweats, which despite being a size small, seemed to drown the girl in fabric before covering her in the blankets and moving her closer to the fire.  

After that, everyone settle down around the living room, each of them seeming to understand the unspoken agreement that they would wait to decide what on what they would do next until after she woke up.  So, that’s how they stayed for the next 2 hours.

-- Your POV --

I slowly cracked my eyes open, the light flooding in and immediately giving me a headache.  Huh, I guess I didn’t die.  That’s a good thing, right?

I brought a hand to my forehead as I slowly sat up, my eyes shut tight as I did my best not to throw up.  God, I was so hungry.  At least I wasn’t cold anymore, though.  Maybe it’s just that I’ve gone completely numb... or crazy, because instead of just not being cold, I actually feel pretty warm.

I opened my eyes again and stared down at the blanket covering me and the couch I was sitting on.  Oh geez that can’t be good.  I looked back up and around, doing my best to stay completely silent as my eyes flickered from one person to the next.

The man I had robbed only just a few hours ago sat in a chair right in front of the couch, snoring softly with his head lolled back.  At a table nearby, typing away on a computer, was the man from the library who only had 4 dollars in his wallet.  Sitting at the same table was a very big, very muscular man with long blonde hair who I’d never seen before, but judging by the massive hammer that was placed beside him, I doubted he was good news.  Standing at the kitchen sink was the man who’d stopped me from falling when I was taking his wallet.  Sitting behind a bar, nursing a glass of what looked to be scotch, was Tony freaking Stark, who I had only just stolen a very, very expensive watch from.  Finally, standing by the doorway and leaning against the wall was the red-headed woman who found me out and chased me down with her boyfriend.  And she was making direct eye-contact with me.

“She’s up,” she called, shocking everyone in the room -- especially the man in the chair, who must have jumped about a foot in the air as he was startled awake.  I clenched my jaw and frowned.  What is it with this chick and always ratting me out?

Before you could say the word ‘Assemble,’ all six people in the room had gathered around me.  My heart beat wildly in my chest as I stared from one person to the next.  Why were all the people I robbed together in one place?  Did Tony Stark bring them all together so they could get revenge on me?  How did they even find me?  Is that blonde one a bounty hunter or something?  He certainly had the build for it.

“How are you feeling?”  The man from earlier asked me gently.  I frowned and stared back at him.  No way was I going to talk to these people.  I have the right to remain silent, right?  Or is that not a thing with elaborate revenge plots?

The library man stepped forward and placed a hand on my forehead.  Immediately, I flinched away.  “Her fever’s gone down,” he said, stepping back into place, the slight anger he still held towards me clear in his voice.

I glanced around the room, weighing my options.  I had no idea where I was, no idea how to get out of here, and I don’t think I could outrun the redhead and her boyfriend again on solid ground, especially when I can still barely move without another wave of dizziness hitting me.  So, in other words, I’d have to somehow convince them to let me go.

Ok, yeah, I’m definitely gonna die.

“Do you have a name?”  Reflexes guy asked, and my frown deepened.  Maybe I could pretend to have lost my memory.  Library guy said something about a fever, right?  If it was bad enough, it could’ve messed with my brain.  Plus, they have no way of knowing how long I had it.  Alright, that’s my game plan for now.  A pitiful, helpless amnesiac.

Slowly, I shook my head, bringing my knees to my chest as I stared at him with wide eyes.

“How about an age?  Do you know how old you are?”  This time, it was the boyfriend who spoke.  I liked him way better.  He had a kind voice, and he didn’t really seem to be holding too big a grudge against me.  He was probably dragged to this weird revenge party by the redhead.

I shook my head again, allowing my body to shake ever so slightly, tears gathering in my eyes.

“Alright, cut the crap, kid.  Tell me where my watch is,” Stark took a few steps forward.  My eyes went wide, and I scrambled backwards in an attempt to get away from him, my heart going a mile a minute as my breathing got faster and faster.

“Quit it, Stark, you’re scaring her,” the boyfriend snapped.  Stark huffed and rolled his eyes, moving back to his place in the semi-circle with his arms crossed.  Yeah, I definitely like the boyfriend best.

“Do you remember nothing, child?” Blondie boomed.  I flinched at the volume, hiding my face in my arms and sobbing quietly.

It was quiet for a little bit, and I smiled.  They must’ve felt guilty, which meant they believed me.  Maybe I could pull this off after all.

“Alright, kid, that’s enough.  Stop messing with them.”

“What?  Nat, what are you--”

“Seriously, you’ve had your fun, now stop it with the crocodile tears and tell us your name.”  I slowly peaked up to find the redhead -- Nat, apparently -- smirking back down at me, her right hip jutted out as she rested her weight on it and her arms crossed.  She merely lifted an eyebrow at me, her smirk widening ever so slightly.

I sighed and lifted my head.  “How did you know?” I asked softly.  The men in the room gaped at me in surprise, while she only chuckled a bit.

“I lie all the time, kid, it’s part of my job.  I know another good liar when I see one,” she answered with a slight shrug of her shoulders.  “Now are you gonna tell us your name or not?”

I frowned and hugged my knees tighter.  “It wasn’t all a lie.  I really was scared,” I muttered, staring down at my lap.  “It’s not exactly fun to wake up in a place you don’t know and immediately have people coming at you or yelling really, really loud.”

Stark glanced away guiltily while Blondie just sent me a wide, toothy grin.  “My apologies, child.  I have yet to truly understand this ‘indoor voice’ that you mortals are so fascinated by!”  I flinched slightly at the still very loud voice, but at least it wasn’t quite as loud as before.

“Name, kid,” Nat stated simply, immediately seeing through my attempt at changing the subject to try and make them feel guilty again.

I sighed.  “My name is (Y/N),” I finally muttered.

“Have you got a last name, (Y/N)?” Reflexes asked again.

“Not any that concerns you,” I immediately snapped back defensively.

Reflexes frowned and rubbed his face a bit.  “Fine, we’ll go back to that later.  How old are you?”

“18,” the lie came quickly and easily.  I had said it so many times that by that point, it was starting to feel more natural than the truth.

“Try again,” Nat said.

I grit my teeth and glared at her.  “You really need to stop ratting me out.”  She just smirked and shrugged again.  “Fine.  I’m 12.”

Silence as five pairs of shocked eyes turned to Nat for confirmation.  Slowly, she nodded, almost seeming a little shocked herself.  My words took a minute to settle in, and I frowned, staring back down at my lap.  At least now they probably couldn’t kill me.  Although, I’d probably prefer that to going back to that hellhole of a foster home.

“Nope, sorry, I call bs,” Stark was the one to break the silence.  “No chance a twelve-year-old reads nuclear physics, and more importantly, there’s not a single chance a twelve-year-old outsmarts me.”

“Yeah, that’s what every grown-up says,” I rolled my eyes.  “The fact is, you got completely fooled by a twelve-year-old kid, and you need to learn how to deal with it.”

“Alright, so where’s my watch?” Stark grit his teeth, fuming in annoyance at my attitude.

I rolled my eyes again.  “I sold it,” I answered simply.

“Ok, so why did you lie to Clint?  That watch was expensive.  There’s no way you would be starving only a month after you sold it,” Stark smirked triumphantly, as though he had just unearthed some massive conspiracy.

“I didn’t keep the money.”

“...I’m sorry, what?” Stark asked.

“I said, I didn’t keep the money,” I repeated.

“Then where the hell did it go?” he frowned.  He obviously didn’t believe me.

“Language, Stark,” Reflexes cut in.  “She’s just a kid.”

“Please, I’ve heard the word ‘hell’ before.  What street did you think I was living on, Candycane Lane?”  I scoffed before suddenly realizing my mistake.

“You live on the streets?” Library guy asked softly, looking more and more guilty with every passing minute.

“Of course not,” I responded quickly, trying to backpedal on what I’d accidentally let slip.  “I just hate my parents so much it feels like it.  I only steal so that I can rebel against them.”

“That lie was just bad,” Nat shook her head almost in disappointment.

“(Y/N), what happened to the money from Stark’s watch?” the boyfriend -- What did Stark say his name was?  Clint? -- spoke calmly and gently.

“I used it to buy toys and canned foods,” I answered rather quickly.  He was nice.  I felt comfortable around him.

“You were starving, and you bought toys?” Stark scoffed.

“Not for me, dipshit,” I rolled my eyes again.  I feel like I do that every time Stark opens his mouth.

“Language!” Reflexes gasped.

“Why did you buy toys?”  Clint continued to speak gently, taking my attention away from my annoyance at Stark.

I frowned.  “I bought them for the kids at the orphanage.”  Clint just nodded, encouraging me to continue.  “Every year I scrape together what money I don’t use on food to buy them toys, but they usually end up being really crummy ones that they all have to share.  This year, I was finally able to buy them all really good ones.”  I paused for a moment before adding, “Christmas can be really sad there, and there never used to be any toys.  I don’t want the other kids to have a sad Christmas anymore.”

“You used to live in an orphanage?” Clint asked.  I winced at the question, digging my nails into my palms.  I didn’t mean to tell them that.  I sighed in defeat and nodded slightly, avoiding their eyes.

“My mommy died when I was one, and my daddy didn’t want me anymore,” I paused a moment, trying and failing to swallow the lump in my throat.  Quickly, I moved myself as far away from the topic as possible.  “I used the money I didn’t spend on toys to buy groceries for the homeless shelter.  They need it more than I do anyways.”

There was another heavy pause before Clint spoke again.  “How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?”

“Counting today?” They all nodded.  “About five days.”

Reflexes immediately walked away, and I ducked my head further.  He was probably going to call the cops or maybe the orphanage.  Either way I’d have to go back.

“(Y/N)?” Library guy’s voice brought me back to reality.

My cheeks were wet.  I was crying.  I didn’t mean to do that -- it doesn’t work on Nat, so why even bother?  Still, I couldn’t stop.  “A-are you g-gonna send m-me b-back n-now?” I whispered, my voice thick as I gasped between every other word.  I squeezed my knees tight to my chest and let out a sob that I was trying desperately to hold back.  “P-please... I don’t... I don’t wanna go back!” I broke down sobbing, my face buried in my arms and my breaths coming shorter and shorter as my heart pounded frantically against my ribs.

I couldn’t breathe.

I felt like I was under water, each breath coming in harsher and more labored than the last, the air growing thicker by the second as I struggled to take it in.  I could hardly feel the tears on my cheeks as my brain begged me to take a solid breath, screaming at me that I was dying -- that I needed to stop this right now, or I would die, which of course only made me panic even more.

I felt a pair of arms gently wrap around me and slowly looked up, hiccupping softly, my entire body shaking like a leaf.  I stared at Tony Stark from where he sat beside me.  “Calm down, purse snatcher, no one’s sending you anywhere,” he said, rubbing my back comfortingly.  “I need you to focus on me.  Try and match my breaths, ok?”

“P-promise me you’re not lying,” I mumbled from my still mostly curled up position.  “Promise I won’t have to go back.”

“I promise I will never lie to you,” he responded immediately.  I sniffled, my bottom lip trembling as I stared at him, searching for any signs of a lie.  When I found none, I launched forward into his lap and buried my face in his chest, sobbing pathetically.  “Easy, kid.  You’re ok.  In and out, just like me, ok?  In... and out,”  Tony soothed, gently patting my back as I cried.  His arms were warm.  It was surprising, but still, it was really, really nice.  Slowly, I came back down to reality, each breath shaking violently but still managing to keep time with his.  Finally, after a few minutes, I’d managed to calm myself down.

A very large hand landed on my shoulder, and I looked over, my body still shaking a bit as I clung to Tony like a lifeline.  Reflexes was standing there, holding a plate full of steaming hot pizza.

“You need to eat,” he said, moving the plate closer to me.  I nodded and took it, my hands still shaking slightly.

“Thank you, Reflexes,” I said softly.

“Reflexes?” he tilted his head a bit.

“O-oh, um... When I met you, you managed to catch me after I bumped into you, even though I was trying to fall, so I’ve kind of been calling you Reflexes in my head ever since...” I muttered, my face getting red.

Reflexes stared at me for a moment.  I could feel Tony laughing behind me as the others struggled not to laugh out loud.  “You can just call me Steve,” he sighed.

“That’s right, you don’t know our names yet, do you?” Tony grinned.  I turned to look at him, only just then realizing that I was still sitting on his lap.  

I blushed harder and scooted off his lap, muttering a quick, “Sorry.”

Tony smiled back in reassurance, although he looked a little... disappointed?  No, wait, that’s stupid.  Of course he wasn’t disappointed; he’s Tony Stark.  That look was probably just the leftover annoyance at having some dumb kid crying in his lap.  “Don’t mention it, kid, but you gotta tell me what you’ve been calling the rest of us in that little head of yours.”

“U-um... well, I called Steve ‘Reflexes,’ and, um, Nat was ‘Redhead’.  Clint was ‘Boyfriend’...” Clint choked on thin air, and Tony bursted out laughing again, not even making an attempt to hide it this time.

“W-why ‘Boyfriend’?!” Clint yelped.

“Because you were on a date with your girlfriend, um, Nat, when we met?”  I said it almost like a question.  Was there something wrong with that?

“She’s not my girlfriend, kid,” Clint sighed, shaking his head.  He didn’t seem quite as bothered anymore, though.  Was there really something wrong with me calling him ‘Boyfriend’?

“Ok, now tell me the rest,” Tony said excitedly, leaning forward.

I leaned back a bit but nodded.  “Ok, well the guy with the glasses--”

“Call me Bruce,” he interrupted.

“Um, Bruce then.  He was ‘Library Guy.’”

“Oh, that’s right, you recommended he read his own paper,” Tony grinned.

“Yeah exactly,”  I smiled softly before, slowly, my smile dropped and my eyes grew about 3 sizes.  “Wait, you don’t mean...” I turned to face Bruce in disbelief.  “You aren’t that Bruce.  As in, Bruce Banner?  The nuclear physicist?”

Bruce chuckled a bit and rubbed the nape of his neck.  “Yeah, that’s me.  Nice to meet you.”

I gaped, my mouth opening and closing like a fish.  “I’m such a big fan,” I whispered softly.

“Wait, so you mean you actually understood those papers?  That wasn’t just another lie?” Bruce frowned slightly.

“I would never lie about that,” I shook my head frantically.  “Your work is absolutely incredible.  I used to get lashed all the time cause I’d stay up all night reading your papers.”

A flash of pity crossed his face.  I frowned and cleared my throat.  “I, um, I always really like learning new things,” I muttered awkwardly.  “When I was little, I would spend hours in that library every day.  My caretaker didn’t believe I actually understood it, either.  She even got me tested to prove I was lying.”

“And?” Tony prompted.

“Turns out I have an IQ of about 278,” I shrugged.  Tony’s jaw dropped, staring at me with eyes wide as saucers.

“Isn’t yours 273?” Bruce asked, trying to hide the chuckle threatening to seep through his voice.

“I-I... Well... Just tell us the rest of the nicknames, would ya, kid?” Tony stuttered, avoiding Bruce’s eyes.

“Oh, um, sure,” I smiled a bit.  It felt like my chest filled up a bit, a soft warmth spreading through my heart.  They looked like a family.  It must be so nice.  “The super buff blonde guy--”

“Thor,” Tony provided.

I blinked in shock at that.  “Wow, your parents must’ve been real confident to name you after one of the Norse gods,” I muttered.  “Well, Thor’s name was just ‘Blondie.’”

Tony snickered at my comment, and I frowned.  Were these nicknames really funny?  I didn’t think they were.

“Child, I was not named after anyone.  I am Thor of Asgard.  It is a pleasure to meet you,” he smiled, taking a knee before me.  I lifted an eyebrow and leaned over to Tony.

“Is he crazy..?” I asked softly.

Tony chuckled.  “No, he’s not.  Haven’t you ever heard of the Avengers?”  I shook my head.  “Woah, seriously?  Ok, well, long story short, he is the actual Norse god, Thor, and he lives on the planet Asgard.”

I looked at him curiously before nodding.  “Alright.”

“Seriously?  You believe me just like that?” Tony asked, a small, if slightly confused, smile on his face.

“You promised me you’d never lie to me,” I answered simply.  “Of course I believe you.”  

Tony opened his mouth and closed it again, a look I’d never seen decorating his features.  I shook my head just a bit to clear it and grabbed the piece of pizza on top before immediately shoving it in my face, managing to scarf it down in under 10 seconds before moving onto the next.  The six adults stared at me as I finished piece after piece until the plate was empty only 2 minutes later.  I glanced up and smiled slightly.  “Thank you for the food,” I mumbled through the last mouthful of pizza.

“Wow, ok, I’m not gonna lie, kid, that was pretty impressive,” Tony chuckled.  “I don’t even think bird brain over here could eat that fast.”

“How do you keep people from stealing your food, then?” I asked, tilting my head slightly to the side.  The room fell silent again, the adults sending me worried glances.  I frowned and ducked my head again, trying to avoid their searing gazes.  I must’ve said something wrong again.

“Honestly, we don’t.  How do you think Thor got so big?” Tony grinned, clearly just trying to diffuse the tension.  I smiled up at him gratefully.  

“Alright, I think that’s enough excitement for today,” Tony said, standing up.  “Sorry, kid, but it’s way past your bedtime.”  I tensed up a bit at the sudden movement, and he sent me a reassuring smile.  “Don’t worry, I’m just taking you to a guest room.”

I nodded and took his hand, standing up slowly.  I held the loose clothing tightly so that it didn’t drop, trying to ignore the many worried eyes that looked over my still ever so slightly shaking, thin figure that couldn’t even hold up the small pair of sweatpants.  I followed him down one of the many hallways of the tower, gripping his hand as tightly as I could.  

Finally, we reached a large room, a neatly made bed stationed in the middle of it.  I tried to climb into the bed, but Tony ended up having to boost me up, his hands lifting me gently by my underarms so that I could get on top of the unreasonably tall mattress before tucking me in under the thick blankets.

He took a step back, and my heart immediately leapt into my throat, my hand darting out to grab his wrist.  “It’s ok, I’m just turning out the lights,” he answered the question without me even having to ask.  As soon as he had flicked the switch off, he came back and sat down in a large chair by the bed.  It was silent for a moment, and I stared up at the dark ceiling, thinking over everything that happened in the past few hours.  It didn’t make any sense.  Why would he do all of this?  What did he have to gain from giving me food and a place to sleep?

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I heard my own voice rise up through the darkness.  I’m not quite sure why I asked that.  Still, I wanted nothing more than to hear the answer.

“You remind me of myself,” Tony said slowly, the careful thoughtfulness clear in his voice.  “You’re a good kid.  You deserve a little bit of help.”

It was silent for another few minutes.

“Would you... would you please hold me hand?” I asked softly.  I’d barely even finished speaking before my right hand was engulfed my another, much larger one.  I could feel myself smile just a bit, my eyes fluttering closed.  I squeezed it slightly, and before long, I had fallen asleep to the sound of Tony’s breathing.

[blitzturtles]

Title: Fever (Ao3)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba, AbbaBru, (Platonic) Bucci Gang

Summary: “Hey, so… where’s Booch?” Mista asks, leaning back in his seat.

All eyes are on him suddenly, before they gravitate to the chair that Bucciarati frequently takes up as his own.

Notes: For Day 1 of Sicktember, "Fever", because I never do anything on time. @sicktember

The morning goes like any other. One by one, the Don’s closest filter into the kitchen to get their first cup of coffee and whatever they feel like scrounging up for breakfast. There’s mundane conversation between the more wakeful lot; they aren’t allowed to talk about work until everyone’s finished their meals, which means the conversation doesn’t get much more interesting than whatever they’ve managed to get up to since the night before. It’s an odd sort of rule, but it helps to ensure that they can maintain some boundaries between their professional and personal lives, which further guarantees that they get more time together as a family, rather than as a team.

“Hey, so… where’s Booch?” Mista asks, leaning back in his seat.

All eyes are on him suddenly, before they gravitate to the chair that Bucciarati frequently takes up as his own. It’s empty with no sign that the man has made it downstairs, despite their designated breakfast time ticking by.

Narancia elbows Abbacchio to get his attention when he doesn’t seem to pick up on the same thing the rest of them have. He makes a motion for Abbacchio to take off his headphones and repeats the question.

“How should I know?” Abbacchio deflects with practiced ease, but there’s an edge to his tone. Sharper than even his usual morning demeanor calls for, and it’s clear--from the way his eyes fixate on Bucciarati’s spot--that he’s as concerned as the rest of them.

“You sleep in the same room,” Fugo points out, matter-of-fact and oblivious to the daggers that Abbacchio shoots in his direction.

“Yeah, well--” Abbacchio falters. He doesn’t actually have a reply for that.

“Maybe we should go check on him?” Trish asks, ever the most reasonable of the bunch, aside from perhaps Giorno.

“You don’t need to go… crowding him,” Abbacchio trails off as Mista and Narancia race out of their seats, already making a beeline for the stairs. He sighs and gets up to follow them.

What he doesn’t tell the group won’t hurt them. They don’t need to know that Bruno had been complaining of a headache the night before, or that he crashed unusually early. Or that he had been less than compliant about waking up with Abbacchio.

“So much for ‘just a headache’,” Abbacchio mutters under his own breath as he follows the kids up the steps. He can hear the rest behind him, each as eager as the first two to check in on their once-leader. “Hey, knock it off,” he calls when he finds Mista and Narancia outside the door to their bedroom, banging on it obnoxiously.

“But he’s not answering!” Narancia whines, dramatic and loud.

“And you think this will help?” Abbacchio raises his eyebrows, but he moves to unlock the door. The moment he opens it, he can see what his tired eyes failed to notice earlier. Bruno’s face, as little of it that is visible, is bright pink. There’s sweat clinging to his brow, and it’s obvious he’s been tossing and turning since Abbacchio left, which means he likely spiked a fever sometime recently.

Abbacchio ignores the kids in favor of making his way to the bed. He frowns at the dry, parted lips and the labored breathing that greet him. Bruno’s eyes haven’t so much as cracked open a hair, despite the sheer volume of Mista and Narancia. The rest of the gang catching up doesn’t seem to phase him either, even though none of them seems to be capable of shutting up.

Without thinking, Abbacchio undoes the clips that must have been left in from the night before. It speaks volumes to how poorly Bruno felt at the time. He always takes his hair down before bed, and Abbacchio isn’t sure how he missed that not-so-little detail.

“What’cha doing?” Narancia asks, startling Abbacchio out of his thoughts.

“He doesn’t like it when his hair gets sweaty,” Abbacchio explains without thinking. He splits Bruno’s bangs down the middle to pin them on either side of his face. It isn’t the most fashionable look, but it should hold.

“Guess you would know, huh?” Mista asks with a raised eyebrow.

Abbacchio feels his cheeks burn red at the suggestion, and he turns around to give the kid his best death glare. “That’s not what I meant.”

Mista throws his hands up quickly, “I was joking.”

“Don’t,” Abbacchio answers gruffly. He turns back to Bruno, trying to work out the best way to take out his top braid without disturbing him too much. He settles for loosening it instead, careful to avoid tugging it in a way that might pull. The point is to reduce the pressure, not add to his discomfort.

“He wears his hair down when he goes fishing,” Giorno speaks with such sincerity that it’s all Abbacchio can do not to snap at him, too. Plus, it would probably disappoint Bruno. If he were awake.

“Yeah, I pointed that out too. It’s weird.” Abbacchio shrugs. He would think that having your hair stuck to your skin with salt water would be worse than sweat, but he guesses that Bruno finds some nostalgia in it. He’s long given up on understanding certain things about his partner.

“I think it’s safe to say he’s sick,” Fugo points out, breaking the silence that follows. “We should probably get his fever down.”

“Right, yeah!” Narancia nods enthusiastically, then stops for a moment and looks dumbfounded, “How’d we do that?”

Fugo smacks him on the back of the head, “With medication and cold towels, obviously.”

“Hey!” Narancia spins on his heels, so he’s facing the other teen. He crowds in on Fugo until their chests are pressed together and Fugo’s reaching for something in one of his pockets.

“Cut it out!” Abbacchio snaps at both of them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders why he ever let the whole group up here in the first place. He’s more than capable of taking care of Bruno on his own, even if he had missed the earlier signs.

“I can go get medicine,” Trish says, a bit meek compared to her usual self, and she’s gone before anyone can say otherwise.

“I’ll go get towels?” Giorno looks uncertain. He’s never had to deal with anyone else’s illness before. Not like this, and he’s always taken care of himself while sick. Usually by pushing through until his body sorted itself out.

“I’ll go with you,” Fugo offers with a half-smile. It’s meant to be reassuring, and Giorno seems to take it as such.

Abbacchio’s just relieved to have less people around. Mista and Narancia linger, but he elects to ignore both of them in favor of tucking the blankets in around Bruno. The best thing for a fever is to sweat it out, after all.

By the time the other three get back, Narancia and Mista have made themselves busy by going in search of a thermometer. It’s really more like a competition between the two, but Abbacchio doesn’t care as long as it keeps them distracted.

“I brought some water, too,” Trish says as she extends her bounty to Abbacchio. In one hand is a bottle of water; in the other is the medication she must have scavenged her own medicine cabinet for. That or the Team first aid kit. There’s actually a few of those throughout the house, but Bruno’s the only one that bothers stocking them, and that’s only when he knows to. For the most part, they run out of supplies because someone uses them without remembering to say anything later.

“We got hand towels in a bowl of ice water. It should keep him going for a while,” Fugo explains as he nods to the bowl that Giorno’s carrying and deposits his collection of towels on one of the bedside tables. He takes one and unfolds it enough to make a thin strip out of it. He dunks it into the water and squeegees out the excess before handing it to Abbacchio.

“Thank you,” Abbacchio says, taking the towel and placing it gently on Bruno’s forehead. It’s worrisome that he hasn’t stirred in the slightest. That despite all the ruckus, he’s remained sound asleep. Part of Abbacchio wants to leave him that way, but he knows getting the fever reducer in him will help him faster than the towels will. He gently shakes his partner’s shoulder and calls his name until familiar blue finally peaks open.

Bruno’s eyes are red around the edges, and there’s no focus to them. He blinks at Abbacchio a few times. Slow and owlish.

“You’re sick,” Abbacchio explains with little to-do. “You just gotta take these, and you can go back to sleep.”

A quiet hum is all he gets in response, and it’s damn near enough to convince Abbacchio to take Bruno to the nearest hospital. He’s never known Bruno to be cooperative a day in his life. Not when it comes to being sick or injured, but he forces himself to be reasonable. To think logically. Bruno isn’t indestructible. He’s allowed to feel like shit, and that means he’s allowed to want nothing more than to be left alone to sleep off the worst of whatever bug he’s managed to catch.

“I know,” Abbacchio murmurs, more to himself than Bruno. He helps Bruno sit up enough to take the pills and helps him back to lying down after that. He fixes the blankets and puts the wet towel back on Bruno’s forehead. Once he’s all settled, it takes only seconds for Bruno to pass back out.

“It’s weird seeing him like this,” Fugo admits, quietly.

“I don’t like it,” Trish’s voice is somehow softer, but there’s more to it. Her tone holds something else, and Abbacchio curses himself for not picking up on it sooner.

“He’ll be fine,” he says, doing his best to be reassuring. The problem is that he generally isn’t. “It’s been awhile, but Bruno does get sick.”

“Yeah,” Fugo says quickly, eyes following Abbacchio’s. “He’ll be fine, probably by tomorrow. Besides, Giorno can help if he needs to, right?”

Giorno looks a little startled to be pulled into the conversation, but he’s quick to nod, “If there’s any kind of damage, I can replace it.”

“See? All good. You all should get to work. It’s late already,” Abbacchio points out. Never mind the fact that he doesn’t plan on leaving Bucciarati’s side, which means they’re down, not one, but two men for the day. “And, if you see Narancia or Mista, tell them to forget about the thermometer.” The best thing they can do for Bruno at this point is leave him alone and let him rest.

“Right, yeah, let’s--let’s do that,” Trish says, stumbling over her words as much as her feet. She’s quick to reach for the door, obviously relieved to be dismissed without having to do so herself. Abbacchio can’t blame her. He doesn’t like seeing Bruno like this either, but he doesn’t have a recently deceased-from-illness parent at the forefront of his brain. He knows how much that still eats at Bruno. He can only imagine what it does to a teenager whose memories of the event are fresh.

Fugo follows her with a simple nod of his head at Abbacchio. A small sign of his appreciation that someone is taking care of the man that he sees as his savior, even now. Abbacchio mimics the gesture in acknowledgement and almost turns his attention back to Bruno before he notices Giorno, lingering by the door.

“What?”

“It’s--” Giorno swallows, “It’s nothing. Take your time. We can work out whatever we need to until he’s feeling better.”

“I will,” Abbacchio says with a tone that’s almost dismissive. Truthfully, he’s grateful for the permission. To hear it aloud rather than to think it to himself, but he won’t admit that. Least of all to Giorno. “Don’t forget to take the other two with you.”

“I will,” Giorno echoes with the slightest curve of his lips.

Cheeky little shit, Abbacchio thinks, but he watches Giorno with a near fondness reflecting in his gaze. It’s odd how much the little bastard has grown on him. Not, he supposes, unlike the rest of them. Maybe it’s all the time they spend together, given Abbacchio’s position in Investigations. Or maybe it’s the mutual concern for Bruno’s wellbeing. Whatever it is, Abbacchio’s glad the kid sees things his way. Just this once.

[dreadpoetssociety]

Fevers Don’t Exist

TW: Fever ? (I’m not sure what counts for triggers so pls lmk if I miss anything)

Prompt: hi!! could u do one maybe where like, the reader is an actress on supernatural and she plays like their younger sister on the show or something and she gets sick at a con or something? Thanks !!

NOTE: Hey guys, I’m alive!!!! I know I have a lot of Spencer prompts atm, but it’s really hard to write them when I’m not like, hyper focused on Criminal Minds. I am going to try though! So sorry I’ve left so many of you in the wind, I am a very inconsistent person, my bad. But here’s this! It’s REALLY bad because I’m terrible at being realistic but like idk it’s something.

I really don’t even know what to put for tags on this. 

()()()()()() 

Ah, September. You knew what came along every September, and looked forward to it for the first eight months of every year. Secaucus, New Jersey. You loved every con you went to, truly. Everyone was so nice, you love staying in hotels, panels are such a great time, the whole thing. It's a great experience outside of the set to get connected with fans. And, they loved you almost as much as you loved them. You were typically closer in age, since you were still just a teenager. You also started out as a fan of the show before somehow snatching a role, so you really were with them at one point. Everything that excites them excited you just as much. And, you loved making friends with them. You weren't allowed to be reckless with your phone number, so you made a snapchat that you shared exclusively with con goers, whom you made swear to secrecy. It was like a club, and you just enjoyed genuinely talking to everyone. But, when you woke up that first morning, you knew it was going to be a long day. Your body ached, and you were still pretty exhausted. You had a fever, but didn't really know if it was a fever because you were still young, and God forbid you ever decided to recognize the signs of you being sick. It was almost like a form of denial, not knowing. You were sweating, but freezing, and your throat felt particularly dry. Your headache rested underneath your eyes for the most part, to which you just blamed on being tired. Your stomach didn't hurt, but you definitely weren't hungry. Even though you hadn't felt exactly 100% the past days before, and you obviously weren't feeling right now, you just deduced that it was all because you were tired, and had a late flight in. As a responsible person does, of course. You didn't even bother taking any medicine for it, because hey, you obviously weren't sick, you'd feel better in a bit, and you didn't have any, so why waste the time, right? 

You groggily got dressed and met up with "the boys" (even though they were all older than you) for the free breakfast downstairs, in a separate room, since fans did happen to stay in the same hotel. You grabbed some Cheerios, only to conspicuously throw them away after. 

"You good, Y/N?" Jared asked out loud, gaining the attention of Jensen, Misha, and Alex. You could feel their eyes burning through your skin. Or, maybe that was the fever. It had to be their eyes, you convinced yourself, you didn't have a fever. You were fine. 

"Yeah, why?" you asked, faking the perk in your voice and confused eyes. Your eyes felt really heavy, you noticed. 

"You just... You look exhausted. And pale." he said, "And you threw away that cereal without eating any of it." 

You looked down at yourself as an effect for what you were about to say, "Wow, well that's one way to make me self-conscious. I thought I looked kind of poppin'." you laughed slightly, trying to play it off. 

"W-wait, no that's- that's not what I meant! You look fine, I just-" he was embarrassed. You and the others chuckled.

"I'm kidding. I'm all good, just went to bed late, y'know?" you smiled. It was hard to try and mask the rasp in your voice, and doing so made you feel the need to cough, so you downed some water until it dialed down a bit. He nodded. In your mind, you blessed your acting skills, thinking you got away with it. What you didn't know was that Misha, Jensen, and Jared, as fathers do, knew every trick in the book, and each noted to keep an eye on you. Not to mention, they'd been acting far longer than you had, and could just tell when one switches into a character. They all figured that if you weren't sick now, you would be in days to come, and exchanged glances with each other, while Alex innocently continued to chew on his toast. 

"Well, if you're tired, I don't think you have a panel or anything for another hour or something, maybe you could catch up on some sleep then." Jared suggested. You shrugged.

"Nah," you said, "I've got photo-ops in like, twenty minutes. I should actually probably get going. I'll catch up later!" 

You left with a wave, and disappeared into the hotel somewhere. You stopped in your room, allowing yourself finally to set free the coughs living in the back of your throat. You blamed it on your throat being dry since you didn't drink enough water. Not on germs. So, you grabbed two water bottles from the small fridge in your room, and left, making your way towards the convention center.

  You felt slightly better during photo-ops, which just confirmed in your mind that it was impossible that you were sick right now. You smiled and talked to everyone. There was one girl, who introduced herself as Meredith, who stuck out in your mind. She gave you this super cool hand painted keychain, which you very excitedly put on your keys instantly.

"Dude, I've been looking for a cool keychain. Not just one of those janky ones you find at like 7-11, like a cool one. This is so exciting." you smiled genuinely. You had just recently bought yourself a car, and thought that your keys looked a little lonely, and searched for hours on Etsy for something to spice it up a bit. A weird obsession, thinking about it now.

She laughed, "I'm glad you like it!"

"Hell, yeah! Now, are there any poses you wanna do? Or do you just want to hit that casual look? I could make it look like I'm meeting you." you stupidly rambled. One of your traits that was so widely known was how funny and awkward (in a good way) that you were. It took you a long time to get to that point, though, because you were always anxious about meeting others. You still are every now and then, but it's different here. 

"I was just hoping to get a hug." she said, "If that's okay with you." 

"Yeah, that's cool!" you wrapped your arms around each other and shot the camera a grin. The girl looked a bit confused. 

"Hey," she said, quietly, "are you like, okay? You feel really hot."

Nervously, you replied, "Oh, no, yeah totally fine. I'm just wearing two layers, and it's getting spicy in here."

"Yeah," she answered, "don't push yourself, okay?"

"I won't, thank you. It was really nice meeting you!" 

"You, too! Thanks!" she waved goodbye and you moved on to the last few people in line. She was right, though. You realized that you felt worse than you did when you walked in. You thought it had gone away for a while, but now it was just amplified. You noticed you were cold again, but that you were sweating as well. It must've just been the temperature in the room. These conventions aren't always able to keep a steady temp in the entire building, right?

This day, you didn't have much to do. Most of your events were on the other days to come. You had one panel in a few hours, and then a panel with Jared, Jensen, and Misha a few hours after that, and then bam, the day was over. You just had to get through those two events. Just two. 

Two, events. And both were an hour. So, two hours out of the day. Rookie work. Yet, as your panel approached, the headache had expanded from under your eyes to anywhere that there was space to hurt, your throat ached and so did your lungs from how much you were going off somewhere to cough in privacy, your body felt heavy, you couldn't tell if you were hot or cold at this point it was some weird combination of both, your stomach hurt just slightly, the world was moving around you a bit more than it usually would, and the fever you "didn't" have had climbed a degree, probably two. And, at some point during the day, you got pretty congested. You felt like you could just fall asleep at any moment. Jared and Jensen happened to be walking by where you had been waiting by yourself, away from any congoers or employees, and noticed that even though you were leaning against a wall, you somehow were still swaying.

"Y/N?" Jensen called out, worried. You heard him, you knew you were supposed to respond, but didn't know how. Maybe you did have a fever, and maybe you sort of let it out of control. It was like you were comprehending them, but not at the same time. You heard everything, but it just swept right through your feverish mind. The walked in front of you and examined you within seconds. You felt Jared's cold, really abnormally large man hand sweep your hair back and land on your forehead. 

"J, she's burning up." you felt another hand on your face. You, quite exhaustedly, swatted it away. They couldn't figure out how it'd gotten so bad so quickly. You were sick this morning, but not to this degree. They knew then that you had just shrugged it off all day, and your teenage fever brain probably didn't even think to take any kind of medicine or anything for it, even if you were trying to hide it.

"I'm good. Just tired. Fevers don’t exist." you finally mumbled, taking a few deep breathes, which you hadn't really been able to do in a bit without being rudely interrupted by a bone-shaking cough. It felt nice, almost. The boys sighed at you and shook their heads. 

"Y/N, you should go back to your room and get some rest. We can bring you some stuff that'll help." Jared suggested. You shook your head and opened your eyes, which somehow felt even heavier.

"Nah," you said to them, "I've got a panel, I think, in like, I ‘dunno, some minutes or something. Something I-" you pushed yourself off the wall to try and make your way somewhere, but stumbled a step or two, which result in Jensen and Jared instinctively to grab you in order to keep you steady.

"Like hell we're letting you go to that, Y/N, you can't even form a sentence, or stand for that matter. You're out of your mind. We're going to bring you back now, we'll take care of your panel thing." Jensen stated pretty sternly. You were about to fight back, and they could see it, but you coughed a few times, and they could almost feel it in their own chests. You just nodded in defeat.

"Yeah, maybe I could just like, sleep, for an hour or two." you whispered, tiredly. The two were still holding you steady, and could see you already falling asleep before even going anywhere. 

"Or six, by the looks of it." Jared joked lightly.

"Poor kid." Jensen said to Jared as the were walking out of your room. They helped you get there, and you were gone before you even saw the bed, "Why do they always have to pretend like they aren't sick? Look where it gets them."

"Don't know, man. You can't talk, though. You literally tell people you are immune to illness." Jared laughed quietly, shutting you door.

"Well I am. I am the perfect example of health. I don't get sick." 

"Yeah," Jared rolled his eyes, "Right. Watch you catch what Y/N has. You practically carried her all the way here. There's no way you're escaping it." Walking towards the center, the back way of course, Jensen scoffed, "Please, germs take one look at me and know not to mess this up. And, by the logic, that means you're already infected, too. So, tell me, princess, what sort of soup do you want spoon-fed?" 

Again, Jared rolled his eyes, and the two laughed. They weren't making fun of you, they were making fun of each other, and knew that you would've wanted in on that action.

"Y/N probably would've destroyed us if she heard that. Something along the longs of 'You want me to tuck you in? Carry you bridal style?'" Jared pitched his voice a tone higher for it. Again, the two men laughed.

They made their way backstage of what's supposed yo be your panel, and informed the crew about what was going on. They were just going to fill in for you, probably tell a few embarrassing stories.

When they made their way through the curtain, the crowd shouted. They were obviously excited to see the two leads, but also were obviously confused. "Alright, you're probably confused." Jensen stated the obvious, "Because obviously, we look nothing like Y/N, and thank God she does not look like us." The crowd laughed.

"Anyway, Y/N can't make it today. She's really sick-" the crowd cut Jared off with a unison "awe." People yelled out that they hoped she felt better, tell her to take care of herself, and so on.

"Yeah, poor kid looked like she was just going to fall asleep right where she was standing. She literally tried to come anyway, like, kid, you're making no sense. Y/N couldn't really fight against us, though, so she's sleeping now." Jensen explained, "So we came here to chat in her stead, but just know she really was planning on coming. That kid loves you guys." and again, the "awe" rolled through the crowd. 

"If she wasn't sick, she could totally kick both your-" the last word was cut off, but was implied anyway, someone screamed from the crowd, which resulted in laughter.

"Yeah, probably. Even if we were stronger than her," sarcastically, of course, "she'd still beat us. Kid's too fast, and I'm too old." Jared laughed.

In the last ten minutes of the panel, Jared decided to give you call. Not only to check in on you, but so you could at least say hi to your crowd. When you heard the phone ring, you groggily opened your eyes and aimlessly reached for it.

"Hello?" you answered. Jared almost frowned at how sick you sounded, even with just one word.

"Y/N?" Jensen stepped in, "It's Jensen."

"Unfortunate." you sighed exhaustedly. It was joke, a really tired one, but still enough to make the crowd laugh.

"We're here at your panel, we thought you might want to say hi." Jared said loudly, holding the speaker of his phone to the microphone. 

"Panel?" you asked. Panel? What panel? Your delirious mind was clearly confused, "Who's that?" 

"Y/N, the con. The convention panel?" Jensen actually sounded worried. They probably should've thought to give you some sort of medicine to do something about the fever you had before they'd left.

"Oh," you closed your eyes again, almost falling asleep, before remembering finally what it was they meant, and after a moment, "Oh! Crap, the panel thing, I'm late."

"No, Y/N, stay there, we've got it covered remember? You can't come. You can say hi to them, though." Jensen interjected quickly.

"Okay, hi guys." you just followed as told.

The crowd responded with a series of hello's. 

"'M really sorry. I hope they aren't boring you." the two men could practically hear you closing your eyes. The crowd responded in inaudible chatter. Jensen and Jared walked from the mic for a second.

"Sorry if we woke you, kid." Jared apologized, having just realized they probably could've left you alone, "W also just wanted to check in. See how you're doing."

"How are you feeling?" Jensen asked, but got a mumbled word in response, "Alright, well, just go back to sleep, we'll be up there soon." 

Jared hung up the phone, and the two began to answer the last few questions and close up. They waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and started heading back your way.

"Jensen, you got any over the counters with you? Thermometers or anything? All I've got is Advil, and I don't even know what's really bothering her yet other than that cough and being tired."

"Yup. Danneel always makes me carry literally an entire medicine cabinet, just for these moments. I'll go get 'em and meet you there. It'd probably do her some good to eat something, too. I don't know if she's got like, a stomach virus thing going on, though." Jensen answered.

"I'll see what she'll say and let you know." 

The two parted ways, and Jared made his way to you. Even though he'd only talked to you just a few minutes before, you were dead to the world by the time he opened the door. The room was boiling, and Jared looked over to the thermostat to see that you'd at some point put it on to 90 degrees. 

"Jesus, Y/N, I know you've got a fever, but damn." he said, more so to himself than to you. He looked over at you after turning it down to see you curled beneath what looked like any blanket you could find. He came over and started removing the blankets slowly, and shook you gently to wake you up.

"Y/N, wake up for a minute, it's Jared."

"'Mm." was all you said, until you realized your layers of warmth had been moved, "What're doing? It's cold."

"Y/N, you're dripping in sweat. It's the fever making you cold."

"I don't have a fever." you retorted, "I'm good. Just tired."

"Kid, you've been tired the whole day. You've been sleeping this whole time." he tried rationalizing.

"I have?" you questioned, closing you eyes again. Jared put his hand to your forehead again. Somehow, it was warmer than the first time he'd done it before the panel. It was then that Jensen finally appeared, a whole bag of things in hand, "Could you bring the thermometer over?"

"Yeah, gotcha." He walked over and rummaged through the bag at the same time, pulling out a thermometer.

"Y/N, we need to take your temperature." Jensen said.

"No need." you said, "'M not sick."

"You are so obviously sick, I'm not asking." again with that stern voice. Jared gave him a "Hey, she's sick, back off a little" sort of look, but it had worked, and you let them take your temp. They were almost shocked when the thing beeped at 103.

"Should we take her to a hospital? That's way too high." Jared asked. 

"If it gets any higher, yes, but let's see if we can bring it down first." Jensen replied.

"No hospitals." you demanded, opening your eyes and glaring at them. 

"We aren't bringing you yet, Y/N, but I need you to eat this so you can take some meds." he held out two pieces of toast that he must've brought from his room. You hated toast even when you weren't sick.

"I'm not really hungry." 

"I know, but it'll help. You haven't told us what's bothering you yet, either." Jared responded.

"Nothing's-" you coughed a few times, a bit violently, "bothering me." "We can see that." Jensen said sarcastically.

"Everything's bothering me." you whispered, giving up.

"Your stomach hurt?" Jensen asked. You waved your hand from side to side to signal a so-so, "Think you'll get sick at all?"

"No, it's not like that, I don't think." you breathed out, another cough escaping you. You took a few bites out of the toast. It made you uncomfortable, but it was then that you realized you probably felt that way since you really hadn't eaten much that day or the one before, which probably contributed to the splitting headache. It didn't go away after, either though. You pushed yourself up. You almost fell over, but Jared put a hand out for you.

"Alright, good. Take this. I'm going to be frank, it tastes disgusting." Jensen handed over a small cup of liquid, "Sometimes, if you take it like a shot, it helps. But you shouldn't know how to take shots, but if you do it, I won't judge." And so you did, causing the two to chuckle slightly at you. 

"You were right, about the sleep thing." you slumped back onto the bed heavily, like a brick.

"When am I ever wrong?" Jensen asked, "Don't answer that, actually."

But you were already sleeping again, and the boys decided to stay nearby for now. The next panel wasn't for another few hours anyway, and they just didn't want you to be alone. Also, incase you were wrong about the toast, and it decided to make its return. Jared's phone began to ring loudly, to which he very quickly tried to answer so his obnoxious ringtone wouldn't wake you up again, not that you wouldn't have just fallen back asleep anyway.

"Misha? Hey, what's up?" Jared answered. Jensen walked over to hear what was going on on the other side of the line, but Jared just decided to put it on speaker.

"Where are you guys? I haven't seen you all day. Felicia, Alex, and I are going out for lunch, we were wondering if you guys want to come. I tried calling Y/N, but she didn't answer, so." he rambled.

"That's because Y/N's not feeling well." Jensen said, giving him a solution to his predicament of not being answered, "We're with her right now, so we'll have to pass."

"She's sick? Is she okay?" 

"Yeah, I think so. She's just got this crazy fever we've been trying to bring down. Thinking about it now, Jensen, we should probably check it again." 

"A fever?"

"It's been at 103 degrees for like, two hours. At least for what we know of. She's probably had one all day, but as a dumb teenager does, she just tried to ignore it." 

"If it goes up you should-"

"Yeah, we know," Jared said, "we're trying really hard to avoid that, though. Also, she'll definitely fight against it, I don't know." 

Jensen, from the other side of the room at the sound of a beeping thermometer, could be heard on Misha's end, "It went down, finally. 102.2."

"Thank God, I was getting worried."

"Should I come there? Do you guys need any help?" Misha asked.

"I mean you can, but I think we're good. She's just been trying to sleep it off the whole time, so not much is really going on." Jensen was closer to the phone now, "Like, she's got this cough, a headache, and you can hear how congested she sounds, but mostly I think she's just exhausted. I honestly don't know how because she's just been sleeping for hours."

"Fatigue."

"Yeah, poor kid. I don't think I've ever seen her so tired, it almost makes me tired to be honest." Jensen joked.

"Maybe you're just getting sick." Jared slipped in.

"Not possible. I am immune."

"Nobody is immune, Jensen." Misha sighed.

"I'm not nobody." he shrugged. 

"Alright, well, we're going to get lunch then. If you need anything let me know, and tell her I hope she feels better." Misha concludes.

"We will, thanks Misha." and with that, Jared hung up. For a few more hours, the two hung around. They were there when you woke from some fever dreams, and when you needed a cough drop, or twelve, and wake you up every now and then to check your temperature, which raised and dropped and raised and dropped, but currently was at a very steady 102.4. But, soon enough, it was time for them to leave for the last panel of the day, and unsurprisingly, you tried to follow suit.

"Y/N, we gotta go, but we'll be back in about an hour from the panel." Jared said. You took a deep breath and sluggishly pushed yourself to the side of the bed. Having been sick, and not having sat up in a few hours, the blood rushed from your head, leaving you dizzy.

"What're you doing?" Jensen asked.

"The panel. I missed the last one I should go to this one. I feel okay." you yawned, then coughed slightly.

"Y/N, really, you shouldn't even think about pushing it like that." Jared said. Jensen walked over to you, half on the bed, clearly trying to steady yourself just from the movement of sitting up. The spinning room honestly almost made the toast make a reprise, and you hiccupped, and held your breath.

"Hey," Jensen grabbed a can quickly, noticing, "are you going to be sick?"

Giving it a minute, it went away, and you shook you head no, causing a huge tension to leave the room.

"Alright, well, remember how you said I was right all the time earlier?" Jensen pun the can down.

"No, must've been the fever." you half joked, causing Jared to laugh. 

"Alright- well- okay, shut up. We agreed I'm always right, and that I was right about needing sleep, so I say you need some more." Jensen demanded rather than suggested. 

"Yeah, or at least lay around and do nothing. I can't imagine ever sleeping as much as you just did." Jared joked, pushing you very gently back down, with his hand on your back, knowing you would just hit the bed without it. Your eyes were heavy again, and your throat was painfully dry, and you coughed. Your aching head also agreed with the two of them to your dismay.

"Maybe just a bit more." you mumbled, "A few minutes."

"Yeah a few minutes, sure." Jared smiled, knowing you were probably going to knock out for a few hours once again. You opened your eyes again.

"You think," you coughed, "that they'll be mad?

"Who?" Jensen asked.

Feeling pretty sick, you said, "That I don't go? I don’t feel really good."

Ah, the fever comes to play once again, it seems, but the two felt some sort of triumph now that you've at least admitted to being sick, even if it's been hours. It concerned them, though, if you felt bad enough to admit it.

"No, they'll be fine about it. We'll be back soon. Misha or Alex might come in to check on you, alright?" Jared answered, to which you nodded.

They weren't gone long. You spent half the next day sleeping, too, until you could stand without swaying. You did sneak back to the con, against Jensen and Jared's orders, since you really didn't break that fever and cough for a few more days, only to be caught after a tweet of you at the con was trending and the cast caught wind of it. But, eventually, you were better, and got the chance to help Jared take care of an "always immune" Jensen. And he was more stubborn than you were.

[bestiesenpai]

Gojo lyric challenge

I found this cute lil challenge on Pinterest! A picker wheel chose Gojo, I excluded repeating lines or else I would have gone mad, and the song I chose was medicine by shawn wasabi :)

“I’m so- so sick!” Sniffling like a toddler with a wicked cold on a Friday night wasn’t what you had in mind when you imagined how your weekend would go. Wrapped tightly in a blanket, you shivered on your couch as sweat began to form on your brow.

“How bad is it, (Y/N)?” Satoru asked over the phone, running a worried hand through his hair. You sounded awful, much worse than when he talked to you the day before. Your voice was shoddy and he could hear you breathing through your mouth.

“I’m cold sweating and I love it.” Rolling your eyes, you crumpled into the couch cushions with a groan. “One moment I’m hotter than ever, the next I’m colder than ice! I feel high, not sober.” Deflating even more, just being awake was a struggle for you right now.

“Want me to come over and bring you medicine?” His heart ached for you, and even though he was at the school it was the weekend, surely he could disappear for a few days with no issue?

“No, I don’t want you catching this.” Throwing the blanket over your eyes, you fought back the urge to sneeze. Satoru had begun speaking again but you were too busy scrunching up your nose to listen, head pounding from the effort.

“(Y/N), babe? You listeni-”

“Achoo!” Fumbling with your phone, the force of your sneeze - and the two that came after the first - was enough to push you further into the couch and fumble your phone, effectively hanging up on Satoru and dropping it between the couch cushions.

Ripping the blanket off your face, you blindly grabbed the box of tissues you left near you. There was snot pouring out of your nose, making your face irritated from all the rubbing you were doing.

Too numb to do anything else, you grabbed your phone and trudged to the bedroom, shivering with every pass of air against your face. Once in the dark room, the dull headache you had subsided slightly and you collapsed under the covers after taking a shot of cold medicine.

Tossing and turning in the night, your sickness felt like a fever dream that would never be over. With the medicine it was easy to fall asleep, but through the course of the night you woke up in a feverish fog, not fully conscious but enough to toss the blankets off your sweat covered body and then grab them again.

Waking up in the morning was a struggle, sleep still having a tight grip on you as your body tried to fight the illness. Your blankets were up to your chin, but there was sweat pooling in the ditches of your body.

Just as you were about to throw the blankets off your body and cool off, your phone began to ring, it’s incessant vibrating making the mattress shake.

“H-hello?” Fishing through your blankets, you grabbed it on the last ring.

“(Y/N)! Baby, how are you? I tried to call you back last night but you didn’t answer!” Satoru’s slightly scared voice spewed out over the phone. Taking a few deep breaths, you finally freed your body from the blankets.

“I’m wide awake in bed with my clothes on the floor.” You grumbled, looking to your side to see every article of clothing you went to sleep with in a pile. Satoru chuckled at your answer, relieved that you had survived the night without him.

“Let me come over today, please? I’ll bring some medicine and make some soup for you?”

“I don’t have anything to make soup.” Shivering as all the sweat evaporated away, you burrowed under the blankets again.

“I’ll go to the store.” Satoru answered immediately. There was a heavy pause as you thought over his answer, brain sluggish on forming words. “C’mon (Y/N), don’t leave me hanging. At least gimme a no.”

“I’m thinking.” You said with a whine, making Satoru laugh again.

“You really know how to test my patience.”

“If you come over you have to wear a mask, I don’t want you to get sick.” Now it was Satoru’s turn to whine. You could almost imagine him stamping his feet on the ground like a child and pouting.

“Fine, I’ll wear a mask. Now what kind of soup do you want, I’ll go to the store before I stop by.”

“Surprise me.” Ending the call with a curt grunt, you relaxed back into bed. There was no energy in your body, not even enough to grab the medicine off the bedside table or get a glass of water for your parched throat.

Falling back into a restless slumber, you slept through Satoru calling you once he was at the store and when he was outside your apartment. Luckily for him, he had a key to your place and was able to let himself in, tiptoeing quietly through your house.

“(Y/N)?” He called out for you, taking off his mask once he saw you weren’t in the lounge room or the kitchen. “Are you sleeping?” Walking to your bedroom, he grinned when he saw you passed out and drooling on your pillow.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Satoru fixed your blankets and moved your body into a more optimal sleeping position, one where your neck wasn’t being strained in a weird way and your head was elevated to help you breathe.

“Satoru?” All your twisting and turning had left you tongue tied, mouth feeling incredibly dry as you said his name.

“Hey sleepyhead.” Leaning a little closer to you, he grinned widely at your confused face, his eyes searching you from behind the glasses he had on.

“P-put your mask on, dummy.” Fumbling to push him away, you grabbed the mask that rested on his chin and pulled it over his face. “You’ll get sick.”

“(Y/N), I already am sick.” Fixing the mask on his face, Satoru laughed. “You got me feeling lovesick.”

“Lovesick?” Rolling your eyes at the cheesy line, you couldn’t help the smile that spread on your face.

“Mhmm, and ooh baby do I love it!” Gripping his heart dramatically, Satoru delighted in the fact he got you to laugh. Even behind his mask you could tell he was smiling like a fool as he looked at you.

“So what did-” Your question was cut off by a gross, wet cough. There was sticky phlegm coating the back of your throat, and the force of your actions had snot running down your nose a little as well.

“Here, here.” Grabbing you a few tissues, Satoru sprang up from the bed. “I’m going to make you some tea.” Nodding as he left the room, you coughed into the tissues and blew your nose loudly.

With a spinning head and wobbly legs, you pulled yourself from bed and threw the tissues away, walking blindly to the bathroom to take care of the needs that you’d been ignoring in favor of sleeping.

“What’re you doing out of bed?” Standing at your empty bedside with his arms crossed, Satoru tapped his foot impatiently as you reentered the room.

“Pee.” You said with a sniffle and Satoru immediately dropped his arms, pulling back the covers to help you lay back down.

“I bought some really strong herbal tea from the store, an old lady told me it works really well for sickness.” Picking up the mug he left on the bedside table, Satoru blew away the steam billowing from the top.

“It smells horrible.” Even with your nose blocked you could smell how strong the tea was and your lip curled in disgust.

“I know, but it’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t want it, Toru.” Your lip formed a heavy pout and you turned away from him, turning your back on the tea that you could smell even with your face pressed into a pillow.

“Just have a little bit, I promise you’ll feel better!” Tugging on your shoulder, Satoru eventually wore you down enough to make you turn over. With watery eyes and a soft glare you took the mug and took a drink of the tea.

“Oh I love how it tastes!” Nearly gagging on the strong taste, you swallowed down a big gulp to appease Satoru. Falling back down into bed, you rubbed a hand down your face. “Happy now?”

“Very. I’ll go start on the soup.”

“Did you get a recipe from that old lady?”

“No, the internet.” Flicking your arm, he left the room. You could hear him digging through a few shopping bags and banging pots and pans in the kitchen. The longer the tea sat in your stomach, the more it warmed you up and soothed your throat. Taking another sip, you slowly got up from bed.

“Hey, what’re you doing up?” Satoru peeked at you from the kitchen, his sharp blue eyes watching you trudge to the couch with a blanket wrapped around you.

“I’m bored just laying in bed sick.” Propping yourself up on cushions, you sank into the couch with a labored sigh. “So why not be sick out here?” Satoru chuckled, mumbling an agreement before returning to the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, the soup was done. It was a simple recipe, one that Satoru didn’t need to fuss over too much in terms of prep. Carrying another steaming cup of tea in his other hand, he sat next to you on the couch.

“Here’s the soup, and more tea.” Sitting up slightly, you attempted to take the bowl from him. “Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to feed yourself?”

“Yes.” Right as you said it, a sneeze pushed your head back, leaving your temples throbbing.

“Mmm, I’ll help.”

“Whatever.” Sitting up more so he could feed you, you tried not to look at Satoru’s cheesy grin as you ate.

“Ya know, I don’t know if I’m supposed to like it this much, you being sick and all.” He cooed, setting the bowl down to give you some tea.

“If it was up to you, I’d never be getting better.” Taking a sip from the tea, it burned your tongue and made you wince. “I want more, more of the soup.”

“Of course, my love.” Bowing his head, Satoru picked up the bowl again. “Now here comes the airplane!”

Once all the tea and soup was gone, you curled into the side of the couch. Wrapped up tightly in blankets, you weren’t really paying attention to what was on the television. There were slow or sudden conversations that you couldn’t follow, words being spoken that went right over your head.

“How could you sleep with both my father and brother?!” The soap opera character on screen shouted angrily, getting ready to throw a drink at another.

“Toru, what am I watching?” Lifting up your heavy head, you looked to the other side of the couch, where the man in question was watching the show intently.

“Hell if I know but it’s pretty interesting.” He answered with a shrug, taking a glance at you. “Hey, why’re you so far away?”

“Because I’m sick.”

“I’m lonely.” He pouted behind the mask you insisted he keep on. “I want to hug you, you’re not feeling well.”

“Don’t touch me!” You shouted to the best of your ability with a painfully scratchy throat, but it was too late. Satoru was already leaning over to your side of the couch, encroaching on your space and manhandling you to the middle to lay on him.

“It’s always worth the wait, each time we touch.” Snuggling into your blanket clad body, Satoru let out a hum.

“Satoru Gojo, let go of me!” Attempting to wiggle out of his embrace was impossible, he had too tight a hold and your body wasn’t exactly at its strongest.

Your struggling made the blanket you’d wrapped around your head fall off, exposing your face and head to the cold air. Seeing the opportunity present itself, Satoru leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Satoru! Why’d you kiss me you’re gonna get sick!” You watched in horror as he threw his mask onto the coffee table.

“You should know by now babe, all the rules are always bending, but only for us.” With a smug grin, he gave you another kiss before you could dodge him.

“The principal will be mad if you get sick because of me.”

“Eh, let ‘im. Who cares?” Leaning back, Satoru took you with him, moving more of you into his lap. “I’ll kiss you every day and every night, no matter the circumstance.”

“You’re so annoying.” Mumbling under your breath, you cozied up into his embrace more, no longer having the energy to fight it. Rubbing a hand up and down the full length of your back, Satoru let out a hum. It was quiet between you two for a few minutes, until a tickle in the back of your throat forced your body to convulse in a strong cough.

“Oh baby.” Satoru frowned slightly, giving you a few hard pats on the back. “Have a tissue.” He stuffed a couple in your hand, watching behind his glasses with concern in his eyes. “Hey, how often should you have medicine? I don’t think you’ve had any today.”

“Gi-ve me m-medicine twice a day. That’s what the label s-said.” You answered between coughs, fighting to catch your breath.

“Okay, one sec.” Shifting you off his lap, Satoru dashed to your bedroom to grab the bottle of medicine. When he came back, your coughing had subsided, but you were mentally drained from the ordeal.

“You’re too good to me, Toru, I’ve taken up your whole day being sick.” Dabbing at your watery eyes, you noticed the distinct lack of direct sunlight coming into the room. The sun was setting behind the buildings surrounding you, casting long shadows into your home.

“(Y/N), I don’t care. I won’t leave until you get better, I’ll stay forever if you let me.”

“Forever’s a long time.” You grinned, taking the tiny cup full of medicine that he poured for you and drinking it quickly.

“You make time feel never ending.” Satoru replied, getting comfortable on the couch with you again and cuddling you in his lap.

“You’re so cheesy.” Giggling at the line, you wrapped him in a hug. “Don’t be mad at me if I keep you up at night with my coughing.”

“Keep me up, I don’t mind.” Giving you a kiss on the cheek, Satoru hugged you back even tighter. “Just gives me more time to watch these stories.” He pointed to the TV right as two characters got into a fight.

“What a wonderful doctor I have.” Rolling your eyes, you lay your head in the crook of his neck, letting the dialogue from the TV become white noise and lull you to sleep.

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 9

“Don’t kill Cardan.”

The Bomb cocks her head to the side. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I… don’t.”

Previous

Read chapter 9 on AO3, or read below:

The Bomb returns sometime later with a liter bottle of spring water and Tylenol. “Prescription strength,” she tells me, dispensing two pills into my open palm. “Good stuff.”

“Whose prescription?” I croak, sitting up. It feels like every ounce of liquid in me is squeezing itself out as sweat or something else. Masturbating only helps so much—the only thing that abates the worst heat symptoms is mating with an alpha. And since that’s not happening, it’ll just have to run its course.

Oblivious to my true suffering, she winks at me.

I throw the Tylenol back and wash them down with a swallow of cool water, then keep drinking. My mouth has grown so dry. But I wrench the bottle away from my mouth and say “Leave it” when the Bomb moves to take the pills back.

She gives me a look. “I’ll be back to give you more later, but I’m not leaving this with you. For all I know, you’d shut down your liver to make us take you to the hospital.”

I blink at her, wretchedly aware of the heat of my skin where my eyelids press together. I hadn’t even thought of that.

“Crap,” she says, fumbling in the plastic bag. “I should have taken your temperature first. Hold on, maybe we can still get it before the meds kick in.” She clicks her tongue. “Chemistry I like fine, drugs, sure—but nursing isn’t my area.”

“What is your area?” I ask. I don’t really feel like talking to anyone, but my curiosity is strong enough that I push through it. Anything to learn more about the people who’ve taken us.

The Bomb holds up her prize, a thermometer still in its plastic packaging, and grins at me. “I like blowing stuff up. I dabble in hacking. Basically, if there’s a wall, I want to bring it down.”

I shift in my blankets. It’s an endearing answer, but I worry that any positive feelings toward our kidnappers is budding Stockholm Syndrome. “This must be a boring job for you.”

“It was supposed to be, yeah.” She wrestles the thermometer out of the plastic and hands it to me. “You have a way of keeping things interesting. And Cardan’s a riot. I hope we don’t have to kill him.”

The beep of the thermometer turning on immediately after that statement makes me jump. “You said you wouldn’t,” I protest. “You said you’d take care of us.”

“I know. Our employer’s anxious about how much you’ve both seen and heard. But we can’t kill you, so there isn’t much of a point to getting rid of him. And between you and me, the Roach is very fond of him.”

“So—”

“Stick that thing in your mouth,” she says. “We don’t have all day.”

I glare but stick the cold tip of the thermometer under my tongue and wait for it to start beeping again.

The Bomb leans over, reading the lit-up display—red, already a bad sign. “One hundred point nine,” she announces. “No wonder you’re miserable.”

“No real danger though,” I sigh, pulling it out of my mouth and giving it a little shake. Would they really take me to the hospital if my condition deteriorated? Maybe I should consider trying to dehydrate myself. That’s the real danger of going through heat without a partner. I could do it, I think. “Forget” to drink, drive the fever higher. But our current circumstances are already precarious, and there are a million ways this might end badly for me. The headache is pulsing stronger over my left eye already, and the last thing I need is a full-blown migraine. I take a sip of water and silently will the Tylenol to kick in faster.

“We’ll keep an eye on you,” she affirms.

I wipe my hand on the back of my mouth, already feeling a little more like a person instead of a sweaty blob of hormones. “Don’t kill Cardan.”

The Bomb cocks her head to the side. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I… don’t.” I cap the bottle, looking down at my hands. My cheeks are hot again, which at least means some blood in my body has decided to circulate instead of pooling in my groin. “But I don’t think he deserves to die. He didn’t do anything.”

“Hmm,” says the Bomb, mulling it over.

I jerk my head up, but she’s smiling at me. Teasing. I flush again. “I’m just saying. I don’t see you guys as killers, anyway.”

Her voice has a dangerous edge to it when she asks, “You don’t?”

I shake my head to clear it. I may be sick, but I can’t allow myself to forget where I am and who I am with. The Ghost shot me already, and it’s easier than I’d like to imagine the Roach’s twisted features contorting further as he plunges a knife into someone’s back. “Maybe just you?” I offer.

“Well, you’re not far off. Murder is a messy business. I prefer to set the charges and wait at a safe distance. But we all do what we have to.” She shifts, and I must look worried, because she adds, “He’s probably going to be fine.”

“Probably,” I echo, and then sigh. “His family’s even more messed up than mine.”

“Well, your dad is Madoc.”

“My parents are dead,” I say.

“Oh,” says the Bomb. But no apology, no condolences. I kind of appreciate that. I learned a long time ago that no amount of apologies would bring my mom and dad back.

“And my sister—never mind.” I shake my head. I really must be addled if I’m spilling my guts to a stranger. Is this Stockholm Syndrome? Is this how it starts? “At least she’s not trying to kill me.”

“It’s another level of family drama,” she agrees. “The Kardashians have nothing on the Greenbriars.”

I try to work out why I feel comfortable around the Bomb. I think her frankness reminds me a bit of Vivi. She never bought into the pretensions of our new life—she wanted out as soon as she was in. And she talks about it like she really is outside of it. The Bomb is like that. She says what she means. She isn’t bowled over by anything.

“How can you do it?” I ask. “How can you do this kind of work for them? Is it really just the money?”

The Bomb blinks at me, her eyes large and luminous in the dark. Her brows draw together, and she looks past me. I seem to have struck a nerve, and for a moment I think she isn’t going to answer my question. Then, at last, she says, “It isn’t just that. The Roach and I—we owe them a lot. I think if… we might not be alive now, if not for what they did.”

“That’s worth kidnapping for? Maybe killing for?”

She looks back down at me. “I know you’ve had shit happen, Jude. I’m not interested in a competition there. But I think Madoc’s kept you from a lot of bad stuff, given you options. Some of us aren’t so lucky.”

“I know that,” I protest. How many Designation Equality Club meetings had Taryn and I attended in our time? Vivi was president for a little while, I think to spite Madoc. “I know it’s not all mansions and parties. And you know, bad stuff can happen in parties and mansions too.”

“Sure. We are the bad stuff.” She flashes me a grin, then says, “Just think about what could have happened if Madoc hadn’t been there to catch you guys. Where you might have ended up. What you might have done to get out of it.”

My stomach twists. I have, of course, thought about that, but it’s an alternate universe that I can’t look directly at, like a solar eclipse. It’s easier to think about two branching possibilities: parents alive, or parents dead with Madoc intervention. Thinking about Madoc never showing, about Taryn and Vivi and I getting put in foster care, maybe separated… it’s so dim and distant.

“I’m not interested in a competition either,” I tell her. “I mean, I am judging you a little for kidnapping us. I will judge you harder if you kill Cardan.”

“No one’s going to kill Cardan,” the Bomb says, patting my shoulder. “You should lie back down. I’m surprised you’ve been upright this long.”

I scowl, but my head is already beginning to feel swimmy, so I settle back into my blankets. “I’m really stubborn.”

“I got that.” The Bomb gathers up her things, but leaves the water bottle within reach. I am grateful.

Just before she can put her hand on the doorknob, I call softly, “If you kill Cardan, I’ll kill you.”

She looks back over her shoulder at me, looking oddly fond. Maybe a gang of kidnappers and thieves respects threats. “Yeah,” she says. “I got that one, too.”

---

Cardan somehow manages to con his way into spending a lot of time outside of the cell. I am not sure how long, because I am curled up toward the wall and barely notice the light from the window wax and wane. But as the day passes his scent starts to go stale and sour, and I pick my head up every time someone opens the door.

It’s always the Bomb, returning to give me more Tylenol or hand me fresh fruit—not fast food, therefore a luxury. It occurs to me then that they kept buying us stuff from a drive-thru or grocery store because they didn’t think they would have us for long and didn’t bother stocking up. But someone must have thought to buy one a bag of mandarins this time, because I am given a couple to nibble on after each dose.

“Boosts the immune system,” the Bomb says when she drops off the first one. She seems in a good mood, probably because the medication has managed to wrestle my fever down to a balmy ninety-nine. Achy and hollow, I just give her a nod. My hands shake when I peel it, but I can peel it, and I’m grateful for that. I have been so humiliated already, and I can probably take more, but I don’t want to.

I slip into a weird daze for the second half of the day. Even though the fever is gone and my cramps are easier to bear, I find myself cursing Cardan’s name. I am pretty sure his presence made my heat worse—just the presence of an alpha, a desirable one, has convinced my body that there’s a chance I might mate, so it’s punishing me worse for abstaining. The longer he’s gone, the more clearheaded I feel, to the extent that my head can clear. And I am angry, at him for intensifying my misery, and at myself, for being like this in the first place.

By the time he returns, any trace of sunlight is gone. He walks slowly, shuffling behind the Bomb. Even as she talks to me and I nod along, sticking the thermometer in my mouth, my eyes track his progress as he settles in his corner.

His hair is damp, his scent shot through with the floral soap from the bathroom. He showered before coming in. I am unreasonably jealous of him. My hair is plastered to the back of my neck with sweat, and my thighs are basically stuck together with dried—anyway, I haven’t left the room all day, not even to pee. I feel like a damp towel someone wrung out and left to dry over the side of a sink.

After I’ve taken the Tylenol, the Bomb hands me a paper napkin with two more pills folded in it. “In case you wake up in the middle of the night,” she explains.

“It’s night?” I ask.

“We sleep in shifts. If there’s an emergency, have Cardan pound on the door.”

“Why me?” Cardan asks. He’s assumed his usual posture, with his leg propped up and his arm balanced casually on his knee. I wonder if the Bomb notices the rigidity in his shoulders, the tension in the line of his mouth. I do.

“I don’t think Jude’s going anywhere anytime soon.”

I sniff derisively, which is a bad move, because I get a fresh whiff of Cardan and am forced to bury my face in my pillow to smother a whimper.

“Point taken,” Cardan says. “Night. Thanks…” I imagine the rest of his sentence curling up and dying at the novelty of him thanking anybody for anything, but he manages to continue. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

The Bomb dusts off her knees as she stands up. “No problem. If she dies, we’re extraordinarily screwed.”

“I know. Still.”

She nods, then leaves. This time, I hear her lock the door behind her. Cardan and I are once again stuck together, alone.

I turn over and curl toward the wall again so I don’t stare. It’s not like heat gives you night vision, but for a couple of seconds he seemed to be a crisp outline in the near darkness of our cell. I don’t want to be tempted. I don’t.

“How, uh.” Cardan clears his throat and tries again, awkwardly. “How was your day?”

“Sucked,” I mutter.

“Yeah.”

“Yours?”

“Sucked less, probably.” He pauses. “But still sucked. I, um, I wanted to check on you.”

“It’s okay.” I shift my head. There’s a twinge in my abdomen, but at least it’s not another full cramp. “Did you learn any neat card tricks?”

“Yeah, actually. The Roach says I’m a fast learner.”

“High praise from a career criminal.”

Cardan chuckles, and my heart jumps. I made him laugh. I don’t know why that affects me the way it does. It must be the heat, another weird side effect. “I should’ve brought the deck in. To show you.”

“If we get through this, you can show me another time.”

“Oh yeah?” I can tell he cracks a smile just by the way his voice picks up. “You’re still gonna want to hang out when we’re out of here?”

I press my lips together to keep from echoing a smile. “I don’t know,” I say to the wall. “Maybe I’ll be too busy with my cool new friends from college to make time for you. And maybe you’ll be too busy hanging out with the Roach. Although that’s honestly an upgrade from your normal crowd.”

“Ouch.”

“He’s not a douchebag alpha,” I point out.

“I don’t know what he is.” I can picture Cardan shaking his head. “I sat next to him for most of the day and I still don’t have a clue. He sounds like an alpha, but he doesn’t really look like one. He doesn’t smell like anything. He and the Bomb seem to have some kind of communication going, but I don’t know if that means they’re mated, or… just close, I guess.”

“I think the Bomb’s an omega,” I say. “Like me. We kind of had a moment earlier.” I screw up my face in thought. “It bothers me that I still can’t get a clear read on her scent, though. Especially now. That’s weird. What do they have to hide?”

“Maybe they’re all betas,” Cardan suggests. “They don’t give off the same pheromones we do.”

I snort. “That’s not possible.”

“Betas exist.”

“Yeah. They’re one in a thousand. The odds that there would be three in one place...”

“Impossibly low, yeah. You’re right.” He sighs. “Well, we’ve seen their faces, but maybe they don’t want to leave scent markers around so they can be tracked that way. That seems like a smart crime thing… to do.”

My lips twitch again. “A ‘smart crime thing?’”

“Oh, like you could do better.”

I snicker, but then the cell falls quiet. We have officially exhausted every subject that will keep us from facing our circumstances, and we know it.

“So,” Cardan says, “now what?”

I don’t know. I cannot imagine spending the night in this cell with him, like this. But I am supposed to be the one with the plans.” “Um, I guess we try to sleep.”

“Right, right. Will it hurt your foot if I take the pillow under it? I’d ask to borrow a blanket, but…”

“No, I get it,” I rush. The blankets are in no condition to be lent, but I’ve left him without any bedding and anywhere to sleep. “Definitely take the pillow.”

There is silence, in which I can imagine him nodding, then the rustle of his clothes as he crawls over to take the pillow propped up under my leg. His hand skims my foot, and it’s like an electric current zings up my body. I hold my breath, waiting for something else to happen, but I just hear him move back to his corner.

“Do you want, um, my sweatshirt?” I offer.

He scoffs, “I don’t think it’ll fit, Duarte.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such an asshole. To keep your arms warm, because you don’t have a blanket.”

There’s a longer pause than the situation calls for, and then he says, “Yeah, toss it over.”

I make myself sit up so I can unzip it, then ball it up and fling it toward him as hard as I can. I am not feeling very strong, but the room is short, so it lands at his feet anyway. He picks it up and buries his face in it.

“Oh, you pervert,” I scold, even as my stomach does a flip. I am surprised to find I’m not mad. I’m not even annoyed. What had I thought was going to happen when I threw it over to him? It’s saturated with my pheromones.

And my scent. Which he’s supposed to hate.

“I just,” he says, taking another sniff. There’s a fuzzy edge to his voice. “I thought it would help. Since we can’t—I don’t know, I just thought it would help.”

I force myself to lie back down and turn around and not watch, even though I am unbearably curious. My face is hot, and heat gathers between my thighs again. It’s just the pheromones. It’s just the circumstances. If my mind were less addled, maybe I could make more sense of all this, but I cannot.

A minute or so later I hear him shift again. “Yeah, it’s a good blanket,” he says. “Thank you, Jude.”

“Sure.”

Then all is silent again, and I think he has fallen asleep. It seems impossible that he could. I am so weary, but my arousal is skewering me like a hot spike, and I keep listening for him on the other side of the room. There’s no way I can seek relief with him here, and no way I can sleep like this.

“Cardan,” I say, breathily. “Are you awake?”

He whispers back, “Yeah.”

I shift. It’s like parts of my body flare to life at just the sound of his voice. “What do you think would happen if you came over here?”

“You don’t—want that, right?”

I don’t know what I want. I think I am closer to wanting him—to wanting at all—and then the memory of Valerian using his knee to try and wedge my thighs apart comes back. I pull the blankets tighter around me. “This sucks so much.”

“Yeah.”

“Less for you, right?”

“You think so?”

“I don’t know. Aren’t you flooded with adrenaline or whatever it is that theoretically enables you to keep thrusting for days on end?”

Cardan chuckles. “Wow. You must really be far gone if you’re willing to put me and ‘thrusting’ in the same sentence.”

My cheeks warm. “I meant ‘you’ as in ‘alphas.’ Don’t be dumb. And aren’t you used to this?”

“From—oh. The O?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No, that’s different. They alter it somehow, on a chemical level. All of the euphoria and adrenaline, none of the, uh… the aches or the erections lasting longer than four hours. You know, stuff you want to avoid if you’re not in rut for real.”

“Right, makes sense.” I hesitate. “So, you are? I couldn’t tell.”

“What?” He sounds incredulous. “Yeah, yes, I am. Of course I am. There’s like no space between us and no ventilation. It would be impossible for me not to be.”

“Alright, alright.” I squeeze my pillow a little tighter. “You just seem so…”

“So…?”

“Clear,” I finish. “And calm. Calmer than this morning, at least.”

Cardan is quiet for a second before he asks, “Remember this morning, you asked if I was afraid of you?”

My heart thumps. “Yeah?”

“I’m not. I’m afraid of me. I’m afraid of… of...” He grasps for words. “I’m afraid of all the stuff I want to do. Because I’m coming to a realization that’s very painful and you can’t laugh, but I am, and it’s, it’s important—I don’t want to be like Valerian. Or like my brothers. Or even like Locke. I want to be different. I don’t know if there is a different, but I want to be it.”

I am so bewildered that I don’t reply. For as long as I have known Cardan, he’s never been anything other than a bully, a terror, delighting in other people’s suffering, reigning from the top of the food chain. He always seemed to enjoy being an alpha, relish it. I can’t make heads or tails of what he’s telling me now.

Is he saying he doesn’t want to hurt me? He’s never cared before.

But I think about him tucking the blankets around me, gingerly propping my foot up on the pillow this morning, and I wonder.

“It wouldn’t be like Valerian,” I whisper, but he must have fallen asleep, because he says nothing.

Next

[power-chords]

OK, 30 hours after Moderna: The Sequel I seem to be in the clear. Still fatigued and low grade lousy but I’m no longer feverish. Here’s the wacky breakdown of events:

- 5:15 Wednesday evening: get second dose

- All Wednesday night: fine. Cook dinner, write, go about evening as normal

- This morning: wake up feeling achy and crummy with a low grade headache, but assume it’s nothing a couple extra strength Tylenol can’t handle. Take 1000 mg acetaminophen and boot up my remote desktop

- Noon today: aches and crumminess much worse. Call my boss and tell him I feel like I got hit by a bus. 100F low grade fever which I assume is being controlled by the Tylenol. Wait until the 6 hour mark to take my next dose. Eat lunch. Go down for a nap around 2:30.

- 5ish today: TERRIBLE. Last time I felt this almost admirably shitty was when I got the flu in 2014. (I had been vaccinated for it but got it anyway. It still sucked.) Every joint is on fire. My muscles hurt. My fingers hurt (?!?!?!). Lymph nodes hurt. Every area that typically holds tension is about 3x worse, so my shoulders/back/jaw/the repetitive stress sites on my arms are especially bad. My elbows and forearm tendons were probably the most painful. Am kind of hungry but the idea of food seems repulsive. Down plenty of fluids.

- 6 PM: realize I’m not going to make it to 7 PM and take another 1000 mg Tylenol an hour early. Headache is worse. Temperature peaks at 101F and I am praying for the drugs to kick in fast. Start to sweat profusely. Take a shower and feel slightly better after shower. Notice I have a mild rash at the injection site. Still not especially hungry but have a craving for ice cream. May have been the fever.

- 8 PM: not about to do jumping jacks but feeling considerably better. Over the hump. Fever gone. Am able to eat soup for dinner. Drink fluids.

- 10 PM: tired, but mostly recovered, enough to proof my essay and compose an email and not worry about saying something incomprehensible. Notice breakthrough bleeding while using the bathroom, which is very weird because I finished my period over a week and a half ago.

- Now: ready for bed and hoping I wake up tomorrow fresh as a daisy!

[haikyuu-sickfics]

I accidentally deleted all the original asks but I got them copied

Also; going on hiatus

-

hello, may i request a sick kita and the whole team goes to take care of him because no one's home with him? can i request a sick kita fic and the whole team visites him? Hi, can I request a sick Kita fix and the team goes to visit him at his house?

Shinsuke's absence wasn't immediately noticed during morning practice.  Though, what was noticed, was the slight off-ness of the teams dynamic. No one could properly place their finger on the odd change in atmosphere, how everyone was just ever-so-slightly more restrained than usual.  No one felt the usual omnipresent pressure urging them to do play to their limit, nor did they even notice that they weren't playing their usual. Aran puzzled over this mysterious feeling for well over half of practice, flubbing easy recieves and stumbling on flat ground as his mind struggled to apply an explanation to the ball in his chest. He took one more count of the team, thinking of their number and looking for their face. 2... 3... 4... 5... Wait. "Are we missing someone?" Aran wondered outloud, already knowing the answer. "Kita-kun is out today, he sent a text saying he's come down with something," one of the coaches confirmed, not looking up from his notepad. Once the absence was announced, everyone felt it's full force.  Various members of the team began to slack off, distracted by concern for their captain.  The coaches, who noticed the sudden drop in performance, decided it best to call practice off a bit early. Most of the team walked off to change into their school clothes, however a small handful remained to discuss the elephant in the room- or rather, the elephant missing from the room. "It feels weird without Kita-san here," Osamu commented, his thought drifting off into the dense atmosphere. "D'ya think he's alright?" Aran added, eyebrows furrowed with concern. "I dunno... isn't Ba-chan gone this week?  Who's there with him?"  Michinari deduced out loud, nibbling on his inner cheek. "Shouldn't we get him something?  Like a get-well-soon card at the very least?  Remember when Atsumu got sick and he gave him that bag," Rintarou brought up, shoulders raised to warm his neck. "Yea!  We should make him a basket!  We can put like food and drinks and toys and then all deliver it in person!" Atsumu chimed, enthusiasm pouring out of him. "Wouldn't that put us in danger of contagion?" Ren- the only one not completely blinded by Shinsuke's aura- countered. Michinari shrugged his shoulders before countering, "we can wear masks.  Plus I'm sure he's more concerned of contagion than we are- he'll have something figured out." "So we'll meet up at the usual place after the bell?" Rintarou asked. Various guestures of approval responded to him before the group dispersed. -- It had been 5 minutes since Ren had walked up to their meeting place, greeting Aran, Rintarou and the Miya's with a small wave.  Michinari had yet to show up, leaving the small gathering with arms crossed to ward off the cold. "Can't we just go without him?" Atsumu whined, impatience tearing at his every muscle. "If you want to be on his bad side, be my guest," Aran countered, arms raised in surrender, "but don't come crawling to me when yer ankles get bit." Atsumu scowled- though much exageration was put into his words, Aran did have a small point.  No one in their right mind sought to be on Michinari's bad side.  They wouldn't get physically hurt, but the cold shoulder from someone as cheerful as the libero was enough to debilitate anyone. "I'm here!  I went to the konbini to get stuff!" Aforementioned libero shouted, jogging up to the group with plastic bags hanging off his left arm while his right was raised with greeting. "S'bout time, c'mon let's go," Ren responded, leading the group towards the Kita household. -- "Knock knock, open up!" Michinari shouted through the door, "we brought soup and stuff!" "It's unlocked," A voice, certainly not Shinsuke's, croaked from inside. "Who's with him?" Rintarou wondered outloud, voicing the thoughts of everyone in the group. "Let's find out," Michinari pushed open the door. "Kita-san!  We're here!" Atsumu shouted, his hands cupped around his mouth. "Shhh!  He prob'ly has a headache," Osamu reprimanded, chopping his brother lightly on the shoulder. "He's over here, guys," Aran observed, calling

the rest of the team over. Curled up on the couch in a cacoon of blankets sat none other than their captain.  A cold compress sat on the floor, long since abandoned.  Ghastly pallor accentuated the black and red rimmed eyes resting above flushed cheeks.  Dried tears and sweat decorated his discontent face. Michinari was the only one who had the courage to approach the blanket blob, wrapping his arms around the lump before sitting next to it. "Yew're so hot!  How can you be comfortable with all these blankets on?" "Everythings cold and I don't know why." Removing his left arm from the hug, Michinari brought his hand up to check for fever.  Brushing aside the damp fringe, the skin on Shinsuke's forehead was radiating heat.  Frowning, Michinari checked his cheeks, brushing away the tear tracks gently with his thumbs. "We need to take some of these blankets off, you have a really bad fever," Michinari asserted, his voice shockingly serious. "But... what if I become cold again?" Shinsuke pouted. Standing in the corner, the group was aghast by how out of character the third years were acting.  No one had expected Shinsuke to be so... well, sick.  Their captains state was discouraging, the sight left their hearts aching with the want to help. "Kita-san," Rintarou began, taking a tentative step forward, "we'll be here to make sure you don't get cold.  You'll feel better sooner if you take off some of the blankets." Unease swirled in his stomach.  His tongue felt heavy, almost as though it was choking him.  It did not feel right for Rintarou to be talking to his composed captain in such a way.  Shinsuke was supposed to be the one with a clear mind and unclouded judgement, he should know the logistics of fevers. Instead he just frowned, not moving as Michinari peeled the blankets away. "It's cold again," he practically cried as fresh air came into contact with his skin. "Is this better?" asked Michinari as he pulled Shinsuke into his chest.  The two were roughly the same size, but the latter's huddled figure allowed the two to fit together like a puzzle piece. "Are they... y'know?" Rintarou flopped his wrist. "Nope, Akagi's like this with everyone," Aran responded, picking up the discared konbini bag, "I'll heat up the soup in the kitchen, you guys find something to do." Mumbling something about rice, Osamu followed Aran out the door.  Ren walked over to the couch and scooped the wet cold compress off the floor, setting it on the table before addressing his underclassmen. "Can one of ya's replace this?" Rintarou jumped onto the oppurtunity to be of use, picking up the dripping material between his thumb and forefinger.  A momentary grimace flashed on his face as the unpleastant texture shocked him, but he was able to quickly steel himself and take the object away.  While he was occupied, Ren busied himself with folding up the blankets, placing them neatly in a stack on the floor adjacent to the couch. At this time, Rintarou returned with a freshly dampened rag, carefully folding before gingerly swiping back Shinsuke's hair and lining the fabric up where scalp met forehead.  Initially, the ill captain winced from the cool touch before relaxing into it as Rintarou continued smoothing his hair back.  The repeated motion coupled with the middle blockers careful application of pressure provided for an incredibly soothing feeling. It wasn't until he caught a glimpse of Michinari's smirk did he revoke his hand, a light flush spreading across his features. "Oh c'mon, why'd you stop?" Michinari whisper-spoke upon seeing Shinsuke's face fall. "You, he.  The, and, cold warm hand," Rintarou responded. "Yea okay, well, if ye're just gonna stand there like Hachishaku-sama why don't you have a seat behind me and fill the gap between me n' the armrest," Michinari smiled at his own light hearted taunt while Atsumu cackled - the latter earning a cocked eyebrow for his hypocrasy, "'M backs killin' me and I'd love something to lean against right about now." "Oh, sure yea.  Yea okay," Rintarou sat on the couch normally, his

right shoulder towards his upperclassmen. "Yea, this isn't gonna work, I'll just slide back," Michinari nudged Rintarou away before repositioning himself. At this moment Aran and Osamu reappeared with soup and rice cupped respectively in their dominant hands.  Michinari looked down onto Shinsuke to prepare him for food only to discover the captain had already fallen asleep. "We'll just set these here until he wakes up.  They needed to cool down anyway," Aran informed, gently grabbing the bowl from Osamu and placing it next the the soup on the coffee table. "What now?" Atsumu wondered. "Well we got a couch, blankets, T.V and a remote.  All in favor of a movie- say 'I'" Michinari suggested, raising his left hand up. "I" everyone responded in near unison.

[theninjamouse]

I posted 3,235 times in 2021

346 posts created (11%)

2889 posts reblogged (89%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 8.3 posts.

I added 1,320 tags in 2021

#tma - 404 posts

#undertale - 297 posts

#the magnus archives - 210 posts

#oof extra - 90 posts

#grillby - 67 posts

#tma spoilers - 62 posts

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#shorby - 55 posts

#gaster - 44 posts

#deltarune - 34 posts

Longest Tag: 115 characters

#'give it to your sister your sister’s older give her all the heavy things we can’t shoulder' smacked me in the face

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Shore: Today is no shenanigans Saturday, got it? No crimes, no trouble. 

Gaster: Understood~

* 1 Hour Later * 

Grillby: I’m going to have to put up a ‘no boogie boarding’ sign in my bar now, do you understand that??

Gaster: Technically, since there was no sign before, we didn’t actually break a rule

Grillby: Common sense Gaster! Common! Sense!

Shore: Um, yeah I think I actually do need a hospital, help please

163 notes • Posted 2021-03-13 21:35:15 GMT

#4

'It's Sans Undertale' is OUT

'It's Sans Smash Brothers' is IN

176 notes • Posted 2021-09-16 04:16:28 GMT

#3

Sick Day

You're not sure if it's a monster thing or a Grillby thing, but you've always thought that Grillby just doesn't get sick. The closest he even gets is headaches, which you may or may not have caused on a few occasions of reckless activities that landed you at the hospital.

Turns out you were wrong.

Waking up in a sweat is a common occurrence given Grillby's tendency to lock you in a teddy bear hold during the night, but on this particular morning you wake feeling more liquid than person. Gah, gross.

Kicking your feet free from the thin sheet, you swipe at your face, blinking blearily. The light coming in from the window is the dull blue from a sun not yet risen. The room, always warm, is unbearably hot.

The debate of whether to poke Grillby awake or just camp on the couch for a few more hours dies as your eyes fall on your still slumbering partner. It's normal for the edges of his face to get soft and fuzzy when he's sleeping but nearly all definition of his head is gone. The color is weird too; waves of uneasy green and deep red sweep over his face and bits of flame hiss and spit erratically.

"Holy sh- hey, Grillby." Reaching out, you gingerly touch his shoulder, wary of waking him into a panic if he's having a nightmare. "Grillby?"

A deep throated groan rumbles from his chest. He shifts and you think his head turns towards you. He makes a questioning noise and you just barely catch that his eyes have opened to thin slivers.

"Hey," you say gently as you sit up. "Are you okay? You look more like...a regular campfire than usual."

He doesn't answer for a moment, blinking owlishly. Then he lifts a hand, looking down at the fingers that have molded into stubby digits. "Ah," he rasps before a terrible crackling cough shakes his shoulders.

Alarmed, you move to help him sit up, patting his back. The fabric of his shirt is scorching hot. "Holy crap, are you sick?"

Wheezing, he tries to speak, fails and then just nods miserably.

Your mouth drops. He’d been quiet and subdued last night sure, but you thought that he was just tired from a crazy work week. "I thought you didn't get sick!"

It takes him a moment to get the breath to mutter, ".....very...rarely."

"Geez, okay, um. Here." You take your pillow and add it to his, fluffing them up against the headboard. "Lean back here."

He follows your guiding hand with meek compliance, which more than anything tells you he's out of it. What the heck do you do now? None of the human cures for colds or fevers will work here. No point in a glass of water or medicine made for human bodies. Maybe there's monster medicine? Would a monster candy work?

Leaning over, you grab your phone off the nightstand. It's a little after six. Hopefully Toriel is already up and moving since it's a school day.

"Good morning Shore," she greets after just a few rings and you breathe a little sigh of relief. "Is something wrong? You're rarely up this early."

"Yeah, um, Grillby's sick." You look over at him to see he's closed his eyes, head slumped against the wall.

"Oh dear! Is he alright?"

"I don't know, I think so?" You try not to let your voice hitch. "He's burning really hot and his colors are weird and he's got a cough. Do you...have you ever dealt with monster sickness?"

"More than my fair share," she says sympathetically. "Though it has been a very, very long time since the last fire based illness I cared for."

"But you have cared for one? What do I do?"

"He needs to stay fed; the excess heat is his core attempting to burn out the illness."

"Like a human fever."

"Exactly." There's a noise in the background and you hear Toriel respond as if she's placed her fuzzy paw over the phone. "My dear, I'm terribly sorry, there's a bit of a crisis happening this morning, I need to take care of this but I will call you back. For now, keep him comfortable and keep him fed. Oil heavy foods, perhaps sprinkle on some butane-”

Bu-what now.

“Oh dear, there goes Frisk. Call me if you have any other questions, I’ll be by with a pie later!” Click. 

Ah. Great. You sigh and set the phone down. At the slightest shifting of the mattress, you say, “Dear, where do you think you’re going?” 

Grillby freezes, one loosely formed hand gripping the edge of the blanket. “Kitchen,” he rasps. “...I need...”

“To eat, yeah, Toriel told me. I’ll get it so you stay put.” Scooting over, you push him back against the headrest. It’s a fight to quell the urge to put your hand up on his forehead. It’s obvious enough without feeling that he’s literally burning up. 

“Normally this would be the point I’d go get a wet rag or something,” you joke weakly. “But I don’t think that’d be helpful to you.” 

Grillby mumbles something that might be a sassy remark or just another groan. 

“Got any butane?” 

The noise this time is definitely a groan. 

You pat his thigh. “Sorry, queen’s orders.” 

He gestures towards the kitchen and you slip off the bed. Grillby’s kitchen is always stocked so it’s easy to gather together ingredients for a stew. It’s no chicken noodle soup but at least it’s soup like. You do indeed find a canister of butane in one of the cabinets. The large ‘Highly Flammable’ warning on the side has you pausing. How exactly do you add butane to a stew? How much? Eh, probably best to just bring the whole thing and ask Grillby. 

It’s not long before the stew is bubbling and a rather lovely smell fills the kitchen. You’re no Grillby, but you can make a very solid stew. You grab a bowlful, the butane, turn and yelp, nearly dropping them both. 

Grillby has either ignored your orders to stay put or just forgot because there he stands. But the effort of moving seems to have stolen away what energy he had left because now he looks more like a matchstick than a monster. His head is just a simple flame flickering with the same harsh colors and his shirt hangs loosely on his thinned frame. 

“Oh geezum, you scared me,” you wheeze, wincing at the hot stew that splashed on your hand. “Are you okay?” 

He...maybe shrugs? It’s hard to tell with how little mass he has right now. You set the butane down and guide him to sit on the couch. When you offer the bowl and spoon, he forgoes the spoon altogether and cups the bowl in his now fingerless hands and chugs the entire thing down in a matter of seconds. 

You blink. “Oh. More?” 

“...Please.” 

More you get, bowl after bowl until the pot is empty and then you remember the can of butane still sitting on the counter. When you bring it over, Grillby sparks with a low disgust but takes the can. With a low cough, he gestures for you to back up before taking a deep swig. 

The burst of heat and flame has you wincing, even at a fair distance. Your jaw drops a little at the sight of him chugging down the liquefied gas like it’s an ice cold glass of water on a summer day. By the time the bottle is empty, some of the shape has returned to his head, though the edges of his face remain fuzzy with dark green flames.

You cautiously approach as he sighs heavily and sets the bottle on the floor. “Better?” 

“Hmm.” He certainly looks a bit better, at least a little. He blinks sleepily at you. “Hi.” 

“Hi matchstick.” 

The whine he makes at that is so utterly adorable you can’t help but take his little matchstick flame head in your hands and plant a kiss where you best guess his forehead is. Totally worth the slight singeing of your lips. 

“Do you wanna go back to bed?” you ask as you card your fingers through his headflames. Ow, hot. 

He grunts and shakes his head. “Stay....here,” he mumbles, tugging on your shirt. 

A grin pulls at your mouth. “Fine, but you should get some more sleep. Even an elemental needs rest when sick.” 

You sit and Grillby immediately slumps over so his head rests on your lap. He snuggles his face into your stomach and tucks his arms in close. Oh heavens above, you’re not happy he’s sick but he is unfairly cute like this. 

“Comfy?” you ask gently, rubbing his head again. 

He hums quietly. “Sorry,” he tacks on as a mumble. “It...will pass...quickly.” 

“It’s okay to be sick, it happens to everyone.” 

He mutters something else, but sleep is already claiming him. You stroke your thumb over his cheek. “Just rest,” you whisper, though you’re fairly certain he’s already slipped into slumber. “I’ll take care of you.” 

199 notes • Posted 2021-06-01 05:56:39 GMT

#2

Oh neat little spooky eyeball cane-SIKE

IT'S A KNIFE AND IM GONNA STAB JONAH MAGNUS WITH IT, CEASELESS WATCH THIS EYEBALL BOY

1768 notes • Posted 2021-05-01 23:14:20 GMT

#1

The real reason Jonathan Sims hates spiders is because when he was a kid, spiders pushed his mom off a cliff

5078 notes • Posted 2021-05-29 05:51:34 GMT

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