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[tboymoon]

get me pregnant so i can be in denial about the baby inside me.

it starts with me saying “oh its no big deal you came inside me i’m on testosterone i can’t get pregnant”. you laugh at me when i say it cause you know that’s not how it works and that with the way we’ve been fucking lately, theres no way i’m not with child.

i ignore the symptoms. i don’t get a period anymore so that does nothing to clue me in. the morning sickness? oh just a stomach bug or i ate something bad the night before. food cravings? i’m just stressed from work and life. i’m already tired and achey all the time so i don’t question it at all.

but you know. you know exactly whats happening to me. you secretly switched out my T once you realized what was happening. put me on estrogen supplements (you told me it was testosterone) to help the baby.

then the real fun starts. because of the estrogen and pregnancy, i start developing breasts again. my bump starts showing too. i don’t even notice! you start playing with my tits and showing so much attention to my belly during sex. it just feels so good that i can’t even feel dysphoric about having tits again. i start playing with them and rubbing my belly without paying attention even! too horny to even think further about the changes happening to me body.

you ask me to quit my job. i’d be much happier home where i can touch myself all day and take care of the house. i do it no questions ask. you know best after all. i’ve been blindly letting you make decisions about me for so long now. i even grew out my curly blonde hair and started dressing like a girl again. the first time i got she/her’d i came to you crying and you just held me and told me “well they aren’t wrong. have you looked in the mirror lately? such a pretty girl”. you started calling me your wife and picked a new girly name for me so you wouldn’t have to say my horrible masculine old name during sex. it became just another thing i associated with pleasure.

i didn’t clue into the pregnancy until i started lactating and the baby started kicking. at this point i’m so conditioned to being your housewife that i just accept my new role as a mommy. a tiny part of me in the back of my mind is screaming and crying, wondering how this could happen. but the real me knows that it was inevitable. i did this to myself but it’s ok cause i have you to guide me. i know this wont be the last time i’m full with child.

after all it’s my duty as your wife to give you all the babies you want.

[nurse-floyd]

Hi can u write a f!Reader x lando where the reader is anaemic has vry low iron? Like where he helps her when she’s feeling sick and takes care of her. Thought this would be fitting as ur a nurse!! A comfort/fluff/hurt fic super excited for ur upcoming works.

I am SO sorry this is so late! My mental health has been awful as late and chronic fatigue has been kicking my butt! I hope you enjoy this little ficlet <3

You sat on one of the chairs in the McLaren garage, watching the screens with your bright orange headphones during the last free practice. You were excited being there to support your boyfriend, Lando but you also wanted nothing more than to be curled up in the king size bed that waited for you back at your hotel.

Lando, hadn’t missed how pale you had looked that morning, how slugging your movements had been as you practically crawled out of the hotel bed to follow him and hang out at the paddock for the day.

“I think we should make another doctor's appointment for you with the next break coming up, what do you think?”

You had groaned in response. You hated doctors and needles but you knew he was right. You’d always suffered with low iron and the telltale symptoms were exactly the same as last time. Admittedly with all the travel you hadn’t been keeping up with the supplements the doctor had provided last time.

Lando tried to tell you that you didn’t need to come, that you could sleep in a little longer and follow him later for quali, but you argued. Lando knew better than to continue that argument when you were so adamant in your ways.

As soon as FP3 ended and Lando was out of his car, you were the first person he looked for. He could see the exhaustion on your face, how pale you looked and the way you leant against the wall as if you’d fall if it wasn’t there. He pushed his way to your side and held your elbows in support. “I suppose if I told you to go back to the hotel you wouldn’t, would you?”

You shook your head and immediately regretted it as a wave of dizziness washed over you.

“Come on, let’s get you sat down,” he said as he gently guided you towards the hospitality area.

He kept one hand around your back for support as he loaded up a plate full of snacks and grabbed a bottle of water for you. He led you towards his driver's room and settled you down on the sofa pulling off your shoes to make you comfortable. He turned the TV on, so you could still watch him in support and he’d have the peace of mind you were resting.

“Thank you, Lan,” you whispered. You hated being ill, hated looking so weak but you knew Lando didn’t see you any less for it and loved and cared for you anyway.

As soon as qualifying was over and he’d fulfilled his media duties, Lando took charge and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He helped you to your feet, with a supportive hand around your back as he led you towards his car. He buckled you in, despite your protest that you could do it yourself as he leant in and placed a kiss to your cheek. “Let me look after you baby.”

The pair of you drove towards your home for the weekend. Lando ordered takeout for you both as you threw on your cozy LN4 hoodie and climbed under the covers. As you both tucked into your meals, you couldn’t help but be so grateful to have a boyfriend like Lando in your life.

[bobluvbot]

birthday blues

pairing: sirius black x f!reader  summary: first time godfather sirius goes shopping to find the perfect first birthday gift (jily + baby harry ♥️) wc: 5k a/n: me tryna heal canon trauma ❤️ because in my world everyone lives happily ever after !!! my lil celebration piece for hitting 200 followers! thank u all <3 not proofread, english is not my first language so plz be nice heheh

“What’s the store called again, sweets?”

even as a young kid, one of your biggest pet peeves is repeating yourself for more than four times. three is pushing it. your parents told you its a bad habit to take to adulthood because you’re bound to meet people who just don’t get what you’re saying the first or second time around. But one Wednesday morning, when you asked from upstairs where your favorite periwinkle socks were and your parents downstairs said something that the loud dishwasher and vacuum covered up, you asked them to repeat it again (still can’t hear), and again when you moved closer to the staircase down (barely heard any), then you heard your father’s heavy footsteps up, personally shoving in your waiting hand the said pair of socks.. only damp. “Honey, I said three times already, that they were still in the dryer,” your dad had huffed before heading back downstairs. That’s when you knew it was genetic. 

But, you love Sirius Black. It’s gotten to the point where in the honest, sensitive hours past midnight, while there was nothing much to do as you let sleep creep up from your tired limbs to your fluttering eyelids, but to watch peace settle on the raven-haired boy’s sharp features, ethereal and glowing like an angel even in the dark of the night; that you realize he may be the love of your life. It’s a scary thought, with fears of being too eager, too soon, too much—- so you tuck it in a little pocket and give it a nudge when you need a reminder of how big and true its growing with each second spent together. 

You love him, so you breathe out the snarky irritation away in slow heavy puffs and inhale peace, choosing to exercise patience because you know Sirius is nervous. 

“It’s Spintwitches Sporting Needs, love. ‘s right across Ollivanders if I’m not mistaken,” you say, taking his free hand in yours and rubbing small circles on his knuckles to calm some of his nerves down, while he drives through busy muggle London streets to park by the Leaky Cauldron. He throws you a soft smile and gives your hand a quick squeeze as thanks, grateful to the heavens that you’re here to keep him from going insane.

You know him enough that, while the day in question is not about him, or you, or your relationship, it meant a great deal to Sirius. 

He had one chance (even if you’d argue otherwise) to make things right, do things the right way the first time around with Harry. James knew this fact by heart, which is why he and Lily agreed in a heartbeat that Sirius should be little Harry’s godfather, as it was meant to be. He would do anything, go beyond means, hell, even against Merlin himself just to ensure the safety and happiness of his godson. 

No one, however, was expecting it to backfire and it caught you and Sirius off guard. Once the tears dried and elation diffused, the anxiety kicked in for Sirius, and in turn you. He knew what the opposite was, parents who robbed their own sons of happy childhoods and disowned him when he got brave enough to find happiness and protect it, he had lived it. And now that he has a chance to save an innocent soul from a similar fate, he was determined, but this fact scared him shitless.

He wanted everything to be perfect (who wouldn’t?) and gave everything he physically could to make James and Lily’s Harry’s life easy and happy. Seeing Sirius buy ‘How to Dad?’ books and pour over them at night or on his free time at work was undoubtedly an attractive and loving sight. In a span of a week, he knew which is the best formula to supplement with breastfeeding, toys to pick that stimulate early brain development, even clothes made with hypoallergenic materials that won’t irritate the sensitive newborn skin. It came to a point where James would ask him for advice when Lily’s at work, and Sirius would put on his trusty reading glasses and point at a specific passage of ‘How to Dad?’ that answers James’ question perfectly. 

Eventually, you did have to put your foot down when you found Sirius writing a howler to a baby food company when rumors started going around that their baby snack puffs (which Harry was obsessed with) had harmful chemicals in it. In typical Sirius fashion, he wasn’t convinced that easily. You’d bet that what pushed him off the howler letter route (and in turn protect the statute of wizarding secrecy) was seeing you spend lots of time in the kitchen to perfect making banana and strawberry baby snack puffs from scratch until the recall was over and the food was deemed safe to be consumed again by experts and Sirius himself. 

Hearing many iterations of how the newborn days and months go by so fast was difficult to believe at times, especially when you and Sirius were babysitting to let the exhausted parents get some sort of reprieve multiple times a month. It was almost always the same. Harry would sleep for four hours straight during the night, and almost hourly right after; and while you and sirius had gotten pretty good at dividing up the tasks like bottle feeding and nappy changes equally, the shrill cry of a hungry baby is difficult to ignore and sleep through. 

So despite of Sirius’s best efforts to crawl out of bed and tip-toe to the bassinet quietly not to wake your sleeping form, he gets sad but unsurprised to see you pad towards him and the baby, yawning soundlessly as you squeeze yourself between the soft armrest and Sirius’s side, head resting on his shoulder. It was his idea to get a spacious, soft recliner in the bedroom and it came in handy for situations like these, where getting back to bed once Harry sleeps is too risky as the boy would just wake up with the slightest movement, so the next best option was to try getting rest wherever you ended up in. The cries that once overpowered Sirius’s hushed whispers and cooing finally quiets down. A sigh of relief leaves both your lips, basking in the comfortable silence and bodies finding solace in each other’s warmth. 

You want to say so many things to your lovely boyfriend, things he just has to hear: that he’s doing such a great job, that you see him and all the extra steps he has to take to become and do better than what he was raised for, that you love him for every single bit of it— but the right words don’t come easy when sleep-deprived and exhausted at 4:25am in the morning. So you lift your lips up to meet his temple, the side of his mouth, then his lips; hoping it’d convey what words couldn’t at the moment. 

But time is an experienced thief. It was a Saturday afternoon in the middle of May and it was warm enough for you to whip out the frilly spring dresses that had been pushed to the back of your closet by the thick woolen coats from colder months. The boys had gone on a day trip to help Peter move into his first solo apartment, assembling furniture and stocking up on necessities to ensure he could survive on his own. Without the booming voices and bumbling energy of his father and godfather, little Harry had no choice but to match the calm and peaceful ambiance that you and Lily curated inside the Potter house. While it’s certainly different from what his everyday looks like (living with the likes of James), he seems to enjoy it. Gentle breeze from the windows Lily left open while she baked carry the smell of lemons and vanilla throughout the entire house, making it smell heavenly. You’d been sat on the floor by the dining table, surrounded by toy trains and colorful blocks, watching the ten-month-old munch on a toy graphorn adoringly. Recently, he’s been on a phase where he has to run anything he could get his hands on with his mouth. Some secret test or screening must be up there or something because that’s how Harry decides which toys are deserving of his attention for the day.

You’d picked up a toy set of magical creatures after work yesterday, and it won the almost toddler’s attention for the whole day. James had to snatch the toy niffler away from Harry’s grasp so he could say goodbye to his son and ask for a kiss. Safe to say there were no kisses exchanged because the little boy was too busy wailing and screaming at his father’s face. Lily had to create physical distance between her two boys so the younger one can calm down while the older got mopey. Sirius had to whisk his best friend away from the scene of the crime so that they can get on with the day, but not without leaving you a kiss. 

The said niffler had soon been replaced with the hippogriff, then now the graphorn, and it’s been sitting on your lap since. Harry suddenly pulls the toy graphorn out of his mouth with a resounding pop. You both share a second or two of shocked eye contact and silence, his bright green eyes wide with surprise, before triggering a belly flipping laughing fit. This child could shock himself with a sudden burp or an unexpected sound of hitting random things with a fork, and you’d laugh every single time like its the funniest cutest thing you’ve seen in your life. It’s likewise for the rest of the marauders. Being the first baby of the group had all the adults wrapped in his pudgy fingers and he has no idea. 

Harry’s eyes drop from your smiling face to the Niffler on your lap, and makes grabby hands. You almost, almost give in, but you decide to encourage him to go get it himself. Maybe today’s the day he starts to walk. You move to him a bit closer, probably a good seven baby steps in between. 

“You want the Niffler, bud? You have to go get it from me!” You make a show out of grabbing the toy from your lap multiple times, hoping it’d make sense to the little boy. 

He whines something sounding like your name and does more impatient grabby hands. But you weren’t giving up without a fight. “C’mon, Haz! You can do it,” you say enthusiastically. 

Harry did know how to stand and good thing you were both sat near the dining table chairs, so to alleviate some of your aunt guilt you tuck the niffler away and out of Harry’s reach, before helping him up to his feet and urging him to grab one of the chair legs for support. 

He stays upright, eyes still on the toy that you place again on your lap as you return to your original spot, and you clap with glee. “Great job, buddy! Okay, only a few steps to me and you’ll get the toy!”

Lily, curious to see the commotion happening on her kitchen floor, leans against the counter for a better view. Harry sees this and does the same thing, he looks at her pleadingly while making grabby hands and pointing to the niffler on your lap. You can tell the redhead’s fighting the mom urge to make her child’s life easier, but thank the heavens when she gives your same answer. She even moves to kneel beside you, waving to get her son’s attention and pointing at the niffler on your lap.

“C’mon, my sweet boy,” Lily says. “Mama knows you can do it!”

Motivated by frustration as his aunt and own mother won’t just hand him his goddamn toy, Harry whines angrily but makes a sideways step closer, death grip still on one of the chair legs. You and Lily squeal and clap in delight, urging the boy to do it again.

He makes a move for another step, but realizes that there’s no more legs to grab onto. Reluctantly, his right hand lets go and in turn faces you and Lily. This results in another round of applause, which serves like a drug to these little babies. 

An anxious expression fleetingly appears on his face as he looks to you both, but the encouragement and cooing seemed to scare those big feelings away. Determined, Harry makes an unsure step forward without support, which then makes both yours and Lily’s heartbeat jump. It all happened so quick, the fear of losing balance triggered Harry’s other leg catch him on impulse, then the same on the other leg, then the other. Harry’d made four successful steps on his own before his mom catches him in her embrace before he topples over to the floor.

You and Lily were a sobbing, exultant mess. Harry, clearly confused about the commotion, whines for the niffler while Lily kisses him all over his face. You hand it to his waiting palms like a trophy before ruffling his unruly hair.  An attempt for words has been made, but all that came from your mouth are garbled phrases about the miracle that just happened. Lily nods in agreement and you hug them both back. 

This ten-month old just walked. This is the same baby that kept you and Sirius up at night for his feedings. The same baby responsible for the drool and spit up marks on your shirts. The same baby that  laughs and babbles with you like he understands when you tell him random stories. The same baby that squeals in delight when you blow raspberries on his belly. 

It felt like he had just been born a few days ago, memories of changing hundreds of nappies and preparing bottles of milk still vivid in your mind. But it’s earth shattering to consider that he’s closer to being a one year old than to the little bundle handed to you by James in the hospital room. 

Time is unrelenting, stealing mundane moments behind your back and when you realize the loss, poof! The newborn you held in your arms is now a walking toddler. Soon, he’ll be the one talking your ears off, going to Hogwarts, driving a car.. You shiver at the thought. He was growing up so fast that blinking felt like cheating, afraid that you’ll miss a precious moment that you’ll never get back. 

His first birthday came in the same manner— too fast for both yours and Sirius’s liking, but the wistful feelings came with excitement as Harry being a toddler opened up lots more opportunities to play and discover the world around him. James and Lily had spent the whole month planning a big birthday bash to celebrate the kiddo’s life, inviting all their loved ones to share the special day with them. And with that, the pressure was on for Sirius, as the self-proclaimed best godfather to get the perfect first birthday gift.

It’s like the heavens knew it was a special day for you both that it made sure to put out the best shopping weather one could ever ask for—- not too warm or too cold. It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant the adults were kept in workplaces and children sent to Hogwarts or in homeschooling, leaving Diagon Alley nearly deserted, minus the occasional stray shoppers entering and leaving shops here and there. Clad in color coordinated couples outfits (that was your thing recently, Sirius more than happy to oblige) and hand in hand, you begin the mission to locate Spintwitches Sporting Needs. 

Nostalgia always finds a way to seep into your bones whenever you find yourself in Diagon Alley. One blink and suddenly you’re ten again, both hands tucked in each parent’s as your mom pours over the list of school supplies you’ll need again for your first year at Hogwarts. You and Sirius see Ollivanders at a short distance and hear the entrance bell chime, the very same sound you heard when entering the shop for the first time, the shopkeeper taking one good look at you before immediately rummaging around the store, grabbing a specific box located on a random shelf four stories up. The look of confidence when he says it’s made just for you, a magical glow enveloping your tiny frame while opening the magenta box. That same magic guided you to a world where you truly belonged in, a castle that felt so much like home, and friends that soon became found family and lifelong partners. The thought of Harry soon experiencing these moments leaves a giddy feeling in your chest. 

The smoky sweet scent of freshly roasted chestnuts catches your attention and you discreetly look for the source of your favorite warm snack. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sirius (hardly nothing ever does, even the things you wish he’d miss or forget), and he gives your hand a small tug. You try to be aloof as you return his waiting gaze, complete with a quirk of your eyebrow, to which he responds with an impish smirk towards your bad acting.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that look, sweets.” The amusement in his voice is palpable as he steers you away from the main walkway and towards the small chestnut stall tucked in an alleyway, almost hidden by the bigger shops surrounding it.

“But, the store’s right there, Siri,” you try to protest. He had been anxious and stressed out about this day in particular, you knew if you were in his shoes, you’d be beelining to the store as soon as you get off the car. But he just shakes his head like its the obvious choice and nods towards the cart. “Can’t have my girl hungry now.” 

After a failed attempt of trying to pay for the warm brown bag (you were no match for Sirius’s lithe, agile fingers in basically everything), you accept it with a sigh, giving yourself a few seconds to sulk before starting on the chestnuts. You weren’t the best at accepting things from other people just because, it always felt like you had to do something in return for them just to deserve it. Maybe that’s why the universe conspired to have you meet and fall for Sirius, who is a very enthusiastic giver, teaching you hard lessons on the daily.

As you begin the journey back to the shop, you carefully crack open one and hold it up to Sirius’s mouth, to which he happily obliged. “Mm, somehow chestnuts taste better when you handfeed me, dove. Do it again.”

You roll your eyes in response, but you find your fingers starting to peel another. “You’re lucky you’re good looking, Black,” you mutter to save some face, that you weren’t head over heels for this man and he to you. That’s a conversation to be had in another, less stressful day. 

The shop, painted electric blue and orange, wasn’t hard to miss. One step in and the welcoming aroma of broom polish, rubber, and smoky wood brings you right back to the Quidditch locker rooms; memories of frantically lacing up your boots a minute or two after James called you as backup for an injured beater, helping Marlene comb out the tail end to fix the broom alignment after practice, and getting pinned to the cool lockers during post-win celebratory makeout sessions with Sirius, replaying vividly in your head. 

It looked deceivingly small on the outside; aside from the expansive selection of different broomstick models, they had books and magazines about Quidditch strategies and featured famous matches, repair and maintenance kits for maintaining broomstick qualities, complete Quidditch gear for all shapes and sizes, and tiny practice snitches flying around the room. Squint and it’ll just be like how each Hogwarts common room would be decorated when there’s a big Quidditch match between houses or international ones in the world cup: streamers and accessories like horns and banners representing each team, posters of Chudley Cannons and Holyhead Harpies (in opposing corners to prevent unsolicited fights) accompanied by autographs of famous players and collectibles littering almost every surface of the walls. It was Quidditch dreamland. 

Still in awe admiring the displays as you both walk through aisles hand in hand, Sirius breaks the silence first. “What do you think Harry will play as in Quidditch?”

You hum in response and he continues, running his hands through the bat display they had for little kids.  “I bet he’d be a beater like me. You remember how that punk hit me straight on the face last week?” 

You nod in amusement. Sirius had played it cool as he gently laid Harry back in his playpen, still laughing and cooing, then as soon as little Harry turned his back on his uncle, Sirius ran to you for first aid and whined the whole time you were healing the already forming bruise. But not a few hours later, he’s bouncing the baby in his arms again as he gave him a tour of the backyard. 

“Yeah, those little fists definitely pack a punch.”

“How about you, love?”

Sifting through a year’s worth of memories, it was surprisingly easy to find your answer. “I think he’ll follow James’s footsteps and be a seeker.” 

Sirius’s pout becomes evident, making you giggle and tug on his arm in efforts to cheer him up. “Think about it. Ever since prongslet got those glasses, it’s harder to hide anything from him now because his eyes are so quick. Poor Crookshanks too, that cat can’t catch a break now when Haz wants to play because he tracks its movements.” 

Sirius lets out a soft chuckle and slings his arm around your shoulders to hold you closer. “Good point, good point,” he repeats, seemingly deep in thought as his fingers run up and down the small of your arm. “We shall see, whatever he decides to play as, or if he even plays at all, I’ll be proud of him.”

You look up to him as he absentmindedly stares at the Quidditch gear sets for little kids, a light, wistful smile on his handsome features. He might not say it out loud, but the love he has for his godson reverberates through his being, and its a warming sight to see. 

Before you confess your love for your boyfriend in the middle of a Quidditch store, you whisk him away and towards the toy broom display, the only thing you were both here for. Only the big bright signs directed you to the right place, which didn’t prepare you at all for the heart exploding sight.

You’re about to burst into tears seeing how cute and tiny the little toy brooms were, and how they came in complete with tiny versions of the headlights, seats, and bag compartments the usual adult broom comes with. Both you and Sirius stood with mouths agape for a solid minute as you took in the expansive display, before your lovely boyfriend proceeds to pick out the most expensive one with the most features on it from the batch.

Surprisingly, it was you who reminded him to grab a helmet before running off to purchase the toy broom, the giddiness and excitement spreading between the two of you. The cashier gives both of you a knowing look as you and Sirius both mellowed down from full giggles to bashful smiles, examines the broom to be purchased, and asks, “For your little one?”

Now, you were no stranger to conversations like these with former lovers in the past, and you could almost hear the typical response of denial that comes swiftly with the question. It used to hurt, even if you knew by heart that that person didn’t have the fifth date potential or that it just wouldn’t last. It’s that unexplainable feeling of shame and rejection when they’d realize that it won’t work with you before you would, or if they answer with a laugh, as if having a future with you is an appalling thought. You’ve gotten better with it throughout the years, but for some reason your skin crawls with the thought of Sirius saying the same things. Years of desensitization down the drain, you find yourself bearing your entire soul to the man beside you the entire relationship, and he can easily break you into two with his response. You cross your fingers that he won’t.

He was already looking when your gaze met his, a look of softness and tenderness from him so profound you wondered if you were deserving of it. The surge of butterflies in your belly was all consuming. 

Sirius shifts uneasily and shakes his head, you prepare for the worst. “For our nephew, not for our own child..,” he pauses, glancing back at you for a quick second. “Yet. But if all goes according to my sneaky plan, we might be back sooner than she thinks.”

The cashier chuckles at your stunned reaction as you shift your focus between him and your boyfriend who was both furiously blushing and actively avoiding your stare. Did you just get a marriage proposal? 

Taking advantage of your confusion, Sirius pays for everything including the gift wrapping, which you had previously argued about who was responsible paying (you won, not that that matters now). You let him tug your arm and guide you out of the store, saying a quick thank you to the amused cashier. The influx of butterflies were back, tickling your insides and spreading warmth in each crevice. Just seeing Sirius handle the rambunctious mini James with care and glee, makes it so easy for you to imagine a life with him, and eventually have a little bean that’s equal parts of you and him. You hope they’d get the best parts of both.

No one brings it up as you began your journey back to the car and you’re grateful. Gift bag swinging on your arm, you drag Sirius to go get ice cream to which he happily obliges. 

A gentle quiet settles on accomplished shoulders like a warm blanket as you settle in the car. Strawberry and vanilla fudge ice cream sticky sweet on each other’s lips as you exchange cones every once in a while. It would be enough to lull you to sleep, if not for Sirius’s deep breaths and sighs, the thundering of his heart that he tries to quell by discreetly scratching a small part of the steering wheel where his thumb usually lay. 

He breaks the silence first, an uneasy tone making his voice seem small. “Do you think he’ll like it, dove?”

“Yes, Siri. I know he’ll love it.” You try your best to enunciate the right words, but a conflicted expression marrs his handsome features, sending a twinge to your heart. 

It comes to you before he speaks. This was something that had been plaguing Sirius’s mind for a while, occupying his dreams and thoughts, embedding itself to his mind and causing unwarranted amounts of stress. You resist the urge to fill in the blanks for him because it has to come from him and him only. 

But after everything he’s been through, what seems easy for most sometimes is the hardest to muster. “Siri,” you pause, waiting until he looks up at you and you keep his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His gray orbs still before the dam breaks. “I’m sorry, love.” He chokes. “If I’m being so difficult, irky, irritated, anxious, everything.”

Hot tears run down his cheeks and it’s a painful watch. wanting nothing but to wipe it off and tuck him in your embrace and promise him he won’t be hurt as long as you’re there, but you can’t. The best thing you could do for him is to let it all out and finally feel.

He stares ahead on the city road with fingers trembling on the wheel. “I’m just so scared. So scared. James and Lily have been amazing parents, I can’t say same thing for myself but I try my best. Sometimes I still feel like he deserves someone better to be his godfather,” he sobs. “I just love him so much. I want only the best for him. I just want him to be happy and healthy all the time.”

After a while, you say with a bittersweet tone. “You know we can’t promise that, Siri,” you sigh. “Storms will come and will do damage and hurt and things that we can’t undo,” you pause, sniffling as you take your right hand to guide him to face you again, vulnerable gray eyes meeting yours. “But you know what?”

You give him an assuring smile, speaking the truth. “He’s gonna be alright because little as he is right now, he is so loved and adored by so many people, so loved by his parents. And so loved by his godfather.”

It wasn’t said aloud, it doesn’t need to. Loud as it could be, Sirius knows what you’re about to say; that his ability to love despite of everything he’s been through, despite of his own family ruthlessly trying to rob him of the ability to do so. That’s the type of love that Sirius gives, a love that withstands rain and abandonment; a love that stays after a rough storm, offering a home always open to go to when times are rough and feelings are still hurt; a love that tells the truth even when its hardest to hear. 

You know all this as an easy fact because you’re at the receiving end. Even if you hadn’t heard it from his lips yet.

“Have I told you I love you?”

A watery smile spreads on your face as you shake your head. “No, but i feel it everyday.”

“I love you, Y/N.” It leaves his lips like breaths, naturally and easily. 

It’s the same thing for you, too. “I love you too, Siri.” 

And it ends with sticky kisses that taste of vanilla fudge and berries.

[zosanthoughts]

What if Zoro came back from the time skip with an appreciation for corsets. (courtesy of Perona)

Maybe it started as something to supplement his training. Exstra support for his recovering body so he wouldn't overtax himself. Maybe it continued as endurance training or mobility training when he was well enough to tighten them.

Regardless, imagine Sanji's reaction when Zoro walks in for breakfast one morning with a underbust corset, perhaps instead of his Haramaki.

He has to do a double take, because it's the same colour as his Haramaki. But no, the moss is most certainly wearing a fucking corset.

Sanji is saved from Zoro witnessing him picking his brain and jaw up from the floor by the few on the crew who also notice.

But Zoro is incredibly blasé about it. It's useful, he likes wearing them, what does it matter?

Sanji thinks he's gotten his reactions under control. At least until their first proper fight with one in the mix.

Zoro is wearing a full corset this time. If the sight of his pecks in it contributed to Sanji's mounting frustration, it was for only Sanji to know and ignore.

At least until he delivers a kick to Zoros gut.

Sanji has kicked Zoro hundreds of times. He's familiar enough that he immediately notices the difference. This wasn't some whale bone corset, this was properly reinforced. Likely a custom job to withstand the kind of trouble they frequently got into.

Any thought of voicing that revelation however is immediately lost when the blow of his kick to the corset redistributes the force and causes Zoros pecks to jiggle.

Sanji wakes up in the infirmity to a worried Chopper muttering about nose bleeds, and Zoro with the biggest fucking grin on his face.

Sanji is absolutely fucked.

[sorinethemastermind]

The Banther Lodge

In which the Katolis survivors arrive at The Banther Lodge, and Corvus and Soren remember the last times they were there. #Sorvus

 Corvus remembered the last time he had been at The Banther Lodge. It had been back at the start of all of this, when General Amaya had tasked him with tracking down and rescuing the princes. Of course, they had never needed saving in the first place. It was something they could laugh about now, and Rayla seemed the find the place a bit nostalgic, if in a bittersweet way; going to show Runaan around the cabin and the spot where they’d set off on the river. He faintly overheard something about a giant fish before they turned a bend and vanished from sight.

 The camp was already in the process of being rebuilt, and he could see Soren out of the corner of his eye helping a family to erect their tent. As much as he wanted to go over and lend a hand, he knew their skills were better allocated separately in these circumstances, and so walked to the far side of the camp where there was nobody else with a Camp Katolis level of knowledge of tents and knot tying to offer assistance. 

 It had been wise of King Ezran to bring everyone here. The lodge itself was big enough to offer shelter to the wounded and smaller children, protecting them from chill nights and offering some much needed comfort, and the clearing outside had plenty of room for the tents and a great big fire pit, so that they needn’t overcrowd any one location. Maybe there would even be some food left over in the pantries and they could supplement their new diet of berries with some more familiar flavors. Corvus wondered if he could catch fish in the river.

 And of course, it was easier to mark on a map than some spot in the woods was, which also meant it would be much easier for the relief effort from Duren to find them. Corvus had to admit he was a little surprised by how quickly they had responded to Ezran’s request for aid. They had only sent crows out to the other kingdoms a few mornings ago, and yet they had gotten a reply almost as fast as birds could fly.

 The trek to The Banther Lodge had taken several days, and based on Queen Aanya’s reply, they could expect aid to arrive anytime now. So all they had to do was find enough food and keep morale up until they got here and could help put things to right for good. Not that Corvus really knew what that looked like without the castle, and these people’s homes. And with Aaravos on the loose. And with Claudia-

 Corvus’ foot caught on a small circle of stones that hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited. Looking down, he saw the charred remnants of a small fire pit. Claudia. It made sense that they would have traveled through here on their way to the castle, but the idea still hadn’t occurred to him until now. He glanced up, looking around for any other signs of their passage. But it was pointless. Their path would only lead back to the castle and the fire already looked at least a week old. Corvus sighed, kicking dirt and leaves over it until it was indistinguishable from the forest floor around it. Maybe it was better that Soren not be reminded of her right now, when there was nothing else that could be done. Not until the survivors were safe.

 Where was Soren, he realized, glancing about again. He had spent a good amount of time flitting from group to group, and now, with most of the tents set up and the injured done being carried into the lodge, he couldn’t spot him anywhere. A chill of fear ran through him. Could he have found some other sign of his sister and wandered off to try and find her? Or was she still here somehow, having returned after finding the castle in ruins?

 Corvus’ feet carried him quickly into the lodge, the only place he could think that she could have hidden, but a quick survey of the rooms found them all empty. With his heart thudding heavily in his chest he exited the building and rounded it’s corner, letting out a sigh of relief as he caught sight of his partner. 

 Soren was sat on the edge of a stone bridge that crossed the river, feet dangling over the water. His shoulders were hunched, hair falling into his face and obscuring his expression from view. But Corvus didn’t need to see his face to guess how he was feeling.

 He walked up beside him quietly, maybe a little too quietly, because he jumped when he spotted him, nearly toppling forward into the river. Only Corvus’ quick reflexes and steadying grip stopped him from falling headfirst into the water.

 “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Soren exclaimed once he’d steadied himself, though he was laughing a bit too. 

 “Sorry.” Corvus boosted himself up to sit on the stone wall beside him, studying his expression carefully.

 Soren’s smile faded as he watched, and he looked back out over the water. Corvus waited until he was ready to talk. 

 “The last time I was here…” he said at last, voice trailing off.

 Corvus leaned a shoulder against his, and Soren wrapped a hand around his waist, pulling him in closer. He took a breath and started again, eyes still fixed on the water lapping just below their feet.

 “Last time I was here we were trying to find the princes. I called them the step-prince and the crown runt.” he recalled with a wince. “And Clauds-” his voice faltered on her nickname before he tried again. “She was going to cast this spell to track them, and we had to go and get all these weird ingredients, and there was this cave full of glowy things, and I made a really great joke but I don’t even know if she got it and-”

 He let out a huffing breath, “and I can’t help but feel like if I’d told her then, when she was like that, when I was still her brother, that maybe she would have listened to me. That maybe she’d be here right now, and we could go to that cave and collect the glowy things and use them to, I don’t know, track Aaravos or something. Or we wouldn't need to because he wouldn’t even be out!” Soren threw his hands up into the air, almost knocking himself into the river again, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Because if I had just been a better brother we wouldn’t even be in this mess in the first place.”

 “You are still her brother.” Corvus said after a moment, once he’d calmed down. “And you were a good brother. You couldn’t have changed this.”

 “I left her.” he said quietly. “Just like Mom left us.”

 Soren had never talked about his mother, not once in the years Corvus had known him. He had rarely talked about his family at all, other than the occasional quickly stifled comment. 

 “Soren, I don’t know why your mother left, but whatever happened is not your fault. Just like how what Claudia has done is not your fault.”

 “But-”

 “No buts.” Corvus cut him off with a shake of his head. “For someone who’s always comforting others, you sure are bad at being comforted.”

 The corner of Soren’s mouth twitched up a bit and he leaned his head on Corvus’ shoulder. “Thank you. For being here. And for listening.”

 “I’m sure that if you just told the others-”

 “I don’t want to tell them.” Soren muttered into his neck. “I only really want to tell you.”

 Corvus didn’t know why that made his face all warm, not when everything was so dire and Soren needed his help, but it did.  “I’m happy to listen. And you’ve done everything you could. You may have made mistakes, Soren. But you’ve always had a big heart. These were her choices. Not giving up on her is all you can do now.”

 “I won’t. Give up on her, I mean.”

 “I know.”

 “Do you think…”

 “I think she knows it too.”

[morimementa]

More NikPrice mpreg.

Price enjoys doing the Headphones on the Bump trick so the baby can listen to music. Little Mouse really likes Vivaldi and Rolling Stones. Of course, when Nikolai tries to throw some heavy metal in the mix, the baby throws a temper tantrum.

Nikolai: I only wanted to introduce him to cathartic music...

Price: Well, your cathartic music had him punching my kidneys.

Nik had to sleep on the sofa that night. Price forgave him after an apology cuddle and backrub.

Remember that line in MW3 about him always being headachy and nauseous? Well, morning sickness puts job stress to shame. Gaz comes over one day armed with every tea his mom used while she was pregnant with him and they finally find one that works. Nikolai may or may not have mapped out all the shops that sell it in case they run out.

For the tail end of the second trimester and part of the third, the baby is a night owl. More than once Price has to crawl out of bed to walk around or try to sleep in the easy chair. Nik is a light enough sleeper that he usually wakes up for it. When that happens, he'll rub Price's belly and sing to Little Mouse until he falls asleep.

The nesting instinct hits hard come the third trimester. Nikolai has to stop his husband from climbing on a chair to dust the ceiling. Their bedroom get rearranged multiple times.

Price's hair grows in thicker and longer, including facial hair. Much trimming is required. Nikolai approves very much. He may or may not be prone to gazing at him adoringly. This always ends in Price telling him to quit staring and kiss him already.

God help you if you refer to him being in a "delicate condition". No one makes that mistake twice.

Nikolai puts a lot of effort into assembling a small library of Russian children's books. Price supplements with some Winnie the Pooh.

Nikolai bought Price a pregnancy pillow and Price is in love with it. Nik may or may not be a little jealous.

They still spoon during naps, though. It's heaven to be able to hold his husband and touch his tummy to feel their son kicking. Sometimes Nik doesn't sleep, just watches his husband sleep. They're both incredibly thankful that this was able to happen at all. They've walked through hell and moments like this are their reward.

If you want to sends asks about COD Mpreg, my inbox is open!

[shortstrawberry]

This line stays in my head rent free. So here's sexy doctor Bela Dimiterescu headcannons.

You have been suffering with knee pain as of late. And headaches. And a constantly clogged nose. Okay fine, your body is doing shit right now. So you find yourself at your most hated place: the hospital.

Last time you visited a hospital, you had to deal with a middle aged dude drolling away his prescription at you. Thankfully this time, you got a young and daresay beautiful doctor, Dr. Bela Dimiterescu.

Unfortunately, Dr Dimiterescu was as mean as she was beautiful. She proceeded to scold you for ten minutes for your lack of vegetables in diet. Hey, it's not your fault vegetables suck. She also proceeded to scold you for drinking only 2 glasses of water per day.

"But I drink 2 big glasses!!"

"Not enough! You need 2 LITRES to live a functional life! God, I don't even want to imagine the smell of your toilet!"

That was a low blow. You'll let it go though. Only because she is such a beautiful blondie.

Dr Bela handed you a two page long prescription, mostly filled with supplements and diet regime instructions. She also insisted that you give her biweekly visits for the next 6 months so she can "monitor" your progress.

"Monitor me, huh? You don't need to invite me to hospital for that, Doc."

You were expectedly kicked out of her cabin for that.

Nevertheless, like a devoted patient, you visited her without fail for the next three months. In the first month, you noticed that Dr Bela barely has any food herself. Being a doctor is hard, considering hospitals often run understaffed. Not to mention, Dr Bela has a habit of taking on work upon herself so that her juniors and colleagues can take a break. Who knew such a hardass can be such a softie?

So for your next visit, you make sure you bring a packed lunch for your favourite blonde doctor. This time, you were the hardass one and refused to be kicked out until she finishes the food that you cooked for her. You know you make a mean adobo, and seeing her moaning reaction at the first bite (hot), you know she agrees.

After this first time success, your audacity to keep Dr Bela Dimiterescu well-fed quadrapled. You visited the hospital again next day but this time dropped the lunch to Dr Bela's nurse. Next day you visited again with lunch and asked the nurse if your favourite doctor ate the lunch or threw it away. Your heart glowed when the nurse said Dr Bela ate the lunch with the grumpiest smile on her face.

In your next visit to Dr Bela, the blonde snappingly asked you to deliver the lunch to her personally if you're so insistent on this "useless endeavour". You wanted to digress about the useless part, seeing how Dr Bela seemed to be less pale then before. But you let it go. You tease the blonde too much and she'll make your next blood test painful.

(She never does. Dr Bela always holds your hand gently when she draws out blood)

In the third month, you find Dr Bela absent in the hospital for your appointment. You get to know that she is visiting her family back in Romania and won't be back until your next biweekly check-in. Disheartened, you turn to walk away, but the nurse has already called in a substitute for you. The replacement doctor was was polite and appreciated your efforts to stay healthy. But it hurts when the new doctor drew out blood.

Next appointment you dutifully show up again, excited to see your grumpy doctor. However, today Dr Bela was decidedly more grumpy then ever. Her jaw was tight and her fists clenched, as if someone has taken away her morning coffee.

"Did you see another doctor last week?!"

You could only blink owlishly at her, nodding in yes. What else are you supposed to say to your regular doctor who is decidedly jealous? Even when you try to explain that hey, "you were not present that time", the blonde doctor snapped even more at you.

"Doesn't matter! Damnit, you could have called me! We could have done a virtual check! You have my number, don't you? You didn't call me, not even once!"

"Wait, I'm allowed to call you?"

"Of course you are! Why else did I give you my personal number for!"

Oh. You did wonder why Dr Bela didn't give you her professional card. Now it makes sense. And now you suddenly feel like a idiot. Thankfully, Dr Bela just rolled her eyes at you, called you a idiot, and demanded to know if you're free this weekend.

Suffice to say, from now on you both have regular checkups outside the hospital.

Got any ideas you want me to write on? Just drop me a request and I'll write it!

(Also a Donna fanfic is in works. Yes, it's the Professor one!)

[copperbadge]

Did you end up dropping the saffron to see if you could detect a difference, and if so what was your conclusion?

For context, Anon is asking about saffron supplements' possible benefit for people with ADHD -- funnily enough, the saffron my mother gave me is culinary and totally unrelated. I've had it for about a year and just now got round to cooking with it.

The supplemental saffron is something I heard about from a parent of a couple of kids with ADHD. She was having trouble getting their meds during the shortage, and she said she'd heard saffron could help, so she'd tried that. She said she'd seen some reduction in the hyperactivity more than she'd seen an increase in focus.

I'm skeptical of holistic and herbal treatments for medical conditions mainly because when something non-pharmaceutical works, modern pharma tends to co-opt it and turn it into medication very quickly. I was encouraged mainly because she wasn't a crunchy No Prescriptions parent, she WANTED her kids to have their meds, she was just trying to get them anything that'd help in the meantime.

So I dug around and found that a study had been done in Spain that seemed to indicate 30mg of saffron, as a once-daily supplement, has some kind of impact on ADHD neurology. It was a short study and a small sample size, but the nice thing about saffron is we know its long-term effects, so the only real harm is being out $20 for a bottle of 30mg pills. (It is tough to find 30mg saffron supplements that don't look like a cult is making and selling them, and herbal remedies aren't subject to strict QA controls, so the real risk is you'll get pills with Something Else in them.)

But I did some tinkering, and I found that the best application for me is to take the saffron with an Adderall, where it seems to act as a kind of boost. I take 10mg instant-release twice daily but occasionally I take 20mg in the morning, something the psychiatrist gave me permission to do. Saffron plus 10mg Adderall hits a really good level for me; 20mg Adderall is occasionally helpful; saffron plus 20mg Adderall is Oh Dear Too Much.

Ultimately there's not a great way for me to test it while accounting for the placebo effect, although being fair to me that's not something I've been super subject to in the past. I notice a subtle boost with the saffron, and when I had to refill it I deliberately went without for a few weeks to see if I noticed a decline. I did have a few moments throughout that period of "Jeez, has my Adderall stopped working?" but mostly it just felt like a slower, gentler onset of effects. I've also tried taking saffron without the Adderall on weekends, to see if it improved my focus; I'd do something like take the saffron but pack a couple of Adderall, decamp from my place to the library or a cafe, and do some writing. Certainly saffron alone doesn't have the "well, I felt that kick in" effect Adderall does, so I wouldn't want to depend on it alone, but I generally didn't have to take the meds to focus when it was just something mellow like writing.

I suspect results may vary, since I was diagnosed with Inattentive, not Hyperactive or Mixed, and the saffron is meant to work on the hyperactive aspect. But yeah, it seems to have an effect for me that I miss when I don't take it. It's in one of those weird inbetween situations where we have some research but not enough, so I encourage folks to research it, try it for themselves, and just be healthily skeptical and cautious when doing so.

[ketavmorningkick]

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[billford-dump]

Stranger Avatar Stan Thoughts

It starts with his first new identity, not long after he was kicked out. He… enjoyed being someone else. He was no longer Stanley Pines, high school dropout, moron who ruined his genius brother's science fair project, the useless kid, the spare. Now he's Stan Pinington, a man who has just barely started existing, who is old enough to hold a proper job, who has never fucked up so badly he got kicked out, who is confident and smart and is going to make millions.

It doesn't turn out like that, of course. He gets fired from his new job after a week, barely earns enough to pay for food and gas. He keeps going, keeps trying, because at least this was better than being Stanley. Eventually he broke one too many laws and was forced to leave Jersey, but that's okay because now he was Leland Oakley, a new face with new opportunities.

And on and on, he became person after person after person. Never caught, never recognized when he didn't want to be.

Then came the day he had to become Stanford Pines. He's not sure how anyone actually believed he was his brother, the hands alone were a dead giveaway, not to mention the sudden lack of nerdiness. But still, he settled into his new role, molded it to fit him better, and eventually "Stanford Pines, the reclusive scientist" became "Stan Pines, the owner of the Murder Hut (later renamed the Mystery Shack)".

---

Stan doesn't even know he's an avatar. He's not a full one, never actually crossed the boundary between human and Not, still stuck between them. There was usually enough fear around to keep him from getting hungry, and the way that he could go weeks without eating if he had to was something he wasn't about to question. The only time he got seriously hungry was after Ford fell through the portal and he spent weeks (it was months, he survived for MONTHS on what little half-rotten food Ford had in his house) before he was so hungry he was forced to go into town.

He felt so much better, once he gave that first tour. He tells himself it's because now he has money, and money always makes him feel better. The townsfolk won't make eye contact with him, but something keeps a few of them coming back.

The Mystery Shack is the way he feeds himself, although he isn't aware of it. That mild fear of the tourists is enough, and at the height of tourist season he doesn't even have to sleep, he can work all night and feel fresh and ready to go in the morning. The off-season is another story, he'll fall asleep and wake up days later, telling himself he just forgot to mark the calendar.

(He knows there's something very, very wrong with him. But if it helps him get his brother back sooner, he will embrace that wrongness completely.)

---

He never closes down his wax museum. See, rather than them just being cursed wax figures, a few months after he stole them they stopped being constrained by their curse and started being animate all the time. And THEY were aware that Stan was nearly an avatar, and they enjoyed hanging out in his house, so they put in the effort to scare the shit out of people to feed him. Like paying rent. When the wax museum stopped pulling in money they got moved to the main area instead of locked up.

That, plus he can supplement his diet with human food.

Occasionally though, when all of that isn't enough, he'll feel… odd. He'll lead tourists through rooms he doesn't remember having and the tourists' expressions will change from that gullible interest he's so used to into fear, then terror, but they just follow him until the end of the tour and then leave immediately without buying anything. (They watch, as the old man acting as their tour guide looks less and less human, leads them past hanging, empty skin and people who aren't people, leads them past puppets and mannequins and people they Do Not Recognize, and the moment they're outside again they flee in terror and never even set foot in Oregon again.)

---

Then came the day he was finally, finally able to bring his brother back…. His brother, who barely recognized him, who treated him like a stranger when he first saw him, who seemed wary and on guard and kept protectively placing himself between Stan and the kids.

(Avatar Ford post here.)

[padfootscoldleathers]

i'll leave (a light on) ch.2

ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4, ch.5

Minnie watches them all pack in and file out before picking Sirius from the pack. "There's someone waiting for you on the bus."

He scrunches his brows together, "Is it our lawyer again? I swear it wasn't me this time and if it was I plead the fifth." Minnie stops them with a hand on his shoulder. 

"You are a citizen of the United Kingdom," she says, squinting. 

"A citizen in the United States of America, so I will be using their laws and I plead the fifth and will now be taking a vow of silence," he replies smoothly and continues walking out the building. Peter stops walking and waits for her to catch up. 

"Minnie," Pete whispers, "Want to make a bet?" 

McGonagall checks him top to bottom, "Let me hear it."

"We'll take guesses of how long it'll take for him to crack. Whoever's closer, timewise, wins. I say 20 minutes." Pete explains while they trail after Sirius and they both start a stopwatch.

"Six. What exactly are we betting?"

"I want to see what's in the locked box you keep in the drawer under the couch in the tour bus." Peter says it like he knows something or the curiosity has been eating at him. He shrugs, "I'll also take one item if it interests me."

Minerva's heels echo mutely on the concrete as they exit the building. She hums in agreement, "And when I win?" He thinks for a moment but draws a blank, "Anything you like, Minnie."

"A blank check is a dangerous game, Mister Pettigrew."

"Yeah, but it's you, what's the worst that can happen? I like to live on the edge a little and you wouldn't do wrong by me, would you, Minnie?"

"Nothing's concrete. You have yourself a deal." They shake hands and make their way outside to see Kingsley driving in ahead of them with the bus. They load in and not a moment later do they hear Sirius' surprised gasp. Then he starts rambling like a madman, making absolutely no sense but tangibly excited. Peter hears the strangled mutter of "I missed you too" before he realises he's already lost. He slowly turns his head to see Minnie holding up her phone stopped at 5:32. "I suppose I overestimated slightly. You won't be getting inside that box but you do owe me. I know you're a man of your word and if not... I'll call your mamá." Peter eyed her slowly head to heels and back, "You would, wouldn't you?That's low, Minnie." She grins like a cheshire and walks past him, heels clicking, "It's deliciously clever."

"Mm, I'm sure. Deliciously deceiving," he utters under his breath once she's gone. He makes his way over to where Sirius is wrapped tightly and rocking in place with an old friend. Peter smiles slow and fervently and trudges over as Sirius reluctantly lets go. He wraps his arms around her and hooks his chin over her shoulder, "It's lovely to see you, Marianne." Mary hugs him fondly, "I know." He knocks his head into hers and she snickers, "Alright, alright, lovely seeing you, dushi."

He pulls back and narrows his eyes at her suspiciously, "You're here early." Peter steps back completely to inspect her, eyes her head to toe. Then he paces around her, lifting her hair, arms, kicking in the backs of her knees and ducks when she tries to flick him for it. "Ay yai yai, calm down, I'm just checking your mobility. Meds, supplements?" he asks while he holds her face in both hands and turns it both ways. 

"Yes and yes, every morning." He tugs on her ears, checks her temperature with the back of his hand before nodding in approval. 

"How's the stump?" Peter asks, smirking. 

"You know I don't like calling him that," she utters unimpressed.

"Why didn't you choose Hephaestus, again?" Mary rolls her sparkling brown eyes at him. 

"Because the accident was a Hiccup in my life. Also 'half Hephaestus' doesn't sound cool; too many syllables." Peter grins at her with a small kick to her bionic leg. 

"Hey, you break it, you buy it." Sirius breaks out laughing behind her. 

"You're laughing but he cost me several months rent." Marlene walks in freshly drunk behind them and giggles, "A limb more like." That gets Dorcas snickering. Mary slowly raises her right brow and says, "That joke was dropped off a cliff and died harder than Fili in the Hobbit." A mourning silence fills the room and Marls's voice cracks as she mutters, "Ouch. I respect it, message received but... Damn."

Mary throws her arms around Dorcas and Marlene and fully kisses both their cheeks. "Marls, you’ve got to understand I hear that joke all the time, it's annoying now. It's like when people call you an oreo 'cause you have vitiligo or tell you to go back in the blender."

"That's more in line with bullying though. Do you feel like we're bullying you?" Cas asks with an arm snaked around Marlene's waist.

"I don't, but it gets irritating."

"I bully her," Peter cuts in. "Every day." He shakes his head like it's nothing. "It's my job as her brother." He pinches her cheeks from behind and like his abuela does to them sometimes. "Isn't that right, sugarplum." Mary's eyes are unimpressed in contrast. 

"¿Sabes qué, Chiquito?" She utters as she turns around and tries to grab at him, but Peter ducks and runs off to the bunks at the back of the bus in a fit of giggles. Although not before stealing a bottle of tequila from Marlene, who then chases after him, on the way. Dorcas then backs out of the lounge to 'save Minnie from a murder charge'.

Mary drops herself on the sofa and her eye twitches for a bit, then she sighs out as much of the air in her lungs as she can. She makes eye contact with Sirius and she can tell he knows. They've been friends for more than half their lives and he knows her on so many vulnerable levels. Sirius could always tell when Mary was loathing herself. Perhaps because it was so familiar to him, by guilt or by force. She thinks it's because when the quiet rolls in, she drifts away, that it's visible. Still, she hopes that if she drifts far enough, she won't even have to pretend her problems aren't happening. Dreams to be so far that their anxieties won't exist to her.

She sits there staring at him and gradually her eyes haze until she doesn’t really see anymore. Sirius pulls her in and Mary lays her forehead to the side of his neck as he rubs circles into her back. Sirius sings softly into her hair but Mary only gets the melody. It's soothing nonetheless. Something about being with her best friend is making all the shit she's going through finally sink in. It all crashes into her like pain after an adrenaline high and in all honesty – it just really has her feeling like a pile of shit.

Moments pass and the present feels like eternity and yet as if no time has passed at all. Time is measured between speed bumps and red lights while she wonders if this is what it feels like to be losing your mind. She doesn't get to think about it before she falls asleep. Lullabies will have that effect.

Sirius sits up and unrolls the sleeve down her prosthetic, gently removes the leg and puts it to charge. He scoops her up and walks her over to the bunks trying his best not to stumble as the bus turns a corner. He shifts her onto one of the beds but when he tries to pull the blanket over her finds Mary's hands clutching his sweater in a fist.

Peter and the girls drag out an 'awe' from the bunk across and he has to shush them. Sirius watches Mary’s face glisten with sweat for the single second it takes him to decide to climb in. He curls an arm around her head and strokes her hair as she tries to bury herself between his ribs. Mary gradually calms and Sirius wonders what the hell Lily Evans had done this time and what hair stylist she'd moved to.

thank you for reading but first mary macdonald. this is only here 'cause it's her birthday EVERYBODY SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARY

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@where-is-vivian @amberlink @wastingawayinmyroom @ashes-to-ashesxx @percabeth-trash

@equippedtolove @moon-girl88 @jamespotterbbg @drunktayloratthevmas @labyrinthhofmymind

@s0ggyguts @nyx-taylors-version @will-vs-the-homo-sapiens-adgenda @siriusly-insane

[delusionalfanficwriter]

vaccine

The emergency department was in chaos, with COVID cases pouring in at an alarming rate. Dr. Elena Rodriguez, despite her recent bout with the flu, was back at work, determined to do her part in the battle against the pandemic. She had been taking various supplements in an attempt to bolster her immune system, hoping it would compensate for not getting the COVID vaccine.

Amid the controlled chaos of the ER, Elena's attention was drawn to the medics rushing in with a critically ill patient. The report sounded grim, and Elena immediately sprang into action.

"44-year-old female. O2 saturation at 80% with a nonrebreather. Hypotensive and tachycardic. Positive COVID test two days ago. History of cardiac issues," the medic reported.

"Get her in room two," Elena commanded, her medical instincts kicking into high gear.

However, her authority was challenged by a familiar voice. Maya, her girlfriend, had appeared on the other side of the patient, her worry evident in her eyes.

"Dr. Rodriguez, get someone else to handle this case," Maya urged, her voice filled with concern.

Elena, focused on her patient, responded firmly, "Lt. Bishop, with all due respect, you are in my ER, and this is now my patient."

Maya wasn't one to back down easily, and she stepped closer to Elena, speaking in a hushed tone. "Elena, please, find someone else. You haven't had your vaccine, and you just recovered from the flu. You can't risk it."

Elena's determination to fulfill her duty clashed with Maya's protective instincts. She sighed, trying to keep her emotions in check. "Maya, this is my job. We're short-staffed, and I'm covering half the floor alone. Now, please, leave so I can get back to work."

“We are not done with this conversation. I’ll see you in the morning.” Maya huffed in frustration but knew that pushing further in the midst of a medical crisis wouldn't help. Reluctantly, she walked away, leaving Elena to focus on her patient.

As Elena continued to work tirelessly through her shift, her mind kept drifting to the impending confrontation with Maya and Carina. She wasn't looking forward to returning to their home, knowing that her decision to prioritize her work had caused tension in their relationship.

When her shift finally ended, Elena had a choice to make. She could either go to her own home to avoid further conflict or return to Maya and Carina's house, where they would undoubtedly have a difficult conversation waiting for her. With a heavy heart, she chose the latter, realizing that avoiding the issue would only make things worse in the long run. Elena's shift finally came to an end, and the exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders as she left the bustling emergency department. She knew there was a conversation waiting for her at home, and she couldn't avoid it any longer.

As she entered Maya and Carina's cozy living room, she found them sitting together on the couch, their expressions a mix of concern and frustration. They didn't waste any time in addressing the issue at hand.

Maya spoke first, her voice tinged with worry. "Elena, we need to talk about this. You can't keep putting yourself at risk by avoiding vaccines."

Carina nodded in agreement, her concern matching Maya's. "It's not just about you, Elena. We're in a committed relationship, and your health affects all of us."

Elena sighed and sank into a nearby chair. She knew they were right, but her fear of needles ran deep, and it wasn't something she could easily overcome. "I understand your concerns, but you have to understand how hard this is for me. Needles terrify me, and I've managed to avoid them for so long."

Maya reached out and gently took Elena's hand. "We know it's not easy, Elena, but your health is non-negotiable. You've already faced one major health scare with the flu, and we don't want to go through that again."

“Elena. How can you take insulin but still be afraid of needles?” Carina genuinely asks. “I just don’t understand.”

Elena inhaled deeply, “I don’t know. There’s something subconscious about it. I guess because I was taking insulin injections from such an early age on a regular basis it’s like brushing my teeth but vaccines just terrify me and I can’t tell you why. It doesn’t make sense in my head either.”

“Okay. How about if you have me and Maya for support? Would you be willing to try?... Please?” Carina practically begs hoping the woman would budge. Elena’s face contorts and she bends her head down putting it in her hands.

“Don’t make me, please.” Maya and Carina watch tears stream between their girlfriend’s fingers and their heart ache not wanting to force her into anything but they are just looking out for her. Maya held Elena close, her embrace filled with warmth and understanding. Carina gently lowered Elena's trembling hands, their touch gentle and reassuring.

"Elena, we're not trying to force you into anything," Maya whispered, her voice filled with empathy. "But we're genuinely concerned about your health, especially with the ongoing pandemic. You've already taken insulin injections for years, and we know you're incredibly brave. We just want to be there to support you through this."

Carina added, "We love you, Elena, and we want you to be safe and healthy. We're not asking you to do this alone. We'll be with you every step of the way."

Elena's shoulders shook as she tried to hold back her tears. Their love and concern were evident, and she knew they were right. Her fear of needles, while deeply rooted, couldn't be allowed to jeopardize her health, especially when she had two loving partners by her side.

With a sigh of surrender, Elena nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Okay, I'll try. But please, promise me you'll be there with me."

Maya and Carina exchanged relieved glances, their hearts filled with love for Elena. Maya kissed the top of Elena's head, her lips brushing against her soft hair. "We promise, Elena. We'll support you through this, no matter what."

Carina added, "You're incredibly brave, and we're so proud of you for taking this step."

Elena called her primary doctor that morning to book an appointment for the afternoon. She decided to try to get all the shots she was due for in one appointment. She would rather be done all together than come back. After the call, all of them showered and decided to sleep in before they had to go to the appointment.

“Amore, it’s time to get ready… Amore?” Carina wrapped her arms around Elena in bed. “I know you are fake sleeping.” Carina is only met with a hitched breath that transitions to rapid breaths. “Hey, none of that. Everything is okay. Deep breaths.” Carina turns the woman to face her to see tears streaking down her face.

“Let’s sit you up,” Maya comes out of the bathroom watching the events unfold. “Follow my breathing, babe. It’s okay. Inhale. Hold. Exhale… Inhale. Hold. Exhale…” Maya repeats it a few more times, getting Elena’s panic attack settled before it even starts.

“I’m… I’m sorry… Please… I don’t want to go. I don’t want to.” Elena’s raspy voice cried out.

“How about we just change and get into the car and decide from there? This way if you do decide to go, you’ll be on time,” Carina logically thought out in hopes Elena would agree which she did by nodding her head.

They get up and ready in minutes before making their way to Carina’s car. Maya opted to sit in the back with Elena knowing one of her love languages is physical touch and it was pretty obvious how nerve-wrecked she was. Elena tried her best to be as composed as possible not wanting to burden Maya and Carina much more as it is but she just couldn’t hold herself together.

Maya and Carina kept glancing at each other through the mirror and both had reservations if this was too much on the woman they loved. They didn't realize just how deeply rooted this fear was and how hard it would be to actually get her to the appointment. They’ve talked to each other about ways to ease Elena into this whole process but they all revolved around therapy, which Elena refused, and just ripping the bandaid. It was going to be rough either way but they just didn’t realize how bad it was going to be.

As minutes ticked by and the closer they got to the doctor’s office, Elena was beginning to unsettle underneath Maya’s hands that rubbed her thighs and hands trying to relieve some fear.

“We are here,” Carina announces, putting the car in park and turning back to her two favorite women. Elena’s head snapped up as her thoughts made her lose track of time. She was here. She was about to get her shots. Surprising both Maya and Carina, Elena hops out of the car and the other two are quick to follow when they see Elena dry-heave over a patch of grass they parked by.

“Oh, babe. Get it all out.” Maya rubs Elena’s back as Carina puts her hair in a makeshift bun. “It’s okay. We are here with you. We got you.”

“All finished?” Carina questions minutes since the last dry heave episode. Elena nods her head and accepts the piece of gum Carina extends to her.

“Thanks… Guys, I don’t think I can do it. It’s too much. My head feels lightheaded and I can’t control my thoughts or breathing. This is a bad idea.”

“None of that. “ Maya grabs the woman’s cheeks gently. “Look at how far you’ve come. I think getting her might be the hardest part and that is done. When we are inside just keep your eye on me and Carina. We will hold together when you feel at your weakest. We have you, Elena.”

That was enough reassurance and motivation to get Elena through the doors of the doctor’s office and eventually inside an examination room.

Inside, the nurse prepared the vaccines, explaining each one to Elena. As she approached with the first needle, Elena's heart raced, and she clenched her eyes shut, gripping the sides of the exam table tightly.

Maya and Carina watched with concern, their hearts aching for Elena. Maya whispered, "It's okay, Elena. We're right here."

Carina added softly, "Just one at a time, love. You can do this."

With their words of encouragement, Elena braced herself for the first shot. It stung, but it was over quickly. She let out a shaky breath and opened her eyes, her hands trembling. Carina leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Elena's forehead, offering comfort.

The nurse administered the next shot, and Elena winced again, but she was determined not to back down. She had come this far, and she couldn't let her fear control her.

Maya held Elena's hand tightly, her eyes never leaving Elena's face. "You're so brave, Elena. We love you. Keep taking deep breaths."

Carina added, "We're proud of you, Tesoro."

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 14: Gussied Up

“Men and their cocks never cease to amaze me.”

Polly’s blunt statement almost makes me drop my teacup. It’s late and Thomas is late as usual. At this point I don’t even bother waiting up, though I still feel anxious about his safe return.

“Will Tommy be back?” Finn asks from the table, almost slumped over the book he’s reading.

“Yes, Finn. Now go to sleep.” I bookmark the page and pat his head. “That’s enough thinking for today.”

The young Shelby shuffles down the hall to his room and retires for the night. I’m almost to the point of wanting to retire to bed myself. But the door creaks open and my thoughts are interrupted by Thomas.

“Shh,” Polly hushes him as he closes the door.

Thomas throws down a wad of cash onto the table. “Freddie didn’t want your money. Now the coppers are saying that if we don’t turn him in, they’ll arrest Ada. That’s what compassion gets you, Pol.” He gives her a stern glare. “From now on we do it my way.”

Polly doesn’t back down. “Or what?”

He doesn’t answer. Thomas just keeps his head lowered and exits through the side door. Polly’s fierce gaze doesn't waver from where Thomas was just standing. I calmly set down my cup and follow him to the back alley, where he’s already lit up another cigarette.

“You’ve got siblings,” Thomas says. “Is life with them as crazy as this?”

“Hard to say. Most of the time I don’t even know what city my brothers are in.” They’re old enough to work for Uncle Colon.

“He said he loves her,” Thomas sighs heavily and takes a deep puff.

“Maybe he’s telling the truth. There is such a thing as love, Thomas.”

The gangster stiffens and turns his head sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

This proves my point. I hold up steady hands to show no hostility. “You’re not exactly the emotional type.”

He grunts and kicks the dirt. “There’s more to life than love.”

I slowly shake my head and dare to step closer. “It makes me sad to see you so closed-minded. I do not pity you, Thomas. I only wish you knew how good of a man you could become.”

Thomas’ brow creases. “I’m already a great man.”

“No. Good.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Very much so.”

His eyebrows rise expectantly. “What is it?”

This isn’t something one can learn in a split second. Thomas is too stubborn and angry right now to understand.

“You’ll find out one day.”

With that I pat him lightly on the shoulder and pivot to walk back inside to my room.

The next morning is racing day. How do I know? Because that’s all everyone’s talking about. There’s been too much foot traffic in the kitchen for me not to notice. Thomas is the last one to rise and takes a seat in the corner.

“Morning,” I greet lightly.

He gives a low grunt. “Morning.”

“Didn’t sleep too well?” I ask as I wipe down the ever-dusty counter.

“How did you know?”

“Heard you fighting in your sleep again. Do you want any breakfast?”

Thomas shakes his head and pours himself a drink. “‘M fine.”

“Half a glass of whiskey is hardly a supplemental breakfast, Thomas. Here, have some eggs.”

The gangster gives my offering a bored stare but eventually complies. I get the feeling he wants to be alone to process today’s events.

Once I grab my clutch and stuff my pistol inside I gesture to Finn. “Come on, Finn. Let’s go for a walk.”

Outside there’s even more energy buzzing around as more Peaky Blinders chatter about today. Some of them watch me with slight suspicion but drop it when they see I’m with Finn. 

“Shelby, who’s your girlfriend?” One man asks with a smirk.

Poor Finn’s cheeks go red. Before someone else can taunt him I decide to step in.

“I, his tutor, am taking a walk and Finn offered to join me. Is there a problem?”

Another Blinder snickers suggestively. “Sure. Tutor. Nice one, Finn- Ow!”

I make quick work to step on his toe with my heel and continue down the dusty road with Finn following close by. Once we’ve turned the corner he lets out a constricted groan.

“Sorry, Verena. ‘S not that you’re, y’know, pretty ‘nd all, but-”

“I’m well over ten years older than you,” I finish smoothly. “No offense taken, Finn. My brothers tease me about things like this all the time.”

“Are they all married?”

“Close to it. Conor, Liam, and Eoin all were married three years ago. Nicolaas tied the knot last fall, and Abel got engaged last May. Since I’m the youngest I suppose I get a few more years ‘til father will start pressuring me to wed as well. Mother’s given up on trying to get me to settle.”

We keep walking until we circle back to the house. Hopefully Thomas has calmed down a bit- And in the process seems to have cleaned himself up rather handsomely. His suit is freshly pressed and he’s clean shaven.

“You look spiffy,” I compliment as I set my clutch down. “I’m sure Grace will love it!”

“Looking good, Tommy,” John agrees.

He nods at our approval. “I’m picking Grace up at 9, the race is at 10. Don’t be late.”

I frown. “We’re not all riding together?”

Arthur shakes his head. “Tommy’s going ahead while we have a last-minute rally with the boys by the factory. Don’t worry, they won’t bite.” He gets a wide grin. “You can ride up front with us.”

“Why are you coming?” John asks.

“Never been to a race before. Thought I might see what all the fuss is about.”

I myself am wearing a borrowed dress from Polly. She said she hasn’t worn it for years and that I mine as well take it. The dress is chic black intricate patterns and a fringe skirt. John and Arthur are sporting fine suits too. Aw, the Shelbys are all dressed up! It’s delightful. In ten minutes everyone’s ready and we hop into a truck. The only slight disappointment is seeing Thomas drive off alone. I truly am glad he’s happy to go with her. She seems like a lovely girl. But why do I feel so… empty?

“You alright?” John nudges me.

“Yes, just over-thinking.”

“You’re upset that Tommy doesn’t like you, eh?”

I roll my eyes. “You know perfectly well how he sees me. Just ‘the help.’ He likes Grace, not me, which he has shown by asking her to the races. I know I shouldn’t be upset, but I am. I will deal with it and let go.” I shoot a warning glare at the three Shelby brothers. “And, if any of you even think of uttering any word of this, I’ll gut you before you can blink.”

Arthur backs off with almost comical alarm. “Wow. Alright, then. Don’t piss off the American.”

I smirk. “Keep on my good side and I’ll spread word back home about your new pub. Maybe my father can partner with you.”

Arthur’s face lights up. “Ah, you’ve heard! Yes, my new pride and joy! You’re welcome any time, Steenstra.”

The truck pulls up to the factory where the rest of the Peaky Blinders calvary awaits. They jump in the back and we drive the rest of the way with little spoken words. The racetrack itself is much more crowded than I imagined. All this attention for a horse race? It must be good entertainment… or good money. 

“Attention!” Arthur calls after everyone piles out. “Now this is called your briefing before going over the top. Steenstra, this is no place for a woman. Please step out.”

I gawk in resistance. “What about Finn?”

“He’s a Shelby. He stays.”

“He’s 11.”

“He still stays. Now run off. Go wait outside the entrance ‘till we’ve finished.”

Wait outside? Why did I even come if I’m supposed to be a lookout? I’m not even doing anything! I don’t even get to see a single race-

“Going in, miss?”

It’s a stranger. A young man in his early twenties I’d say, along with his date. 

“Um, I’m afraid I have no money for entry.”

His date gets a wide smile and she grabs my arm. “No problem! You can join us! Right, Harry?”

‘Harry’ doesn’t seem to mind and the woman all but drags me inside the building. We go up multiple stairs and now I can finally see what all the fuss is about. Inside there’s a giant racetrack set up with a row of gates on one end. That must be where the horses take off.

“Here! This is the best spot!” the bubbly girl says and leads us to the front of a box. “I’m Roxie! What’s your name?”

“Verena,” I answer politely.

“What brings you to the races?” Harry asks.

How to phrase this? “I was supposed to be here with some friends but they lost me.”

“Aw, hon. That’s too bad. You can still enjoy the race up here.”

I give them both a sincere smile of gratitude. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Birmingham can be a tricky place to find kindness.”

Roxie scoffs. “No need to tell me twice! You’re American, huh? Are there lots of cowboys there?”

I stifle a laugh. “Is that the talk about us? No, no. The cowboys are primarily in the west and southern states. I’m from the east coast.”

“I heard there’s a new law banning alcohol?” 

Ah, yes. For the past few months there’s been an increasing pressure on breweries to halt production. What a laugh.

“Yes, the proposed Eighteenth Amendment will initiate prohibition.”

Harry chuckles. “I’m sure you Americans love that idea, hm?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t get me started. My father runs a brewery company. This whole-”

“Steenstra! There you are!”

John rushes up and grabs my arm to tugs me away just as I make out a quick goodbye to my new friends. 

“Go go! We got to find Tommy!”

“You got the money?” I pant as we weave through the crowd.

“We got the money!”

He leads me to a room downstairs where there’s live jazz music and wealthy people dressed in rich clothes. Then there’s Grace, wearing a gorgeous red dress with a matching hat and patterned shawl. Her appearance highlights how much older she is than me. It’s no wonder Thomas would fall for her.

“That dress is stunning!” I comment when John and Arthur go to talk with Thomas.

Her blush almost matches her dress. “Thank you. At first I thought it was a bit much, but I liked the color.”

Thomas likes it too because his eyes can hardly stray from her. I’m surprised his attention to the operation is faltering so easily.

“We chased the Lees across the track and down to Devon Road,” Arthur explains. “We got every penny back.” He takes his own moment to get a look at Grace. “Nice dress. You can wear it in my pub.”

“Buy the boys a drink,” Thomas orders with a proud smile. “Anyone hurt?”

“Only a few cuts and bruises.”

He nods and gives Grace a smirk. “Off we go, Lady Sarah.”

And off they do go, to waltz across the dancefloor with such ease you’d think it was a romance flicker. Although this is one flicker that seems to tear into me little by little.

John picks up on this and starts to lead me away. “Come on, Steenstra. Best not hurt yourself any more by watching. Let’s go.”

He’s right. This is just making things worse.

“You’re right. Let’s go.” I put on a smile and walk confidently beside them back to the truck. “In America our dances are much more, shall we say, rambunctious. Besides, this place seems to stuffy anyway.”

[sensei-venus]

Imagine being the og cobras pack omega and being pregnant with their first pup.

All five alphas are excited, their egos and pride are at all all time high after finding out their omega is pregnant. Lots of kissing and cuddling. Praise and reassurance.

All five of them taking care of her every step of the way, providing for her every need. All of them taking their own time to love on her and show her in their own ways how happy they are about the news. All of them gather at the end of every day to love on her, to check on her.

Johnny is the one that verbally praise’s her every day thought the pregnancy. He tells her how beautiful she is, how good she looks pregnant. He tells her how amazing she is every day for doing this, by going though the pregnancy, by being such good pack omega to all of them. He makes sure she knows she is deeply loved by all of them.

Bobby is the one that makes sure that he is at every single doctors appointment, even if the others can’t make it. He’s always the one that is there for her. He makes sure she eats enough and eats right. He’s the one that makes sure she takes all of her supplements and prenatal pills. He makes sure she gets enough exercise and rest.

Jimmy makes sure to give her lots of one-on-one time together. When she is sore and tired he is always by her side. He gives her messages when her feet hurt or her back aches. When her hips get wide he rubs them down to comfort her. When she gets tired and needs some rest her will become her portable pillow, letting her lay all over him and cuddle him in any position she feels comfortable.

Tommy always makes her laugh and helps her stop crying when the pregnancy hormones get to much. He’s the one that rubs her back in the morning when she’s sick. When she cry’s he’s always there to crack a corny joke to brighten her mood. He holds her when she cries. When the pup kicks he is the first one to try and feel it, laughing the whole time that their pups a fighter already. Lots of kisses.

Dutch is her driver and protector. He’s always with her and basically attached at the hip to her. He drives her around to every place she needs to go, he’s always got a hand on her while in stores. She can’t be a foot outside the house without him near her. He grows at others in public if he thinks they are to close to her. He snaps at other alphas that even look her way while they are out. He always has a hand on her bump no matter where they are.

As the pregnancy progresses their nest doubles in size. Their space needs to expand for their family and comfort. Longer group naps around the heavily pregnant omega, she lays in the center surrounded by her loving and strong alpha’s. Every day she gets bigger and rounder. They grow more and more nurturing as the days go by. Her days in the nest grow longer as she gets closer to birth, they stay even closer then before to make sure she is safe.

She hasn’t even given birth yet and they already know they want to do it all over again with her. To keep her fat and pregnant with their pup’s. They can only hope that she might have more in the next litter.

[chaotic-on-main]

Summer Event! 💕

Matcha Green Tea Ice Cream,

Kitchen Sink option but make it a surprise!

Thank you for being so understanding & sweet, I get really anxious if you can't tell haha. You're a dear💕✨

Order up!! One matcha green tea cone with everything but the kitchen sink for Eri!!

Sky's Summer and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairings ➼ janitor!Levi Ackerman x fem!people-pleaser!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ modernAU, meet-cute(kinda?), familial trauma, hurt/comfort, fluff, accidental therapy (for me), corporate ick

☾ Author's Note ➼ Hi Eri!! Thank you so much for sending this request in. I was a little worried with the whole "make it a surprise" because I struggle with lack of structure BUT I'm so proud of how this came out. I couldn't stop writing, as you can see. This might be a little self-indulgent and I hope I got the emotions right since I struggle with them. I just want Levi to call me out on my shit, okay?? Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! love you k bye *smooches*

☾ Word Count ➼ ~7.6k (oops)

“Hi, you’re the new hire right? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Carol from a few rows down. Listen, I hate to do this to you since you’re so new but you’re the only one I can ask. Would you be able to do the data entry on the Sina job? I can’t stay past closing tonight due to my set plans and unfortunately it’s due tomorrow morning. Could you help me out? I’ll pay you back!”

The voice of your overly excited brunette coworker reverberates through your skull as you type away at your desk, the bright light of your monitor biting at your eyes just like the migraine you feel in the back of your head. You had a feeling that this is not the first time the people in the office have picked on the newcomers, and you bet it wouldn’t be the last. You chalk it up the fact that you were still in the office past seven in the evening doing someone else’s work because they dropped the stack of papers on your desk before you could say anything back, but you knew better. Damn your pathological people pleasing tendencies.

Your chair squeaks as you lean back in it, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose as you sigh heavily. It’s a handful of days into your first week and you’re already daydreaming about your next vacation. An office job was not your first go to, but as all struggling artists do, you needed this job to supplement your income until your art took off – if that ever happened.

Thoughts of how much longer you’d have to be here swirl through your mind when you’re interrupted by a loud thunk a few cubicles down. It startles you so much that you jump up as your eyes shoot open, hand over your heart in an attempt to calm it. You weren’t aware of anyone else in the building so you can’t help but think there might be a mass murderer just feet away from you. Steeling your resolve, you push yourself up from your chair and carefully peek over the half wall to see what had made that noise.

At first you don’t see anything as your eyes adjust from seeing nothing to the semi-lit office floor from the setting sun and dimmed overheads. Down the row, you see the back of a man in what you assume to be a gray janitor’s suit. An undercut peeks between short raven locks, neck lines sharp giving away to a clean cut. It doesn’t seem like he notices you’re there as his attention is focused on the waste basket in front of him.

You sit back down slowly, heaving a heavy sigh from relief that it was indeed not a mass murderer – well, that you know of. He didn’t seem threatening from far away at least. Your hands hover on the keyboard as you do your best to blink away the tired. Only a few more pages now, you reassure yourself.

An hour later, miraculously you find yourself down to the last page. The miscellaneous words and numbers swim off the page as you force yourself to focus. With the promise of a late night treat, you finally make it down to the last line. Just as you’re about to hit ‘enter’, something kicks the back of your chair causing you to yelp loudly and slam down on the keys harder than you meant.

“What are you still doing here?” A deep voice grumbles from behind you, making your ears twitch at the sudden volume difference. You twist around in your chair to see who the voice belongs to and you’re surprised to see it coming from the janitor you saw earlier. What’s even more surprising is how young he looks, and handsome to boot - despite the look he’s giving you. Stark gray-blue lidded eyes stare down at you as he scowls, eyebrows pinched together. He doesn’t look pleased.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m working on some…” Your voice falters when his expression turns into annoyance.

“You’re in my way.” He simply states as he leans against a vacuum you only now notice sitting under his arm. Was your focus so strong that you completely missed the sounds of him cleaning around you?

“Oh, uh. Yeah, let me get out of your way then.” You say timidly, pushing yourself out of the chair. You’re face to face with him at standing height, even in your work heels. This was a very intimidating man despite his short stature.

“I’m not going to clean with you breathing down my neck.” He grumbles, eyes narrowing at you like you asked him the most offensive question known to man. Your lips part as you struggle to find your words, but nothing comes out as you find yourself low-key panicking.

“I c-can just-”

“Just finish what you’re working on, I’ll just come back.” He rolls his eyes before walking away, leaving you and the vacuum illuminated by your computer screen. You ball your hands in fists to keep them from shaking.

Exhaling a weak breath, you sit back down and force yourself to focus on the last line of data instead of the glowering expression of your office’s janitor.

.

You slam your forehead into the vinyl coating of your desk, not hard enough to leave a bruise but enough to hear the echoes of contact through the whole floor. It’s nearing seven at night again and you’re still in office catching up on yet another coworker’s workload.

When they asked what plans you had tonight, you didn’t think that saying you were going home to watch TV would bite you in the ass. If you were completely honest, you had quietly hoped they might be asking if you wanted to go out for drinks with them. After all, they were the only ones that had really talked to you in the past few weeks but you’re starting to wonder if they were just trying to butter you up to get you to say yes to their requests.

Who were you kidding though, you would have said yes anyways because the word ‘no’ didn’t exist in your vocabulary. You wish you weren’t so aware of that fact because not only are you stressed out, you’re full of self loathing. A groan escapes your lips.

“Still doing other people’s work?” You hear a familiar voice grumble from behind.

After lifting your head up from the cool desk, you swivel around in your chair to see the janitor – this time in dark blue. A white handkerchief wraps around his face, covering his mouth and nose so that all you see are his tired eyes. A same-colored bandana adorns his head with some of his bangs falling into his eyes. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from asking what the point of the bandana was if it didn’t keep his hair out of his face.

It takes you a moment to find your voice, partly from not using it for so long but also because of the steady unfriendly feeling radiating off him. He raises an eyebrow at you as you stare up at him almost dumbfounded.

“I- who said I was doing other people’s work?” You finally make out, voice trembling.

“You’re new, right? The office goons do that to every newbie that comes in.” He folds his arms over his chest and you see that his sleeves are rolled up to show his toned forearms, muscles popping up from the position they’re in. Your eyes flicker back up to his, blinking slowly.

“I’m sure but they needed the help, so...”

“Because they would rather slack off than do any work. They’re taking advantage of you and you’re falling for it? You’re an adult, right?” There isn’t malice in his words but they still sting.

“Of course I am! I work here, don’t I?” Your eyes widen in emphasis, sweeping your hands around you.

“Tch, that doesn’t make you an adult. I’ve been here for years and I’ve seen my fair share of children.” His scowl reappears at those words. You’ve never met someone so grumpy.

You close your mouth at that, not sure what else to say. He clicks his tongue and flips a small towel over his shoulder. Turning on his heel, he sets off down the aisle without another word, the sounds of his heavy boots getting quieter.

You don’t get done until 10:30 that night. On your way out, you pass by the janitor who was currently on the inside of the board meeting glass walls, wiping them down with what you suppose is glass cleaner. His eyes meet yours as you walk by and you offer a small wave and smile even though his short words still sting. You think he’s going to ignore you but instead, he gives you a curt nod.

.

The janitor’s words swim through your mind the next time you’re asked to stay behind to help out. You spent the last couple of weeks doing your best practicing in the shower on setting boundaries with your coworkers but when the person who came to you next was your supervisor, how could you say no.

You were in the middle of packing your bag while lost in thought of your weekend plans when she came to you. You’re thinking you might stop by the evening market by the river before heading home with some food from the local vendors when a finger taps on your shoulder followed by your name coming out in a honey-laced voice.

“Hey, I just wanted to stop by and commend you on being such a team player in the last month. It’s something we find rare in someone as young as you and of course we’re grateful.” Your red-haired boss beams down at you while she talks. The feeling of ice pricks in your veins at what you know was coming next.

“I’m really sorry to come to you so last minute and on a Friday no less, but because of your wonderful work ethic, you’re the only one I can trust to complete The Warrior Project. It’s been extremely slow going and we need it done by Monday. Do you think you can stay behind and help us out?” She offers you an apologetic smile, eyes boring into yours with sincerity.

You wished you could have said no but the words died before they made it out of your mouth, instead agreeing meekly with a fake smile.

So now here you sit at your desk with the dying rays of light rising higher against the back walls as the sun sets, fingers flying across the keyboard. You suppose you’ll have to stop by the late night convenience store on the way home for some dinner; your face scrunches up at the thought of your very limited choices.

“If you type any harder, you’ll break it.” You don’t bother to turn around at the voice, knowing damn well who it was.

“I’m sure they’ll get me another one. They need me to finish this, after all.” You mutter the last part under your breath. The smell of something sweet and tangy hits your nose and on contact, your stomach rumbles loudly.

Swiveling in your chair, you’re met with the janitor who’s simultaneously holding a feather duster as well as a bag of what looks like Chinese take-out. Your eyes widen at the sight, bouncing back and forth between the objects in his hand.

“Are you here to eat or dust?” You ask, finally looking up to his face. There’s no expression on his pretty face. You still haven’t gotten over how stunning he was, with his pointed nose and pouty bottom lip. Today he has his janitor uniform half on, the sleeves of the suit tied around his waist so that it’s only pants. Tucked in is a black t-shirt that shows more of his muscular arms. He’s not ripped by any means but it’s very obvious he exercises on his time off.

��I’m here to dust. This is for you to eat.” He says dryly, shoving the bag in your direction. Once again, you find your words stolen as you stare at the brown paper bag that sits curled in his pale fingers. Your eyes shift back and forth between his face and the food.

“F-for me? Why?”

“Whenever I see you here late, you never eat. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I eat when I get home.” You retort back softly. A late night meal for you consists of a single serving bag of chips and whatever looked edible at the convenience store – but you wouldn’t tell him that.

“Just eat it.” He pushes it forward to you again, the warm smells of food wafting past your nose. It smelled like heaven.

“I- no. I can’t take that, it’s yours!” You wave your hands in front of your chest in a dismissive manner. A dark eyebrow shoots up his face.

“So she can say no.” He reaches over you and places the paper bag down on your desk. Along with the smells of delicious food, the scent of clean laundry and musky pine tickles your nose. It’s a very pleasant combination, and one you were not expecting. “Eat it, throw it away, I don’t care.” He says casually before turning around and walking off. Your hand reaches out in an attempt to stop him, but he’s long gone.

Twisting your chair around, you eye the paper bag for a moment before finally caving. Your stomach is about to eat itself and he had paid for it, so you don’t want to waste it. Why he would care enough about you to order food is a mystery, though.

Upon opening the contents, you’re greeted with a small foil dish with a plastic covering holding what you believe is orange chicken. A little white box off to the side contains sticky rice and in the little plastic package next to it holds some spring rolls – all still steaming hot and smelling wonderful.

You spend the next half hour scarfing down your dinner while thinking about how you’d pay the janitor back. The flush that started creeping up your cheeks at the end of your encounter with him stays even when you go to bed late that night.

.

The week after, you intentionally slow down on your daily work so that you had a reason to stay late and finish it. But much to your dismay, you don’t see the janitor anywhere. You’d leave each night a little embarrassed at yourself for being so excited for someone you’ve talked to a handful of times, but to your benefit you had a reason for your madness.

Finally, you gather enough courage to peep your head over your half-wall and grab your coworker’s attention – whose attention was on a mobile game in his hands and not on the spreadsheets in front of his face.

“Ryan?” You whisper-shout down. Your brunette coworker’s eyes shoot up to yours, almost in a panic.

“What? Is the boss lady making her rounds?” He asks back. You sweep your eyes around the office floor and finally find your supervisor who was currently in a meeting with other board members.

“She’s busy, you’re fine. I actually had a question?” You didn’t realize how soft you were speaking until he stood up to meet you, towering a good foot above you with his ear down to you.

“What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you knew when the janitor might be back? I haven’t seen him in a few days.” You subconsciously start picking at your nails – a nervous habit.

Ryan stares at you as he processes your words before throwing his head back in bellowing laughter. You’re quick to shush him and duck your head down from the glares aimed your way at such a loud disturbance.

“Not so loud!!” You whisper-shout again.

“I’m sorry, I’m just curious why you want to know? He doesn’t like anyone, and no one likes him.” He shrugs his shoulders. You so badly want to tell him to shut up and that you like him, but instead you settle on trying to get him to answer your question.

“Well, what’s his schedule?” You narrow your eyes in hopes of getting the message across that you were serious.

“Well, that’s the thing, he’s always working. Sometimes even on the weekends. From what I heard, his cleaning routes are the same every week. He doesn’t get to our floor until late in the week. He has a thing for cleaning, so I heard, and that’s why there’s only one janitor contracted. He’s so weird.” Ryan rolls his eyes as he rests his chin against the top of the wall.

“What’s his name?”

“Why do you care so much about the janitor?” It’s Ryan’s turn to narrow his eyes to you. You’re asking too many questions and he’s getting far too nosy about your business. It’s best to retreat for now.

“Uh, it’s nothing. Thank you.” You squeak before plopping yourself down at your chair and pretending to click around on your word documents until you no longer feel the pierce of your coworker’s stare.

So he’s always here, you think. You’re just missing him on your way down. You bite back a smile as you glance down to the clock at the bottom corner of your screen. The time reads 4:37pm and it’s a Thursday which meant that he would be around your floor this evening. Perfect. Your eyes sweep over to your bag in your excitement.

In the time it takes for you to wait for the gray-blue eyed janitor, you’ve finished half of the next day’s work. A part of you starts to wonder if he isn’t coming tonight, that it may be tomorrow instead, and weirdly you find yourself hoping one of your coworkers would ask you to help them out again so that you had a reason to stay.

“That’s so stupid.” You say out loud as you stir sugar into the black tea you had spent the last 5 minutes steeping. You’re standing in the office break room, lost in thought.

“I’m sure the mug doesn’t feel that way.” That voice makes your heart flutter, and you bite back the smile that threatens to curve into your face. Instead, you pinch your lips together and turn around.

The janitor is there alright, uniform zipped up tight as he holds a spray bottle and a rag. He’s leaning against the doorframe of the break room, arms folded across his chest. His black hair falls into his face, almost kissing the corners of his heavy-lidded eyes as they watch you intently.

“Ah, there you are!” You exclaim, pointing your spoon at him.

“Here I am.”

“I have something to give you as payback for dinner last week.” You muse, grinning at him. His eyes widened briefly before going back to normal.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I’m grateful for it, dummy.” Carefully, you place your spoon next to your mug and walk towards him until you’re face to face. It takes him a moment to realize you were waiting for him to move, and carefully he backs away so that you have room to escape.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You order before dashing off to your cubicle.

When you come back with the gift in hand, you see that the janitor hadn’t moved an inch. His intimidating eyes follow you as you stop in front of him, slightly breathless from speed walking back. An eyebrow raises at you as he waits for you to catch your breath.

“I-ah. Okay. So. I made these for you. I ended up having to make a fresh batch because I didn’t see you for a bit and I didn’t want to feed you stale cookies so. Anyways, here. Thank you for feeding me last week.” You beam up at him as you hold your hands out to show him your gift.

It’s a small plastic bag wrapped with a pastel bow. The contents of the bag include bite sized cookies that you spent all last night remaking in hopes you would see him again. They’re pale yellow in color, dusted with a light coat of cane sugar. His eyes widen again at your gesture, this time staying big as they stare at the bag in your hand like its gold.

“You… made these for me?” His voice is low.

“I did! I don’t know if you like sweets but these are my mother’s recipe and her cookies were never that sweet. Pretty much the sweetness comes from the sugar on top. The rest are just buttery goodness.” You gush as you stare off in thought, the happy memories of your mom making these cookies for you flooding your brain.

When your eyes fall back to the raven-haired man, you’re almost tempted to run away in embarrassment. His neutral expression stares back at you and you take a small step back.

“I’m sorry, this is probably weird. You don’t have to take them actually. In fact, I’ll just le-“

“No, you’re fine. I uh, I appreciate it.” He quickly reaches out and grabs the bag, the sound of crinkling plastic taking up space in the nearly empty mess room. You offer him a small smile, grateful that he accepted the gift. His eyes trail past you and onto the kitchen counter behind you. He purses his lips as he thinks but finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Pour that disgusting excuse for a tea out and follow me. Bring the mug.” He says tersely before turning on his heels and out the door. You blink hard a few times as your brain processes his words but quickly you find yourself dumping out the tea and chasing after him down the cubicle aisles.

Soon, you’re sitting on the ground with the janitor as he pours steaming amber liquid from the thermos he pulled out of his cleaning cart just mere moments ago. It splashes into the bottom of your mug and fills it quickly, then he hands it over to you as he starts speaking.

“So are you a workaholic or…” He gives you a side eye.

“I should be asking you that. I’ve been told you work practically every day, even on weekends.” You hold the mug by the handle as you stare down into the cup. “Is this…?”

“It’s tea and no I didn’t poison it.”

“What was wrong with the tea I had?”

“Stale tea leaves don’t make for a good cup of tea.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No, I’m not a workaholic. I like to clean, and I get paid for it. Plus, I’m left alone. Usually.” He grumbles the last part, but you don’t detect any hostility in his voice.

“Well, I’m not either. A-a workaholic, I mean.”

“No, I suppose not. Just a people pleaser then?” His statement makes you splutter on the tea you had just sipped on. Despite it going almost everywhere, the bitter taste of the dark leaves bite at your taste buds. It’s unsweetened and you can’t keep the slight look of distaste off your face. Luckily, it’s covered up by the glare you shoot his way.

You don’t say anything back at that, knowing any denial would have been a lie but you didn’t want to confirm it either. However, you can’t hold back the annoyance that simmers in your chest at such a presumptuous statement, from someone you hardly know, no less.

“Beats being disliked by everyone.” You mutter finally, setting your mug on the floor next to you. Your eyes drift to the floor-to-ceiling window you were both sitting in front of. The last dreg of golden sunlight warms your face as you stare out into the bustling city as they prepare for the evening.

“You say that like it should bother me.”

“Shouldn’t it though?”

“Why would it?”

“Don’t you want people to like you?” You whisper softly, dragging your gaze over to his face. There’s no readable expression on his face as he sips his tea out of the top of his thermos lid. He’s holding it in a way you’ve never seen before – long fingers gripping the metal from the top rim and tilting it back into his mouth.

“I don’t give a shit if they like me or not.” He says finally as he gives you a side eye.

You’re not sure if your surprise at his callous attitude is warranted or not. Your interactions with him have been few and far in between but that night he got you dinner, you thought maybe he was a little more caring than that.

“Why do you care if people like you anyway?” He leans back on a hand, his other cradling his cup.

“I just- well. I don’t know.” You say simply. You do know.

“I read this thing about people-pleasers. It said that they’re great manipulators. They bend and break just so that others tolerate and like them, pretending to be something they’re not. Are you trying to get something out of it?”

Your eyes snap to his, feeling the heat behind your stare at his insinuation. Where did he get off calling you a manipulator? A pretender? Despite the subtle rage dancing in your eyes, you give him a smile and push yourself off the ground, grabbing your mug on your way up.

“Thank you for the tea. I really must be going now.” You say politely, voice coming out higher than you meant.

“Tch.” Is all you get back.

With that, you turn on your heel and head back to the break room to pour your tea out and rinse the mug, leaving it out on the rack to dry. You’re quick to gather your things before practically running down the aisles to the elevator, down to the front door, and towards home. A lump in your throat stays even after your shower and still when you lie down for the night.

.

After your last encounter with the janitor, you find that you’re rushing home as soon as you can. You aren’t necessarily mad at him for telling you a hard truth, but the rumination of having someone being annoyed at you doesn’t go away.

Your evasive tactics work for a while. Your office was in between projects and jobs so no one had come to you for help for anything. But of course that didn’t stay that way for long and your luck would run out as it always had as the quarter was about to close. Your supervisor came to you early on a rainy Tuesday morning to tell you that some freak accident had happened to the last reports which made the data you spent days organizing completely disappear.

You don’t know what was more frustrating: the fact that your hard work from the last week had completely vanished or the fact that no one in the office offered to give a helping hand when you needed it the most.

Your supervisor apologized and said the entries needed to be done by the next morning so they could be submitted in time for the quarter review. With a forced smile and false-positive voice, you agreed and got started on it right away.

This was about 12 hours ago.

The only thing that brings you solace is the knowledge that the janitor was not due for your floor for a couple days so at least you could work on it without worrying about running into him. And thankfully for you since you were semi-prepared for being held back, you ordered pizza for dinner before the front doors locked for the evening.

For some reason, you find yourself sitting on the floor in the same spot you had shared bitter tea with the janitor. You’re lying on your back with your phone hovering as you scroll on it mindlessly, a more than half filled pizza box next to you with the lid propped open slightly. There’s a vacation photo that pops up from one of your acquaintances that makes your chest tighten from envy.

“You’re in my way, brat.” A voice from above rings out. It startles you so much that your fingers loosen on your phone, and it comes smacking into your face with a loud slap. Your eyes scrunch shut from the stinging pain radiating from your nose as you groan softly.

You sit up from your position, making sure to grab your phone before it falls on the ground, and turn to narrow your eyes at the perpetually scowling janitor. You hear a subtle pop in your back as you do.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice comes out more accusatory than you meant, and you end up clearing your throat before giving him a forced smile.

“I’m working. That’s more than I can say for you.”

“You’re not supposed to be on this floor today.”

“Says who?” An eyebrow quirks at your statement.

The words die on your tongue because even you knew that one person’s word was not enough to be reliable. You reach over to close the pizza box and gather your things to leave. He doesn’t say anything and only stares while you push yourself up onto your feet.

“I’ll just get out of your way, then.” You mumble, bending down to grab the pizza box in one hand and your empty cup in the other. As you brush past him, you can’t help but wonder if he’s still mad at you, though you can’t logically find a reason why he would be mad in the first place. And if he was, then what did you do? These thoughts are jarred as a vibration in your back pocket alerts you to a notification. Upon more buzzes and the start of your soft ringtone, you realize it’s a phone call.

Stepping over to the nearest desk, you set your stuff down and pull out your phone. On the screen is the caller ID for your mom, her faux-happy face staring straight at you as the lights around it pulse. You don’t fight the grimace that etches into your features. Hitting the green button, you regret it immediately.

“Hi mom!” You exclaim, forcing another smile on your lips.

“There you are! I really thought you had died on us.”

“Of course, I’m not dead. Just busy!” You state happily, turning around to face the windows again. A relieved sigh escapes when you notice the janitor is no longer standing where he was.

“You should call us more. You know I was talking to our neighbor about you recently! Remember Donna and her kids? Apparently her youngest just got engaged. And it got me thinking…” Your mother’s words trail off as your eyes glaze over. Your pulse is steadily picking up speed with every word, and you grip the edge of the desk tightly to keep yourself grounded.

“Anyways, both of your sisters are coming to visit with their little families. When are you planning to come by? It would be nice to have everyone home again. Maybe this time with a man on your arm?”

“Oh, I don’t know, mom. I just started here, so getting the time off will be a little hard to do right away. But I will ask my supervisor, and see? I want to see everyone too.” Your voice wavers a little as the muscles in your face start to hurt from your smile.

“Your grandmother is asking about you, you know. I had to come up with some excuse about why you’re so far away, and single no less.”

“I’m working on it. I’ll give her a call soon.” Tears prick in the corners of your eyes.

“Well, I’m sure you are, honey. Oh, your little sister is calling, I need to go. Please call us more!” And just like that, the line goes silent as she hangs up.

“I’ll call tomorrow, I guess.” You whisper down at the blank screen. Setting your phone down, you press the heels of your palms into your eyes to get rid of the wetness that threatens to overflow. You practically feel your heart beating right out of your chest as your mom’s words float around your head.

“I see where it comes from now.” The janitor’s deep voice comes from the right of you. When you pull your hands away to look at him, he’s holding out a steaming mug to you. Hesitantly, you take it. The color of the liquid is lighter in color and smells slightly floral. A mile’s difference from the last thing he shared with you.

“Where what comes from?” You mutter before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s hot but not unbearably so. The taste is gentle and has a touch of sweetness to it. It’s pleasant, and not something you were expecting.

“Your people-pleasing tendencies.” He leans against the half wall next to him as he eyes you.

“Please do enlighten me, as I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” You reply back in a monotone voice. You were tired in more ways than one. Slaving away at this project that you were only 80% done with. Staying late, lack of sleep, and now your mother calling. You were tired and you can’t mask anymore.

“Let me guess.” He raises his hand and taps a finger against his chin in thought. “Middle child. Your parents always apologized for what you lacked. Always felt like you had to put in extra effort to be seen and walking on eggshells so that when you are seen, no one pulls away. You’re starving for real, positive attention.” Again, none of his words come out malicious but they really sting. This man hardly knows you and yet he’s spreading your entire childhood out like it was nothing.

You’re tired.

“Yeah. Exactly that. And it’s infuriating. Not to drag on my sisters because they’re doing their best and they have the same parents I have but it’s like…” You take another sip of the honey liquid before continuing, feeling the heat of not only the tea but also anger burning in your chest. Your eyes drift back to the front window.

“I can’t stop myself from doing above and beyond on the off chance I might be liked and appreciated. I’m putting in all this hard work and still it doesn’t matter. I’m just so tired.”

The sun is all but gone and is replaced by the city lights that illuminate the indigo sky above. The janitor stays quiet through all of this as he takes in your words. You’ve never told anyone any of this before, and part of you feels liberated. The other part feels guilty for putting something so heavy on someone who probably doesn’t even care.

“So, what if it doesn’t matter? Why are you putting so many expectations on yourself? You’re just one person.” He stands up from the wall and walks around it so that he’s face to face with you. His arms are folded across his chest again as he eyes you warily before continuing.

“I spend everyday cleaning after you shits and no one sees that. And yet, what I do matters because otherwise this place would be a shithole. You do not have to bend over backwards so people can see your accomplishments, they still exist whether they see it or not. But, say they approve of your help, then what?”

“What do-” Your fingers grip tight on the handle of your mug.

“They say thank you for doing what they asked you to do, then what? Do you keep up with their demands?”

“If I have to.”

“And what do you gain from that outside of exhaustion?”

You want to lie so bad. You want to say that you get a lot of enjoyment from making others happy. That you gain happiness for making others smile because you did what they ask of you. But you realize that putting yourself out there for the sake of others is wearing you down. And you aren’t actually happy.

“I don’t.” Your voice cracks and when you blink next, your sight is blurry.

“That’s what I’m saying. You bend and you bend for these short bursts of attention but you don’t need it. The only thing that should matter to you is your wellbeing. The rest comes after.” His voice retains the same dryness as it had before, but there’s an unmistaken lilt of tenderness.

You look away from his gaze and wipe the corners of your eyes with the back of your hand as you take a shaky breath.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care so much about me?” You offer him a small smile to hopefully deter any ill will that statement could bring up.

“Tch, don’t get me wrong, you’re still annoying. But, I can’t stand watching people tear themselves down for the sake of others. You’re here to live for yourself, not for them.” His steely eyes roll to the ceiling before landing back on you.

“Right. Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” You smile at him, a genuine one that squeezes your eyes closed. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, even if your words are a little rough.” He huffs at that then nods curtly, tapping his foot on the ground.

“On that note, I need to-“

“Will you stay with me?” Your words come out faster than you can stop yourself. A sudden burst of warmth blooms into your face. “I-I mean, if you want. I just have this pizza left and-“

“Do you want me to stay?” He stares hard at you as he reads your reaction. You have a feeling he’s testing you.

Do you want that?

Yes, you do.

“Please stay?”

He considers you for a moment before relaxing, his arms falling to his sides.

“Okay.”

Once again, you find yourself on the floor with the janitor, knees tucked into your chest as you’re lost in thought. He sits a few feet away, slowly chewing on a just heated up piece of pizza while he stares out into the night. Your eyes never leave his face, watching the way his long eyelashes tickle his cheekbones and the way his hair falls in his face. You notice the dark circles that bruise the underside of his eyes.

“Do you ever take time off?” You ask softly.

“I never needed to.”

“You look really tired.”

“That’s just my face.” You laugh at that and he gives you a side eye. He wasn’t expecting that from you.

“Where would you go if you ever took time off?” You ask despite the fact he might ignore you as he didn’t seem the type to indulge such stupid questions, but he surprises you.

“Home.” He says without skipping a beat.

“Home? Really? Are you not home that often that you miss it more or something?”

“It’s quiet and all of my things are there. Where else would I go?” He stares at you with a perturbed expression. His dry voice adds to his comment and you find it very endearing. You think you see his lip twitch, but it might have been your imagination.

“What about you?”

Leaning back on your hands, you stretch your legs out with a soft groan and stare out the window. By this time, it’s well into 9pm and you still have work to do. But with the janitor staring at you, you find yourself pushing the thought of work away for now.

“Don’t laugh. But I really want to experience a day in that park off of Centennial. I heard it’s really nice in the afternoon because of the trees and little river that cuts through it. I would love to just sit out on a blanket and draw for a bit.” You say wistfully. You can already feel the heat of the sun against your skin.

“You’re an artist?”

“Yeah, struggling and starving as most are. But I draw when I can.”

He hums softly. “That sounds like a good day.” He says, wiping his hands on the towel that was tied to his utility belt around his waist.

You beam over to him at that. You again think to yourself of why people don’t like him. He was blunt and a little tactless, but he was caring and empathetic. Something you wouldn’t see from the outside. You liked him for just being himself with you.

Realization dawns on you at what his words meant earlier. Just being you was enough. You matter.

“Thank you.” You say simply, a toothy grin pointed his way.

.

A month passes and you find yourself steadily settling more into your job. You haven’t seen the janitor much since that one night. When you got home after that conversation, you made a promise you would only do things that you wanted to do for the sake of yourself and not others. The next time your coworker came to you for help, you were able to put your foot down and tell them no. Your voice and hands shook the whole time, but since then you haven’t been bothered. Unfortunately, you helped your supervisor when asked but you are proud of the progress that you made with your boundaries.

And now, here you are on a blanket in Centennial Park on a Thursday, lying on your stomach with your sketchbook propped open in front as you pop grapes into your mouth. There’s dark charcoal smudged along the side of your hands but you can’t find yourself caring as you finish a hooded eye with a flourish. It’s a nice day with a light breeze that helps keep you cool and soft music flows through your ears from your earphones, quiet enough so that you can be aware of your surroundings.

You’ve been at the park for so long that you’re almost done with your drawing and you’re thinking you should have brought a book to read when something kicks your foot. It makes you jump and your head twists behind you to see who or what it was. You assume it’s a child that kicked their ball too far as that happened earlier, but instead you scrunch your eyes to make sense of the figure in front of you.

Your eyes trail up to find it's a man dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt, with a pair of oversized headphones circling his neck and sunglasses covering his eyes. The shades are dark but you can only assume he’s staring down at you. In his hands are two hot to-go cups.

“Can I help you?” You ask up to the mystery man, not hiding the annoyance in your tone.

“So she does take a day off. It’s nice to see you away from the computer screen.” The voice is familiar and you find yourself scrambling up to your feet, staring at him hard. He’s the same height as you and you notice his lips are all too familiar. They’re the same ones belonging to the drawing you just finished.

“You’re the janitor! What are you doing here?” Your annoyance quickly changes into surprise.

“Took the day off and I’m meeting a friend.” He raises one of the cups which you assume must be his friend’s. “And you can just call me Levi, by the way.” He grumbles the last bit. You only now realize you never asked for his name in any of the interactions you’ve had with him. Your face flares in embarrassment.

“I- yeah. I’m sorry, that’s so rude of me to have never asked.” You tell him your name as well but he just nods.

“I know who you are, and it’s fine.” He shrugs, tone dry as ever.

“You know my name? But how?” You don’t remember telling him your name. Nor has he ever been around to hear it be said. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You have a plaque on your desk.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fair.” You run a hand through your hair as you laugh at that. You don’t notice the way his eyes flicker from your sweet face to the sketch behind you on the ground. He huffs softly at that.

“Well, I can’t keep them waiting so. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmurs before turning on his heel in the opposite direction.

“Wait, Levi!” You yell, taking a few steps towards him. His head tilts back in your direction so that you see his blue-gray eyes side-eying you from behind his sunglasses.

“What?”

“Would you like to get some tea with me sometime?” You ask quickly. Your voice wavers slightly with anxiety as you shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Are you sure you don’t have other people’s work to complete first?” You laugh at that.

“No. I don’t think that will be a problem.” The sides of his mouth twitches.

“Then sure. Only if you bring your mom’s cookies again.” He raises his cup at you before turning his back to you and walking down the hill.

You sit back down with a grin, staring down at your finished sketch of Levi leaning against the doorframe of the break room.

Doing things for yourself has never felt so good.

I'm adding my taglist to this bc I'm actually quite proud of this one?

-> taglist: @averysmolbear @humanitys-strongest-bamf @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @romantichomicide95 @sckerman @secretmoneybearvoid @apolloshaiku @sujiroses @jadam724 @kamyru @highgoon69 @missyasma @nube55 @svftackerman

The link to my taglist is in my pinned post on my blog!!