#Did you find being drilled into the ground like a spike funny before???

[kakusu-shipping]

I’ve abandoned my boy

#Fatgum #Hero League Baseball #Son boy abandoned #I cannot believe the lack of screenshots and gif sets this OVA received do I have to do everything myself #It's because Izuku isn't in it isn't it? Cowards. #Not even Taishiro's tag has screenshots in it and he was the MAIN reason I was hyped for this #Whatever. More reason to watch it over and over I suppose #I love in English Tetsu says 'Come on this isn't funny anymore!' #Did you find being drilled into the ground like a spike funny before??? #Good for him #Taishiro newly a parent of three forgets his newest intern at the baseball diamond #How do you forget Testu though he is the LOUDEST person on the field

[kotoplasm]

𝐈.: FATE

synopsis: bokuto's philosophical outlook on life has him wondering whether there is a place for him in the universe. you exist to make sure that he knows just how priceless that his existence is to you.

i have not proof read this at allll 😔

masterlist ...... next chapter

society liked to believe that amongst caffeine driven adults and stressed beyond repair broken teenagers, the world still ran on an abstract emotion known as intimacy, to put things simply, love. in the urban streets of tokyo where the lights never seemed to darken, bokuto koutarou was left to wonder whether he was just another puzzle piece waiting to be slotted into that very society.

to begin with, despite his callibrated ability to read emotions to a decent standard, he has failed to keep a single relationship intact. not that he was the problem but rather the confusion that would arise when he began to question why he was even in this relationship to begin with. (okay so maybe to an extent he was the problem). it would seem dangerous, yes, and some would even deem the following as something that was portrayed to be unspoken territory. the girls that he would inevitably find himself with were pretty, yes, and undeniably mesmerising to look at, but that was all there was to it.

he didn't enjoy the said intimacy that some people shared in those said relationships, but he wondered whether he would ever be able to find himself in a situation as such. the term seemed so unearthly and out of sight so he had lost all hope of ever being able to experience something so euphoric and long-lasting. now he just drags his newly found setter to the gym to practise perfecting his cross spikes until his hands were satisfied by the red tinted bruises forming on his calloused hands.

within tokyo, the city was busy and you would only be able to speak to pedestrians for a few ephemeral moments before the current of today's age and time carried you away. today, bokuto had opted for a more quieter route to bid farewell to akaashi, who had told him that he didn't need him to walk him home. bokuto being himself obviously ignored that.

so here they found themselves, exhausted from practise and admiring the scenery of sub-urban tokyo. their clothes were drenched in sweat and fatigue from their intensive practice, to which akaashi could only really scowl at. the pungent smell of body odour wasn't new to him of course, but that didn't equate to him enjoying its scent.

the area was a hotspot for dogwalkers and evening strolls, he had noted as he watched a couple walk by them with their children scuttling past their limbs. it took him a few moments to process that children probably saw himself and fukurodani's spiker as big friendly giants.

"ne akaashi," bokuto called out to him, hands folded behind his head. "do you think you'll ever get married?"

"that's a very random question bokuto-san," he replies, eyes never leaving the road ahead of them. he spots a glass garden in the distance but pays no attention to it. "but i hope so. i don't like the idea of spending my adult years alone."

"yeah, i guess you're right," he replies back. and then he stays quiet, looking ahead.

odd. akaashi says to himself but doesn't prod further. he wishes to go home and shower, hopefully being able to finish some of his homework before the due date arrives.

"i never knew there was a florist in this area," the same golden-eyed boy calls out, pointing to the very building on his mind.

"yeah, it's a family owned one. the owner is very close friends with my family," he notes.

"are they nice people?"

"i guess. i've only ever spoken to their daughter but they don't tend to speak a lot."

"hmm."

before he knew it, bokuto was jogging towards the very store, peering into the garden to stare at the bouquets and nosegays of variously coloured flowers, water dripping from their freshly watered pots.

"we should go in akaashi! maybe you might see something you like!" says bokuto with an expression of joy and excitement on his face.

reluctantly following after him, akaashi embraces the fresh scent of grass cuttings and fertiliser. it was the same smell as always: where some people might finding it to be unbearable, he found it homey.

one of the two go around the store to explore the rest of the interior whereas the other went to greet the owner, a newspaper on her lap as her spectacled eyes skim through the fine print of todays paper. to the right, a paraffin lamp was lit; the smell was irritating but he tried his best to ignore it.

"ahh akaashi!" the older woman pats his shoulder a little harshly, a warm grin on her lips. "haven't seen you about for a long time. how're your parents? are they feeling alright?"

he answers the questions modestly, curtly nodding when appropriate and returning a friendly smile.

"[ l/n ]-san, isn't [ y/n ]-san usually here, helping you?" he questions, scanning the area for any clues as to where you might have wondered off to.

"i'm afraid not akaashi. she started school a few days ago and she's been complaining about the sudden surge in work load," shaking her head, she continues. "says that it's been tough to manage the latter so i told her to forget about the shift she was supposed to cover this evening."

"she's a second year now, isn't she?"

"yes. but if you're worried about her forgetting you now that you don't attend the same high school, don't fret too much."

"no, umm, it wasn't that. i just wanted to remind myself, that's all. hard to believe that she's a year older than me."

"i still can't comprehend how," she replies, letting out a chesty laugh that stimulated a small smile on his non-chalant face.

concurrently, bokuto found himself strolling through each aisle, his eyes erratically jumping from one flower species to the next. akaashi side glances at him occasionally to keep an eye on him but it didn't look like he was doing anything extraordinary.

up until he disappeared. and in quite literally an instant.

from what the silver tipped boy could remember, he had remembered tripping over something and collapsing onto the soil stained gravel, bracing himself with his elbows.

"are you alright?" she calls out from behind the checkout getting ready to stand up.

the boy waves a thumbs up in reply. despite wanting to pry further, he decides against it, dusting off the soil particulates and heading back towards the till. it couldn't have been....

the pair of them bid a farewell and continue their walk up until they got to akaashi's house, to which the very boy could see his upperclassman fidget with his hands.

"akaashi, you didn't happen to see anyone with us in that store did you?"

"why, did you see someone?"

he pauses. did he see anyone? whatever he tripped over felt too warm to have been a random object and had disappeared the moment that he'd tripped over it.

"actually, i don't know. maybe i'm just imagining things."

he gives him a funny look before sighing. "yeah, maybe you were imagining it."

bokuto sighs. "maybe i was."

it's the second day of the week; fukurodani's and nekoma's weekly practice looming over bokuto koutarou and akaashi keiji. it was a periodic occurrence, only happening on the tuesday of every fortnight and the friday of every other week.

if he was being honest, bokuto was excited, ready to show off their new setter, who was still wary to the idea of co-ordinating the offenses of a powerhouse school. afterall, he was still only a first year trying out the position for a few games before sitting out to observe. what he felt was new but refreshing and thrilling, so he tried not to think of the nerves trying to seep beneath his skin.

the satisfaction bokuto felt was all driven by an act of competitiveness with the middle blocker of the opposing team, kuroo tetsurou, someone who, despite cherishing as a good friend, didn't mind the level of rivaled tension that was thick in the air.

"hey, sorry i'm late guys!" came the voice of the boy in question, stepping into the gym in his blue coloured kit. the moment his eyes settled on bokuto, his lips curled into a coy smirk. "hope you're ready to lose, ya horned owl bastard."

"i don't intend on it," bokuto retorts, blowing a silent raspberry with his arms folding out of habit.

"kuroo! i thought you said that you've found someone!"

"yeah, um... give her a minute. i might have ran and left her behind," he responds. "she's coming though. i can promise that."

despite that comment, practice commenced regardless with the first ten minutes being used for warm-ups. as usual, bokuto rushed into spiking drills, the spherical object hitting the ground with an absurd amount of strength, reflected by the vibrations of the hardwood.

"that could've gone through a little sharper," he told himself as he prepares to retrieve the free ball.

it felt almost surreal when he'd picked it up.

you appeared through the open gym doors a little tired but okay nevertheless, attempting to fix your school uniform. your hands instinctively went to straighten your skirt which had crumpled up a little and tights which had sagged slightly near your knees.

he couldn't help but stare at you because he was wondering how it was possible for someone to look so breathtaking when they indeed had their own breath taken from them trying to catch up with an athlete, the very person now taking time out of his drills to come and greet her, or rather that's what bokuto was thinking.

"you ought to ..... run a little slower kuroo," you panted back. "i'm not used...... to running such long .......distances."

"then maybe we should make it mandatory for new recruitments to join us during our runs," he quips back with a smirk. it lasted for a few moments before you had swatted his arm rather harshly, scowling.

"remember that you forced me to come here, against my own will."

"you could've gone back and i wouldn't have noticed."

"no, you would."

so the pair of you walked away towards your coach and current third year manager who looked ecstatic to see you.

and yet, bokuto couldn't bring himself to remove his peering gaze away from you.

so much, that he didn't even realise konoha calling him out of his daydream.

"oi, the game is about to start! get up!" as they're slipping on their coloured bibs, akaashi takes a glance at the golden eyed boy, wearing a questionable expression.

"are you feeling okay? you don't need to sit this game out do you?"

he pries his eyes from your figure to face akaashi with a bright smile. he couldn't tell if it was feigned or genuine.

"yeah! i'm just excited to finally show off our new setter!"

"but i'm not playing for the whole game..."

"details akaashi! do we really need to get bogged down by them?"

the whistle sang its last song. all worries from the first year faded away. maybe he was worried about nothing afterall.

adolescence taglist:

@sirachano0dles (send an ask to be added)

#myworks #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! #haikyuu scenarios #bokuto scenario #bokuto headcanon #bokuto x you #bokuto hq #bokuto x reader

[panickinganakin]

seven vs two

A/N: Here is chapter two! This is just reader learning more about the force and about what she’ll be doing. You can read chapter one here I think we are gonna call this fic Restoring Balance. I’ve also decided to upload to Wattpad. Yikes. Star Wars is taking over my life. Blah blah, I know I’ll shut up now.

warnings: Nothing extreme, just a bit of harsh language, reader passes out as well. angst and anger. internal violence nothing absolutely awful.

word count: 1692

chapter one

Your eyes fluttered opened, anxiety spiking when the white walls surrounding you replaced your blurry vision. You gripped the black sheets you were laying on, remembering where you were and what was happening.

The previous night was your first with Kylo. He taught the basic idea of the force; what it does, what it is and how to control the first steps. “Training will not be easy, it will be stressful and there will be many sleepless nights,�� he told you the night before.

You rubbed your eyes, raising up. Kylo had been kind enough to prepare your own bed in a room close to his, still not trusting you, you deducted.

Your life was more than confusing now. Normally, at this time you would be sweeping living quarters and fluffing pillows. Now, you were on your way to becoming a Sith, as Kylo titled it.

“Change, and come to the outer room. We have even more to do today than yesterday.” His voice boomed, how did he know you were awake already?

“Yes, Commander,” you called not skipping a beat to his orders. After much consideration you thought have a semi-powerful position would be better than scrubbing a shitter.

When you made your way into the open area where you had spent many hours the previous night, he was already sitting in the floor, his legs crossed. It was strange, seeing the commander without his mask, but it was nice, you thought. Regretting it immediately, it was hard to remember the commander could read your thoughts.

“Master Ren,” he corrected. Shit, he did read your thoughts.

“W-what?” Your voice held the confusion that clouded your brain.

“You will call me Master Ren, because I’m training you in the force. Others call me commander.”

You nodded, sitting down in front of the man. All of it still felt like a fever dream. You found him to be a lot nicer than you remembered. Maybe it was because you could be an asset, not because he was nice.

“Don’t think me nice? I’m not. I’m a murderer. And you will be too. Now, shut your mind down or you won’t learn anything. We have to show Snoke that you have potential. I’m giving you an opportunity to advance above your station, if you prove me foolish I— will— terminate you.” His voice seemed confident and steady, you decided then that maybe he wasn’t nice.

Shut up, you told yourself.

“Now, to continue where we left off previously... You will feel pulls, the dark, the light, the balance.. Jedis only care about the light. They feel nothing, no love, anger, any emotions. They train you to be droids basically. The rebellion is childish and the resistance will be ended. You agree, Y/N?” His face was like stone, no emotion whatsoever was being given off.

“Of course, it’s all I’ve ever been taught.” You answered honestly. From a young age you’ve always had ‘Rebel Scum’ drilled into your skull.

“No, it’s not about what you learn. I learned to be a Jedi, I decided to do what was right- to leave. You will be faced with choices, your instinct will be to go with your heart. Always feel the anger within you.”

“Comman— Sorry, Master Ren, I don’t feel any anger.” You felt truthful saying this, you had nothing to be angry for. Your life was just that- the way it was.

“Don’t lie to me,” his jaw was clenched and he was becoming angry himself. “The First Order kidnapped you when you were a youngling, they killed your mother right before your eyes. You were placed on a ship, given absolutely no option to leave! You fold sheets for fucks sake and you aren’t angry? You’re foolish if you think you can sit here and lie to me!” He was up now, pacing around you.

You felt a wave emotions engulf you. You were angry, you had just suppressed it for so many years. You were also scared. Scared of the red blade that was crackling beside you as Kylo stabbed it into the ground.

You were on your feet, scrambling for the door. The control panel wasn’t showing any sign of life as you clawed at it. No one in and no one out his voice from yesterday’s altercation in the medic room pounced in your head. It was useless, you couldn’t get out and no one was coming to help you.

You turned around, fists clenched, “Don’t treat me like that!” You weren’t sure what had come over you, a hand flew to your mouth the moment you said it, instant regret.

“Then stop acting like everything you’ve had to live through doesn’t rage you to your deepest core!” He was shouting, why was he doing this? He was making you angry! It hit you, this was the point, he was pulling the rage out of you.

You would label yourself a calm person, normally, but as you stood here with this man screaming at you, your blood began to boil. You closed your eyes, seeing your mother’s soft blonde hair and blue eyes. You seen your life in the sand, when it was good, before they ruined it.

Your fists were tightened, the table in the center was shaking, you could hear it. “Yes! Focus!”

You were scared to open your eyes, but you wanted to see what happened. You looked over, the table was floating in the air, after a few seconds it dropped. Not long after you felt body tighten as if it were a rubber band being wound, then as if someone let the band go, you fell to the ground.

You felt as if you were floating, no, you were floating. The stars were surrounding you, images of passing TIE fighters and various other spacecrafts. As you laid there, floating in the galaxy, you seen a man. He had long wavy hair, it was a blond dishwater color. A scar trailing down his face. “Fight back, don’t give in!” He shouted.

You gasped, raising up quickly. Kylo’s hand pushing your head back down to his leg. He had you propped up on his thigh, holding a towel to your head. “That will get easier, controlling it. You won’t pass out anymore.”

You shoved his arm away you and scuttled to the side, “Why did you do that?” You pulled you legs to your chest, fearing the sob that was threatening your throat. “Why would say those things? What did I do?”

“I told you, you have to feel your anger. You lied and said you felt nothing, I simply aided you. This isn’t a pity party, it’s the First Order. Get up, and try again.” Kylo ordered.

You looked up at him, his mouth was twitching, he looked irritated. You felt bad for shoving him away, he was after all, being kind of enough to soothe her. “I-I’m Sorry, thank you- for helping.”

“Stop. Get up, the last emotion you should be reaching for is peace. You won’t find companionship here,” he was on his feet, straightening up the table.

He left the room, coming back immediately holding stones. He placed them evenly on the table, “Try again, up.” He ordered once more.

You stood, rubbing your forearm. “Yes, Master Ren.”

Many hours passed by with you floating rocks and tables, Kylo yelling and you passing out once more. Your body felt drained, you had never been this tired before. You were changing into a dress robe for sleeping that was placed here the night before. “Dinner,” Kylo said entering the room.

You jumped back, clutching your chest. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

A grin crept on Kylo’s face but left as quickly as it came. “Join me? In the main quarters?”

You nodded and watched as he left. You finished pulling on the dress and sighed. 48 hours ago you were in the cafeteria, eating with other maids and now— Kylo Ren had requested you for dinner. Things were, very odd.

“Eat,” he ordered pointing at one of the plates on the table. The meals looked fine enough, regular cafeteria food. Rolls, meats and veggies.

“Yes, Master Ren,” you sat in front of the table, reaching for the utensils.

“What are you feeling?” He asked, stuffing food into his mouth.

“Can’t you read my thoughts?” You laughed lightly then looked down, deciding he was more than likely not the joking type. “I feel- uh- weird? It still feels like most of this is fake. I passed out in a medic room, woke up in our Commanders personal quarts and now I’m moving rocks with my mind. Not to mention in two days I leave to meet the Supreme Leader, me, a First Order shit bowl scrubber.”

He chuckled, a real laugh this time, “I thought you folded bed sheets?”

You suddenly felt at ease, as if maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Don’t you know, Master Ren? I’m a master myself, of many things. I can fold sheets, dress pillows, sweep the floors, scrub the toilets and, I even clean the showers. What do you do again? Fly ships and weild a light saber? Looks like I have five skills compared to your two? Oh, six if I count the floating rocks.” You laughed taking a sip of the water at the table.

“Seven if you count passing out,” he added, his expression flat again.

You coughed awkwardly, feeling as if you pushed your limits to soon. “Forgive me, Master Ren.”

“You’re funny, that’s eight, I won’t allow you to have more skills than that, your training ends now. You’re dismissed.” You looked at his stone face in terror, was he serious? The thoughts of sweeping living quarters again made you feel sick. “Nine, you lack the ability to see a lie- a joke.” He grinned again.

“Touché. But, I think that technically revokes my eighth skill of being funny.”

He tilted his head, pondering your words. “Seven skills it is.”

The rest of the meal was silent, but not the uncomfortable silence that had been there before. You stood up, taking your plate to a trash bin. “Goodnight, Master Ren,” you called turning for your new bed.

He nodded you away but stopped you before you reached the door, “Master Ren is a lot to say, we need to save on time. Just call me Kylo, unless we are in front of Snoke,” he added at the end.

You nodded, suppressing a smile, finally leaving the room.

You found sleep quickly, dreaming of the blonde man who approached you when you lost consciousness. “Fight back, don’t give in!”

chapter three

#kylo ren #kylo #kylo x reader #kylo fanfic #Star Wars au #kylo au #star wars #Star Wars fic #writing

[crystalconjunx]

29. Not-So-Anonymous + Glory Hole

Swerve/???

"Hey, Swerve, have you seen that hole in the solvent racks?" A bot laughed as they pulled up a seat at the bar. "Maybe you should check it out sometime."

The red minibot nearly dropped the glass he was cleaning.

"That's none of your— A what hole? Where?" Swerve sputtered. 

"You know," the bot said casually. "One of those holes you stick your spike through to get sucked. Or go to suck spike, I guess." They emphasized the idea with a flicking wrist gesture. 

"I'll… have to pass." He frowned.

His processor, meanwhile, was in overdrive. Afragging glory hole in the crew showers. It was only a matter of time before Magnus found out, so no point in investigating it himself, right?

Someone might assume he was there to use it. Which he definitely wouldn't be. That would be weird. No, he could go without that type of rumor floating around his name, thanks. 

Aside from hearing that particularly spicy tidbit of gossip, it was a pretty normal shift at the bar. The hole slipped from his mind as soon as Tailgate and Rewind barged in to share the day's latest mischief with him. 

He didn't know how he ended being the most mature of the three minibots, but he didn't mind the attention. They actually liked talking to him. It was a nice change.

Everything was going great until Tailgate and Rewind accidentally launched their hoverboard into a rack of engex bottles and sent them cascading over Swerve. He waved away the other minibots' apologies- Cyclonus would probably come in later to cover his conjunx's damages, the indulgent bastard- and sloshed away to the solvent racks to clean himself off. 

He exvented a sigh of relief when he found the solvent racks empty and took his usual spot near the end of the room. It was the only one made with a raised floor so him and the other Minibots didn't have to jump up to reach the solvent controls. 

He was already under the spray of warm solvent when he looked to the side and saw a dark spot out of the corner of his visored optics. 

A wide hole was drilled into the side of the wall. 

There it was. The glory hole. It was just like the ones he'd seen in the handful of cheap Earth porns he'd watched out of curiosity. 

Unlike it's crude carved-out Earth comparisons, however, this one appeared to be perfectly cut. Someone had polished the metal smooth.

Of course, that's when the light in the adjacent stall clicked on. He immediately cut off the spray of solvent. Primus, what if someone was waiting to do something and he was holding them up? He couldn't hide in here now, could he?

That's when a message appeared on the slick metal wall above it— someone had rigged it to display light glyphs. That put the inputs in the other stall. Which meant someone was sending him a message from the other side of the hole. A few glyphs suddenly appeared on the wet wall in bright and friendly lettering.

Hey, Swerve. 

"Uh, hi?" He asked aloud.

Great. Did they seem him come in here? Did they think he wanted to use the thing himself? Did they watch him shower?

Wonderful. Now he was probably about to get made fun of.

"Listen, this isn't what you think." He argued. "This is the only minibot shower and I didn't know someone had drilled a hole into the wall, okay? I'm leaving now."

Don't. 

"Uhhhh… why? Do we know each other?"

Yes. 

"Alright. Can you tell me who you are? And why I should stay?" He asked.

No. 

"Okay, very informative, very helpful. Are you waiting for someone or something?"

You.

He let out a laugh in disbelief. "M-me? Are you sure about that? There's dozens of other mechs who I'm sure would be super on board with whatever- whatever this is, exactly, and I'm not really one of them. Why don't you find someone else?"

Don't want them. I want you. 

Another nervous laugh. "Right. Sure."

I'm serious.

It's ok if you don't want to, though. 

"Well… I would like to know why, at least. If you're serious, anyway. Why me?"

You're cute. You're kind. You're funny. 

I've wanted to interface you for months.

"Really? Why didn't you say anything?" 

I'm shy.

"Oh. I guess I can understand that. Did you… make this hole in the wall, then?"

No. But I wanted to try it with you.

Can I?

"I-I don't know. I've never had my spike sucked before. I don't know who you are or what you look like. Not that you're going to be ugly or anything! I just, I don't know..." He answered, fiddling with his servos while he waited for their response.

What if they got mad? What if they left? What if they spread nasty rumors about him?

You can suck mine. 

I think about your mouth all the time. 

What it might feel like around me. 

"I don't really know how this works, or who you are, or if this is even a good idea… what if someone walks in?"

I locked the door behind me. 

"Of course you did." He laughed breathlessly.

It's really okay if you don't want to. 

I'd like to get to know you better either way.

I really do like you, Swerve. 

"Well… I mean, Can I see it first? If that's okay? I've never seen anyone else's spike before. Well, not on purpose, anyway."

Sure. 

But you don't have to do anything you don't want to.

Okay?

"Okay. Thanks, I guess." He said. The glyphs did comfort him a bit. Maybe they wouldn't mind too much if he totally chickened out the moment he saw their spike? They seemed really nice. 

"So… wanna patch it through, then?" He winced at his own words. What was he supposed to say? It was in-character for him to be an idiot. 

Anything for you. 

Swerve pointedly refused to ignore how excited those particular glyphs made him. Instead, he focused on the fully pressurized spike that pressed through the hole. The mech had to be big. Much bigger than him, if the height difference between the stalls was any indication. Their spike was huge compared to his own. He couldn't recognize them from the coloration of the spike, but they certainly seemed familiar.

Primus, but he could already imagine how a spike like that would feel inside him. He wanted to know what it tasted like. He could already feel the oral lubricant warming in his mouth at the sight.

You can touch it if you want.

He gulped and raised his shaky servos, letting them hover over the spike as he tried to figure out what tk do. 

He'd self-serviced plenty of times, but he'd never touched another mech's spike before. What if he did it wrong? 

"I, uh, don't know where to start here," he said nervously. 

That's ok. Just wrap your servos around it.

Move your fist up and down like you'd do on your own.

Swerve tried, doing his best to imagine how he serviced his own spike. Tight at the base and gentle towards the tip. It was different like this, but not too hard. His frame was still slick with solvent and the slide up and down on the spike was an easy one. The mech slowly ground their spike into his hands.

Just like that. 

That's perfect, Swerve. 

"It is? My hands feel okay like this?"

It feels amazing.

Please don't stop. 

Spurred on by their happy glyphs, he sped up a bit and let his fingers dance across the smooth wet metal of the spike. He took his thumb and pressed upever-so-gently into the spot under the head of their spike that drove him crazy. 

The heavy spike twitched happily in his servos as a bead of transfluid dribbled down the tip. 

You're good with your hands. 

Want to try with your mouth?

Swerve nodded reflexively before he realized the other mech couldn't actually see him. 

That was good. They couldn't see how flushed he had become just from rubbing their spike for a couple of minutes, or how his own panels were practically leaking at the thought of that spike filling other parts of him instead. 

"Y-yeah," he answered. "Sorry if I'm not great at this, though. Like I said, I haven't touched a spike before, let alone suck one."

Relax. You'll do fine.

Just start small. Do what comes naturally. 

Swerve didn't share their faith in him, but he got down on his knees nonetheless. 

The spike was even more imposing from this close. He eyed a smear of pinkish transfluid as it dripped from the head while his servo gripped the spike by the base to steady. With a nervous lick to his derma, he opened his mouth and let his lips fall around the head of the spike to taste it.

It was… not what he expected. He'd tasted his own transfluids before, sure, but spike itself didn't taste like… anything really. All he could smell in the showers now was the sweet scent of engex that had gotten too deep into his frame for the solvent to reach. 

Keep going. You're doing great.

The glyphs encouragement had him moving his glossa while he let his hand take a tighter grip around the base. He felt a thick cable running along the underside and used his glossa to trace it up to his palm. 

The spike twitched in his hand. That was probably a good sign, right? 

He tried to make a pattern of it. He tried to recall anything from all those vids that might have been helpful. He felt around with his glossa and pressed against the sensitive clusters just underneath the delicate plating of his spike. He teased his fingers over the edge of the metal, making the mech practically throb into his mouth. 

All he could think about now was how good it would feel to have that spike inside him. He keened around the spike as he imagined it inside him- long and hard, almost too big as it pushed past his seals for the first time and filled him oh so good. He wanted to imagine the mech saying all those praises to him while they were face to face, comllimenting him while they practically split him in half.

Touch yourself. 

He whimpered at the commanding glyphs. He lifted his free servos and brought them down to his modesty panel. 

He hadn't even noticed it open. His spike was already hard and aching as he wrapped his fist around it. He kept his other hand on the base of the spike in his mouth as he tried to thrust into his own grip.

You're doing so good for me, Swerve. 

Just a little more. 

The red minbot moaned against the spike as he felt the first sparks of ticklish charge shoot down his glossa and straight to his spike, overloading into his hand with a loud whine. 

But he wasn't finished yet. He needed to make the mech feel good, too.

He pulled his mouth off the spike and let his hand move up to thumb at the sensitive node under the head while he pressed sloppy kisses down the side. He let the whole spike slide back into his mouth and kept going, as far as he could, until he felt it slip and catch just past the soft mesh of his intakes. He let his glossa trace that energon line again, right up to the edge of the opening where the spike stuck through and pressed against the node just barely out of reach. 

He heard a loud bang on the other side of the wall just before he felt warm, sticky transfluid spilling directly into his intakes. He pulled off with a cough and fell right onto his aft. 

That was… wow.

Are you alright?

"I-I'm fine," he coughed. "Was that okay?"

That was amazing. 

How about you? Enjoy yourself?

"Yeah! Can we do this again sometime? I mean, face-to-face and all. I wanna meet you! I could buy you a drink sometime?" He offered excitedly. "Or ee could always hang out? I have plenty of holovids. Lots of them are from Earth, but I have other stuff, too."

I'd love to. 

But not yet. 

Frag. Did he scare them off somehow? Damn it all, he always managed to mess things up. 

"Can you at least give me a hint?" Swerve asked desperately. He needed to know something about the mech he'd be fantasizing about for the rest of his foreseeable functioning.

You'll see soon enough.

Next time is your turn, after all.

#swerve #mtmte #tumblr please don't eat this #valveplug #kinktober #part 1 of 2 #retribution

[ragewerthers]

Raising A Shield

Summary: The adventures of one tiny Shield getting lost in the Citadel

A/n: This is for a prompt from my friend @bgn846 for our F3S! She wanted little Gladio getting lost and finding Cor to help him and this instantly stuck in my head!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20945588

Happy reading! :D

Word Count: 2728

-------------------------------- “This way, Gladiolus.  You said you didn’t want to be carried so you have to make sure you keep an eye on us, okay?” Clarus reminded gently, making the six year old rush to catch up to his Father and the King.  

Gladio had just been looking at a really pretty plant that smelled like his mothers perfume.  The lady who had been watering them had said they were Sylleblossoms and if Gladio remembered correctly they were one of his Mommy’s absolute favorites!  Though she liked all sorts of flowers.  That’s why he was a Gladiolus.  A tough flower!  Tough flowers didn’t need to be carried.

Puffing out his chest as he drew closer to his Father he nodded.  “I’m too big to be carried!  I gotta stand guard with you for Uncle Regis,” he said as he marched to stand beside the King, narrowing his eyes in a way very much like his Dad’s to make sure to scare off bad people.  Once his scan was complete he looked up to his Uncle who seemed to be trying to stifle a sneeze.  At least that’s what Gladio thought as the man covered his mouth and excused himself.

“Bless you,” Gladio said with a bright smile before looking at his Dad and noticing the way he was smiling at him.  “I’m doing good?”

His dad chuckled and nodded.  “Yes.  You’re doing a fine job.  Keep making sure, Uncle Regis doesn’t get in trouble.  He seems to be able to do that when he doesn’t have his Shields here to watch over him,” he warned, giving the King a little look.

Regis gasped at the accusation making Gladio giggle a bit at the surprised look.

“Clarus!  I have never gotten in trouble in my entire life!” he tried to argue as they all began to move down the hallway again, Gladio’s little legs working to keep up with his Dad and Uncle’s.

“Oh?  Then what about the time you managed to walk into a pond?  Or the time you trapped yourself in your offices?  Or the time…,”

“That’s not trouble!  That’s just… bad luck,” Regis grumbled, making Clarus laugh as they continued on the way to the King’s offices.

As the adults continued to talk and Gladio followed, he couldn’t help taking in everything that they passed.  There were always so many interesting things to see in the Citadel!  It’s why he enjoyed coming here with his Dad so much.  There was always something new and fun to see!  He needed to learn about all of these things so that he would know the Citadel as well as his Dad did!  That way he could be the best Shield for his Uncle and for Prince Noctis.

His thoughts of being a mighty Shield were interrupted as he glanced to the side and saw a giant painting hanging on the wall.

Instantly his attention was grabbed and he paused.

The painting showed a noble king, seated on a throne and surrounded by his most trusted friends.  To his left, there was the place of the Shield.  This man wasn’t like his Dad.  He wore a mask and his hair was longer and white, but he still looked really tough.  He was probably a really, really good Shield then.  He was going to have to ask his Dad about him.  Maybe he could even make a scary mask when he got home later!

“Hey, Dad!  Who is this Shield?” he asked, pointing to the painting and turning to his Dad… or… to where his Dad had been.

Gladio’s smile faltered a little and he looked around the now empty corridor.

“Dad?” he called, his little voice echoing into the hall, making it feel like he was talking into the mouth of a giant cave.  “Daddy?  Uncle Regis?”

Once again he paused, but no voices came back to him.  Maybe they were playing hide and seek with him?  Walking forward a few more steps, Gladio peeked his way around the corner of the hallway.

Nothing.

A little spike of fear managed to wiggle its way into his chest, but he frowned and shook his head.  He was a tough Shield!  He could find his Daddy and Uncle Regis without getting upset.

He began to make his way along the hallway, trying to remember if a particular plant or painting looked familiar and always finding himself taking another turn… then another… and another.  There were a few times where he passed a couple of people, but none of them seemed to pay him any mind.  A few of them even almost stumbled over him on their way to wherever they were going.

One particular man was more than a little upset with him.

After pausing in a hallway to try and figure out if he should head back or continue forward, Gladio found someone practically running into him and only managed to stumble out of the way in time before the man tumbled and fell onto the floor.

The man looked around absolutely bewildered, trying to figure out what had disturbed his phone call that he’d been so invested in.  As soon as he caught sight of the small child he glowered and began to get up, dusting off his once neat suit.

“You little brat!  What are you doing just standing there?  Don’t you know to stay out of an adults way?” he growled and Gladio backed away slightly.  He knew he was supposed to be brave, but… but this man was so angry!  He tried to glower like his Dad would when he had his fighting face on, but it only seemed to make the man more angry.

“You can’t talk to me like that!” he countered, and that seemed to set the angry man off again!

“I can and I will!  Get out of here, kid!” he shouted and took a step forward.

Gladio knew he should’ve been braver.  Should’ve held his ground like his Dad would’ve, but… this man was so angry and so scary and he didn’t know where his Dad or his Uncle was, and, and, and....

He knew he had to get away!

Before the man could get too close, Gladio turned on his heel and ran down the hall, unaware of what the man was shouting behind him as he took one corner then another, tears gathering in his eyes from frustration and fear.

Where was his Dad?

Why hadn’t he been found yet?

Was anyone looking for him?

What if no one ever found him again?!

He ran and ran until his legs felt like they were going to fall off, all these questions running through his head.  Until…

He heard it.

A familiar growl of a voice echoing down the corridor as he ran past a slightly open door, stopping him in his tracks.  His eyes widened in realization and he doubled back, peeking through the a jar door and trying to find the person who was speaking.

That’s when he spotted him.

“Keep your eyes up and shoulders squared, Atlia!  If you get caught holding your weapon out like that in battle the Nifs won’t hesitate in making an advance!  The last thing you want is to be taken out by someone as easy as their banner holder shoving his pole up your a-AH!”

Cor Leonis had been trained from an early age to anticipate any and all possibilities in war, to always be onguard and aware of what was going on in his surroundings.

None of his training had prepared him for a terrified six year old to come barreling into his legs at mach twelve speeds and almost taking him out.

After gaining his bearing and stopping himself from falling face first onto the training hall floor, Cor glanced down to see the trembling form of his godson.

“Gladio?  Gladio what are you doing here?” he asked, still trying to reconcile that the boy was here.  He glanced toward the door to see where Clarus was, but when no Shield was forthcoming he couldn’t help looking back down at the poor kid.  “Where’s your Dad?”

“I-I don’t know!” came his muffled reply where Gladio was hiding his face in his Uncles knee, his little hands clinging to his trousers.

Cor’s brow furrowed slightly as he tried to reconcile this, but his ears picked up on some mumblings in the back.  

The training hall was filled with a group of recruits and them seeing the Immortal almost taken down was definitely something they’d be chattering about.  He didn’t miss a few comments and snickers about a child almost taking him down and he instantly turned to face the room at large.

“Is there something funny about a child in distress that I’m missing?” he growled out, his tone instantly quieting the hall, his eyes still scanning the group.  After a few moments he turned his attention back to the boy who was now hiding behind him though was now curiously looking over all of these other people.

“Why are they looking at us?” Gladio asked quietly and Cor couldn’t help smiling a bit before nodding.

“Good point, Gladio.  Why are they looking at us when they should be doing their drills?” he asked loudly enough at the end that the recruits took it for the warning it was.

Soon enough the training hall was back in action with everyone resuming their exercises lest the face the wrath of Cor.

Gladio watched everyone starting up again and looked up at his Uncle.  “They all listened to you,” he said a bit awestruck, making Cor chuckle as he looked down at his godson.

“They better.  I’m training them to become better fighters for the Crown,” Cor explained, watching as Gladio mulled this over in his head.

“Did you train Dad?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow a bit and this time Cor snorted with a laugh.

“No, pipsqueak.  He’s a million years older than me,” he joked, getting a little giggle out of Gladio before continuing.  “But speaking of him, how did you end up here without him?” he asked, watching as Gladio ducked his head a little shamed and hid back against his knee.

“I was lookin’ at a picture of a scary shield and Dad and Uncle Regis left me behind,” he said, knowing full well he should’ve heeded his father’s advice and followed them instead of wandering off.

However, Cor knew better than that, but decided to play along for now.  Gasping slightly he raised his brows in mock shock.

“They did?” Cor asked, ducking down and carefully removing his leg from Gladio’s grasp so he could pick him up.  

As soon as Gladio was in his arms, the little Amicitia wrapped his arms around his Uncles neck and hid against him, peeking out to watch the recruits now and again when he heard a clash or a bang.

“Mmhm.  Then I ran into a scary man who yelled at me so I ran away.  Then I heard you and I knew I’d be safe!  Dad told me that if I ever need help to find Uncle Regis or you,” he said with a little nod, finally leaning back to look at his Uncle, a little smile playing on his lips.  “And I did!  Now I’m safe.”

Cor felt something in his chest tighten to hear that and he couldn’t help but smile a bit more.  “Yeah, pipsqueak.  You’re safe.  Now… why don’t we call your Dad and let him know that too, okay?  I’m sure he’s turning the Citadel upside down looking for you,” he said as he started toward the edge of the room and toward his own duffle bag.

Gladio’s eyes still remained on the recruits training in the hall, watching as various weaponry was used from daggers to swords to polearms.  His eyes widened when he saw someone using a greatsword and he instantly pointed at it with a bright smile.  “That’s gonna be my weapon!” he chirped happily as Cor set him down so he could grab his phone out of his bag.

As the Marshal glanced over and took in what Gladio was looking at he couldn’t help chuckling a little.  “Is that so?” he asked, sending a quick text to Clarus that he had Gladio in his care and where he was at.  It took only a few seconds before a message came through that they were on their way.

Gladio nodded, bouncing a bit where he stood as all his fear disappeared with his Uncle Cor nearby.

“Yeah!  Dad uses a greatsword so I will too!  And I’m gonna be like ‘hiyuh!’ and ‘take that’!” he cheered, pretending to slash through the air with an imaginary sword in hand.

Cor couldn’t help another chuckle as he watched his godson.

“I think you’ll make an excellent fighter, Gladio.  Now… do you think you can stay out of trouble while I look after the recruits?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir!  Uncle Cor!” he said, giving his Uncle a little salute and making Cor narrow his eyes playfully.

“That’s Marshal, pipsqueak,” he warned as Gladio giggled again.

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

Rushing into the Citadels Training Hall, Clarus looked like he’d aged another million years.  Regardless of Cor’s reassurances, he couldn’t get to the hall quick enough.  Regis was right behind him, still trying to make his own reassurances, but the idea that Gladio had been wandering and could’ve ended up anywhere or with anyone was still enough that he would be having nightmares about this for awhile.

However, as he burst through the doors to the training hall he found himself pausing, his eyes trying to reconcile what he was seeing.

The recruits had been lined up and were going through a few drills with their respective training weapons… one particular little recruit toward the front looked like all of his birthdays and Christmas had come early.

Gladio had a small wooden dagger in his hands, enough to make it seem like his own personal sword and he was trying to follow Cors orders as the Marshal made his ways up and down the lines as he shouted orders.

“Front face!” he shouted as they all moved in sync, Gladio following and adding a little slash of his dagger sword.

“Right face!” Cor shouted again, the recruits once more moving together as Gladio turned the wrong way and giggled at his mistake before turning the right way.

By this point Cor had made it to him and looked at the tiny recruit, crossing his arms.

“You need to learn your lefts and right, okay, soldier?” he asked, narrowing his eyes that held no anger and only fondness regardless of his stoic expression.

“Yes Uncle Cor!” Gladio chirped, smiling brightly up at the man.

Cor quirked and eyebrow at that and crossed his arms over his chest.  “What was that recruit?” he growled playfully making Gladio laugh more.

“Yes Uncle Marshal Cor!” he corrected quickly, making Cor fight back a smile as a few recruits already started to chuckle and break composure at the spectacle of their newest member.

Regis couldn’t help laughing as Clarus stood there with his mouth open.

“I think you may have found a new babysitter for Gladiolus,” he joked as he clapped Clarus on the shoulder, bringing him out of his reverie.

“I… I suppose so.  Is he really making my six year old son run drills?” he asked as Gladio accidentally thwacked Cor in the shin with his dagger sword, making the man yelp and Gladio laugh hysterically.

“He is… and it looks like he needs the practice,” Regis joked.

Clarus rolled his eyes at that.

Gladio made to turn around as another order was given and seen his Father, instantly waving at him and in his excitement inadvertently thwacking Cor once more in the shin.

To his credit, Cor was able to keep any curses from crossing his lips.

“Really?  I think he’s doing a fine job,” Clarus joked back, a bit of the tension leaving him.

“Look Dad!  I gotta sword!” Gladio yelled across the training hall, the excitement rippling off of him practically visible.

Perhaps it wasn’t so bad getting lost?

Now all he had to do was see if he could make that scary mask when he got home… for the next time he found his way to the training hall!

#ffxv #f3s #gladiolus amicitia #cor leonis #clarus amicitia #regis lucis caelum #fluff #family #tiny gladio

[milomeepit]

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Nineteen

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be added soon!)

Word Count: 3314

Chapter Warnings: nightmares, blood, snakes, confusion, stabbing, panic, anxiety, crying, happy crying, food

“Roman. It’s time to get up, Roman, come on.”

A hand shook his shoulder gently. Roman raised his head from the pillow, blinking at the bright sunlight that streamed in through the window. He looked towards the disturbance to see Logan’s face, hovering above him. A concerned frown creased the man’s eyebrows.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly.

“‘M... tired,” Roman yawned as he shook his head. “S’fine.”

“I made pancakes for brunch. Would you like some?” Logan sat on the bed next to him. The mattress dipped under his weight, and Roman had a brief flash of the sensation of falling.

“I, uh... sure. Thanks,” He flopped back down onto the pillow, facing towards the window.

Logan leaned down to the floor and picked Arwen off the ground. He brushed her off before offering her to Roman. “I’ve also got hot chocolate warming on the stove, if you would like some.”

Roman took Arwen. “Yes, please.” He forced a smile onto his face. His head ached, and his limbs felt heavy as lead, but he didn’t want to worry Logan.

Logan squeezed his shoulder gently. “I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes, then.” He smiled before getting up and leaving the room.

Roman lay in bed for another minute, staring out the window. Crisp white snow covered the ground, glittering in the morning sunlight. Part of him ached to go out and play, but he knew it would just be him and Cody. Logan had mentioned he wasn’t much of a fan of the colder weather, so it seemed unlikely he would join in a snowball fight. He sighed and got up, swapping his cozy pyjamas for sweatpants, a long sleeved shirt, and his red hoodie.

Breakfast passed, painfully slowly. Logan did his best to keep up a conversation, but Roman felt sapped of energy, like lead weights were tied to his wrists and dragging him down. He felt bad for the one-word, disinterested answers he gave Logan, but he just couldn’t bring himself to pull up his usual pep and bounce.

By the time Logan disappeared into his office, Roman was practically ready to crawl back into bed. Everything ached, and he wanted to hide away for a little while. Though, he could practically already hear Patton rambling about sleep schedules and making the most of the day, so he instead settled for curling up with a blanket on the couch in the rec room and watching a movie.

The familiar crescendo of the Walt Disney sequence was comforting, as was the sepia-toned rainy opening scene of the film. His eyes were glued to the screen as Lewis fiddled with his PB’n’J dispensing hat, half wondering if it would work the same with pop tarts.

If he was Lewis, the one being adopted, then he decided that Patton would definitely be Lucille. Virgil could pass for Bud when he was in a silly mood. Virgil had mentioned he had siblings, so the two of them could probably be Fritz and Joe. And Roman wouldn’t mind marrying someone like Franny. She was funny and passionate and strong and loved her family more than anything, all the best things he liked in a person.

He cuddled Arwen tightly, only half paying attention to the movie as his mind wandered. It would be amazing to have a time machine like the Robinsons did. He could go anywhere, any time, he wanted. Just fly through the sky and pop to wherever he liked.

Though, he thought, it would be cooler to ride on a dragon. Feel warm scales beneath his hands, the wind rushing through his hair, the powerful wings pushing them up, up, up through the clouds. Dragons were cool. He’d always wanted a pet, something friendly and scaley that climbed up his arm. A snake could be cool.

He could picture it now; shining eyes and shimmering golden scales, smooth to touch. Dropping down into his lap from the sky, a gift from the heavens above, like a fallen star. It would curl around him, wrapping him in a serpentine hug before slithering away.

Roman got to his feet, slowly following it. The golden scales drew him forward like a magnet, almost hypnotizing. When he finally broke his gaze away and looked around, they were in a forest. Green and blue and red and purple plants surrounded them, and the snake nimbly weaved between them. Roman trotted along behind it, looking around at the scenery. It rather reminded him of the valley from his last daydream.

He looked down at the snake again, watching it curl around a tree and onto rocky ground. He blinked, looking around to see a cave. Stalactites clung to the ceiling, water drip-drop-dripping from them in a soft rhythm. Piles of treasure littered the space, almost glowing in the shadows where the light didn’t quite reach. He heard voices, distantly, faraway conversations he couldn’t quite catch.

Fear tugged at his chest, and he instead returned his attention to the snake. It wound back around and out of the mouth of the cave, and when Roman looked up again, he was walking through a garden. A picnic blanket was spread carefully across the grass, and a box of cookies sat half-eaten on top of the basket. Bottles of water sat unopened on the checked blanket, and Roman felt the distinct urge to go sit.

He blinked, glanced back to the snake, and then they were in a ballroom filled with people that spun gracefully past him. They seemed undisturbed by the snake that stretched across the shining floor. Faces flashed past him, too quickly to get a proper look at, but achingly familiar. A young man with a moustache and a mischievous grin, with a tall young woman with a shy smile and fluffy brown hair that fell down her back in waves. A girl with eyes bluer than he’d ever seen and a flowing white dress winked at him. Another woman, older, with dark ginger hair and a sharp smile swept past. He knew them. He couldn’t know them, and yet he did.

It made him dizzy. He looked down again, silently begging the snake to take him somewhere else. Somewhere quieter. It seemed to respond to his discomfort, hooking to the right and away from the crowd. Before Roman knew it, they were outside. It was night, but not dark. A full moon cast a silvery light over the scene, a grassy hill dotted with small flowers that waved in the breeze. Stars sparkled overhead, glitter spread across the dark, dark blue that covered the sky.

Roman let out a soft gasp at the bone-deep longing that spiked through him. It was beautiful, more so than anything he could think of. He felt that same pull to sit, to just soak in the scene and stay there forever, but the snake didn’t pause. As it was, he broke into a jog to catch up with it. He studied it as he walked. It, too, seemed somehow familiar. Something seemed to be trying to click in his head, like an engine having trouble starting.

The scene changed again. Stone walls appeared around them rough and imposing, and when Roman looked back down, the snake had vanished. A cold sense of horror rose up, and he broke into a sprint, trying to find it.

The night became darker. The glittering stars faded from the sky. He shivered as he searched the maze for his guide. There seemed to be no escape from the cold, no matter how hard he tried to will himself to another place. The walls began to form cracks, stone splintering off and falling to the ground. He had to step around chunks of rubble as he ran further into the labyrinth.

Carvings appeared on the ruined walls. Images that seemed to dance before his eyes, hard to focus on. A terrible monster, huge and angry and merciless, destroying towns and villages, swallowing people whole. Figures bowed down before the giant creature, a snake with those same golden scales he recognized. Roman skidded to a halt in front of a depiction of the snake staring straight at the viewer. Its eyes drilled into him, sending a chill right through his body.

“... What are you?” He murmured, reaching up to touch the wall.

As his fingertips brushed against the stone, a loud crash rang through the night. He spun around, blinking rapidly. “H-hello?” He called. “Who’s there?”

“You don’t understand, he’s gone completely rogue!”

He jumped at the noise. A girl’s voice, both familiar and not. He was getting pretty sick of that feeling.

“Look, I know you two used to be really close, but... he’s.... changed. Badly.”

A boy, this time. A little nasal and whiny, and something inside him ached at the shaky words.

“Hello?” He started walking towards the voices, yelling out to them.

“He’s a monster! Nothing we can do would change that!” The girl snapped.

The walls around him shifted again. Banners appeared, large enough to hang down to the floor, with careful embroidery and bright colours.

“I know. I know you want him back, but...” The boy trailed off.

At some point the rough ground had changed to smooth stone. Windows dotted the walls between tapestries. Torches on the wall threw dancing shadows as he sprinted past them. A castle?

“Gods, why can’t you just trust me on this?” The girl’s voice was filled with anger and hurt and desperation.

Roman wondered who they were talking to. It certainly seemed like pieces of the conversation were missing.

He hurtled around a corner and skidded to a stop. A dead end. He looked over the hall, noticing the spears that lay abandoned on the floor, some snapped and broken. Blood was splashed across the castle stone, violent red smears that made his stomach roll. He peeled his eyes away from the floor and up to the tapestry hanging on the wall.

That same golden snake. It felt like it was taunting him, it’s cold eyes mocking his confusion and distress. Poor little prince, lost and alone, it seemed to say. Nobody to save you. Nobody to chase away the shadows and monsters. Nobody to protect you.

Roman’s head felt like it was going to split open. What was this? He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. The dizziness, the nausea, the darkness and panic and violence and cold. He didn’t understand. He didn’t want to understand, he just wanted out.

Footsteps clacked on the stones behind him. He turned to see a tall man, his features hard to make out in the dim, flickering torchlight. The only thing Roman could see clearly was his eyes- shining gold.

Just like the snake.

It took a moment for him to register the knife in the man’s hand. A dagger, shining in the firelight, with a sharp, thin blade. It took another few seconds for Roman to realise it was pointed squarely in his direction.

His heart leapt into his throat. What was happening?

“You need to wake up, Roman.” The man’s voice was smooth, like liquid gold. Roman shivered at the strong pang of some unfamiliar emotion that shot through him. The man threw a glance over his shoulder as running footsteps drew closer to them, clattering down the hall. Someone shouted out at the man, and he stiffened, stepping around the corner and much closer to Roman. “You don’t belong here, little one.”

Roman stumbled backwards. He hit fabric, his back up against the snake tapestry hanging on the wall. Something was wrong about this. Wrong and bad and much too real. “W-who are you?” He choked out.

The man froze for a moment. His eyes swept up and down Roman, and he opened his mouth.

“Get away from him!” The boy’s voice boomed down the hallway, and the man glanced over his shoulder again.

His mouth twisted into a snarl, and Roman was distracted for a moment by the sharpsharpmuchtoosharp teeth. His eyes glowed with something Roman couldn’t identify. Not quite hatred, but something close. “Your murderer.”

Roman’s eyes snapped open. He gasped as he bolted upright on the couch and clutched at his chest. Pictures danced in his vision, too fast to focus on. Constellations that sparkled overhead, their shapes utterly foreign. Smooth scales under his hands, warm and soft. Fires that blazed, higher than he could see and hotter than he could bear. Soft smiles, barely visible out of the corner of their mouth. A knife, plunging into soft flesh that parted beneath its blade.

His chest ached. A familiar feeling, one he knew as well as the freckles that dotted his arms, but it seemed to burn. He curled into himself, clapping both hands over his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sobs that burst from his throat.

“Roman?” Logan appeared in the doorway. He crouched down next to the couch and reached out to touch Roman’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?” He asked gently.

Roman flung his arms around Logan’s middle and clung to him. “Bad dream,” He mumbled against the fabric of Logan’s shirt.

Logan sat on the floor and rubbed Roman’s back. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”

Roman shrugged. “I... I dunno,” He admitted. “M’scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

“I... what if I don’t...” The words died in his throat, bitter and uncooperative.

Logan hummed in understanding. “It will be alright. I can’t see any reason that things wouldn’t work out.”

Roman pulled back a little and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. “... But what if they don’t anyway?” He whined.

Logan frowned sympathetically. “Well... whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. I promise.”

Roman sighed. He sagged against Logan’s chest and turned his head to look at the TV screen. It was black, the timer device having turned it off after a period of inactivity. He wondered how long he’d been asleep. His stomach growled, as if to say ‘Long enough we need food, dingus!’

He peered up at the clock on the wall and his stomach sank. It was 4.30pm. Only half an hour left before his fate was revealed.

“Would you like to do a puzzle? I still have an unopened one in the hall closet.” Logan suggested. “I think it’s a fantasy scene, a lake with mermaids.”

“Yes, please.” Roman nodded. He slid off of Logan’s lap and shuffled on his knees over to the coffee table.

They spent the next half hour chatting about mermaids and mythology as they fit together the glossy puzzle pieces. Roman worked on the trees and plants while Logan worked on the water, and it quickly took shape under their hands.

Roman had never realised quite how much he enjoyed doing puzzles with people. It was pleasant to work together on something so casual, especially if you could talk while you worked. The pretty artwork and brightly coloured scenes were a big plus, too.

“As legends go, the first known mermaid stories appeared in Assyria, around 1000 BC. The goddess Atargatis, mother of Assyrian queen Semiramis, loved a mortal, and unintentionally killed him,” Logan explained. “She jumped into a lake and took the form of a fish, but the waters didn’t hide her divine beauty. After that, she took the form of a mermaid- although the earliest representations of Atargatis showed her as a fish with a human head and arm, similar to the Babylonian god Ea.”

“Cool!” Roman exclaimed. “Who was Ea?”

“Well, that’s actually quite interesting! Enki is the Sumerian god of water, knowledge, mischief, crafts, and creation. He was later known as Ea in Akkadian and Babylonian mytho-” Logan was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Roman froze and looked up at Logan. “It’s not 5pm yet, is it?” He mumbled. “Can’t be.”

Logan ruffled his hair lightly. “It’s alright, Roman,” He reassured. “Come, let’s go see.”

Roman slowly got to his feet and dragged himself after Logan. It felt like he was marching to the gallows, or pulled along in an ice cold river that intended to toss him over a jagged waterfall. He wrapped his arms around himself and hovered in the doorway of the rec room. He stared at the front door. From here, he wouldn't be able to see who was there, but they wouldn’t be able to see him, either, so it suited him just fine.

“It’ll be okay,” Logan glanced over his shoulder and smiled again before returning his attention to the door as the visitor knocked again.

Roman’s heart thudded in his chest as Logan turned the handle and opened the door. A gust of wind swept into the entryway, and he shivered. It was obviously still freezing outside. At least he might be able to play in the snow at some point, he thought. That would make things a bit better.

He couldn’t quite see Logan’s face from here, either. He was speaking quietly with whoever was at the door. Roman couldn’t make out the conversation, and his anxiety ratcheted up another notch as he strained to hear the other person’s voice.

A few tense seconds passed before Logan moved out of the doorway. Roman held his breath, his eyes wide.

Please.

He almost screamed as vibrant green and purple eyes met his around the door. Virgil broke into a wide grin and dropped to one knee as Roman threw himself forward into his arms, already bursting into tears again.

“Oh, sweetheart, honey, it’s okay, we got you, it’s okay, darling.” Patton’s arms joined Virgil’s, and Roman felt like he was going to burst into pieces like a firework.

“Hey, hey,” Virgil murmured. He dotted kisses on the top of Roman’s head. “We got you, buddy.”

“I-I...!” Roman wheezed, flailing a hand wordlessly. What words were there, when his heart was so full of love and relief and hope and joy? What could possibly encapsulate how happy he was to see them?

Patton took his hand and squeezed it. “I know, honey,” He beamed, and Roman saw the shiny film of tears swimming in his eyes. “Me, too.”

“I can stay?” Roman asked as he relaxed into their grasp, feeling safer than he had in quite a while.

Virgil nodded. “You sure can, Ro,” He whispered. His voice was soft and raw, and Roman realised that he’d probably already been crying.

He could stay. Forever. Cookies and hugs, movies and blankets, spaghetti and kisses, storybooks and warmth, and love. So much love. His heart felt like it was going to burst open. His hands shook as he clung to Patton and Virgil, and he never wanted to let go. He would never have to.

Logan cleared his throat, and the three of them looked up to where he stood, awkwardly holding the door open. “We’re letting all the heat out,” He pointed out.

Virgil laughed. “Sorry, Specs. Got a little distracted.” He kissed Roman’s forehead again, and Roman swore that he felt sparks zap right through him. “C’mon, guys.”

Some undignified scrambling later, they were all on their feet once again. Patton hung off of Virgil’s arm, cooing over Roman and chatting away about all the ideas he had for decorating Roman’s room and making it his. Roman liked that idea.

As Roman sat in the rec room, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, sandwiched between his new fathers, and his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of sweet hot chocolate, he sighed contentedly.

Sometimes, he thought, just sometimes, life really did come equipped with all the parts of a fairy tale. A down-on-their-luck hero, villains to make your blood curdle, and, most importantly, a loving family.

As Patton leaned across to peck Virgil on the cheek, his arm looped lovingly around Roman’s waist, Roman thought to himself that he liked that part best of all.

#TS-Storytime 2019 Submission #milo writes #ditr #gemstone tales #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides

[visionofnoxus]

☠

// And here you go. Last but not least. I hope it pleases you. Decided to do something of an origin story. Please let me know what you thought of it.

“Secure the perimeter. Two guards on every patrol. And no open fire” Swain commanded, walking through the improvised camp. The soldiers all around him nodded, but did not respond, beginning their preparations for the night immediately. “And should any of the guards get any funny feelings, alert others. I’ll have the first “independent investigator” flogged once the Placidium is ours” he reminded his men, leaving the perimeter patrol and heading deeper into the noxians’ camp area. This was one of the several hidden camps in the surrounding valleys, all of these camps containing seasoned veterans in many hundreds. Together, they’d be thousands. And not one ionian knew they even were here. Leaning down as he climbed inside his tent, general Swain sat down on the bedroll. Putting aside the officer’s sword and the hand crossbow he carried on field missions like this. Making sure the flap of the tent was truly closed, he lit a candle, rolling open a map of the surrounding area, going through his plan once more. 

The islanders were finally beginning to find their fighting spirit, monastic orders starting to offer assistance to the village militias. These monks, assassins and martial artists were strengthening the opposition greatly. Looking at the city of Placidium on the map, the Master Tactician nodded to himself. The noxians were overreaching, advancing too quickly, not fortifying the ground taken and reinforcements that were promised from mainland kept being redirected to chase all kinds of wild rumor. If the Noxians would somehow suffer some catastrophic loss somewhere, the islanders might very well be able to just drive them back all the way to the southwestern coast with ease. An irritated sigh left the ambitious commander. Sometimes he felt like the very land itself was fighting their invasion.

They needed to take bridges, break strongholds and capture the population centers before the entire nation would unite against them. Instead they were raiding country side. Raping, pillaging and terrorizing population, running field tests with zaunite weaponry because Darkwill was curious about the results. Terror was an excellent tool of control and a way to break morale, but this… Frankly speaking genocide was not serving the empire. Once the island nation was theirs, who’d work the fields? Assuming that the soil had not been corrupted by some chemical “test”. Who would produce trade goods? Who would the noxians have digging ore in the mines they’d start here? And that was if they managed to secure the nation. He looked once more at the map. 

Taking Placidium, Swain intended to draw out the ionians from their guerrilla warfare tactics into an open battle for survival. And then he’d crush them there, crippling the defenders. With the capitol of Navori under control, Noxians could start fortifying their holdings, focus their efforts to a single location at a time instead of running about everywhere, burning and destroying yet achieving precious little. Tomorrow, his hidden legions would emerge and assault Placidium in blizkrieg style, and they’d take the city intact. The buildings, the riches, the people. He’d turn the entire city into a hostage and a bait so irresistible that Ionians would march to their own doom to save it. 

“Sir. There has been an issue” Came the muffled voice of his lieutenant from outside the tent. A frown rose on Swain’s face. Since he did not hear any ruckus suggesting they’d been had… “A patrol missing?” The Tactician made an educated guess, one which his officer confirmed moments later. “Get me 6 good men. I’ll be out momentarily”. Taking a gulp from his waterskin, Swain fastened his sword on his hip again and grabbed the crossbow. “What is another sleepless night, when I already have so many?” He let out a dry chuckle, blowing the candle and leaving the tent.

The patrol had gone missing on the eastern side of the camp, the side which was covered with more dense forest leading up to the mountains. It offered plenty of cover for would be assassins, but something in the night air gave the noxian commander the gut feeling this wasn’t one of those “ninjas”. Glancing at the tiny flowers glowing in the otherwise dark forest, he scoffed. “Magic everywhere. And somehow I have hunch this is one of those creatures again” He said quietly, gripping the shaft of a spear. Were this once again some oversized animal with wings, he’d rather keep it a shaft’s distance away from himself rather than try his luck with a sword. “Lieutenant, you have your orders about the main mission. And send a second troop five minutes after us”. “Sir”. With that, the seven noxians began moving, four moving us scouts at front while Swain and two others waited for the first sign of trouble.

Half an hour later they had found the lost patrol. Stepping next to the soldier inspecting the two corpses, Swain frowned, kneeling down as well. “They… This is odd” The scout muttered, motioning at the two dead men laying on their backs. Both had similar situation. Their weapons had been drawn, but no signs of combat were evident. It was like something had pushed them down and they’d just… Stopped breathing. No injuries. Though curiously… Swain brought his hand to hover above one’s chest. “The armor… It’s radiating warmth” The man observed, the scout confirming same on the other victim. “Something hit them in the chest and they died… But not of injury”. Magic. Everything on these cursed islands had to do with magic. A femine chuckle caught the general’s ear and he blinked in disbelief, cautiously standing up. “Sir did you…”. “Yes. I heard it as well. Weapons ready!”. All the noxians readied their weapons, peering into the darkness. 

A second chuckle reverberated through air. What a beautiful, sensual voice. It stirred something in him. Something very primal. “I’d like to give this vixen a shafting of different sort…” One of the soldiers crudely remarked, shifting his grip on his halberd, few others snorting nervously. Swain took that as a confirmation. The spike of sudden lust had not been his imagination. “There” one of the soldiers hissed, pointing ahead. And indeed, on the path lighted by the small glowing flowers stood a young woman, dressed in some kind of very simple and hazy dress. But what a woman… The dress did very little to cover her feminine charms, barely concealing the crucials but those few furs wrapped around her waist did their best to cover her. Her hair was dark and a bit messy, unkempt, but shone like most well kept fur only could. And then there was the face. Slightly alien, yet distinctively human, she was gorgeous. And then there were those cute fox ears. “It’s a demon. Kill it!” Swain snapped the instant his mind connected the dots. Unfortunately her men weren’t quite as strong of mind. A bright orb of light shot out of the woman’s hand while she dashed to the side. The ball struck one of the noxians, man flying on his back lifelessly, the something shifting in the orb, a sliver of some new colour being added as the ball grew ever so slightly.

So that is what happened, Swain thought grimly, observing how two of his men leveled their crossbows at the seductress but missed. She dashed and leaped around with grace of a cat, showcasing no issues in switching between running and occasional dash on all fours for a pounce off a tree. Attempting to get in melee, two noxians charged shouting at her, and Swain saw the golden eyes flash, flames appearing on the tips of her nails moments before those flames set the men alight. The armor resisted the burn, but did precious little to save their owners’ lives, the men falling on the ground while screaming in agony. it might be possible to save their lives, but Swain already scratched them out of the roster. He had no time to care about two wounded. “Watch the magic! It’s eyes glow when it casts” He shouted, the fox-woman’s head snapping in his direction and as her golden irises met with his, Swain felt himself swallowing nervously. The full lips formed words. There was no sound, but somehow the noxian heard her in his head. “You are the alpha then..?”. 

Whatever that meant, Swain did not intend to find out. Another burst of fire shot out, the soldiers it was targeting dodging, but one of them got caught by the glowing orb instead, his cruelly taken and added to the orb’s beauty. “Harrowing take you!” Swain cursed out loud, tossing his spear with a trained and drilled practice. Not his chosen weapon, but the fox appeared to had been briefly distracted by the orb’s growth, Swain landing almost landing a hit, earning him an angry stare and a hiss showcasing the sharp fangs of the foxlady. Drawing his sword and bringing up the crossbow, Swain shouted: “Pull back! Focus on avoiding it’s spells” He shot two of the three bolts towards the fox, her attention now completely on him. Oh no… Throwing her arm forward, Swain saw the orb accelerate towards him, stepping hastily to the side and behind a tree. Supporting his arm, he took aim, letting loose the third bolt and discarding the weapon. Time to run. “Retreat!” He barked, dashing away from the creature, not bothering to check if he’d landed anything. The few remaining soldiers did not question the order, discarding their heavy weapons and opting for speed instead, following their commander. To their great relief, the she-devil did not pursue, instead disappearing into the forest and the morning mist slowly rolling in as the night began to fade.

Hissing in pain, Ahri limped herself to safety higher on the forest-covered slopes. Reaching one of the pristine ponds offering clean water that flowed downwards alongside a tiny river, she crouched down, hissing and staring at her thigh. A crude human made stick had pierced the skin, sinking into her leg. A cruel move by the alpha of the Noxian pack. She wondered why they’d chosen to run, for with her injury, her greatest defense, her speed and agility, had been taken. Knowing what must be done, having witnessed the villagers nearby do similar things after fighting with the noxian packs, she gripped the shaft. Gritting her teeth, the vixen yanked the bolt out, her eyes tearing with pain. Why was it, that humans started leaking water from their eyes when they hurt, she wondered as she ditched the offending stick to a nearby bush. Wiping her tears, annoyed at them, she limped closer to the pond. Ahri would have to wash the wound and rest a few days before she could hunt more foreigners.

#kumihao #papa burd storytimes #young swain #some ionian campaign memories

[sapphyrelily]

Nasty Kouhai Repellent

I can’t write anything funny but here have this

Based on this thread

It started with the bottle.

The spray bottle.

And it was all Semi’s fault.

(It is always Semi’s fault.)

But the bottle, oh gosh, the bottle – Shirabu has never been so mortified or offended or repelled in his entire life.

Or so drenched.

He thinks he can hear Kawanishi snickering behind him, but his attention is entirely focused on the person in front of him, and the spray bottle still raised, poised to spray.

He takes a deep breath, and shakes the water out of his hair.

Semi takes a step back, entirely unfazed, and repeats himself. “Go practice receives with Hayato for a bit.”

Shirabu glares at him. “With all due respect, senpai–”

He ducks as he is sprayed again, but the action only serves to make his hair even wetter than before. He growls and pushes his fringe back, uncaring that it makes him look like an idiot. “–with all due respect, I’ve already practiced receives and it's time I practiced my sets.”

“Your receiving is still terrible. Even Taichi receives better than you.”

The snickering turns into a poorly hidden cough, but he doesn’t turn around to glare at the perpetrator. “I need to practice my setting before we begin the practice matches.”

“No, you’re going to practice your receives, because I’m going to be aiming at you during the practice matches.”

“Is that a threat, Semi-san?”

He doesn’t duck in time, and has to wipe the water out of his eyes. By the time he looks up, Semi is gone – thank the heavens – but Yamagata is standing next to him, grinning and ready to go.

He groans, but doesn’t have any choice but to follow him.

-----

He is in the midst of shutting his locker when a hand shoots out to stop him, snatching the spray bottle from the shelf.

He sighs and turns to the thief, watching as Tendou scrutinises the bottle.

“Satori, give me that.”

“Hmm? What’s this for?”

“You know that thing where you spray cats to stop them from doing something?”

“You’re not– Oh my gosh, you are serious.”

“Where have you been the whole day that you haven’t seen me using that?”

“Practicing! You know, like you were supposed to be doing, but didn’t.”

Semi shrugs. “It’s effective, at least. I feel a lot less stressed.”

Tendou shakes his head and clicks his tongue, but his smirk tells a whole other story.

-----

Practice is a mess.

Shirabu’s been sprayed so many times that his hair is perpetually wet, and he’s creating puddles that other people slip in.

He wonders how the spray bottle has enough water for that to be an option, but decides not to question it. It’s not like Semi has decided to upend the bottle over his head yet, though he thinks they might be reaching that point.

The only upside, he thinks, is that he finally heard Coach yelling at him for doing such an inane thing.

“Eita! WHAT are you doing with that spray bottle? We are a volleyball club, not a gardening club!”

“I’m fighting pests, Washijou-sensei,” he hears. “Water is my pesticide.”

He doesn’t hear the next part because he dives to save a ball – but what he does hear makes the next ball bounce off his fingers instead of his arms.

“STOP DOING STUPID THINGS AND GO PRACTICE YOUR SERVES OR SOMETHING.”

He laughs so hard that he completely misses the next ball and slips in a puddle of water.

-----

It’s incredible, he thinks, how the spray bottle becomes something of a legend just two days into its introduction.

The bottle is taken out first at morning practice, passed from hand to hand, hidden within the mess of water bottles whenever Coach turns their way.

But at every other second during breaks or between drills, the bottle will reappear from the depths of hell, and some unfortunate soul sprayed with it.

Oh, and it has a name now.

Shirabu has no idea when it appeared – or who put it there – but the bottle has large script running across one face, in the form of the words Nasty Kouhai Repellent.

(+ Tendou is added in smaller script under it, and Shirabu doesn’t even want to know why.)

He feels deeply offended – Semi-san is such an asshole – until he sees other people using the bottle as well.

It’s a blocking practice, he recalls, when the bottle appears not in Semi’s hands but Tendou’s, and he feels a light sheen of mist drifting over him.

Beside him, Kawanishi looks equal parts surprised and taken aback, and he gapes for a moment before starting to laugh.

His best friend fixes him with an unimpressed look, but quickly backpedals when he’s sprayed again. “Taichi! Block properly!”

“I am doing my best, Tendou-san,” the blond intones, taking a few steps away from the net. “Please stop spraying me with that.”

“No! You need to use some effort, it’s not so hard to block, you’re a middle blocker, for goodness’ sake–”

He steps aside easily as Tendou ducks under the net, chasing after Kawanishi and spraying wildly. “Taichi! Get back here!”

Shirabu sinks to the ground, barely suppressing his laughter, and doesn’t move until Goshiki comes up to him to practice spikes.

-----

He doesn’t think it can get worse, but it does.

Training camp has always been a time of intensive training, and he’s usually too tired after it to do much.

This year, there’s practice after practice, and he finally puts to use all the daily running that Coach makes them do.

He ducks into an unlocked classroom and is about to crawl under a table when a leg sticks out and trips him, making him crash into several tables.

Great. His attacker is bound to have heard that, and now he has to find a new place to hide.

Before he can curse the person who tripped him, something is shone on his face, and he has to throw up a hand to shield his eyes.

“Shirabu?”

“Semi-san?” He lowers his arm, squinting in the darkness. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d ask you that, but I think I know.” He looks from the downed boy to the closed door. “Is Satori after you?”

“Yeah, he thought I was Taichi, but I think he’s chasing me now just because.” He pauses, then fixes him with a look. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Semi lifts his other hand, brandishing a spray bottle with a grin. “Revenge.”

He cuts him off before he can say anything else. “I hear someone. Make some noise to draw him in, I’ll spray him.”

Shirabu usually doesn’t listen when Semi’s being bossy, but he can make an exception for this.

He shifts the tables back into position, making no effort to be quiet about it, then hops atop one to wait for the fallout.

His eyes aren’t very good in the darkness, but he can make out when the door opens and Semi jumps up from beside it, spraying liberally at the figure standing there.

But the figure is too tall and broad to be Tendou, and he almost chokes when he speaks.

“Semi, what are you doing?”

His tone is mild, a tad confused and irritated, and gosh, what Shirabu would give to see Semi’s face right now.

“Oh, Wakatoshi. I thought you were Satori. Sorry about that.”

“Apology accepted. Kindly refrain from doing that in future, it will make someone catch a cold.”

“It’s summer.”

“Then you understand what I mean.” Ushijima turns to leave, but pauses, and it looks like he’s trying to see what Semi is holding on to. “Is that the spray bottle?”

(He’d been wondering that too. )

“Oh, this? It’s a different one. Satori has the original.”

“Ah. I had hopes that someone had taken it from him.” Ushijima’s tone is bland.

Semi snorts. “I’ll get it back. Eventually. Where is he?”

“The last I saw, he was chasing Yamagata down to the bathrooms.”

“Thanks. I’ll get him. Oi, Shirabu, come on.”

He starts when he is called – why does Semi want him along? – but slides off the table, bobbing his head in greeting as he slides past Ushijima. The older looks faintly surprised to see him, but lets him by without a word.

It’s only when they’re halfway down the hallway that he hears him call, “If you see Tendou, tell him not to run in the hallways or the bathroom. It is dangerous for everyone involved.”

Semi raises his hand in acknowledgement, but does not turn back.

-----

Shirabu finally finds out why Semi brought him along when they reach the bathrooms and the ash blond refuses to take another step.

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are. Your clothes are already damp, and you haven’t showered yet.”

“I’m not your meat shield.”

“You are now.” He shoves him into the bathrooms. “Go take a look around and see if Satori is in there.”

“You owe me so much for this.”

Semi sprays him, his expression unimpressed. “Go.”

He grumbles and turns to trudge through the bathroom, peeking around corners as if someone might jump out at him.

But the bathrooms are completely empty, and he returns to the entrance with slightly more confidence and the hope that he wouldn’t get sprayed another time this evening.

“There’s no one in her–”

He opens the door, but there’s no one outside it either.

The corridor is completely empty, and he curses Semi for the umpteenth time.

-----

Kawanishi throws a bundle of clean, dry clothes at him, and he scrambles to catch them. He nearly misses the towel tossed in his direction as well, raising an eyebrow at the closed door of the sleeping area.

Kawanishi shakes his head. “You don’t want to be in there. Just go and shower.”

“Why? Did someone finally get in trouble, because that I have to see–”

“Tendou-san is trying to get Ushijima-san to spray Goshiki in the face.”

“I have to see that.”

He pushes past his friend, only for an arm to go round his middle, pulling him back. “No, you don’t. Tendou-san is 'practicing' on all the second years, and you’re next if you go in.”

“Tendou-san can’t be any worse than Semi-san.”

“Yes, he is,” Kawanishi tells him with a long-suffering sigh. “I had to change my clothes twice.”

Shirabu grumbles, but he does turn away. “Fine. I’ll go shower.”

“Thank you.”

Kawanishi whistles so cheerily as they trek to the bathrooms that Shirabu isn’t sure who is happier to be escaping the water assault.

-----

He is halfway through shampooing his hair when he hears Kawanishi calling him. “What?”

“I said, hurry up and get out here. Semi-san is chasing Tendou-san with the spray bottle.”

“Oh my god.”

He sticks his head under the faucet and tries to wash the shampoo out as fast as he can. He thinks he can hear his seniors' voices from beyond the bathroom door.

“They just ran past,” Kawanishi informs him, helpfully. “Semi-san has a spray bottle in each hand.”

“I’m coming, I'm coming!”

“They’ve just disappeared around the bend. There’s a lot of crashing and swearing. Oh, I think Tendou-san got a bottle.”

Shirabu stumbles to the door, a towel haphazardly thrown around his waist, his hair still pouring water. He pushes Kawanishi aside, peering out, just in time to see Semi and Tendou tear past, the redhead holding the spray bottles in front of him like guns.

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!”

“You were supposed to shower anyway!” Semi yells back, and then they are gone again, voices echoing off the empty hallway.

He looks up, a question on the tip of his tongue, but Kawanishi gently pushes him back into the bathroom. “The spraying messed up Tendou-san's hairstyle.”

“Well, that’s interesting to know.”

“Go finish your shower.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

-----

What’s more amazing, he finds, is how the bottle(s) have not disappeared, even after the training camp fiasco.

He doesn’t know what happened, but at some point, Coach must have given up on yelling at them, because the bottles sit openly on the ground now, and nobody says anything about them.

It’s only been a week, he thinks miserably.

(A week, and he has yet to come out of a single practice with his hair dry.)

(At this rate, he would actually catch a cold.)

(But, he thinks, If I kill Semi-san first, then I would never have to catch a cold.)

(It sounds like a better idea every time he gets a faceful of water.)

A fine spray of mist lands on his arm, and he doesn’t need to turn to know who did it.

“Tendou-san, please refrain from spraying me. I might catch a cold.”

“It’s summer, Taichi.”

“It is still possible.”

As if on cue, Shirabu sneezes.

Kawanishi waves a hand in his direction. “Case in point.”

Tendou eyes him sceptically, but puts the bottle down when a second sneeze works its way out. “I’ll tell SemiSemi to stop it just for today.”

“Thank you,” Shirabu says sarcastically, but Tendou is out of earshot.

“You’re a good actor,” Kawanishi says.

“That wasn’t acting.” He sneezes again, and wipes his face with a sigh.

He hopes he doesn’t get sick.

-----

He sneezes three times in quick succession and the ball he was supposed to set drops in front of him, hitting his foot and bouncing away. “Sorry!”

Reon shakes his head kindly. “You’ll get the next one.”

He nods numbly and lifts his head, but he can feel another sneeze coming on as the opposing team serves again.

He manages to set the ball before another sneeze erupts from him, but he knows without looking that the set is terrible.

“Kenjirou!”

He cringes – and sneezes again. He turns to face Washijou hesitantly, barely suppressing another sneeze. “Yes, Coach?”

Washijou glares at him, and he tries, he really does, but he ends up sneezing again, hard enough that his eyes water.

By the time he stops sneezing – or not, he can feel yet another one coming on – he sees that he has turned away, and there are hands on his shoulders, guiding him off court.

He doesn’t – can’t look to see who it is, but he gratefully takes the tissue pressed into his hands, covering his nose and mouth with it and trying to regain his breath.

A towel is draped over his head, and he glances up through its folds.

Semi raises an eyebrow at him, and he manages to form half a scowl before he starts sneezing again.

“Okay, we’re going to the nurse. Coach is right.” The ash blond grumbles as he pulls Shirabu after him, and he doesn’t even have the energy to point out that it’s Semi’s fault that he’s sick.

(He thinks they got excused from practice.)

(Hallelujah, because he can’t breathe anymore.)

The nurse’s office is empty save for them, and after giving him several packets of tissues, some medication and reminding him to drink lots of water, they are sent off. Semi insists on walking him back to the dorm, and he doesn’t protest.

(He is making him hold all the packets of tissue, anyway.)

Semi doesn’t say a single word as they walk back, and Shirabu can’t muster enough energy to make a snarky remark. It makes him feel weird, as if something is missing, but his head is pounding badly enough that he couldn’t care less.

He does not realise what is happening until it’s halfway done – his shirt pulled off him, and a new one forced on. “What-?”

“Don’t argue, just finish changing your clothes and go to bed.”

It takes all of his energy to protest, “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I do.” The towel is put back on his head, his hair ruffled aggressively as he tries to rub the water out of it. “It’s my fault you’re sick.”

It takes a few moments to register that, and he manages a short laugh before he starts sneezing again. He takes the tissue offered, blowing his nose loudly.

Semi sighs above him. “I am sorry for making you sick.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Don’t make me regret being nice to you,” Semi threatens, rubbing his hair more ferociously. “You’ve been a lot less rude since the spray bottle, and it’d be nice if you could keep it that way.”

“That’s your fault,” Shirabu whines around the tissue. “I’m not ready to lose my spot on the team for killing you.”

He flinches away, expecting a spray of water, but getting a hard tug on his hair instead.

Oh, right. The bottle is in the gym.

A packet of tissue is thrown onto his lap, and his hair is ruffled more gently. His head hurts enough that he leans into the soothing sensation.

“Here. Take the pills and go to sleep.”

He is rudely jolted by a bottle shoved into his hand, his other palm cupping a few pills. He briefly wonders where the tissue has gone, but swallows the pills obediently and passes the bottle to the waiting hand.

Then he is being pushed onto the bed, a blanket thrown over him, and a box of tissue placed next to his head.

He blinks blearily at the box, but his head is heavy and his nose is too clogged for more comprehensive thoughts.

Oh. Semi’s glaring at him.

“Do not move,” he enunciates slowly, “From this bed. I’ll come check on you after practice.”

He thinks he wrinkles his nose, he isn’t sure, but then Semi’s snorting and flicking his forehead. “Brat.”

It sounds almost affectionate, and it makes him want to stick his tongue out at his retreating back.

The room is quiet after he leaves, punctuated only by the wheezing caused by his blocked nose. It’s difficult to fall asleep, but one advantage of this arrangement, he finds, is that he is no longer being assaulted by the spray bottle.

(Small victories, one at a time.)

(Some other day, he’ll get rid of that bottle for good.)

#shirabu kenjirou #semi eita #kawanishi taichi #tendou satori #ushijima wakatoshi #washijou tanji #oohira reon #mentioned yamagata hayato #mentioned goshiki tsutomu #shiratorizawa #my writing #i'm sorry idk what this is lmao #haikyuu!!