#full weight because of it but I just need to rest and then power through

[apollo-zero-one]

I am allowed to climb the stairs on all fours, I repeat in my head, my fatigue is so bad my legs are giving out so even though my family is actively making fun of me for it, I am allowed to crawl rather than overexert myself and create unnecessary pain and exhaustion

I am allowed to sit on the floor of the shower, I remind myself through gritted teeth, even if my family would judge me for it, my fatigue is really bad today and I am allowed to sit on the floor of the shower

[saduko]

HARD TO MISS

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.9K words

Summary: You had driven sick many times before, but never sick enough to retire from a race. Now Lando was worried about you and how the media was going to react. But maybe this was just about the best thing that could of happened to him. Or in which, reader gets sick during the Spanish GP race and has to face the looming media presence after retiring early with a newfound anger she's never experienced. She was a mess of emotions, acting so different, or maybe it wasn't just her being strange.

Teammates, established relationship, an unexpected surprise?? Note: this unfortunately is a re-upload because my dumbass literally deleted the post the first time I posted it despite it being up for days. Yes I'm mad, and no this isn't edited because of it.

The heat of the Spanish sun beat down on the track, the asphalt shimmering with a relentless intensity that seemed to seep through the cockpit. You gripped the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your focus on the race ahead, hot, fast breaths heaving through your helmet like a symphony. The familiar roar of the engine, usually a comforting sound, felt more like a distant hum as yet another wave of nausea rolled through you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d raced under less-than-ideal conditions, but today felt different. The adrenaline that usually sharpened your senses now seemed to amplify the queasiness in your stomach, every bump and turn on the track making it harder to push the discomfort aside. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising bile as you powered through another corner, the car responding to your every command despite the growing turmoil within.

The twisting and turning of the track seemed endless, each lap blurring into the next as your vision narrowed, tunnel-like, around the path ahead. You knew you needed to speak up, to let your team know something was wrong, but the words felt heavy on your tongue, weighted down by the fear of admitting weakness. Finally, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"I'm not feeling very well."

The twisting and turning of the track was making it hard for you to settle your stomach enough to find your voice, but when you had, there was a long silence on the other end. Ears alert with anticipation as nothing came through, before the thick accent of your engineer, Marlow finally sounded in with a panicked voice, "Are you feeling faint?"

"Not really.” You huffed. “I feel quite nauseous though. My stomach is not cooperating."

There was a short silence through your head piece before a shuffle was heard on the other side, followed by a concerned, "Should we retire the car?"

The suggestion shakes you and a quick puff of air leaves your mouth in order to hopefully settle the turning in your stomach, though you think it might have translated more as annoyance to your team despite the intention. You couldn't help but hope it hadn't come off too harshly, however the forceful tone of your next words certainly didn’t do much to calm the idea. "No! I'm not retiring the car... No, I'm okay."

"Please love, If you can't finish there's no shame in retiring. You're not letting anyone down, we understand-!" He knew how stubborn you were and he really didn't want the question to feel like the hit to the ego he knew you would take it as, but it was hard when everyone knew this race was what was separating you from top 3 and the rest in the championship. They knew it wouldn't be that easy, quickly corroborated by the frustrated grunt you let sound through the line.

Your foot braces against the accelerator, bearing down full force as you take the straight right after corner 4 at full speed, you weren't retiring. Subjective to your own harsh perception of yourself, retiring - no matter the circumstance - was one of the most culpable failures you could commit. It was never a rewarding feeling, and whether or not to retire from a race like this was an indisputable no. Six years into the sport and you had never retired from a race on your own accord. Today would not be the first.

"I'm okay for now."

There was no arguing with a driver going over 300 kilometers an hour, and so the team let your decision chart as they sat back and kept on with their roles, no different than before. Except for one thing, noting the conversation, they all made undisclosed motions to keep an extra close eye on the driver cam.

And so the race continued as 10 laps went by, 10 very shaky laps with countless immoderate wobbles, a few oversteers around a couple corners and a very close call with Carlos who made quick work of letting the communal radio know how exactly he felt about that, words that were quickly relayed to you. Though his accent was warm, his words were anything but kind and usually you would have taken it on the chin, laughed at his profanities and apologized with a quick witty comment to follow, but your team watched as you only let out a harrowing breath and shook your head. You obviously were not on your A-game and your entire team could see that.

So with all this, it came as no surprise when the silence in their headphones was abruptly interrupted with the blaring sound of your wheels against the track, followed by your voice, quick yet strained, echoing through the radio.

"I think I'm gonna be sick, guys."

With not a moment to spare, Marlows eyebrows furrowed down at your words, worry clear in his voice as he pressed down on the radio button. And though his words were mostly phrased as a question emphasizing the choice as your own, it was still hard to miss the pleading tone in his voice as he spoke loudly into the headpiece, "Are we retiring? It’s your call, love."

Your end of the radio was silent as the words rang through your headset, though not for lack of connection as the sound of your wheels barrelling against the tar never ceased. They knew you were still there, just not vocalizing your thoughts. They had no doubt this was a tough decision. A huge part of this sport was pride; pride in your team, pride in your car, pride in your abilities. And being the only woman on the grid meant your pride was strong and the backlash was inevitably more harsh when things went wrong. 

It was already hard enough for a driver to admit they needed to back out of a race, let alone for a driver who had something to prove and everything to lose. It was a decision they knew you were avoiding complying with. You had been complaining about feeling ill for days leading up to the race and yet insisted on racing regardless. They knew this was important to you, and to back out now, after making it so far already? Your heart was strong, and your head stronger. But for this one time, it seems your stomach was the strongest, and your nausea was taking the reins of this particular race. And so you bit your lip, hoping to keep the bile from rising for just a little while longer. “I need to stop. I’m retiring the car. I can't help it.”

As disappointing as ending a race early was, your team couldn’t deny the shred of relief that washed over them as you, for once, chose your health first. As fun as racing was, and as rewarding as a race in points felt, none of it was ever worth the increased risk to your safety. They would much rather you all woozy up in the medic bay with a DNF, than halfway to unconsciousness with a p8 finish. This certainly wasn’t your best race anyways, probably one the lowest you’d been in points this season. 

As you began your way around your last lap towards the pit lane, your mind raced with all the dreadful thoughts a DNF brought, the pit in your stomach rearing into a sizeable hole which would of left you feeling melancholy if the twisting and turning hadn’t trumped the discontent. 

As each second passed, you could feel whatever it was you had eaten for lunch earlier with Lando rising higher and higher. High enough in fact, that you found it necessary to press the radio button once more with a request. “Have a bag ready for me when I pull up, please.”

To which a compliant, “Copy.” sounded suit.

It wasn’t too much longer until your orange car could be seen sweeping down the pit lane, no hesitation in your steering as you made a harsh turn into your spot by the garage door. The pit team were prepared to make haste in their actions, ready to prop your car onto the jack in order to wheel it into the garage only to be stopped when two quick hands extended up as you braced yourself up against the halo and pulled yourself out of the seat.

At this point, you were hyper aware of the all the people surrounding you, as well as the multitude of cameras pointing directly at you, recording your every move for all the judgeful eyes to see, and yet you found not a single cell in yourself which cared as you leaned over the car and called out for your assistant, who quickly met you with a large black bin in tow. 

You quickly grabbed for it, pulling your front over the side of the car as far as you could in order to hide yourself from the view of the cameras. And out it came, a slurry of lunch which you had been so looking forward to at the time, and quickly regretting now as it all escaped your stomach.

What in the world had you feeling so ill in the first place? It felt like it had been lightyears since you had felt sick enough to actually puke, and god did you not miss this feeling. Had you eaten something bad earlier in the day? Maybe. But everything you ate Lando had eaten too, so wouldn’t he be sick as well? Well, it’s not really like you could ask him, you thought as you looked up just in time to see him overtake George on the big screen. He looks a little busy. And you should be busy too.

The thought seared through your mind as you spat into the bin, you should be racing too, but at least you feel a little better now that it’s come out; though not completely. Your stomach still churned a little and now your throat burned but you guessed it was better than crashing. You had already nearly done that just by being on the track a little too long and now you were definitely going to receive an earful from Sainz when he finally crossed the checkered flag and found you inevitably moping. 

However, you quickly realized that Carlos was actually the least of your worries and the only person you really had to fear was Lando, for when he heard about the outcome of your race, you were sure to face the lecture of your life. He had been warning you for days leading up to it not to participate. You were obviously unwell and he was aware of the dangers an unwell driver faced under the taxing conditions of a race but you were stubborn, insisting you would be fine. Look at you now. Head in a bin with cameras all around and a bruised ego. 

There was only a little time now until the race ended to recover before everyone came pummeling at you with questions. 

The wheel was starting to feel heavy in his hands and the rubbing of the HANS device against his neck was really starting to hurt. They were approaching the end stretch of the race and as the last 15 laps commenced, Lando couldn’t help but feel a little relieved knowing this would be over soon. This was undoubtedly a tough race. 

From lights out till now, he’d managed to pull from P5 to P4 and had every intention of passing Lewis for a podium position, soon enough he’d be in DRS range but for the time being, he was focused on catching up. The world around him had become mute, he hadn’t even looked up at the grand screen once, all he knew was the car.

So he had almost jumped in his seat when the chime sounded. Just as he began slowing around the final corner leading up to the line for his next lap, the sound of an incoming radio signal had his ears perking in anticipation. Were they planning on pitting him again? Sure he was definitely pushing a little too hard against his tires- not really doing his best at conserving them but he was so close to a podium position and he just needed a little bit more force-

“Lando mate,” Will’s voice sounded through his ears, his tone a little hesitant which left Lando biting his lip with anticipation. Please don't box. “I’ve just been informed by Marlow that y/n has retired.”

Lando's heart nearly fell into his stomach as the words registered in his brain. You retired?! Now thinking about it, you did start only a single position behind him and he hadn’t really seen all that much of you during the race. What happened? “Did she crash?!”

“No Lando, she's okay, it was voluntary. She wasn’t feeling well, I don’t think.” 

“You don’t think?”

“She’s okay Lando, just under the weather.”

Not feeling well? Under the weather? You’d raced a multitude of times before whilst under the weather. Each time he’d advise you not to race, and each time you’d ignore him, swearing up and down you’d be fine- and to Lando’s consolation each time you were fine. You’d come out the other side with a smile, no qualms or grievances and you would save your complaints for him afterwards, when no one else was around to judge. As you had done before, he expected the same this time. You’d never let a little ailment set you back, especially not let it affect you enough to retire. Not unless it really was bad.

Lando’s thoughts were soon interrupted by Will’s voice once more, his tone dismissive, implying the conversation had reached its end and no more discussion would be had about it. “We will contact you again if anything happens.”

And despite Lando’s dismay, he complies. There were still a good 15 laps left of the race ahead and he had a lot of catching up to do, a lot of competitive driving to be had. His focus couldn’t be elsewhere, but what was he supposed to do knowing his sick fiancé has just pulled herself out of a race? What was he supposed to do when he knew you well enough to understand how prideful you could be, and how poor you had to feel to choose to retire?  

He really tries to not let it bother him. During the next lap, he tries to not let it bother him as he forces himself to look anywhere else but the jumbo screen in hopes of a possible update on your condition. He tries to not let it bother him in the lap after that as the team radios in to discuss possible strategies regarding the oncoming overtake he will perform, and he tries to not let it bother him during the lap after that one when he finally passes Lewis. Now 3 laps have passed but he just can't get the questions about you off his mind. It is bothering him. He shouldn’t be distracted, especially while he’s in a podium position but he can’t help it. 

So as he crosses onto the next straight, he finds himself radioing in with the question that had been eating away at him since the news broke. “Uh.. Any updates on y/n? Is she alright?”

There's a considerable moment of silence on Mclaren’s end of the line, the team were honestly tied on what to tell the man and what not to. You weren’t exactly in optimal condition, and word around was slightly worrisome regarding your state. You were okay, but definitely not well, they knew because they had caught the treacherous sounds of your gags a few more times since the first echoing through the mclaren garage. 

As your fiance, he deserved to know these details, but as a driver, they knew it wasn’t smart to worry him. What were they to say as to not stress him out in an already extremely stressful situation? They could tell him a few of your team members were discussing taking you to the hospital. Or they could keep him from driving the car through the wall in order to meet you there. The decision was clear, they needed him to focus on driving. “She’s okay, she's currently being looked at by the medical team.”

“She has the medical team on her?!” Will’s eyes shut hard as Lando’s reply came through. Definitely not the right choice of words.

“Just a precaution Lando, she isn’t well at the moment.”

Lando’s bottom lip catches between his teeth as he ponders his engineer's words. He finds himself over analyzing every syllable, every infliction with intentions of unpacking whatever truth was seeping between the lines, and he notices that he’s biting his cheek as he rounds the 8th corner with a little less precision than usual. “Is she bad?”

Landos team take quick note of this change in pace, latching onto the clear oversteer he performs around the corner. They quickly find themselves trying to pull away from the topic in order to keep him both figuratively and literally on track and so Will concludes the conversation with a stern tone. “Please Lando, you can see her when you're done racing. We need you to focus on the race.”

He almost wanted to curse the man out purely due to frustration despite knowing deep down that he was right. But what else was he supposed to do when he knows his fiancé is sitting in the medic bay and all he can do to support her is… well, nothing. He just has to finish this race.

Despite your protests, your team was adamant on a visit to the med bay in order to possibly come up with a reason for your sudden onset of race ending symptoms, and after a quick trip down the hall that took a little longer than usual due to your need to stop once more, you were simply told there wasn’t much they could do long term to crack the bilous case. Shocker. They did however hand you something to ease the nausea which you were beyond thankful for.

You had spent so long counting down the seconds until the anti-nausea medication kicked in that you hadn't even noticed that the race had ended, nor did you notice the approaching sound of hasteful footsteps until the door to your driver's room came barrelling open with a thud.

“I told you not to race.” Lando’s voice was so stern it had you stiff. There was a slight indication of anger lingering behind his words but ultimately his face was a dead giveaway to the worried intention etched behind his tone. 

“I thought I’d be okay.”

“You threw up?” His eyebrows came down as he said it, and you noticed it was less of a question and more as if he was trying to confirm a suspicion. Someone from your team must have snitched on you already. No damn loyalties.

“Only a little.” Your words were sheepish.

“You stink.” He deadpanned and you found yourself scoffing, slightly exasperated at the bluntness of his words. The statement had you petty with offense. 

“You don’t smell very good either-”

“-I don’t smell like vomit.”

Finally you let out a sigh, already tired of the back and forth over something so menial, and unworthy of an argument. You were sick. Shit happens. “Lando, I wasn’t feeling well and I’d been feeling it all week with no real problem so I didn’t think there would be a reason to sit this race out. I didn’t think I would actually need to pull over. It’s done now.”

There was a loud silence between the two of you as he onced over your body with intentful eyes. You seemed okay enough and he guessed this really wasn’t the time or place to start an argument, especially over something as stupid as him being worried about you, you were on the same damn side. So instead he just sighed, bit his lip and nodded at you. “Alright.”

“Guys.” Charlotte suddenly peaked her head through the cracked door to glance at you both. “Come on, we need you at Media now.”

This wasn’t going to be easy, that you knew. The media had given you a hard time for things way less than this so you could only imagine what they had in store for you after throwing up on live TV for half the world to see moments after a voluntary DNF. It just about felt like you were being led to your execution with the way you knew they were about to tear into you. But there was no avoiding this, and the grimaced look etched into your features left Lando very aware of this fact.

“I know you don’t wanna do this but you have to go out there, you’ve got no choice. Not unless you’re willing to cop a fat fine.”

You stuck an eyebrow up at Landos voice, the sides of your lips extending out as you conceptualized his words but your expression quickly had him shaking his head alongside a hearty laugh. “No, no. Don’t even look like you’re considering it.”

Your laugh to match his own soon sounded throughout the room, and his hand swiftly found its place at the nape of your neck, to which he gave a quick squeeze and began leading you out the door into the McLaren garage hallway. “We have a wedding to plan and that means a lot of money to spend. You will not be wasting money trying to get out of media duties.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at how exasperated and sarcastic he sounded.

You both found yourselves trailing along Charlotte's path until the hallway quickly opened up into a large room where a few other drivers had already begun their own separate interviews towards the camera crews which littered every corner. The media pen; may as well be your death site.

Whilst waiting for the race to end; and for the nausea to subside, Charlotte had given you a rundown - more like a lecture; regarding what to expect and how to approach the inevitably condescending questions that would soon be thrown your way. 

This was going to be brutal, you knew that. You had finally made a mistake that the male media could exploit to reinforce their stereotypes about damned women in motorsports. Just another day facing the misogyny of the position, except this time, it was your own carelessness that put you in this position. The only damned thing you’d be was a damned liar if you said the upcoming articles tearing into you weren’t already gnawing at your mind. You could just picture it;

‘’Mclaren Princess’ Just Might Throw Her Way Up and Out of Competitive Driving,’

‘Speed Queen’s Weak Stomach Shows Why She’s Better Suited for Other Races,’

‘Too Glamorous For The F1 Track? or Maybe Not Glamorous Enough; - maybe we should leave the fast cars to the men that made them.’ 

This might just be worse than the ‘Revving Engines, not Emotions,’ article from last year when you teared up in Australia after what was the most frustrating race of your career. This was going to be horrible. 

Your actions were always hyper-criticized, but maybe just once you were being too imaginative for your own good. You needed to calm down because words tended to stick with you. A fact that Charlotte knew all too well, because she was sure to speak words she knew would ring through your ears during those interviews; Take it on the chin, stay composed and certainly don't be snappy. One of those was doable.

The moment you passed the threshold beyond the doorway, officially crossing into the media pen, it's as if every set of eyes and every lens of a camera had turned to watch you move. The room hadn’t by any means gone quiet, but there was definitely a shift in volume as the noise settled from a near unbearable buzz to a tolerable chatter, just enough to notice the change. The influx of attention almost had you doubling over once again, especially when you felt the nausea begin to slowly creep up for the second time that day. But you made notable efforts to keep your head high, hoping that a strong demeanor would at least soften the blow which would soon be dealt.

Lando’s arm had split from your neck not long after entering the room. You guys were always light on your PDA, trying to keep as much of your personal relationship as private as possible; as private as an already public relationship could possibly be. But he still managed to give you a small, reassuring squeeze on the hip before you both set off, being led in opposite directions.

A flurry of reporter eyes seemed to trail your path as your personal PR manager led you to a spot right in between Carlos and Charles, and as you started setting yourself up, you unavoidably overheard their journalists trying to wrap up their interviews, which you could only imagine would be to get a shot at you faster. 

However unluckily for those journalists, it seems your first adversary had already taken the stand just directly across from you with a large, heavy mic and aged, gleaming eyes; eyes that had your own widening in alarm. You were quite familiar with this journalist, very familiar with him actually as he had always been quick to criticize you and your skills on many occasions in the past. He was quite ill-mannered towards you, definitely holding a target out with a gun aimed directly for your career, making it clear he was disapproving of your presence as a woman on this grid. You just knew he had been waiting for you. This was going to be hell.

The journalist quickly began setting himself up, the cameraman behind him pointing the lens directly at your sour face, which you admittedly were not doing a great job at masking. Though, if your interviewer had noticed, he thankfully hadn’t commented on it. However that didn’t stop him from wasting any time beginning to comment on the other mistakes you had made today.

“Always a pleasure to speak with you, Speed Queen.” His gravelly voice spat. “Though I think ‘Pit Princess’ may be a little more fitting after today's race.” A sly smirk quickly spread across his mouth, an act that had your hands bracing against the railing separating the two of you from one another. Charles had quickly taken notice of this from his position just beside you. He admittedly felt he was doing quite well at remaining professional and ignoring the exchange between you and the infamous journalist, but now he was on high alert, ears perked in your direction with the intention of intervening at any given moment.

Despite your peeved sentiment, you did well at keeping your face straight and head high at the insult, feeling it necessary to not crack in front of the person trying to get a reaction out of you. Don’t prove his point. 

“I appreciate the creativity, but I think I would prefer to focus on the race itself rather than nicknames. I’m quite happy with the one I have.” There was a moment in which he tried to intervene, however you were determined to move past the subject. “-And, you know, today’s challenges were significant, but that’s a part of the sport, I guess.” Despite the lingering nausea, you still managed to force a professional smile.

“Is it?” He curled an eyebrow condescendingly, a look which nearly had a scowl slipping past your placid facade. But instead you held strong, that sickeningly sweet smile dripping like honey with disdain. “Part of the sport is the unpredictability of it. So I’d say so.”

The man's eyes gleamed on, a small hum escaping his lips as he nodded absently. “It’s just that no other driver seems to have this issue. Do you think maybe your choice to retire has to do with particular limitations a female might have that the men in this sport don’t?”

And as expected, the indirectness wasn’t so indirect anymore, the true misogynistic intentions of his words slowly crept out with ferocity. 

“No.” Your tone was final, like it hadn’t ever crossed your mind, because it really hadn’t. “No I really don’t. Many men before me have gotten sick during races, I guess I just preferred to voluntarily take myself out of the race than spend the rest of it wiping pesto off my visor.” You snarled. 

A small tap against your arm quickly alerted you to the contention of your PR manager, a disapproving gesture silently advising you to reel it in. But god was it hard when his face was so smug. She should understand that being passive aggressive was much more admissible than being violent, so she may as well let you get your anger out in the socially acceptable way, though you admit it was strange of you to feel so angry. You were usually better at keeping your emotions in check. Hm. But alas, you complied, correcting your face and letting him speak; even if you wanted so badly to interrupt him with your thoughts of how horrible a journalist he was. 

“Well, I think a lot of people agree when I say that this sport tends to reward determination and resilience, not quitting.”

Were you hearing this correctly? Was he really implying that you should have thrown up right into your helmet and just continued through the race like nothing? It was getting really hard to remain socially acceptable. What was this new found anger? “Racing may sometimes reward resilience, however, being sharp minded is more important sometimes. I noticed I was unwell enough for it to affect my performance, so I decided it was smarter to take myself out of the race. Especially after nearly taking Carlos out of the race too.” 

Just as you finished answering the (absurd) question, a suave laugh sounded to your left as Carlos suddenly stepped up beside you, sliding his arm across your shoulder. “I did have some choice words prepared for you earlier Mija, but then I learnt what happened and now I forgive you.” His eyes suddenly turned to the journalist, a glint of exaggerated pity in relation to the topic seeping into his expression, almost as if he was speaking with experience to someone who wouldn’t understand; because he was. “Driving whilst sick is not for the weak.”

The journalist's cold eyes squinted slightly as Carlos’ condescending tone registered in his head, yet he kept his expression neutral and mic high as he nodded. “I’m sure it isn’t.” And nothing was said after that. No rebuttal, no argumentative comment, just a plea of agreement. God, how you wished interviews were that easy for you.

A few voices echoing out from somewhere behind had caught the attention of the trio, and it didn’t take long for you to realize it was Carlos’ team instructing him to move onwards to his next position. So with a reassuring smile towards you and a quick quirk of a brow towards the reporter, he was off to his next interview without another word, taking your fleeting moment of security along with him as he left.

Now it was just you and the reporter once more, and you could tell he wasn’t feeling as cordial with you as he was with Carlos, evident by the slight snarl that had crept onto his face by the interruption in your defense. “Friendly words from Sainz there, as always.” he began, his tone dripping with insincerity, “Do you find it degrading that other drivers always have to come to your defense in order to keep your positive reputation, because there are a lot of people that believe you perhaps, ride off the success of others.” 

Your stomach twisted, and if it was from the nausea growing once again or from the sheer audacity of his words, you couldn’t tell. He was essentially implying that the only reason people liked you was because other likable people vouched for you, and not because of your own hard work and valiant achievements. It seems he wanted defense, you were about to show him just how defensive you could be. 

“With all due respect,” you began, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “I don’t defend myself because I don’t have to, because the genuinity of my character extends far past my words.” you paused, thinking about your next words carefully. “My peers defend me because I’ve proven my capabilities time and time again, and they know that one incident doesn’t define my career. However, I don’t think you share the same sentiment, hm?” 

The taunting in your voice was quickly caught on by your PR manager who swiftly grabbed your arm in yet another warning, except this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as much. The journalist's eyes narrowed at your words, clearly not expecting such a discourteous response and the tugging of your PR manager's grip against your arm was an obvious nonverbal message to wrap it up but you weren't finished, oh no. That new found anger that had been gnawing at you all race was just beginning to trickle out.

“‘Riding off the success of others.’” Your quoted, voice riddled with humor, “And yet you somehow manage to find me every post race interview. Do you write these question’s down in your little notebook while you watch my multi-race winning car fly past you? Or do you wipe the dust from the camera lens instead?”

He quickly opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, your PR manager intervened, her grip on your arm tightening slightly as she stepped forward. “This interview is over,” she announced firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. “McLaren will be utalizing the next few days to help Y/n recover for next week's race. If you have any further questions, you can direct them to our media office.”

Your eyes widened in shock at the intervention. You had overstepped your media training a few times before and yet none had ever led to the end of the interview. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised at your PR manager's swift movements as she tugged you back and away from the journalist. “Let’s move on.” Her voice was disapproving but she was obviously trying to remain calm and professional, understanding there was a job to be done. But your anger wasn’t discriminatory, everyone was a potential outlet, and you weren’t having this. “No, I’m finished.” You didn’t even want to participate in media in the first place, this was obligatory. You had done your part and now you were taking charge of the rest of your night. And so you pulled your arm back and made quick haste towards the exit, leading back to your driver room. 

You were only a few meters from the door now, acutely aware of all the eyes watching you retire early from yet another obligation today, when a hand grazing the small of your back pulled you away from the tormenting feeling of the bile rising once again. This time, it was Charles, his sweet face beaming a reassuring smile at you as he began walking in stride towards the exit alongside you. “Mon cheri, that was something else.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at his words, nausea bubbling once again, expecting yet another lecture from someone else. “If by ‘something else’ you mean a complete disaster, then yeah, I guess.”

Charles kept his tone steady, a touch of amusement in his voice as you both walked in stride. “No, I mean you handled it with a lot of, uhh.. What is the English? Poise.” 

You gave him a skeptical look. “Thanks, but it didn’t feel like handling things with poise, It felt like I was about to lose it.” 

His smile slipped into a small laugh before it fell,  and his bright eyes quickly turned into one’s of worry as he began a once over of your body. “Are you feeling okay?” he began the inevitable conversation. “I’m okay, it’ll pass I'm sure.”

Charles’ brows furrowed down, thick accent sounding with worry as he spoke. “You shouldn’t count on it passing, you should take care of yourself. You’re only gonna have more shit thrown at you if you don’t-”

As sweet as his concern was, you were tired of this conversation today, it was becoming tedious to hear and you really just needed to lie down or something. “-Charles, I really appreciate it and I'll be sure to visit the doctor tomorrow, but I think I’m gonna be sick again, so how about you cover me up to the hallway before I end up in another fight with a reporter, or my head in another bin on TV.”

Your words had Charles’s eyes widening, quickly glancing around from side to side in search of his target who was finishing up from an interview of his own, when your hand came up to press against your mouth, skin turning a tinge green. “Lando!”

The video shook a little as the person on the other end fidgeted with the camera, a slight blur shifting the image and the audio cracking with the movement before the frame finally straightened up. The person took a step back. It was you, which wasn’t all that surprising considering the video had been uploaded onto your own instagram, but it was the first anyone had really heard of you in weeks. 

Ever since your race ending ailment back in Spain, you had essentially gone radio silent. Not posting, not participating in interviews; you had missed 2 more races since then. It was worrisome, especially considering you had assured everyone the day after Spain that you were working on getting better for next week's race, which you never showed up to. 

The races went on and the fans asked about you, the interviewers asked about you too, but it seemed everyone involved in the FIA had no comment on your whereabouts nor your condition. The drivers dodged post interview questions, excelling on to new subjects and only had quick fleeting comments in response to concerned fans around the paddock who were only trying to make sense of it all.

Lando copped the brunt end of it though, scoring a P2 podium in Canada that everyone could more obviously care less about in his post-race interviews. The only topic mentioned was you, your absence from the race and why everyone was so hush-hush about it in the first place. The interviews were so off topic that this time it was Lando who had to leave the media pen early to avoid the questions, though opposingly, McLaren had been the ones to encourage his swift exit.

It was starting to become an issue. People were fretful. Were you still sick? Was it something more serious than you had anticipated and now you couldn’t race anymore?

The view they were looking at suggested that perhaps they were about to find out. 

You retreated away from the camera propped up against what people could only speculate had to be your dressing table, as you found your spot upon the large, luxurious bed the camera was pointing towards. Now cross legged upon it, your body clad in a 2 piece short silky pajama set, finally you began to speak. 

“Hello everyone.” You didn’t sound unwell, not stressed or upset. In fact, there was an edge to your voice that almost seemed cheerful; excited. And yet for now you remained composed, nothing but a small, media trained smile dawning your otherwise expressionless face.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The sentence was humorous, calling attention to the silence you had afflicted, and the lack of news upon your whereabouts. “Lando and I are finally home in Monaco for summer break, though I have to admit that I’ve actually been in Monaco for a few weeks now. I think some of you might feel that was a bit obvious given my absence.”

There was a high pitched chuckle off screen, it obviously being Lando out of frame as your eyes flickered over to the side with a playful yet mischievous smile, encouraging his reaction with your expression. It was a fleeting moment as your smile once again fell into something a little more vacant before straightening up and continuing. “I know a lot of people have questions, and I do want to apologize for the lack of communication on my end, I’ll explain, I promise but first I also want to say please don’t be mad at any of the other drivers for not speaking out, they were all just respecting my wishes in not saying anything until I was ready.”

There was a small pause as you took a breath, no sound emitting except for the slight breeze wafting through the room, further exemplified by the sway of the sheer curtains. This was so nerve racking, were you about to announce your departure from motorsport? Were you about to reveal a sickness you weren't aware of until now? The silence, though short lived, was deafening. 

“I-” Finally you spoke, but quickly caught it with a bite to your lower lip. It really seemed like you were processing your words, debating how to present your next statement carefully enough. “How do I-?”

Once again your gaze drifted off to the side of the screen, confused and cautious eyes quickly averting into a bright smile before a laugh escaped your mouth. “Don’t look so excited!” 

Lando, obviously beaming, clear by the tone of his voice, cheerfully yelled back, “Do you want me to say it?!”

“No!” you rebutted quickly with a laugh, “I told you I wanted to be the one to announce it, stop trying to take my shine!”

“Then go on with it!” He was so obviously really excited, impatient to finally announce whatever it was that had him so elevated.

“Okay well-” You stuttered for a moment, quickly catching yourself before continuing. “As many of you saw in Spain, I wasn’t feeling too well,-”

“-Hard to miss-.” Landos voice mumbled, a comment in which you swiftly ignored.  

“-And I hadn’t been for a few days leading up to it but I just took it as a stomach bug and planned to go on with it like usual. What I didn’t plan for however, was the doctor's visit I was forced to go to the day after.”

Your eyes glared off to the side once again, feigning annoyance but evidently not actually upset before looking back at the camera with a smile. “The good news is that we are very much aware of what was making me sick.” Your voice was reassuring, eyes slowly beginning to light up as you continued on. “The bad news is that I unfortunately will not be participating in the rest of the 2024 season, or the 2025 one for that matter.”

It was like you could feel the impending shock of everyone watching radiating through the screen despite it being pre recorded because your pause was almost comically dramatic. And yet it was so wholly conflicting, because regardless of the awful news, you didn’t really seem all that upset despite being such a passionate racer, it felt so out of character. This confusion was only exemplified further when your eyes once again drifted to the left, a large smile engulfing your features as you took notice of what had to be Lando's excited expression once more. “Oh don’t look so happy, you’re the one who still gets to race!”

“I’m sorry!” He laughed that high pitched laugh he does when he just can’t hold it back.

Your eyes flickered back to the camera, sitting straight on with a patient yet humorous smile, a single eyebrow cocked as you waited for Landos laughter to simmer. It took a moment, a moment you thought ended a time or two before he began again, but eventually the room became still again as your face grew just a little more in adoration towards the man everyone could see you loved dearly. It was like the energy had shifted just a little, from what felt so playful before, to something a little more familial and warm. 

“I think some of you may have put the pieces together, but for those who haven’t. Well… I’m pregnant!” Your smile was so big and sheepish, so conscious and just a little shy, it almost felt as if you were announcing it to a friend of many years and it was all just so heartwarming. You were okay! More than that, you were happy, and soon everyone else who would watch this video would be too. Lando's happy laugh from beyond the camera at the announcement finally being made was more than enough to express just how joyous the news was for the two of you.

“As heartbreaking as it will be to not be able to competitively race in the upcoming seasons, I’m not actually that sad about having to step down for a little.” You laughed heartily. “I proudly announce that in my place, the very talented Australian driver Oscar Piastri will be filling my position until I'm off from… maternity leave? I guess. That's a first for this sport.”  You laughed.  “But of course they just had to find the best to replace the best.” You quickly glanced over towards Lando out of frame, clearly expecting an agreement that never came. They could only imagine the disapproving look Lando was sending you.

Your expression never changed, but your tone dropped as you spoke darkly. “I’m carrying your child.” You spat, to which a loud “But of course!” sounded in response, followed by a laugh from the both of you.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be seeing me around the track a lot considering this muppet,” you pointed to your left, “still gets to race.”

“Don’t be jealous,” the soft voice came from off screen. 

“No, I’ll confidently admit it, I’m so jealous.” You pouted, but the warmth in your eyes belied the playful tone in your voice.

Lando’s hand appeared in the frame for a brief moment, gently squeezing your shoulder before disappearing off-camera again. “We’ll be back out there together soon enough.”

You nodded, your smile returning as you glanced back at the camera, feeling a surge of excitement for what was to come. “In the meantime, I’m looking forward to supporting the team from a different angle. It’s going to be a new experience, but I’m excited to do this as…”

“-As a mother?” Lando finished with a knowing smirk.

“As a mother.” You laughed, a loud one from Lando soon sounded to match your own, one so joyous it left you beaming. Suddenly, Lando jolted in frame, clearly excited as he leaned over the bed to tackle you from your sitting position down into a hug, leaving you both falling back onto the sheets. “Oh my god Lando!” You shout, a hand quickly moving to shield your lower stomach. “God! Nevermind guys, I think Lando just tackled the baby out of me, guess I’ll be seeing you all from my McLaren in Austria.”

“Oh!” Lando gasped. “Not funny!” 

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. a flicker of a flame.

about. when satoru notices the flicker of cursed energy within your unborn child, he starts to feel the weight and nerves of becoming a father.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, expecting parents, reader is pregnant, hospitals, nerves about being parents, listen idk how gojo’s cursed technique works so here u go >:( canon verse, expecting father!gojo, fem!reader.

“i can see it…like…flickering inside of you.”

satoru carries an expression of intrigue, like a child who’s just discovered a new sensation.

you flip the page of your magazine, not bothering to spare your husband a glance while you instead choose to admire the many strollers and their offers that decorate the page. “don’t be weird, satoru.” you tap a perfectly manicured nail against the one you like most, leaning over to show the item to him.

“but it’s there… like actually there.” the sorcerer replies, keeping his voice low despite the loud ambience of the maternity ward’s waiting room. people crying, people celebrating, families already full of children gathering around to hear more exciting news. “i like that one. it’ll fit in the hallway too. do you want it in grey or in black?”your husband passes you a pen from the depths of your tote bag in his lap, letting you circle the stroller in the magazine so you know to come back to it.

this time, you do him the honours of looking up at him — a fresh glare settled on your glowing features. “satoru gojo please stop referring to our baby as an ‘it’.” you sigh in exhaustion, watching him slump in his seat because you know he hates it when you’re irritated with him. “i thought you were excited about having a baby girl. and the grey one, it goes with your eyes.”

that seems to perk him up enough, earning you a kiss to your cheek that has you smiling like a fool in the nurses office. “sorry, sorry…” satoru starts to coo warmly, a soft tone that’s usually reserved for you and his students. “it’s just that… every time i look at you, i see two vessels of cursed energy instead of one. there’s a flicker of a flame there, right where she would be. it’s blowing my mind.” he points to your bump, nestled away under the layer of his clothing since they’re the only thing that makes you feel comfortable right now.

you close your magazine slowly, fighting the flutter of your heart and the warmth that spreads through your body. you know that your husband is being cautious, overly observant and extremely over protective — being pregnant and having a baby in your line of work was dangerous. scary, even. but you knew that satoru wanted this with you, and you him. that he cared a little too hard or worried slightly too much because while he was the strongest, you’d become every target and every weakness to him.

you and your daughter.

an unborn child who may possibly have the powers of a god among men.

so, instead you tuck away the irritation that comes with your hormones and let your gaze slink over to the large man squished into the abnormally small seat of the waiting room — just to be by your side. “do you need me to explain how pregnancy works, satoru?” you quip and rest your head on your knuckles, just to make him laugh and ease up a little.

a wiry smile starts to tug at the corner of his soft, pink lips. “i’d rather you show me but i think we got the fun part nailed.” gojo’s face splits into a wide grin, making you roll your eyes. “we made her, yanno. she’s alive in there because you’re keeping her safe.”

“and you too, mister six eyes.” you tap his skull, brushing against pure white locks, as gojo leans over you affectionately — probably in demand for a kiss (which you give).

the receptionist calls your family name from the front desk — no doubt to call you in for your neonatal appointment. another set of scans to help confirm your little girl is nice and healthy before you tell the rest of your friends and family later today.

gojo wanted to hand out copies of your scans to everyone at dinner. show off.

but as you stand, satoru goes quiet, offering you his hand as aid. “do you think…do you want…” pressing his lips into a thin line, your husband mulls over his words whilst guiding you down the hall to the doctors office — nodding to the receptionist to thank her as you pass. “i hope she doesn’t have what i have. i wouldn’t wish this burden on anyone.” he looks you straight in the eye, blue eyes piercing your soul. you feel your baby move and kick, forcing you to wonder if she’ll have the same mind blowing eyes as her father. “i hope she’s like you. beautiful and strong and—“

“ours. she’ll be ours and the best parts of both of us. her daddy’s strength, bravery, good looks and her momma’s wits, pretty ‘get me what i want eyes’ and smarts too.” you laugh, bright and loud as you cut gojo off — turning to look at him with a happy smile. “if she turns out like that, the best parts of both of us she’ll be perfect. i’ll love her because you gave her to me, we can figure out the rest later.”

that seems to reassure satoru, who sags in relief by your side as he wraps an arm around you, his large palm splaying across your baby bump. “you’re right, you’re right,” he grins again, feeling her little feet mercilessly kick at his palm. “as long as she’s healthy, we’ll be fine. i love you.”

“we love you too.” you swoon a little too much.

satoru gojo will be a great father, you think, your baby girl is so lucky — she has the strongest daddy in the world and he loves her a little too much already.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[shadykazama]

Sun Wukong/The destined one (mostly relationship) headcanons!

The people have spoken and the people crave monkey business. So let's get down to it!

❤

Post journey Wukong is a wiser, stronger monkey, but don't let him fool you he's still a trickster at heart.

When you first meet, he has you refer to him as 'Great Sage'.

Earning the right to say his given name isn't so much a big moment as it is just him beginning to care for you. You slip up, whether it be because you were sick or injured or just not thinking, and he doesn't correct you. In fact he kind of likes it.

He doesn't make a big deal out of it, but if you watch closely you can see his tail twitch and his eyes lost in thought.

One character flaw you'll have to deal with, even when you're just friends, is Wukong thinks he knows what's best. He's old and wisened and POWERFUL; if he thinks he knows something will be best for you, he'll do it without so much as telling you.

Credit to Hanibalistic! Their one shot about Wukong and stealing an immortal peach for a mortal reader was perfect and exactly how I think he'd act! That impulsive, "I care about this person and will do what I think is best for them regardless of the consequences or their opinion" is very... him.

Hey, we all have our flaws. (Just don't tell him that.)

On the positive side, he wouldn't let a scratch befall you. At some point you'll stop instinctually defending yourself because of how safe you feel with him. Which is heavily ironic considering how often he himself will put you in dangerous situations just to pull a prank.

But besides your poor heart from getting scared so often, you have nothing to worry about. Wukong won't leave room for even one mistake to slip by him.

Expect him to never call you by your name, almost ever. He chronically tends to call people by titles or nicknames. From calling the tang monk, master, or how he'd call Bajie 'idiot' for most of the book- just expect something. He'd only refer to you by name if he were really serious.

Something I personally find really funny that isn't represented in many medias with him is that he's OLD. He's old as hell and he knows it. In the book he'll often refer to basically everyone as 'nephew' or 'little brother' which is oddly endearing and also really funny.

I feel as though most people don't utilize how heavy he is- even in movies and stuff. His staff is like thousands of pounds! You aren't moving him unless he wants you to. God forbid you end up cuddling. Even while resting I never think he'd put his full weight on you, but you'd definitely be stuck.

Will never refuse to help you, but will tease you endlessly for needing it. "Helpless little thing aren't you?"

His love language is gift giving and acts of service.

He's impulsive with words, but look at how he treats you and you'll see how he cares.

Considering his connections, expect to have the world at your fingertips. He'll never leave you wanting, you'll always be satisfied. There is no gift beyond his reach. Just be careful what you ask for, because he WILL get it one way or another.

He is a king, a leader- it's basically second nature to be serviced, and that's why it's so important how he acts toward you. For you, he stays vigilant, ready to catch you if you fall or feed you when you're hungry. For you, he'll carry you in his arms if you're tired. For you he'd put himself in servitude.

Monkeys also show affection to one another by grabbing at each other for attention, and grooming one another's hair.

I don't think he'd have any trouble getting your attention, he's very vocal! So he'd focus more on your hair. Don't be surprised if he randomly starts combing through with his fingers or just playing with it. It's calming for him, and another form of affection.

You've changed him for the better... And for the worse. He happier, more content and occupied (which is good for everyone). BUT, should you ever disappear or get stolen from him he would surely devastate heaven and earth to get you back. The last thing anyone needs is another, more wrathful, Wukong rampage.

Expect to get shown off at every convenience! You're his king/queen and he'll make sure everyone knows it.

You have the BIGGEST wedding. And I think the best part would've been the Chuangmen, which is a wedding game tradition, usually meant for the groom to prove his loyalty, devotion, and desire to marry the bride by completing tests made by her bridesmaids. There are a ton of really interesting Chinese wedding traditions that I would recommend reading about, but with the sheer power of Wukong, these challenges in particular could've been absolutely ridiculous!

Wukong isn't jealous, no that would be ridiculous, he has nothing to fear. That by no means doesn't mean that he doesn't get offended on your behalf. He's gotten upset at not being greeted properly, there's no way in HELL he doesn't get pissed if someone were to flirt with you. They're lucky if all he does is kill them.

Feel free to make fun of him for not being able to swim. He'll absolutely make you regret it, but do it anyway it'll be funny.

Am I the only one that thinks he'd be great with kids? 🤚

Like COME ON- the dude probably helps take care of the baby monkeys on his mountain. He tells them cool stories to get them riled up. Will lay down and let them play with his hair while you read or sing to him.

Give this man kids I dare you.

That's a topic for a different post 😌

Likes kissing you on the top of the head, will also lay his forehead against yours just to be close to you.

These two designs I really like for him! Y'all let me know in the comments which version is your favorite <3

💙

The destined one may look like Wukong, but they're certainly different in... most areas.

Being selectively mute makes things a good share more difficult to communicate with him than Wukong, but it has it's charms.

You'd just been... tagging along with him. He didn't mind, unlike the wolves and undead he'd been beating through, you proved no threat to him.

He figured you would just leave on your own- or die. But by some miracle even he didn't understand, you stuck by him through rain and dust storms alike. By the time you made it to the New West he felt obligated to keep you around.

For the first time since you started following him, you were actually in danger. And to both of your surprises, he dropped what he was doing to protect you.

Don't bother asking him why. Whether you do, or simply tell him thank you, he'll just wave you off. But you notice him walking closer to you than normal after that. No longer were you left to catch up with him while he sprinted off; he'd keep stride with you now, glancing at you every now and then.

He CAN talk, and he probably surprises you the first time he does. It's not even for something important. It's just one fateful night where you happen to decide to mess with his hair. You'd pull away after a moment and he'd rumble out a little, "Don't stop."

Now that you KNOW he can talk, it's even more annoying when he refuses to answer you.

He finds it amusing when you get frustrated with him about it. He can't help it. The whole time you're grumbling or ranting at him, he's just staring at you with his stoic face... thinking about how cute you are.

Feel free to give him a name. Not like he'll argue with whatever you pick-

But really, please call him something other than "the destined one". He'd never really needed a name before, but he'd treasure whatever you decide to call him.

He probably has a nickname for you too, he just only says it in his head...

Will click his tongue at you to get your attention. (Absolutely does the 'tsk tsk tsk' thing people do to call their cats)

Speaking of getting your attention- ^ remember how monkeys show affection by just kind of grabbing each other and squeezing and pressing their head against each other?

Yeeeeah. He's a touchy monkey. He won't ask for affection, so he kind of just does it himself. Will rub his head on you, not unlike how cats or rabbits do to mark things they like. Except he's just doing it to be affectionate.

Gets cuteness aggression and WILL just grab you.

If it wasn't obvious, his love languages are physical touch and quality time.

Doesn't need help putting armor on, but if you want to help he won't stop you. (The closeness makes his heart beat fast)

If you were ever both in a bad spot- being threatened and not in a place to put up a good fight, he'd cover your body with his and bare his fangs at whatever was trying to hurt you guys to intimidate it. (It probably wouldn't work- but it's an instinctual response.)

If your feet got cold in the snow in the New West he'd pick you up and let you rest on his back for awhile.

Likes when you rely on him like that, it makes him feel stronger. And besides it just "being his destiny", knowing you'll get hurt if he loses helps him focus during fights.

Terribly jealous individual.

The glare he would give someone is straight up deadly. Watch out for how his tail flicks around when he's irritated too 🤭.

Absolutely adores the sound of your voice, it could bring him out of a coma fr.

Doesn't mind being little or big spoon, he just likes cuddling. Wraps his tail around you when you do.

Always always makes sure you eat before he does, even though he's the one doing all the fighting.

Will let you win play fights (most of the time).

Hearing him laugh is the cutest thing ever I swear- It probably took you off guard the first time you manage it.

Doesn't know how to take compliments.

Probably short circuited the first time you complimented his appearance.

Very gentle, slow kisser. Likes having you in his lap, but will grab cheeky kisses every now and then too. Will tilt your chin up when you kiss, every time.

Art by @marcu-bug

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

hii i hope you requests are still open and if not pleeease ignore this but i couldnt get this out of my head and i think that you could execute this perfectly..

toto and his wife in dts and he's like lifting weights she's doing yoga or pilates and dts just capturing how he's admiring ~ogling~ her and being in love with her and her just like ~sneakily~ drooling over him and the fans maybe going crazy over it because they're both incredibly hot and so in love (lust) with eachother and just such great couple

thank you for taking the time to read this love you and you writing! keep up the good work<3

Power Couple Rep

Word count: 1k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader

______________________________________________________________

The gym in the Wolff household was bathed in afternoon light, with the sleek equipment gleaming under the soft glow. The buzz of the Drive to Survive cameras was unmistakable, capturing every angle, every moment between Toto and Y/n as they worked out. The film crew tried to stay inconspicuous, but it was hard to ignore the presence of lenses zooming in on every subtle glance and interaction.

Toto was midway through his dumbbell routine, lifting heavy weights with perfect precision, his arms flexing as the veins stood out prominently with each movement. Y/n was on her yoga mat, gracefully flowing through a set of pilates stretches. From the corner of her eye, she caught Toto staring at her—again. She smirked, noticing how his eyes lingered a bit too long on the way her body curved into each pose.

The camera shifted, catching Y/n’s smirk and then zooming in on Toto’s gaze, the unspoken tension between them filling the air. His intense focus on the weights faltered every few moments, his attention shifting toward Y/n as she arched her back in an especially graceful stretch. The Drive to Survive crew didn’t miss a beat, zooming in on the way his eyes followed her movements.

“You’re staring,” Y/n finally said, her voice playful but with a teasing lilt. She didn't even look his way, just called him out mid-stretch, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on him. The camera caught her smirk, and the microphone just above her head picked up every word.

Toto grinned but didn't try to hide his admiration this time. "I’m... multitasking," he replied, his voice low as he continued his set, though the cheeky grin on his face was obvious.

The Drive to Survive cameras immediately shifted to capture the tension between them—Y/n still smirking, and Toto pretending to be deeply engrossed in his workout, though everyone in the room knew he was more distracted by her than the weights in his hands.

Y/n sauntered over to him, deliberately slow, her hands resting on her hips as she approached. “Need help?” she asked, her fingers already reaching out to the barbell he was about to lift.

Toto let out a low chuckle, setting the dumbbells aside for a moment, his eyes flicking down to her hands on the bar. “I think I’ve got it,” he murmured, his eyes drifting back up to her as the camera zoomed in on their close proximity, every subtle movement between them captured.

The tension between them thickened, with Y/n stepping in closer to spot him as he lifted. Her fingers grazed the veins on his forearms as he moved the weight, and she couldn’t help but bite her lip slightly, admiring how the muscles in his arms tensed under her touch. The camera zoomed in on that too—every slight glance, every almost-touch, every breath.

“You really need to stop looking at my arms like that,” Toto teased as he set the weight down, catching her staring again. His voice was low, but he shot a quick glance at the cameras, a flicker of awareness of how closely their interaction was being filmed.

Y/n laughed, but the blush rising in her cheeks gave her away. “I can’t help it, those veins are distracting,” she said, her voice playful but full of genuine admiration. She quickly brushed her fingers across his arm again, a light touch that felt far more intimate than it looked on camera.

Toto raised an eyebrow, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel. “If they even use this footage, it’s going to look like a very different kind of workout show,” he joked, his eyes flicking toward the camera crew, who were filming every moment with a certain level of amused professionalism.

Y/n giggled, turning to glance at the Drive to Survive team behind the cameras. “Are you guys really going to keep this in?” she asked, raising her voice just loud enough for them to hear. “I don’t think it’s very... PG,” she added, her tone teasing as she threw a playful look over her shoulder at Toto.

One of the crew members shrugged but kept filming, clearly finding the whole exchange too entertaining to stop now.

Toto raised a brow, casting a glance at the nearest cameraman. “I’m not sure Mercedes wants footage of me ogling my wife while I’m supposed to be working out,” he said with a smirk, though he didn’t sound too concerned.

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Oh, please,” she said, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “You’re just worried about what Twitter is going to say when they see this.”

Toto chuckled, wiping his hands on the towel. “Well, it’s not my fault I’m distracted,” he muttered, dropping his voice to a more suggestive tone as he eyed her again. His gaze flicked down her body before quickly returning to her eyes, and the cameras caught every second of the heated exchange.

Y/n, realizing she was still very much the center of Toto’s attention, smiled mischievously. “Well, maybe if you stopped staring at me,” she said lightly, stepping away from him and back toward her yoga mat, “you’d actually get something done.”

Toto shook his head with a grin, dropping his towel on the bench as he watched her walk away. The cameras followed his gaze, zooming in on the amused but clearly entranced expression on his face as he watched her stretch again, fully aware of the attention he was giving her.

As Y/n bent down into a deep stretch, she shot him a playful look over her shoulder, catching him staring—again. She raised an eyebrow, shaking her head as she stood back up. “You know, they’re filming everything,” she teased, her voice lilting with amusement.

Toto glanced back at the cameras with a smirk, then looked directly into one of them. “Are you sure you can even use this footage?” he asked, his voice light but genuine. “This feels more like a reality dating show than a workout.”

Y/n laughed as she walked back over to him, playfully swatting his arm. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, but her eyes sparkled with affection.

The camera captured every moment—the way they looked at each other, the lingering touches, the playful banter. It was clear to anyone watching that their connection went far beyond just being workout partners. It was full of flirtation, admiration, and a chemistry that was impossible to ignore.

[callsigns-haze]

His Shadow: Chp 4

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

The morning sun filtered softly through the sheer curtains of YN’s mother’s modest living room. The pale light danced across the room, casting gentle patterns on the worn wooden floors and faded furniture. YN had spent the night on her mother’s small, but comfortable sofa, using a makeshift nest of blankets and pillows. She stirred slowly, the quiet stillness of the house a sharp contrast to the bustling atmosphere of the pleasure house.

Yawning and stretching, YN glanced around, her mind still wrapped in the haze of sleep. The night had been restful, but she couldn’t shake the nagging worry about Knox. Her mother had graciously offered to care for him while YN worked, but she had been missing him terribly. It was time to reunite with her son.

She carefully gathered her things, folding the blanket she had used and tidying up the small space as best as she could. Her mother, an woman with a warm, kind demeanour, was still asleep in her own bedroom. YN wanted to make sure everything was ready before she woke her.

With a soft, cautious step, YN made her way to the small nursery that had been set up in a corner of her mother’s apartment. The room was modest but cozy, decorated with pastel-coloured curtains and a few framed pictures of animals. In the crib at the centre of the room lay Knox, his tiny form barely visible beneath the soft, knitted blanket.

YN’s heart swelled as she approached the crib, her eyes softening at the sight of her sleeping son. Knox’s small chest rose and fell with each gentle breath, his little fingers curled into tiny fists. She reached down, carefully placing a hand on his back to wake him softly.

“Good morning, my little one,” YN murmured, her voice tender and loving.

Knox stirred, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal the curious, innocent gaze of a three-week-old baby. YN carefully lifted him from the crib, cradling him gently in her arms. His warmth and weight were a soothing comfort against her chest.

“Let’s get you ready to go home,” YN whispered, her voice full of affection. She carefully adjusted Knox’s blanket, making sure he was secure and comfortable.

Her mother had prepared a small bag with some essentials for Knox—diapers, a few changes of clothes, and a soft toy that YN had brought from home. YN picked up the bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she prepared to leave.

She made her way to the small kitchen, where she could hear the faint sounds of her mother beginning to stir. YN set the bag down on the counter and walked back to the nursery to say a quiet goodbye to her mother.

Her mother emerged, rubbing her eyes and offering a sleepy smile. “Good morning, dear. Are you heading out already?”

“Yes, just about,” YN said, her voice gentle. “Thank you so much for taking care of Knox. I really appreciate it.”

Her mother came over, reaching out to gently pat Knox’s head. “He’s a lovely little boy. I’ve enjoyed having him. Just be sure to get some rest when you can.”

YN nodded, her smile filled with gratitude. “I will. I just need to get him home and settled.”

As YN and her mother exchanged a final hug, YN carefully picked up Knox and adjusted him in her arms. With one last look around the apartment, she stepped out into the fresh morning air.

The city was slowly coming to life as she made her way back to her own apartment. The streets were quieter than usual, and the early morning light bathed everything in a soft, golden hue. YN’s heart ached with both joy and weariness as she walked, the familiar weight of Knox in her arms a constant reminder of the responsibilities and love she carried.

She reached her apartment building, a modest structure with a worn exterior that belied the cozy interior. She carefully navigated the stairs, her mind filled with thoughts of getting Knox settled and ready for the day ahead.

Entering her apartment, YN carefully placed Knox in the small crib she had set up in the corner of the living room. The space was small but welcoming, filled with the warmth of home and the love of a mother’s touch. She adjusted the blanket around him and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Welcome home, Knox,” she whispered, her voice full of love and relief. “We’ve got a lot to do today, but we’ll do it together.”

---

Azriel stood by the large, arched window of Rhysand’s office, the glass cool against his fingertips as he looked out over the sprawling gardens of the River House. The room was bathed in the warm, golden light of the afternoon sun, casting a soft glow over the luxurious furnishings and elegant décor. Yet, despite the opulence of his surroundings, Azriel's thoughts were distant, his attention focused on the scene unfolding outside.

Nyx, Rhysand’s nine-year-old son, and Agnar, Cassian’s seven-year-old son, were out on the lawn, their laughter carrying through the open window. The two boys were engaged in a spirited game of tag, their shouts and giggles filling the air with a sense of carefree joy. The sun illuminated their faces, highlighting the innocence and exuberance of childhood.

Azriel watched them with a mixture of fondness and melancholy. He saw the way Nyx’s dark hair gleamed in the sunlight, a mirror of his father’s, and Agnar’s quick, agile movements, so reminiscent of Cassian’s youthful energy. The sight of them playing together, their faces flushed with happiness, tugged at something deep within him.

A shadow of sadness crossed Azriel’s features as he observed the scene. The joy and vitality of his nephews were a stark contrast to the burden he carried. The secrecy surrounding his relationship with YN and their son, Knox, weighed heavily on him. Despite the love he felt for them, he was forced to keep their existence hidden, his role as a father concealed from those closest to him.

Azriel’s gaze softened as he took in the sight of the boys, his thoughts drifting to the life he could have had if circumstances were different. He imagined what it would be like if he could openly share his joy and pride in Knox, if he could let his family see the life he had built with YN. The pain of not being able to do so was a constant ache, a reminder of the sacrifices he had made to protect those he loved.

Rhysand’s voice broke through his thoughts, rich and warm with a touch of amusement. “You seem lost in thought, Az.”

Azriel turned away from the window, his expression carefully neutral as he faced Rhysand. “Just watching the boys. They’re growing up so fast.”

Rhysand smiled, his eyes following Azriel’s gaze to where Nyx and Agnar continued their game. “They are. It’s hard to believe how quickly time passes.”

Azriel nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, it is.”

Rhysand’s tone grew more contemplative. “Sometimes I think about how different things might be if circumstances were different. But I suppose we make the best of what we have.”

Azriel’s eyes flickered with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. He knew Rhysand’s words were meant to offer comfort, but they only served to underscore the gap between his public life and his private heartache.

“Indeed,” Azriel said quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that he tried to mask. “We make do with what we have.”

Rhysand’s gaze remained thoughtful, and he seemed to sense the deeper emotions behind Azriel’s words. “If there’s ever anything you need to talk about, you know you can always come to me.”

Azriel nodded, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “Thank you, Rhys. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Rhysand turned his attention to some documents on his desk, Azriel returned to the window, his thoughts returning to the life he had to keep hidden. The sight of Nyx and Agnar playing was a bittersweet reminder of what he yearned for—an open, unburdened life with YN and Knox.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the polished floors of the River House as Azriel excused himself from the inner circle's meeting with barely a moment to spare. Rhysand, Cassian, and the others were deep in discussion about upcoming strategies and potential threats, but Azriel’s mind was elsewhere, focused on the fleeting moments he could spend with YN and Knox.

“Sorry to cut out early,” Azriel said quickly, his voice tinged with a mix of urgency and apology. “I’ve got something I need to take care of.”

Rhysand looked up, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Everything alright, Az?”

Azriel forced a smile, nodding. “Yes, just personal matters. I’ll catch up with you all soon.”

Before anyone could press further, Azriel was already striding towards the exit. His steps were brisk, the weight of his desire to return home fueling his haste. He made his way through the grand hallways and down the stairs, his thoughts solely occupied with the comforting vision of YN and Knox awaiting him.

The journey back to his apartment felt interminable, but finally, he landed silently on the balcony. He slipped into his home with practiced quiet, his senses attuned to the familiar sounds of his sanctuary. The apartment was calm, the air carrying a soft, serene quality that immediately soothed his frazzled nerves.

Azriel moved through the living room, his heart fluttering with anticipation and love. As he rounded the corner, he was met with a sight that warmed him to his core.

YN was asleep on the couch, her form curled up in a cozy nest of blankets. Her hair was splayed across the cushions, a serene expression on her face. Knox, their precious son, lay nestled on her chest, his tiny body rising and falling with each gentle breath. He was awake now, his small eyes blinking with curiosity as he looked up at his mother.

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. The image of YN, exhausted but peaceful, with Knox cradled against her, was a poignant reminder of the love and dedication they shared. He approached them quietly, careful not to disturb YN's slumber.

Kneeling beside the couch, Azriel reached out, his fingertips brushing gently against Knox’s soft cheek. The baby cooed, a small, delicate sound that filled Azriel’s heart with overwhelming tenderness.

“Hey, little one,” Azriel murmured softly, his voice a low whisper. “Look who’s come to see you.”

He carefully lifted Knox from YN’s chest, his movements gentle and practiced. The baby’s head rested against his shoulder as he held him close, a smile spreading across Azriel’s face. Knox’s tiny fingers grasped at the fabric of Azriel’s shirt, his eyes bright and curious as he cooed back.

Azriel leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Knox’s forehead. “You’ve been such a good boy today, haven’t you?”

Knox gurgled in response, his eyes widening as he looked up at his father. Azriel’s heart swelled with affection as he held his son, feeling the warmth and weight of him in his arms. The bond between them was palpable, a silent conversation filled with love and promise.

Azriel glanced over at YN, still peacefully asleep. He carefully adjusted Knox, making sure the baby was comfortable in his arms before leaning down to gently brush a strand of hair away from YN’s face.

He settled onto the couch beside YN, keeping Knox cradled close. He watched as YN stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked sleepily, her gaze settling on Azriel and their son.

“Azriel?” YN’s voice was soft, her tone a mix of surprise and sleepiness. “You’re home early.”

Azriel smiled, his eyes filled with warmth. “I couldn’t wait to see you both. How was your day?”

YN stretched gently, her eyes softening as she looked at Knox in Azriel’s arms. “It was good. He’s been a little angel. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze fixed lovingly on Knox. “I’m glad too. He’s grown so much in just a few weeks.”

YN reached out, her hand brushing tenderly against Knox’s cheek. “He has. And he’s so lucky to have you.”

Azriel’s smile grew, his heart swelling with love for his family. “And I’m lucky to have you both.”

As he looked down at his son, Azriel felt an overwhelming sense of pride and love. Knox’s small, cherubic face was a perfect blend of both parents, but it was the subtle, distinctive features that made Azriel’s heart swell with emotion. The baby’s tiny limbs and soft, downy hair were endearing, but it was Knox’s nascent wings that truly captured Azriel’s attention.

Even at just two weeks old, Knox had already begun to display the faintest hints of his Illyrian heritage. Though the wings were tiny and not yet fully developed, their presence was unmistakable. They were delicate and translucent, their edges a soft, silvery shimmer that caught the light. They rested against Knox’s back, their appearance a blend of the ethereal and the divine.

Azriel’s fingers traced the edge of one of Knox’s wings with a gentle touch, careful not to disturb his sleeping son. The delicate membranes were warm and soft beneath his fingertips, and the faint luminescence was a reminder of the incredible heritage Knox was inheriting.

“Look at these wings, little one,” Azriel whispered, his voice filled with a tender awe. “Just like mine. You’re growing up so fast, even though you’re still so tiny.”

Knox stirred slightly, his tiny wings fluttering ever so gently in response to his father’s touch. Azriel’s smile widened, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. The sight of Knox’s miniature wings, so full of potential and promise, made his heart ache with a bittersweet joy.

He shifted slightly, pulling Knox closer to him, his own wings instinctively curling around them in a protective embrace. The warmth of his wings enveloped Knox, creating a cocoon of safety and love. The sensation of his son's small body nestled against him, combined with the soft, almost imperceptible flutter of Knox’s wings, was an exquisite reminder of the bond they shared.

Azriel leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Knox’s forehead. “I know you’re just beginning to learn about your wings, but I promise you, they will grow strong. They will carry you through the skies just like mine.”

He continued to speak softly, his words filled with the kind of love that only a parent could feel. “When you’re older, you’ll learn to soar through the skies. But for now, just enjoy being small and safe in your mother’s arms and mine.”

The quiet moments stretched on, and Azriel found solace in the simple act of bonding with his son. The world outside seemed distant and irrelevant compared to the peace he found in these fleeting moments. The responsibilities and secrets that burdened him felt lighter, if only for a while.

As Knox’s tiny hand reached up, his small fingers grasping at the fabric of Azriel’s shirt, Azriel felt a pang of deep affection. The tiny, innocent gesture was a powerful reminder of the love he had for this little being, a love that transcended the complications of their lives.

The peaceful cocoon of the living room was gently disturbed as YN stirred from her slumber on the couch. She stretched languidly, her muscles protesting slightly as she woke from a deep, restful sleep. She blinked sleepily, her gaze falling on Azriel, who was now tenderly bottle-feeding Knox. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated their quiet moment together, casting a warm light across the room.

YN smiled softly at the sight. Azriel’s presence, so gentle and attentive with their son, was a heart-warming sight. She reluctantly pushed herself up from the couch, her body a bit stiff from the hours spent resting in one position. The couch had become a makeshift bed over the past few weeks, but the comfort of being with her family made it all worth it.

Yawning, YN moved to the small, neatly arranged bedroom where her work attire awaited her. She quickly began the process of getting ready for her shift at the pleasure house, her mind already focusing on the tasks ahead.

She started with her undergarments, slipping into a comfortable, supportive bra and a pair of seamless panties. Next, she chose a simple yet elegant outfit for the evening—a fitted, deep navy dress that complemented her figure and allowed ease of movement. The fabric was soft and smooth, with a subtle sheen that caught the light just right. She paired it with a black satin belt that cinched at her waist, adding a touch of refinement to her look.

As she dressed, YN kept an ear out for Knox’s soft coos and Azriel’s soothing murmurs. The quiet, intimate moments they shared were precious, and she cherished the time they had together, even in the midst of their busy lives.

She pulled on a pair of black, sheer stockings, the fabric gliding up her legs smoothly. Her heeled, ankle-length boots completed the look, their dark hue and sleek design adding a touch of sophistication. She glanced at herself in the mirror, adjusting her outfit and making sure everything was in place.

While YN worked on her makeup, she chose a subtle look for the evening. She applied a light foundation to even out her complexion, followed by a touch of blush to give her cheeks a healthy glow. She carefully applied a coat of mascara to her lashes and a muted shade of lipstick that accentuated her natural beauty without being too bold. The final touch was a delicate, sparkling pendant necklace that rested softly against her collarbone.

As she finished up, YN glanced back towards the living room, her heart warming at the sight of Azriel and Knox. Azriel was gently burping Knox, his movements slow and deliberate, a tender expression on his face. Knox seemed content, his tiny hands gripping the edge of the bottle as he took his time feeding.

“Everything going smoothly?” YN asked, her voice soft but filled with a hint of playful curiosity.

Azriel looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a gentle smile. “He’s doing well. We’re just finishing up here.”

YN moved back into the living room, her steps light and purposeful. She bent down to give Knox a soft kiss on his tiny forehead, her fingers brushing gently against his downy hair.

“Almost time for you to go back to sleep, little one,” YN murmured, her voice full of affection. “I’ll be heading out soon.”

Azriel glanced at the clock, noting the time. “I’ll make sure he’s settled before you leave. You go ahead and finish up.”

YN nodded, taking a moment to appreciate the quiet domesticity of the scene before her. She knew that every moment spent with Knox and Azriel was a precious gift, and she cherished these early, serene hours before her work began.

With a final check of her appearance, YN grabbed her small, elegant handbag and slung it over her shoulder. She moved to the door, pausing to take one last look at Azriel and Knox.

“Be good for Daddy,” YN said softly to Knox, her gaze lingering on the tiny, peaceful face of her son.

Azriel looked up, a touch of mischief in his eyes. “We’ll be just fine. You go on and take care of things. We’ll be here when you get back.”

YN gave him a warm smile, her heart full of love and gratitude. “Thanks, Az. I’ll see you both later.”

With one last affectionate glance, YN left the apartment, the door clicking softly behind her. As she walked to her car, she felt a sense of both anticipation and resolve. Her work awaited her, but the love she had for her family was always close to her heart, a guiding light through the busy days and nights.

--

YN stepped into the dimly lit interior of the pleasure house, the familiar blend of perfume and alcohol greeting her senses. Tonight felt like any other—until she noticed two familiar figures occupying the corner booth. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Rhysand and Cassian, their presence unexpected and sending a ripple of anxiety through her.

What are they doing here again? YN thought, trying to keep her composure as she walked toward them. She had just served them the night before; seeing them again so soon unsettled her.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she greeted, her voice warm but professional as she approached their table. “Back again so soon? What can I get for you tonight?”

Rhysand looked up from his conversation with Cassian, his violet eyes sparkling with the usual charm. “Couldn’t stay away,” he replied smoothly. “We’re here to discuss Azriel’s next mission. This seemed like the perfect place to do so.”

The mention of Azriel’s mission made YN’s heart sink. She forced herself to maintain a neutral expression, though her mind was racing. Another mission? So soon after Knox’s birth? The thought of Azriel heading into danger again so soon filled her with dread.

Feigning casual interest, she asked, “Where is Azriel tonight? I thought he might be with you.”

Rhysand shook his head. “He’s probably handling some last-minute preparations. You know how he is—always ahead of the game.”

Cassian grinned. “Or brooding somewhere, as usual.”

YN managed a light laugh, but the weight in her chest only grew heavier. She knew where Azriel had been before she left for work, but hearing them discuss his next mission as if it were routine was unsettling. She needed to know more, to understand what lay ahead for him.

“I’ll get your yesterdays drinks,” YN said, slipping into her role. “Anything else I can bring you?”

Before she could leave, Cassian’s voice stopped her. “Actually, YN, there’s something I wanted to ask.”

She turned back, her heart beating a little faster. “Yes?”

Cassian’s expression softened, genuine curiosity in his eyes. “Last night, you mentioned you have a baby. How are they doing? And your boyfriend? It must be a lot to juggle.”

YN felt a surge of panic but kept her smile intact. She had mentioned her baby the previous night to maintain the cover story. Now, under Cassian’s kind gaze, she had to continue the lie.

“They’re both doing well,” she replied smoothly, though her heart ached. “My boyfriend’s very supportive. It’s been challenging, but we’re managing.”

Cassian nodded, his smile reassuring. “That’s good to hear. You deserve the best.”

Rhysand, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. “It’s not easy, especially with your job. But you’re handling it well.”

YN’s stomach twisted. They had no idea how close they were to the truth—or how much she wished she could tell them everything. But she couldn’t risk exposing her and Azriel’s secret, especially with his upcoming mission looming over them. She needed to know more, even if it meant asking directly.

“So, this mission you’re planning for Azriel,” YN began, keeping her tone casual. “Is it dangerous?”

Rhysand’s expression became guarded, though his tone remained light. “Nothing he hasn’t handled before. Just another piece of the puzzle we’re putting together.”

Cassian added, sensing her concern, “We can’t share details, but Azriel’s the best at what he does. We trust him completely.”

YN nodded, though her worry deepened. She had seen firsthand the toll these missions took on Azriel—the nights he came home battered and weary, the weight of secrets he carried. She couldn’t help but feel protective, knowing what was at stake for him and their family.

She pressed further, hoping for more information. “Do you know where he is now? I haven’t seen him around.”

Rhysand shook his head. “No, he didn’t say where he was heading tonight. But he’ll turn up.”

Cassian grinned. “Probably avoiding us because he knows we’re about to pile work on him.”

YN forced another smile, though her heart was heavy. She knew Azriel had reasons for keeping her in the dark, but that didn’t make it easier. The thought of him out there, facing unknown dangers while she pretended everything was fine, filled her with helplessness.

“I’m sure he’s just busy,” YN said, maintaining her calm facade. “Let me get those drinks.”

She moved away, her mind racing. As she prepared their drinks, the reality of their situation weighed heavily on her. Azriel was preparing for another mission, one that could take him away from her and Knox. And all she could do was wait, serving drinks and keeping up appearances while the man she loved faced danger.

When she returned with the drinks, she plastered on her best smile. Rhysand and Cassian accepted them, quickly resuming their discussion. YN lingered, hoping to catch more information, but the conversation shifted away from Azriel’s mission.

YN pushed open the door to the small, dimly lit apartment, her heart heavy with a mixture of fear and sorrow. As she stepped inside, the familiar scent of home—of Azriel—washed over her, but it brought no comfort this time. Instead, it felt like a cruel reminder of what she was about to lose.

The door closed behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the silence of the apartment. Knox’s soft coos came from the bassinet by the window, but YN barely heard them, her mind too clouded by the news she had just overheard. She had known this day would come—that Azriel would be called away on another mission—but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

As she walked further into the apartment, her steps faltered, the weight of her emotions finally crashing over her. She stopped in the middle of the small living room, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes. A choked sob escaped her lips, and before she could hold it back, she was crying—deep, wrenching sobs that shook her whole body.

She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle the sound, but the tears kept coming, flowing freely down her cheeks. The realization that Azriel would be leaving soon—leaving her and Knox to face whatever dangers awaited him—was too much to bear. The thought of him not coming back, of Knox growing up without knowing his father, of her losing the man she loved, was a fear she couldn’t shake.

YN sank onto the couch, her legs giving out beneath her as the grief consumed her. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. She had always known that Azriel’s work was dangerous—that every mission could be his last—but the reality of it had never hit her as hard as it did now. Knox had changed everything. He had brought a new kind of love into her life, but with that love came a new kind of fear—one that gnawed at her every time Azriel left.

The sound of a door opening in the bedroom startled her, and she quickly tried to compose herself, wiping away the tears with trembling hands. Azriel had been in their room, likely catching up on some much-needed rest after his long day. He had no idea she knew about the mission yet; she hadn’t had the chance to tell him.

YN hurriedly stood up, trying to smooth her dishevelled appearance as she heard Azriel’s footsteps approaching. She forced a smile, hoping to mask her distress, but she knew her red, puffy eyes would give her away.

Azriel stepped into the room, his sharp hazel eyes softening when they landed on her. “YN,” he said gently, concern immediately colouring his tone as he noticed her tear-streaked face. “What’s wrong?”

YN opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She didn’t know how to tell him—didn’t know how to voice the fear and sadness that were choking her. Instead, she just shook her head, fresh tears spilling over as she looked at him, her gaze pleading.

Azriel was at her side in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her close. “Shh,” he whispered, holding her as if she were something fragile and precious. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. YN buried her face in his chest, her hands clutching at his shirt as she cried. Azriel held her tighter, one hand stroking her hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on her back, his voice a soft murmur in her ear.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged, his voice gentle but firm. “Please, YN. What’s happened?”

YN pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. “I heard about your mission,” she finally whispered, her voice trembling. “I know you’re leaving soon.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing in concern. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away her tears. “It’s just a mission,” he said softly, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that told her he knew it wasn’t just any mission.

YN shook her head, fresh tears spilling over. “But what if you don’t come back, Azriel? What if this is the one that takes you away from us? From Knox?” Her voice broke on their son’s name, the fear and anguish she had been holding back pouring out of her.

Azriel’s gaze softened even more, and he pulled her close again, his lips pressing against her temple. “I will come back,” he promised, his voice steady and sure. “I swear to you, YN. I will come back to you and Knox.”

But even as he said the words, YN couldn’t shake the fear that gripped her heart. She clung to him, her tears soaking into his shirt as she prayed that he was right—that this wouldn’t be the mission that tore their family apart.

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[mejaemin]

best part- na jaemin

+18 mdni !!

wc: 1.9k

summary: jaemin loves you so, so much. but he loves waking up next to you even more.

warnings: established relationship, fem reader, unprotected sex, oral (fem rec), love making, morning sex, praise/body worship

an: this song is literally my LIFEE and putting it with nana?!!!?!! im a genius at work here… (also welcome to my first tumblr post 😛)

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

when jaemin wakes up, it’s usually kind of annoying because it means another day of work and other things he doesn’t want to do. however, today is different because the higher power blessed him with a mutual off day between him and you. when his eyes fluttered open at the golden sunlight peeking through the window, he went to shield his eyes but found his arm, without feeling, trapped under the weight of your head.

immediately upon remembering that you were home with him, any trace of enmity that he had towards waking up completely dissipated. the sun left a beautiful golden glow across your skin. he chuckled to himself upon taking note of the glow of your skin, from the lovely “spa day” you received the night before.

with the arm that still had feeling, jaemin reached for his phone on the bedside table. as a photographer, he knows better than to let such beautiful scenery go without taking photos first. his canon’s storage along with his phone gallery is full of photos of you, being that he never strays from said photography rule. what can he say, his idea of beautiful scenery is always you, even when you’re hunched over the toilet letting go of donghyuck’s surprise dinner.

after capturing at least twenty photos of your beauty, he puts the phone down and begins repositioning to resume cuddling into you. when he manually lifts his numb arm from under your head, you stir and turn over to face him with a pout. in the process, his heavy comforter falls from your shoulder and reveals your bare chest, littered in his teeth marks. admiring his work, he can’t help but wolf whistle at the sight.

in response, you scrunch your nose and roll your eyes. “morning breath, na jaemin.” he watches you pull the blanket up over your body and turn away before he responds.

”awe, boohoo.” he mumbles into your neck, slipping an arm around your bare hips as he begins kissing a line down your nape.

his half hard cock begins twitching to life when you sigh at his efforts, pressing your ass into him. he and you both slept bare after last night’s events, so the feeling of your soft skin against his length had him shuddering.

unable to wait any longer, jaemin repositioned you both so that he was now above you, resting on his elbows that caged your head in. “you look so pretty, baby. all marked up like that.”

he’s almost sure he hears ‘nana’ leave your lips but he’ll never truly know because his lips are on yours, splitting them open with his tongue to lovingly glide across your own. before he fully pulls away, he catches your plump bottom lip between his teeth and lets it snap back against your gums.

“fuck, i really fucking love you.” he sighs, fighting the urge to push his way into you when his tip bumps against your clit.

for a solid minute he just stares at you, once again enamored of your body, one he is able to have all to himself. his eyes flutter shut when your fingers graze his scalp, pulling him back down to your lips.

“i love you too, nana.” you whisper, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep and being used so intensely the previous night.

he pressed his face back into your neck, absentmindedly sucking another love bite into the skin while he finds the words he wants.

he pulls away, pressing a kiss to your new mark before continuing a trail down your neck. “you look so pretty right now.. in the sun.” he says while hovering over the dip in between your breasts. he obviously has more to say but waits, prioritizing the need to wrap his lips around your nipple, swirling it around his tongue and pulling it between his teeth before switching to the other.

he leaves a searing trail of saliva from your chest down to just above your navel, where he presses a soft kiss to the skin. just to the right there’s a faint handprint on your hip. his thumb grazes over it gently before he speaks up. “i really need you right now,” he looks up at you, his cheek laying against your stomach as he traces the outline of his handprint. your name leaves his lips with a slight whine. “i’ll be gentle. i just really want to love you right now.”

jaemin sighs, picking his head up as he kisses his way down to where he loves to be, gently kissing the bite marks he left previously. once he finally sits himself between your legs, he’s nearly completely covered by the blanket and can only see a sliver of your face. however, this isn’t a total concern of his when he’s about to drown in your pussy, getting his hair tugged just the way he needs on a lazy morning such as today.

before he falls back asleep, the ache in his dick and your breathy pleas bring him back to life, immediately leaning forward and licking a long stripe up your slit. he groans at the taste, still tasting a hint of himself. his eyes shut when you grip his hair and push him back into your heat. thankfully, there’s nowhere he’d rather be so he embraces your need, dipping his tongue into your entrance. he throws your legs over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around your hips to keep you close.

maybe it’s the joy of being with you after a long period of work traveling but something in his heart makes him feel as if the best way to be close to you is sexually. with the help of his arms, his tongue begins thrusting into you, curling and flattening and grabbing at all the arousal that leaves you. his nose bumps into your clit, forcing squeaky mewls out of you that drives him to work a little harder.

detaching himself to take a short breath, surely not enough to keep him from suffocating, he pulls your clit into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue. one of his hands goes to dip two fingers into your entrance, immediately curling and scissoring you open. at this point in time he’s sure he’s edged himself at least three times with the amount of autonomous force his hips use to thrust into the mattress. he can’t be mad at this however, because as soon as his fingers pick up their pace you whine out his name, clenching your thighs around his head as you climax.

through the gap in the blanket he can see your lip between your teeth, eyes rolled all the way back in your brain as your high courses through you. at the sight, he moans, a sound far too desperate to admit he let out, blissfully overstimulated by the sound of blood rushing through his ears paired with your hips twitching against his face. he can’t help but be entirely too aroused by pleasuring you. your voice is more beautiful than his favorite singer’s and your taste is better than his favorite food. nothing compares to making you cum on such cozy mornings and that’s why they’re his favorite.

once your hips calm down, he pulls himself back up and catches his breath. while doing so, he pushes his soiled fingers between your lips. his dick begins to hurt at the sight of you drinking yourself up so willingly, grabbing his wrist to put his middle fingers entirely into your mouth.

“you taste so fucking good, right baby? i can’t get enough. but now, i think you’re ready for something better. is that okay?” he pulls his hand from your mouth and strokes your cheek gently.

when you nod, he almost cheers but holds it in for the sake of not ruining the moment. instead, he holds his tongue and instead kisses you, giving you the type of kiss that he’d normally save for a time like cuddling, or going on a date. it’s something he saves for romantic moments, but that’s exactly what he feels this is. there’s no other emotion running through his veins except for pure, sheer love. as soon as he woke up and saw your beautiful, peaceful expression in the morning’s golden hour, it’s all he felt. it’s all he ever feels for you and that’s what he’s going to show you now.

jaemin sits up, gently grabbing your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. his cock sits against your slit and for a few moments he stays that way, staving off his orgasm. when he finally composes himself, he pumps his length a few times before pushing himself all the way in. you didn’t have too much trouble taking him due to his previous preparations so he immediately began to move, albeit slowly.

as he lowers himself back down to be face to face with you, he removed your stray hairs from your face and kisses your forehead. with each soft thrust of his hips, he kisses you once again. he slides one arm under your neck, hugging you close to him so he can keep his lips on yours. his other hand glides over your body, tracing your curves and gripping every inch of your skin. it truly shocked him that such beauty was all his, and it was wrapped around him right now, fluttering and clenching around his cock because it wanted him. the thought has him keening, groaning into the crook of your neck as he calls your name.

”fuck.. oh my god, baby, it’s so good.. i’m so close. please tell me you are too..” he whines, hips involuntarily jerking as he thrusts into you. he’s not being rough, opting for slow and deep movements, but it’s his arousing thoughts that bring him close to the edge.

”oh, yes, nana, i’m so close.. please, babe, i- fuck!” you whine. jaemin feels you start pushing yourself into him, moving in sync with his thrusts.

the hand he slid over your body now moves between your legs, rubbing at your clit in an attempt to get you to cum before him.

”oh, fuck, baby, i love you so much. you’re gonna cum for me? oh please, im gonna- shit, cum with me baby. show me how much you love me.” he rambles, hopelessly moaning and grunting into your ear.

if it’s not his fingers, he’s sure his voice is what tips you over the edge, a loud moan escaping your lips as you finally reach your peak around him. he finally falls over the edge at the feeling, hips stuttering and coming to a halt as he spills himself deep inside you. his vision nearly blacks out, his eyes hurting as he gets the relief he so desperately desired. when he finally comes to, you’re right there with him, a content smile on your lips as you watch him come back to life.

reluctantly, he pulls out and falls back to his spot on the bed, bringing you back into his arms as you were before. the sun is no longer golden, implying that it is now reaching daytime, but it doesn’t deter him from falling asleep to the same face that he considers beautiful at any time of day. if he wasn’t so tired already he’d grab his phone and take more photos, but he’s content with breaking his own rules to fall asleep with the comforting idea that waking at sunrise to make love to you is infinitely better.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[skzdreamer13]

Please could you do praise kink for hyunjin but he's the one receiving the praise... please 🥺

Day 6 of Kinktober

Praise Kink with Hyunjin 🖤

Go visit @neverendingstay for the Even days of the month

Warnings: Unprotected P in V, Praise Kink, Fluff, Creampie, pet names (Love), cringy lines

18+ MDNI!!

You walk into the makeshift art studio room you have set up in the apartment. Your boyfriend had been wanting a space to call his own for awhile, this room wasn’t being used before so he made it his own. Paintings are on the floor, leaning against the big table in the center of the room. Some are leaning against the walls. It’s truly beautiful the way he needs no words but a canvas and some paint to capture a moment and the emotions of that experience.

Hyunjin is sitting on a stool, his broad back and shoulders to the door, facing away from you. A canvas is in front of him, blank. He’s been in here for almost an hour and he hasn’t painted a thing.

“Love?” You call out to him gently.

His back straightens but you feel his mood shift and relax. You walk over and wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind, your arms draping down his chest. You lay your palms flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, slow and calm. He sighs and leans back into your embrace.

“Struggling to find inspiration?” You ask him as you stand up straight, his weight still leaning into you as you move your hands to tangle in his long dark wavy hair.

He hums a response, eyes closing shut as he enjoys the feeling of your hands on his skin. He’s so perfect in every way. Not just in his looks, granted that is an added bonus. His beautiful long lashes, perfect body proportions, large back, chest and shoulders.

The way he makes everything look effortlessly beautiful. Yet when he smiles, his eyes light up and his smile so bright, he’s as cute as ever and you just want to squish his cheeks. The way he finds literally everything hilarious. The way he picks up hobbies, sports, or anything is instantly good at it but he has a drive to become perfect. You could admire this man all day. He’s your inspiration.

“I could give you some.” You mumble, as you lean your head down and press light kisses to his neck. His head leaning to the side and back slightly, giving you better access to his skin. You hum as you continue kissing down his neck and shoulder coming around to stand in front of him, between his legs.

His hair is messy from having your fingers through it, bangs falling low on his face slightly covering his eyes. His eyes are hooded and already full of lust. It’s so easy to rile him up.

“You’re so perfect.” you say to him lovingly as you rest your hand on his cheek and he pulls you down to capture your lips in a breathtaking kiss. His hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His hands desperate to feel your skin, reach up your shirt and rest his hands flat against your back, pulling you as close to him as he can without breaking the kiss.

Your hands run through his hair, fingers tangling in the soft curls, stopping at the base of his neck and resting your hands there. He sighs and relaxes into the kiss, hands running down your sides and resting on your hips, fingers playing with the waistband of your pants.

You both separate, because of the angle, your hair falls around your face and curtains both of you, like your own little world and both of you never want to leave it. Chests heaving, you sink down to your knees, hands fall to rest on his powerful thighs. His eyes never leave you as you position yourself between his legs, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You yank on his waistband, asking him to rid himself of the fabric with no words.

He helps you strip him, lifting his ass off the stool just enough to slide his pants off, no underwear. ‘Perfect’ you say under your breath as his hard cock flops onto his belly, precum leaking from the tip. With no hesitation you lick the tip of his cock causing you both let out moans, his comes out whinny and strained. He’s holding himself back, and your goal is to have him melting and barely holding himself together with how good you make him feel.

“I can’t get enough of you, you taste so good my love.” the praise rolls off your tongue with a purr, sending shivers down his spine and his cock twitches. He loves when you praise him for the littlest things, it’s good to know you want him so bad.

Your mouth wraps around the tip of his cock again and you sink your mouth down on him. The breath catching in his chest and he grips the edges of the stool, his knuckles going white with the strength. You moan as your nose hits his stomach and his cock hits the back of your throat. The sounds that leave his mouth, as glide your lips and tongue up and down his cock cause the heat between your legs to grow, soaking through your panties. A mix of whines, whimpers and groans leave him. Eventually his fingers are in your hair, pushing the strands away from your face as you look up to make eye contact with him.

“You’re driving me crazy.” Hyunjin says breathy, his eyebrows knitting and jaw slacking at how good you’re making him feel.

You slide your lips off of him making a popping sound as you disconnect. “Good, that's the goal.” you say cockily.

He helps you up to your feet and you reconnect your lips with his in a sloppy wet kiss. He can taste himself on your tongue causing him to let out a needy moan. You disconnect and pull his shirt off, his broad chest and torso now exposed, he’s completely naked sitting on his stool. He truly is a work of art himself. Meanwhile you’re still fully clothed and untouched and he will have no more of that.

He stands up, towering over you, and picks you up, holding you by the back sides of your thighs as he walks you over to the table in the center of the room and sets you down. He puts his hand flat on your chest and pushes you to lay down, and you comply.

“You’ve definitely given me some inspiration.” he says as he strips you down, kissing as much of your exposed skin as he can, ravishing you.

Before you know it Hyunjin is between your legs, hand wrapped around his cock stroking himself before lining himself up with your entrance. He looks at you, a thin layer of sweat already coats his skin, his face flushed, eyes glazed over and soft, his bottom lip between his teeth as he waits for you to give him the go ahead to proceed.

You wrap your legs around his waist and tighten around him, causing him to accidentally push the tip of his cock past your walls. You moan at the stretch and he can’t help but buck his hips impatiently and seat himself fully within you. His head falls back and his lips fall open in a silent moan. You revel in the stretch that he provides, the fullness of him, driving you mad.

Your bodies are flush and he puts his hands on the curve of your hips and yanks you to him, bringing you closer to the edge of the table for better control. Then without any warning he pulls out almost completely and all but slams back into you, the table shakes underneath you at the movement as you arch your back up off the paint stained table.

“Fuck you feel so damn good.” You moan out your hands searching for him and finding his forearms before digging your nails into him. The praise goes right to his head as he speeds up his thrusts, the sound of skin hitting skin, both of your loud moans, and the lewd wet sounds of him sliding in and out of your pussy are the only sounds that fill the studio room. The table beneath you shakes with every snap of his hips against yours.

You feel every ridge and vein as he slides in and out of you with ease, your pussy starting to pulse around his cock, signaling how close you are to your climax. His thrusts are getting sloppy with every clench of your walls around him and you know he won’t last much longer, his moans getting louder.

“Please baby, I’m gonna come. I want you to come with me please” your voice desperate. Your words sending him over the edge and a few more thrusts later both of your orgasms find you.

“You’re perfect, you're so beautiful, coming inside me.” you say softly, almost a whisper, as you watch his brows knit, eyes clenched tight as his body shudders with his last few thrust as he comes inside you, your own legs shaking from your orgasm.

Hyunjin rests his head on your chest, heat radiating off of him, skin slick with sweat. You rub his arms, back and shoulders comforting him. Sweet nothings fall off your lips as you stroke his hair ‘you did so well’ ‘I love you’ ‘you’re amazing’.

And when he’s ready to move again he picks you up, brings you to the bathroom and sets up a bath for you both. It’s so easy to love him.

My Kinktober Masterlist ~ Here

My Kinktober Post ~ Here

@neverendingstay Kinktober Post ~ Here

Masterlist

18+ Tag list

Tag List

@intrikatie @juskz @stolasisyourparent @pixie0627 @paperclip-skz @yaorzu-blog @velvetmoonlght

[criticallyinneedofadar]

The Weight of the Weary

A/N: Gil-Gadaddy was calling my name. Alliance of Shadows is still on it's way! I just needed to appease the high king a little bit.

Pairing: Gil- Galad X Reader

Warnings: None

______________________________________________________________

Lindon shines brightest in the evening sun, the tree casting the city in its warm glow, its warm light spills into your private chambers where you and Gil-Galad sit together, savoring a rare moment of peace. He’s quiet, his posture stiff, and you can see the weight of his duties pressing down on him, even in this brief respite.

You watch him for a moment, studying the lines of tension etched into his brow. His mind is far away, no doubt torn between Elrond and Galadriel—two of the most important figures in his life, and two of the most stubborn. A soft smile tugs at your lips as you think of Galadriel, so full of fire and willfulness, almost like a daughter to you both, despite being much older than you both. You glance at Gil-galad, raising a playful eyebrow.

“You were a bit harsh on her today, you know,” you say, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Galadriel might act tough, but even she has her limits.”

He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair, clearly anticipating your teasing admonishment. His lips curve into a faint smile, but it’s tempered by weariness. “I was not harsh, merely... firm,” he replies, though there’s a trace of doubt in his voice. “She needed to be reminded of her place.”

You chuckle softly. “She’s not a child, love. You can’t keep her reined in forever. Besides, she’s as much your family as I am. You don’t have to keep your guard up with her all the time.”

He leans back, his expression shifting from playful to weary, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as if to release some of the strain. “I feel stretched between them—between Elrond’s endless optimism and Galadriel’s relentless determination. It is like trying to balance two storms, each one pulling me in a different direction.”

You place a gentle hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to you. “They both want what’s best, but they are different in how they go about it. They look to you because they trust your wisdom, your strength.” You pause, softening your tone. “But sometimes, I think you try too hard to keep them happy, to keep everyone in line.”

He sighs deeply, the sound of someone who has carried far too much for far too long. “I must. I am their king, their leader. If I falter, if I show weakness—”

“You’re not weak,” you interrupt gently, moving closer to him. “But you don’t have to carry all of this on your own.”

Gil-Galad looks at you, his deep eyes searching your face, as if he’s unsure how to accept that offer. He’s always been proud, always the one to shoulder the burdens of his people, his friends, and now you can see how that weight has begun to wear him down. Your heart aches for him, for the man who bears so much responsibility yet so rarely lets anyone see his vulnerability.

“You’re not alone in this,” you murmur, taking his hand in yours. “Let me help you, even if it’s just in moments like this. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin as he looks at you with a tenderness that’s usually hidden behind the mantle of kingship. “I forget, sometimes, that I don’t have to. With you, I never have to.”

You smile softly, leaning into him, resting your head against his shoulder. The warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breath, brings you a sense of peace you know he needs as much as you do.

“You’ve carried so much on your shoulders for so long,” you whisper. “Let me take some of the burden, if even for a little while. You’re my husband first and a king second. Lean on me as much as you lean on them.”

For a moment, the world outside fades away. There are no councils, no pressing decisions, no wars or power struggles. It’s just the two of you, bound together by love and trust. His hand rests against the small of your back as he pulls you closer, his voice low and filled with a gratitude that touches your heart.

“You are my greatest strength,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “With you beside me, I know I can bear whatever comes.”

You lift your head, gazing into his eyes. “And you will,” you reply, your voice full of conviction. “But not alone.”

He smiles then, a real smile that reaches his eyes, and you feel the tension begin to ease from his body as he leans into the comfort of your embrace. You urge him to sit down in front of you. As he does, you begin to brush through his long brown hair, a hum of contentment leaving your husband as he relaxes into your pampering. Allowing this moment of relief, however brief it may be.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

mafia anakin being so tough and cruel to everyone but once he step to the house and you meet him with a warm smile he turn into a puddy in your hands (sorry for my bad English)

The Softness of Power

TW: none!! Just fluff cause I need fluff to live.

Author's note: of course love! This is a safe space, I don't judge your language abilities ;) tysm for the request, hope you'll enjoy it!

The heavy mahogany door creaked open, and ANAKIN SKYWALKER stepped into the dimly lit hallway of his mansion. Outside, he was feared—the Mafia King, ruthless and cold. His name alone sent chills through the spines of anyone who dared to cross him

He had just come from a 'meeting' that ended with blood on his hands and he swore the weight of decisions still lingered in his mind. Because for Anakin, when it came to business, everything was expected to be perfect. No mistakes, no betrayal - because if, there will always be a punishment. Now, hours later, his jaw was still clenched, shoulders tight and every muscle coiled with lethal tension.

Yet the moment his eyes found you standing at the other end of the hall, bathed in the warm glow of a flickering fireplace, everything changed. Your smile, so genuine and unguarded, softened the hard lines of his face. You stood there like an angel, wearing one of his (for you) oversized shirts, your feet bare on the cold marble floor.

"You're home," you stated softly with voice nothing but gentle

He just exhaled, as if it alone was enough of a response while he quickly took off his shoes and, without caring about his outdoors clothes, made his way to you. The coldness in his eyes was no longer there, replaced by something much more tender. He reached for you, hands that had once delivered death now seeking warmth, gentleness - something he knew you could provide. His large frame towered over you, but in your presence, he was no longer the Mafia king—just a man. Your man.

As you wrapped your arms around his neck, you felt his face dipping into the crook of your neck. He squeezed you in his arms, grasping you almost in fear as if you were about to leave - like everyone else "You have no idea how much I need this," he muttered into your skin, voice gravelly yet filled with vulnerability he didn't dare to show anyone yet you

You moved your hands up to the back of his head to ran your fingers through his tousled hair. Your lips pressed a soft kiss to the base of his ear. "Rough day?"

"You could say that," the darkness of his world still lingering in his tone. But with you, that darkness began to slowly fade. You were the light he didn’t deserve yet so desperately needed. As if without you, his being didn't make sense, wasn't full filed

“Come on,” you whispered, tugging now at his hand towards the couch. “Let me take care of you.”

He followed without protest, the fierce, commanding man from earlier gone, replaced by someone who only craved your touch, your softness. You guided him to sit, and he collapsed onto the couch, his head falling back, eyes closing

You straddled his lap and your hands moved to unbutton his shirt, revealing the firm planes of his chest. His breath hitched when your hands glided over his skin, tracing the familiar lines of his body. You could see the flicker of desire in his eyes, but it wasn’t just lust—it was need. The need to be grounded, to feel something real amidst the chaos of his life.

“You don’t have to be strong here,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips—soft at first, but deepening as his hands found your waist, holding you like you were his lifeline.

“You always make me feel so...” he murmured after your lips separated

“So what?” your lips brushed against his as you spoke.

“Like I’m not a monster"

Your heart clenched at his words. To the rest of the world, yes, Anakin was terrifying, unyielding. Something to be scared of. He was like a wild, dangerous animal that always bites. But to you, he was more than that. He was the man who would press gentle kisses to your forehead after a long day, who would give you everything you want. The man who held you close in the quiet moments of the night, the man who loved you fiercely despite his brokenness.

“You’re the only good thing in my life,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “You’re the only one who makes me feel... whole..safe”

You smiled softly, kissing him again, slow and deep, as if to remind him of everything good, everything pure that existed between you. His hands roamed up your back, pulling you even closer, and in that moment, the world outside didn’t matter. The violence, the bloodshed, the power—it all faded away.

Here, in your arms, ANAKIN SKYWALKER wasn’t the Mafia king. He wasn’t a man feared by everyone around him. He was yours, and with you, he could be vulnerable. He could be soft.

And as you held him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, you knew that no matter how dark his world became, he would always come back to you. You were his sanctuary, his safe haven, and in your arms, even the most dangerous man in the city could find peace.

“You’re everything I need,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he pressed a final kiss to your lips. “And I’ll never let you go.”

You smiled against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair, and for the rest of the night, Anakin let himself be exposed—let himself be loved again.

Because with you, the king could finally let down his crown.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @bimbo-baggins17

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[evilminji]

I Am? Still? Thinking?? Of My Hive Mind Crechelings Au? (Prev <-)

The Creepy Crechelings? My Fuuuuckin POSSESSED Lil Babies (absolutely affectionate and full of love)?

I CAN'T STOP, man. It's the SOFTEST and WARMEST Epilog? Just... fuck, I wanna cry. It's SO FULL OF LIGHT? So content and happy and "then... our Hero gets to REST. No more struggle. No more pain. Just golden sweetness and simple days."???

The Tragedy Of Darth Vader WAS, ultimately, utterly and completely, because Anakin Skywalker was a GOOD MAN.

Because the Dark took something GOOD and twisted it. Made it MONSTROUS. Killing his soul with ten thousand cuts of doubt and fear. Anger, arrogance, and unwarranted pride. He had COMPASSION. So much love in him he could barely stand to BREATHE.

The world BURNED for how great his Empathy, made the weight of all the universe's suffering, upon his shoulders.

He was GOOD. Could STILL be good. And? The Force DOES work in mysterious ways. It just needs... an in. Someone, ANYONE, to ask the right question. At ANY point. Because it CAN NOT push upon them the answers. Fix for them all life's woes. The Force is not a God... it simple IS. And though it wishes to help, loves them dearly, it can only OFFER what is ASKED for.

And, yes, there are loopholes. Visions and gifts it might give. Technicalities it might work off of. That gut feeling? Well... your INSTINCTS want you to survive. Surely THEY are asking? Are they not? "How do we survive?" They ask. Endlessly. So the Force may answer.

And SURELY, The Force knows, the you of 20 seconds from now, would ASK them to warn you not to eat that fruit. It is poison. That is definitely in line with what you would ask! It can see it. Because Time is simultaneous to the Force. Why, it can even use this to justify, too itself, the Visions! SOMEONE is asking! It can even tell you whom! And when!

It WON'T.

But it COULD.

Yet! Let us focus! Anikin Skywalker!

Do YOU remember how he was born? Oh, sure, we are all PASSINGLY familiar. Born to Shmi Skywalker. "No Father". Etc etc? BUT!!! Details MATTER! And in science? In HEALTH? "Spontaneous Baby" is NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

How. What, SPECIFICALLY, made UP the spontaneous baby? From WHERE? Was it air? Energy? A clone? A hypothetical child of Shmi and some long dead individual she could not possibly have met?

These are important questions! Specifically, important to understand WHAT ANIKIN'S SPECIES IS. Cause "humanoid" is NOT a species! A race! Stewjoni and Naboolians are subtly different! Yes, both human variants. But that's the THING, isn't it?

They. Are. VARIANTS.

As in DIFFERENT. Divergent from one another. Perhaps not A LOT, but enough that their unique medical needs might be significant! Different environmental strains, different diets, different evolutionary paths for thousands of years. In SOME cases? They might no longer be COMPATIBLE anymore! Or barely! A tiger and a cat are both feline, but you'd be blind to mistake them as the same thing.

Then we have Anikin.

Who is haaaaalf??? What exactly?

Well, "The Force" according to research. By means of Sith meddling. But! And for the purpose of this ramble??

He is birth was "a work of the midi-chlorians".

.......let that sink in for a second. The Force channeling, HIVE MINDED, symbiotic micro organisms inside Shmi? Were instructed or guided to? Just take energy? Food and DNA. And... 3D print a baby into existence. They did, obviously, it was easy. But CONSIDER WHAT THAT MEANS.

It MEANS?

Anikin is HALF MIDI-CHLORIAN.

(At least in this AU.)

It's WHY he is so, SO fuckin desperate to connect. So ungodly powerful. So destabilized by not having "attachments". His brain is structured by organisms and half IS, of a sort, the sort of organism that REQUIRES an interconnected system. To offload the massive amount of sensory input the Force gives him. To regulate Big Emotions. To form councils and crunch through problems.

To get those good, good Soul Hugs.

Anikin? Not doing so hot. He's been SURROUNDED by what FEELS like a hive? But they keep EXCLUDING him and he doesn't have the words to explain why that upset him. Why he wants to crawl inside their brains an just... just hang. Not touch anything! Just... just nap! Maybe get a hug? P... Please?

Why does EVERYONE HATE HIM?!

But they don't. They just have different boundaries. Are NOT Hive Minds. THEIR Midi-chlorians? Are not at such a high concentration that it affects their thought patterns.

Unlike? The Creepy Crechelings.

Who absolutely doooooo. THEY are still in the We/Us phase. Boundaries? What Boundaries? We're crawling through each other's brains and on the ceiling! Full of light, love, and horrifying prophecy! Eating sand! Many thoughts, head full! We can taste TIME!!! :D

And it takes a SPECIAL breed of Creche Master with VERY strong shields to interact with them. Mind tricks are both accidental and daily. Poker face of kindness is a must. Good emotional regulation. So when one sees Anikin losing his shit again?

They sigh. Put down their muffin. And go deal with it.

Probably not even awake.

They just feel *Overwhelming Power* and hear upset noises and go "Ah, starting early, today is." Then wander over. And effortlessly defuse the situation. Flop their Force presence on Anikin like a weighted blanket. It would be UNSPEAKABLY rude and invasive to most anyone else? But Obi-Wan just...? Watchs his ex-padawan go BONELESS against this Crech Master he's never met? Like :O

T-teach me. Please, for the love of the Force, teach me to do that.

Next thing you know? They are talking, Obi-Wan getting a crash course in Super Powerful Younglings™ that honestly he should have gotten YEARS ago, but was run too ragged to. And Anikin? Blissed out, high as a kite, at the bottom of a Youngling pile. Mmmmm, lumpy pillow. We gonna sit and sleep and climb all over you, Master Skywalker.

*adoring, emotionally gooey voice* Okay.

He volunteers. Fuck it, he practically LIVES out of that Creche. Padme! Padme, we're adopting. He wants to be a stay at home dad. Build droids. Everything is Beautiful and nothing hurts. *war is still happening* ah. Shit. Right. THAT™.

Okay! New plan. AFTER the war. He has discovered his calling. Is suddenly bonding with Jedi he's never even talked to before. Is that Plo Koon? Plo! PLO! Hey, thanks for lending me that youngling development module! You got any others you recommend?

Him and Obi-Wan? Suddenly getting along better then they have in YEARS. His Master seems genuinely THRILLED he has a clear goal he's working towards and is supporting him ten thousand percent. Openly bragging. Consulting with him. AND? Is so much more OPEN! That Creche Master really helped him Understand how Anikin's brain works!

Which? Leads to Anikin getting healthier. More and more stable. The babies fuckin sneaking aboard. His Men LOSING THEIR SHIT because WHY ARE THERE TUBIES, SIR?! Babies! Infants! Smol, itty bitty, BABY CHILDS!!!???

And? On one hand? He has never felt so clear head and stable as when they are with him. Interconnected. US and WE and THE HIVE. The Force is With Us and We are The Force.

Buuuuuut on the OTHER hand? He is an adult. He CAN seperate what HE wants from what is good for his lil baby friends. This isn't safe. They could get HURT. Die! It... honestly? It makes him think about his mom a lot. He thinks he finally GETS it. Hates that he does. Is in AWE of how strong she was. Hopes he can take the lessons she taught him and live up to them.

Because it's not about what HE wants. It's about what's best for these kids.

They have to go back.

.....except the man he THOUGHT was his friend? THOUGHT was a GOOD MAN? Won't let them LEAVE THE FRONT LINES. Won't even authorize an emergency shuttle. There are vulnerable children. On the FRONT LINES. And Shee-...no. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, won't let them GET THEM TO SAFETY?

Is THIS what over a decade of friendship means to this man? Is THIS what his "sympathies" are truely WORTH? Empty words and no action? Saying what you want to hear then sitting in his fancy office while CHILDREN are shot at?

Anikin wants to put his fist through a durasteel WALL.

Through some careful maneuvering, some Ships on the way back are are able to pick up the VERY In Trouble kiddos. It'll be about five ship hops. But they'll get there. And in the mean time? The entire GAR now knows where the Chancellor's priorities lay.

But? What to do, what to do? The kiddos are GONE! Anikin's head is gonna start getting crowded. Fuzzy. Crushed up and too small! He literally, physically, NEEDS people. For his mental and ultimately physical health!

"Well... you DID say Midi-chlorians are in every living thing, didn't you? It's just that most Sentients don't have enough to reach the threshold of Force Sensitive. Right?" Says Anikin's medic.

Anikin raises a finger. Opens his mouth to respond.

Considers this genuinely.

Puts DOWN his finger and closes his mouth. Nods. Yes. Yes, they DO. Why? Where exactly are you going with this? Medic taps a message to the GAR in ship message board. Please. You know EXACTLY where he's going with this.

Yeah.

Yeah, Anikin does.

And the Vode? Gotta admit. Having their General curled up like a comm system in the back of their brains? Kiiiiinda weird at first. But he's not? Actually? Touching anything? It's kinda like having someone follow you around, hanging off your shoulders in a hug. Because they feel needy and desperately need the contact. Little awkward? Yeah.

But we move on.

And the General respects boundaries. Politely pulls back and out/away when they want "personal" time. Something he had practice doing cause he's in a relationship. And there are Thoughts and Feelings you DO NOT want to share with younglings. It apparently helped him learn to shield. Quickly. Very, VERY quickly.

They only laugh at him a little bit.

He imagines throwing pillow blocks at them.

But THEN? One of them gets a head wound. Nothing to terrible. But bad enough that the midi-chlorians flow up to the area, to help speed up and properly regulate the healing. Because their's have become more active. Not STRONGER mind you. Just... more ACTIVE.

And they can fucking FEEL their General mentally screech to a full stop. Perfectly, utterly, FURIOUSLY Blank. Like the dead silence before the blaster bolts start flying. Like just after the flash but before the blast hits. A terrible, TERRIBLE silence.

Something is Wrong.

"What Is That?"

What is... WHAT? Sir?

And then things move very, very quickly. All things possible, through the Force. A baby created. Chips UN-created. It really is? Just directing the Midi-chlorians all ready THERE to do what you want them too. Offering up some extra energy, if needed. A Leader to guide the hive.

One deep enough meditation, reaching though-out "HIS" sprawling body? Really, what is the difference between purging a chip from your thigh in THIS body? And being over there? Or over there? What are "walls" or "distance" or this silly concept of "other"?

We Are One With The Force, And The Force Is One With US.

He is every Vode on the Ship. He is Anikin Skywalker. He was a Slave. But now? NOW both he and they and US? Are FREE. He will suffer no slaves in his presence. No more chips or collars with bombs. Time to free the others. Free everyone. Demand ANSWERS.

And they do.

The epilog? Oh THAT I can not stop thinking of.

Padme in the senate. Fierce and accomplished. A storied carrier fighting for the people of the galaxy. Anikin a Creche Master for the POWERFUL kiddos. The strange ones who need someone sturdy.

Who can handle their Us/We phase with grace. Who learns and grows, honors and remembers Shmi Skywalker every time one of them one of them starts to pull away. Starts to develop boundaries. Barriers. Starts to want to be their OWN person. Has not just grown strong in shielding but old enough to develop a defined personality, seperate from their friends.

The twins growing up with a whole Creche of siblings. Because their parents LIVE at the temple. Their mother works at the senate! They wave bye-bye every morning. And spend the day with dad. Not separated, not quite living with them fully either. Not after infancy at least. But the Order is changing.

Vode everywhere. Kids born of Jedi. The Corps withdrawn back to the temple to help handle the influx. Lots of debates about Tradition and Change that Anikin care not a lick about. HE'S taking his Crechelings to the Naboolian Embassy's Spring Festival. Does everyone remember how to be polite? Say "hello"! *various smol children chorus Hello in Naboolian, badly but very earnestly*

Just? Field trips. Droids and Vode dropping by to say hello. Padme being the LION of the senate while her retired kindergarten tearcher equivalent, war hero husband cheers. Adorable but freaky children popping out of the vents. Anikin treating his tiny squad of Tiny Anti-christ Acting Babies as though this were TOTALLY NORMAL and just how children act.

SOFT AND FLUFFY EPILOG~☆

@legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @hypewinter @hdgnj @spidori @tiredafel

[creaman]

—BECAUSE KUNG FU PANDA 4 KILLED MY GRANDMA, OKAY?

To preface, I watched this movie and I'm genuinely tweaking right now so I had to write down a very brief (lie) criticism on this film — which you should boycott, by the way.

Starting with the things I liked, before briefing my primary points of criticism:

Po's Character Regression

Po and Zhen's Dynamic

The Chameleon

I'd also yap about Lord Shen and the death of the art style and the entire narrative and pacing and use of the staff of wisdom but my therapist says being such a hater is 'unhealthy' or something. My heart is full of hatred.

SPOILERS for the entirety KFP4 for the 2 people who care.

KFP4 undermines and ignores the previous three movies — Unwriting character developments, outright removing the Furious Five, straying from the character design philosophies and is completely inconsistent with the established lore.

Things I Liked About Kung Fu Panda 4

The Chameleon's character design

Visual gag in the Tavern where Po uses a recently thrown axe as a hat rack (made me laugh)

When Mr. Ping did this:

so cute! the little heart!

Po — Character Writing

Po, as established in the previous movies, is confident in his abilities and identity — he’s learnt inner peace, he’s matured as a character. However, in KFP4, his character has completely regressed. He’s immature again (such as KFP1, possibly worse) and says verbatim, “only knows kicking butt and taking names” — UNLEARNING inner peace and insisting that “…being the Dragon Warrior is all I know.”

It’s childish, and sort of Hotel Transylvania-esque.

Which isn’t helped by the comedy, the dialogue — a large chunk of which are jokes in the style of:

Master Shifu says something philosophical

Po quips off of it / doesn’t get it (i.e. Whoa!! beat I don’t know what that means.)

Oh, it’s great, yeah, very tolerable. Po’s shenanigans are normally reeled in by the presence of the Furious Five who are generally more serious in nature, creating a much needed balance in the dynamic — So without them, it’s just Po becoming increasingly obnoxious and insufferable with every consecutive quip throughout the screenplay.

Po and Zhen — Character Dynamics

[No more graphics sorry I'm too angry]

As if it wasn’t obvious that Zhen was going to be the next Dragon Warrior the second she was introduced.

Zhen, as a character, has no depth besides being a quippy thief. She quips, she steals. This character has no motives — it can be assumed that the writers intended on a ‘change of heart’ thing, but she isn’t established as evil, her working for the Chameleon is written as a (albeit poor) twist reveal.

By which point, her taking either side wouldn’t make sense, given that she has shown no loyalty or attachment to either Po nor the Chameleon.

The movie artificially strengthens their bond by having Zhen start opening up about her backstory out of nowhere for no reason but they have done nothing to grow closer to each other.

Small tangent, her backstory is exactly what you’d expect it to be with no subversions or even emotional weight. Woe is me I was so small and hungry I had to steal to survive. Glossed over in about a minute.

The majority of the dialogue between Zhen and Po is spoken exposition — explaining how powerful and badass the Chameleon is, explaining how ‘we have to go here to do that’ and ���this place was cool until the Chameleon did such and such’, and the rest of their time together is spent engaging in filler chase sequences and fight scenes.

The Chameleon

Where do I even start…

This is where it becomes apparent that the movie relies heavily on telling rather than showing —

She is the weakest villain by far, not only in universe but as a written character; which is particularly disheartening because I genuinely adore her character design and feel as though a shapeshifting character has great potential.

The movie artificially inflates her power by insisting through exposition that this is the most capable antagonist thus far (lie).

The audience is TOLD by Zhen and various restaurant patrons that the Chameleon is a powerful shapeshifting sorceress and that she 'dominates the city' whilst the film does nothing to showcase this.

'Dominating the city' meaning letting her henchpeople run amock and bully the civilians just like Lord Shen's wolves in KFP2... uninspired.

I just realised they didn't even give her a NAME what the FUCK is going on

She describes HERSELF as ruthless, clever and unsentimental when comparing Zhen to herself.

She says HERSELF that she’s “Stronger than every opponent you’ve ever faced.”

Let’s see what vile reprehensible things she’s done, shall we?

Gently push someone down some stairs

Her first appearance is through Zhen’s exposition, as opposed to the dramatic and memorable entrances of the previous villains. Her motives or character aren’t established until the final third of the film. She doesn’t even FIGHT anybody until the final third of the film; and even then, her fight sequences are uninspired and she never really poses a real threat. (She goes down in two hits.)

That being said, WE CAN STILL SAVE HER GUYS WE CAN STILL GET HER OUTTA THERE I'M COMING FOR YOU CHAMELEON I'M GONNA DRAFT YOU A PROPER BACKSTORY AND MOTIVE AND YOU'RE GONNA BE THE MOST THREATENING VILLAIN THUS FAR

There's a scene after the climax of the film where all the kung fu masters and previous villains from the spirit realm bow to Po. I'm not going to provide my thoughts on this because I fear I may burst a blood vessel. Good day!

Closing Statements

To put it simply, Kung Fu Panda 4 was my Megamind 2.

The film rejects its predecessors in every way. It really feels as though they brought in somebody with no prior knowledge of the franchise to direct the movie.

It's a film that relies heavily on telling rather than showing — banking on the previous three movies to carry it through the box office.

It's just really disheartening to see studio execs turn one of the best franchises into a safe sequel cash grab and regress every character's development.

Nevertheless. I do adore the chameleon's character design so I might do my own take on her character.

As far as I'm concerned, there is no fairy godmother, there is no tooth fairy, and there is no kung fu panda 4.

[garoujo]

!!nagi swears that kissing you before practice or a match gives him good luck!!<3<33

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — it seems the teams way to get nagi motivated has its drawbacks.

warnings: sfw! no warnings just nagi being the sweetest :3 note: hi nonnie!!! i decided to just write this lil thing cause i thought it was super cute so i hope u like it sob!!!

for the most part, it was beneficial when the team decided to start inviting you to their morning practice — as a means to motivate nagi, noticing that the usual sleepy, slacker of a striker seemed to have a little more motivation whenever he’d look over and see you in the stands.

but now.. actually getting him to come onto the pitch to play was a whole other problem entirely.

“hey, nagi! get on the field, jeez.. we’re still a goal behind, ultra genius.” you hear reo call from behind you, huffing when your boyfriend infront of you doesnt even seem to give him a second thought as he waves him off from over his shoulder. you think it’s amusing though, the pleading look his bestfriend gives you like he’s begging you to help him out.

nagi on the other hand, is currently leaning over the barrier at the stands — shooting you a starry-eyed look from under his messy bangs. his gloved hands fidget with the hem of your t-shirt and you feel them twitch tighter around the fabric every few moments, like an adorable little attempt to pull you closer as he sends you a pout.

“this is a pain, ‘ts in the way.” your boyfriend breathes as his longer limbs shift and fidget over the metal fence against him he’s referring to — surprisingly enough managing to support his weight as he leans against it, probably finding standing too bothersome given how long they’ve been practicing already.

but you give nagi an inch as you take a step closer, just enough to let his hands graze along your hips as he lets his head lean forward and rest on your chest. “you’re needed on the field, sei.” you try to reason as you push his snowy bangs away from his gaze, letting you take in the pretty, drowsy expression on his face when he blinks slowly up at you.

“eh, don’t wanna. wanna stay here.” another slow drawl and his fingers are squeezing at your skin, feeling him nuzzle deeper into your chest as he leans even further into you — making the barrier squeak slightly under his weight. you’re not sure it’s quite built to balance lazy 190cm strikers.

“but i wanna see you score more goals. we can get lemon tea before we go home.” it’s tempting, especially when you say it in that pretty little voice you know he loves. so you feel nagi’s head twist against you before he’s sending you a cute little look, cheek smooshed against you as he huffs.

“i’m sleepy though, i wanna have a bath and play video games with you instead. ‘ts no fair.”

“i’ll give you a kiss for every goal you score.” it’s quick, your reply — it doesn’t give him a moment to consider it because you know it’s a bargain he can’t pass up. only a few simple things could get nagi seishiro motivated and your kisses were right up there next to video games and well— that’s it.

“wan’ them now. need ‘em for a power up.” it’s hard to say no to him when he’s giving you that look, it’s sleepy and doe-eyed and there’s a soft glow that swims in the deep colour of his eyes that makes you smile before you’re scratching your hand through his hair. it makes your boyfriend shudder and he pulls you closer before you’re reminded of the time limit when reo sends you a wave followed by a grumpier sort of look.

“three goals for three kisses.” your words are rushed but they make nagi stand to full height just as quickly despite the way his arms remain around you — head leaning into the press of your palm when it cups his cheek.

“yay.” it’s soft, spoken under his breath when you push his hair from his features to peck him once on the lips, followed by another before he’s meeting you quickly for the last — urging it to be a little deeper than the other two as he pulls you into him. you hear him hum and you decide to give him a little extra motivation when you swipe your tongue between his lips, hearing a sweet whimper sound from him before he’s parting them for more — but just as quickly as it deepens, you pull away to grin.

“hey, why’d you pull away. wasn’t done yet.” nagi’s words are whinier now but there’s a soft flush on the tips of his ears and you think it’s cute just how easy it was to get him drowsy on kisses.

“it was just for good luck. three goals, sei. then you’ll get more!” you let your fingers scratch through his messy hair again as he groans, followed by a quick thumbs up to reo from over his shoulder before you’re pushing him lightly. he sways before he turns and you laugh at the next pout he sends you as his arms fall to sway by his side — his eyes still on you even as he makes his way back towards the team, although there’s something darker in his gaze now.

“eh, i guess. but it’s so bothersome, three goals is too easy.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[yanderestarangel]

dilf!bi-han. PLEASE

TW: fingering, use of powers, dilf!bi han, age gap, possessive sex, unhealthy jealousy, dark!bi han, smut, degradation, blowjob.

DILF!BI HAN - Where you provoked his anger, for some inopportune reason. He would fuck you like never before, arriving in your shared room, pulling you by the arm, his strong hands would leave purple marks, reddish and painful paths on your sensitive flesh, making you shiver with the grand master's cold touch. Bi Han would throw you on the bed, tearing your clothes like a demonic beast, full of hunger and thirst for you.

"-Walking around in that damn short dress, tempting every man who sets eyes on you. You wanted their attention, didn't you? Well, now you're going to pay for it." His words cut through you, his harshness piercing the air as he continued to hold you to the bed, pinning you down. His grip on your hips tightened, leaving marks in his wake, he wanted to make sure you were going to be sore and scarred for the rest of the week. Bi Han would take both fingers to your pussy, using his cyromancer powers to slightly chill your flesh, while rubbing in circles, changing from the cold to the ambient heat of the room, making you squirm and whisper apologies or justifications - words ignored by the unhealthy jealousy of the Lin Kuei grandmaster -

"-You think you're very smart, don't you? Do you think that just because I'm old I can't fuck you until you lose your voice? Do you think you can get a better man than me (Y/N) ?" He spoke in your ear, practically an animalistic growl, some hair mixed with white and black fell on you, while you moaned, without thinking about anything other than the pleasure and possession that the older man was providing you.

"-No one else is allowed to touch you. Only I can feel that tight, wet pussy around my dick, SAY IT LITTLE SLUT." He finally screamed, while he stuck two fingers inside your wetness, while he squeezed your neck with his other free hand - hands that were rough and thick, with an icy touch gradually forming, more and more, a clear sign of the cyromancer's fury. Without hesitation, he forced you to your knees, holding your hair firmly as he guided his cock towards your waiting mouth. You could feel the undisciplined power in his actions, his dominant and possessive nature taking full control

He rammed his cock hard into your mouth, forcing you to take him deep, gagging you with each powerful thrust. There was no room for tenderness or gentleness, just the raw display of his control and your submission. "-No one else can make you feel like this, no one else can bring you to your knees. Remember that... I am your fucking owner and I will always have the strength to fuck you."

His balls hit your chin, wet with your saliva, while his member curved into your throat, making you choke. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the intensity of his gaze reflecting a mix of emotions - Anger, jealousy, and fear danced behind his eyes, showing his desperate need to keep you close, to assert his dominance over you. "-You're so desperate for it, aren't you? You want me to fuck you until you can't even remember your own name. Say it, you whore. Say you love being degraded and used like a cum dumpster... I may be a fucking old man, but I'm your old man, and I'm going to prove to you what I can still do."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[rebelliousstories]

I Know Now

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Light Fluff

Word Count: 1,032

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Part One: Did You Know?// Part Three: Somebody Knows// Part Four: What We Know

Summary: When it comes time for Reid to come home, everyone is happy. Everyone except the one person he wants to see more than anyone else.

“Cherish every moment with those you love, because tomorrow is never promised.” - Unknown

Spencer had no idea what was going on as he was brought into the visitors room. He was not sure what was going on, but within a few minutes, he got his answer. Jennifer walked into the room with a teary smile on her face as she looked at her best friend.

“We’re taking you home.” For the first time in three months, Spencer voluntarily touched another human being. Weight was taken off of him as he hugged her close, but he was waiting to see one specific person.

Checking out of the prison felt amazing. He was never going to go back to those walls again if he could help it. Reid dressed in the suit he wore in again, and waited for the gate to be opened. On the other side, he was delighted to see his friends and coworkers. Garcia came up and wrapped him up tightly, to which he smiled at, but as he looked around, he could not help but be disappointed. His wife was nowhere to be seen. Pulling away, Spencer realized that he must have had a confused look on his face because Penelope spoke up.

“We tried to get into contact with her, but she wasn’t answering her phone.” She whispered, ushering the man into the SUV that was awaiting them. With everything happening with his mom, Lindsey, Scratch; the one thing he needed was her to keep him sane.

Penelope gave him a portable battery charger for the drive, because after three months, his phone was definitely not charged enough for a call. Spencer sat impatiently as he waited for the phone to power up. They turned the corner to go into headquarters and he felt relief at seeing the beautiful building again. He thought he would never see it again. Once his phone was online, he immediately began to try and call his wife, only to be met with her voicemail every time.

Jennifer offered to take Spencer by their apartment to check, as Cassie’s phone was also going to voicemail. It was starting to become weird for the team as they tried to piece together the pieces of this puzzle. Spencer stepped inside of his apartment and immediately spotted the scrapbook that was left out in the open. Two pieces from the book were not where they were supposed to be. A picture that he had made of himself and a tightrope walker, and a picture from the very first time that his mom had met his future wife. Spencer remembered that day so clearly after all these years.

“Mom, hey. How are you feeling today?” Spencer spoke softly through the room as he walked inside. Sitting in a chair, facing the window, was his mother. She turned her head at the sound of his voice and was shocked to see her son, and someone behind him.

“Spencer, what a pleasant surprise. I’m feeling okay today. They had pancakes for breakfast so it was a good start. Who’s this?” Diana jumped straight to the point. Stepping to the side, Spencer presented the young lady that was behind him. She gave her full name as she made her way to the elder Reid.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Reid. Spencer couldn’t stop talking about you the entire time here.” She held out her hand, and waited, but the older woman only looked at it. Sensing the awkward tension beginning to arise, the younger woman held out the present in her hands towards her boyfriend’s mother.

“Spence told me you weren’t a fan of flowers, or chocolates, or anything of the sort so I thought this would be a good thing to bring.” Diana took the object, and look down inquisitively. In her hands, rested a book. Not just any book, no; this was a gorgeous ornate version of Parliament of Fowls. The same stories she used to read to Spencer as a young boy. Trailing her hands over the cover, she felt the embossing and looked up at the stranger with her son.

“Are you two going to stand forever, or come sit down and join me?” Turning to her boyfriend, she smiled as he walked her over to where two chairs sat side by side.

“Spence, are you okay?” JJ asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. He jolted out of his seat at the touch, causing the woman to step back with her hands up in defense.

“Sorry, sorry,” came his panted breaths, “just realized that these two pictures aren’t where they’re suppose to be.”

“Is there anything significant about them?” She inquired, looking over his shoulder.

The one of him as a child looked unmarked, but turning it around showed him the note in lipstick. XX-XY. However, the other picture was very clearly marked. The same red lipstick was scribbled over his wife’s face and stomach. He knew what the first clue meant, but what on earth did this mean? Spencer stood up abruptly, and went to look around his apartment. There was no sign of his mother or wife all through the humble abode, sending him further and further to the edge. Cassie was not there either, which added another layer to his frayed state already.

It should have been more of a shock to find Cassie dead, and Lindsey on the run, but it was not. At least not to Spencer. This was the natural escalation of things, he supposed. He felt relief when he heard that the victim at the gas station was male; his mother and wife were still alive. But as he sat in the BAU again, trying to crack this case, he kept getting tunnel vision. What was he not seeing? What was alluding him?

When they finally got a break in the case, he was not sure whether or not he was thankful. Because the second that face popped up on the big screen, he felt like he could break it. The screen and the person on it.

“It’s me.”

George Eliot wrote, “Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.”

Tag:

@bringitonhomejohnb

[writing-house-of-m]

Till death do us part.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Genre: Fluff, and some Angst

Warnings: Talks of death, blood and vomiting.

Word count: 7179

Summary: It was a joint decision between you and Wanda wanting to raise your family together full time. There is just one last mission before you retire.

A/N: Who do I think I am, posting three weeks in a row 😂 This one has been a long time coming. I was given the prompt (a long time ago) “She wakes to the sound of you dying.” by @cuinaminute229 - I finally completed it mate! I hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think 😊

The three of you are running through the halls. You don't know how but an alarm was triggered and now you want to make it out of the building before a fight starts.

Too late.

Turning the next corner you are met with five guards all equipped to take you down.

This is not what you wanted.

The plan was so meticulously thought out, you allowed yourself to be optimistic, that this mission could be done without a hitch, but you should have known. Better to keep expectations low, right?

You can only hope they haven't found out about the support you have outside the building.

Tony, Sam, Vision and Wanda.

Two days ago

"Y/l/n, you're with Rogers and Romanoff."

You look up from the file on the table in front of you to the man holding the meeting feeling slightly perplexed.

"But sir, I'm normally partnered with Wanda because of how well we work together," you blurt out, before you can stop yourself.

"I know, but we need Wanda outside where her powers will be useful while the three of you get the job done inside," the man with the eyepatch clarifies.

You grimace slightly and it doesn't go unnoticed by Fury. So he continues, "I know you like spending time with your wife, agent, but you will have to spend a few hours away from each other this time," he finishes, getting a few chuckles from around the table.

You smile and nod your head to show you have acknowledged him. It is not your fault, you can't help but worry about your wife.

"How about Pietro? Where is he? He'd be perfect for this with his speed," you try to reason.

Fury is still smirking from his previous joke and keeps it going for his audience like this meeting is his very own stand-up comedy set, "Throwing the brother-in-law under the bus isn't going to work," causing another round of chuckles. "His skills are being used elsewhere," he finally clarifies.

Wanda notices your reluctance next to you. She takes your hand from the file to hold in her lap under the table for the rest of the meeting. The weight of her hand and the occasional squeeze she gives it brings you a semblance of calm.

After the meeting is over and everyone leaves to get prepped for the upcoming mission, Wanda speaks to you to reassure that everything will be ok. She has a soft smile on her face, "We've been apart in missions before, we'll get it done and be on our way home in no time."

Her hand still hasn't left yours since she took it earlier. You take a step forward leaning your forehead against hers while taking her other hand in yours, "I can't help but worry, it feels different this time."

You know she can take care of herself but you didn't want to be anywhere that wasn't by her side right now. This mission feels as though it has come at the worst time.

Present day

Taking out the five guards was easy work for the three of you.

Turns out they were just a warm up.

When you make it outside, you see Tony disarming someone who had a missile launcher aimed in Vision's direction. Vision throws two guys into the air that Sam finishes off as he flies past and Wanda, you can't see her, but you can see the red tendrils of her powers meaning she too, was engaged in combat.

After your quick assessment of the area the three of you spring back into action.

The base is in the middle of a forest deep underground. It's the reason the plans were so detailed, Hydra would have seen you coming from a mile away.

Hiding and manoeuvring behind and around trees you do what you are best at - taking down the enemy.

With Natasha by your side, watching each other's backs, you take down a few soldiers next to what looks like a turret. It is shooting out energy blasts to try and knock you unconscious so you can then be taken as prisoners. Once the area is clear you take over the controls using it to take out a similar one on the opposite side of the battlefield.

The machine makes it easy to take down bad guys while you do your best to avoid your teammates. For you this is just another 'day at the office' so your mind drifts to your home life.

Three months ago

Stirring awake you rub the sleep from your eyes. The warmth from your two bodies encased by your covers provide you with enough comfort to make you want to fall back into slumber.

You are about to nod off again when her soft whisper brings you back to reality, "You better not be going back to sleep," Wanda says, her warm breath that smells of toothpaste fans over your face making you smile silly.

"Of course not love," you lie, "I was just thinking about all the things you needed me to do around the house."

You hear her chuckle, "Oh, I'm sure you were." She pushes your shoulder so that you roll on to your back. Wanda presses most of her weight on top of you, stroking your cheek.

With your eyes still closed she places a few soft kisses along your neck and jaw. "Hmm...I could get used to this," you crack open one eye slightly, "but you missed a spot," you say, pointing to your lips.

"Uh uh, not until you've brushed your teeth, Morning Breath," Wanda says, slapping your chest once, causing you to whine as you stretch a little.

Wanda is always the one to wake up first. Usually she will get a head start on anything needed for the day. But considering it is a weekend she has chosen to come back into bed and allow herself a morning to lounge around.

Now, with both your eyes open, you move one of your hands that was resting on her waist to her cheek and look at her freshly washed morning face.

"Good morning," you finally say, rubbing her cheek with your thumb. Despite her 'morning breath' statement she gives you a peck on the lips and returns the greeting.

The two of you have been home for two weeks. No missions. No dire need of your presence required at the compound. Just you, Wanda an-

You hear the patter of small feet and a few knocks on the door signalling the end of your peace this morning.

Having had the luxury of experiencing it more than a few times these past weeks, you know how this is going to go.

"So, what's our play this time?" You whisper to her.

"I like the one where we pretend to be asleep," she whispers back. Being quiet is detrimental so the two, soon to be, intruders are none the wiser.

You take your positions, relaxed bodies, closed eyes, waiting for the unavoidable moment when they can't help themselves and try to sneak into the room.

The sound of a soft click, notifies you the door has been opened, along with hushed tones of, "Shh, be quiet!" You admire their efforts, they are still new recruits in covert operations after all.

When they are close enough the two of you sit up, arms raised with a loud, "AHHHH!" They both let out high pitched shrieks while the two of you can't help but laugh, giving each other a high five, Wanda giggling as she leans against you.

Tommy is the first to speak, "That wasn't funny!" Followed by Billy, "You do this every time," they groan.

You and Wanda are still giggling as the boys climb onto the bed. "That's what you get for trying to sneak in here," you say triumphantly, "when will you ever learn, huh?" You question as they get comfortable between you both.

Wanda can't help but wonder, "Why are you two always awake so early on the weekends?" The boys look at each other while you sit and watch the interaction in awe as she continues, "I struggle to get you out of bed on school mornings."

They turn back to their mother and shrug, "Weekends mean more time for fun," Tommy responds. The boy, always ready with a quick quip.

Wanda gasps as she moves forward, "Why you little-" she says, tickling him.

Tommy begins to laugh while you and Billy giggle as if you're watching a show play out in front of you.

Once everyone settles back down your stomach rumbles, starting off another round of laughter.

"Ok, ok, I think that's the signal for us all to get washed up and get some breakfast sorted," you instruct.

Just like clockwork, Wanda makes her way to the kitchen while you try and get the boys to cooperate.

After a little bit of a struggle to wrangle the energetic boys together you get them to complete their morning routine.

Before you head down, you check to make sure they are done with what they were told and eventually, you make it downstairs disturbing Wanda's peace.

When you arrive in the kitchen, Wanda smiles over her shoulder at you. Kissing her on the cheek, you take over flipping pancakes so she can finish getting morning beverages sorted.

The boys bicker about their toys as they wait in their seats for their pancakes. You and Wanda sit, passing plates around and help with any fruits they want.

You can't help but feel content at the quiet, the only sounds in the room coming from cutlery hitting plates as well as the occasional competitive comment from the boys about who can finish eating first. This is what your life is and you love every second of it.

Both you and Wanda are in agreement, you couldn't be happier with the way your lives have turned out.

These weeks have only solidified yours and Wanda's plans; officially retiring from the Avengers.

Present day

The fight feels never-ending. Bad guys showing up left and right. You can't afford to think about your fatigue, a distraction could mean the difference between life and death.

You feel something rush past you and the three guys you are shielding yourself from behind a sandbag wall are knocked to the floor.

Vibrations travelling through the floor from a loud roar signals Banner is also here, making you smile with relief. You are thankful some backup has arrived.

"What? You didn't see that coming?" The speedster says, putting his hand out for you to take so you can get off the ground. "And where's my thank you?"

"For taking so long? You know, for a speedster, you're pretty slow," you joke back to Pietro.

He laughs lightly before speeding off, "Try to keep up in-law!" The gray haired man taunts.

…

The battle seems to be coming to an end, only a few brave soldiers on the opposing side are still trying their best even if they are losing.

You take in your surroundings and deem the area you are in as clear before making your way to find Wanda. You follow her powers like a beacon to get to her.

Seeing her take out an enemy brings a proud smile to your face. You can see she is exhausted but will always fight till her last breath.

Feeling your presence, she turns to you after taking down a final soldier. She smiles at you tiredly as you make your way to her.

"I'm sorry honey, I wanted to get to you sooner to show you I was okay, but I was a little busy," you say when you reach her, hands cupping her cheeks, rubbing them and feeling her relax a little in your presence.

"Don't worry malysh, I knew you were here," she rests her face in the crook of your neck inhaling, "I could feel you." The vibrations of her voice against you make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge.

You take a short moment for yourselves, before you meet with the rest of the team gathered in one place as you usually do once the fight is over.

Making your way, everyone checks the bodies they pass on the floor to make sure they are fully knocked out, ready to be detained. The clean up crew will be here soon.

Walking towards where the rest of the team is, you notice you are the last to arrive. The team all gathers and you relax a little by one of the sandbag walls beginning small chit-chat. You allow Wanda to fully press her back against your front as you lean against the wall, anything to help with the tiredness she is feeling.

Bruce confirms a silent alarm was triggered when you, Steve and Natasha got to the targeted archive room.

All that mattered now was that the mission was complete, with no major casualties.

Wanda is now leaning heavily on you so you keep your arms wrapped securely around her to keep her upright.

As SHIELD agents start to appear they begin their part of the process so your team begins their trek in the direction of the quinjets.

Still feeling a little tired, you wait back with your wife, who is now sitting on top of the wall, to allow her a little more time to replenish some energy. When she is ready she takes your hand leaning into you again after you help her down.

"When we get back I'm running you a nice hot bath," you say into her hair.

Wanda moves her head to make eye contact with you, "I hope you're taking this bath with me," she smiles.

"Like I'd have it any other way," you shake your head, smiling back at her, chuckling.

As you look ahead of you while you walk, you hear something and see some movement from the corner of your eye.

In that moment everything feels as if it moves in slow motion.

You see an enemy soldier laying on the ground. Their arm sluggishly moves, taking something from their belt and pulling the pin. Your eyes widen as you turn to Wanda, pushing her away behind another wall you are passing.

It all happens so fast.

The grenade flying through the air in your direction, followed by a loud explosion of heat.

Your body flies backwards, hitting a tree.

Hard.

In the last seconds of your consciousness pain radiates through your body but all you can think about is if Wanda was out of the blast radius.

One month ago

You seem to be spending more and more time at home now that the Avengers have recruited more help, one of them being Natasha's sister who you were surprised to learn about.

There has been a steady flow of smaller missions where you then get to spend a full week at home. It has been a good time to be able to get a schedule into place. Creating a normal home life for Billy and Tommy.

As you put the boys to bed you hear Wanda in the bathroom throwing up everything from dinner for the third night in a row.

Even though she tells you it must be a bug and that it will pass soon, you feel worried.

-

The next day arrives and you take Billy and Tommy to school on your own for the second time this week when Wanda said she wasn't feeling too good this morning.

She hasn't been able to keep much down, first it was some dinners but the previous day she didn't keep anything down at all.

By the time you get back you hear her in the bathroom emptying the contents of her stomach once again.

You have been kneeling next to her rubbing her back trying to help her through this as much as you can. When she seems to be done, she sits to the side and you help her lean against the wall then take a seat in front of her.

"Three days in a row can't be a coincidence, my love," You think you might know what is causing this but-

"It's too soon, right?" She finishes your thought out loud, "I know I'm late but I thought that was from the stress of everything going on. It took months with Billy and Tommy."

"Either way, I've already made an appointment with Dr Cortez," you can't help the panicked look on your face. Wanda thinks it's admirable so she smiles at you.

"And when did you make this appointment?" Wanda asks, raising her eyebrows, "Also, when is it?"

You smile sheepishly at getting caught. "I called yesterday, she had a cancellation for this afternoon," Wanda shakes her head amused. She puts out her hand to show she is ready to get up so you help her to her feet and don't let go until you see she is steady.

Wanda wraps her arms around you and presses the side of her face into your chest, "Have I told you how much I love you?"

You kiss the top of her head murmuring into her hair, "No, not today you haven't," you scoff slightly.

She lifts her head to look at you with her chin now resting against you. You try not to make a face but you do. You know you have been caught from seeing Wanda's expression changing so you say something before she can, "If you think you're going to kiss me with your vomit breath, you've got another thing coming."

Wanda moves away and looks at you in the mirror as she reaches for her toothbrush, "What ever happened to 'in sickness and in health'?"

"Oh, I can still love you in sickness, it doesn't mean I have to kiss you," your response is a little too quick for Wanda's liking. "Besides I still remember you calling me 'morning breath', it's only fair I return the favour now," you finish with a cheeky smile meeting her eyes in the mirror.

"Not one for holding on to the past I see," Wanda muffles past the foamy toothpaste in her mouth sarcastically. While you just smile at her comment.

-

When you make it to your appointment, Dr Cortez takes some samples and instructs you to await her call.

You are done in time for the school run so the two of you pick the boys up and treat them to pizza for dinner.

Wanda's sickness still hasn't lightened up, you are glad she suggested the safe choice of a soup instead of the greasy food so you had picked that up too.

She ends up bringing up her dinner and instead of hovering around her you keep the boys busy with deciding on a movie to watch because they are done with their homework. The last thing you want is them to notice and be concerned for their mother's health.

Once you have them settled you go to check on Wanda. As you get to her she is already leaving the bathroom with a tired expression on her face.

You take her in your arms and comfort her. It's the only thing you can really do. Wanda wraps her arms around you leaning against heavily into your side as you make your way to the living room.

Once you make it to the couch, as always the boys are situated in the middle. You help Wanda sit on one side while you move to sit on the other side.

This is how you spend most evenings, cuddled up relaxing. This time the choice of movie is lost on you because all you can think about is Wanda and what could come from the test results.

You don't notice Wanda looking in your direction. She moves her arm to the back cushions stretching over to run her fingers through the back of your hair, "Your thoughts are loud, honey," she keeps her voice low so the boys don’t divert their attention from the television, before you look over.

"I'm sorry, I jus-"

She is smiling softly when she interrupts you. "I know, but please don't worry. We don't know anything yet," she continues speaking quietly.

Your gazes are pulled away by a small voice coming from between you. "Are you sick mommy?" You see Billy looking in Wanda's direction as Tommy pulls his eyes away from the screen.

Kids are always more perceptive than you realise.

"I have been feeling sick, yes Billy," Wanda answers truthfully.

This time Tommy speaks with a follow up question, "But you're gonna be okay. Aren't you?"

"She's gonna be fine," you reply, for her. "We went to see the doctor today, we just need to wait and see what they say."

Present day

Placing her hand to her pounding head Wanda tries to get past the ringing in her ears. When she stops feeling nauseous she looks around her immediate vicinity. She begins to panic when she doesn't see you.

Wanda was only unconscious for a moment and now that her mind has cleared a little she realises can't feel you as strongly as before. It is as if you are fading. Her mind concludes that she has awoken to the sound of you dying when she hears you wheezing, making her panic grow.

There is dust and debris everywhere and Wanda does her best to look through it trying to find you. She feels a breeze pass her and in the next second Pietro is in front of her, "Sestra, what happ-"

"Where's Y/n?!" Wanda exasperates, her worry overwhelming because she can only just about feel your presence.

Pietro helps her scramble to her feet as they both look around. Wanda walks in the direction she thinks you will be while Pietro trails behind her, looking around to make sure they are safe.

"No, no, no, no," she panics, seeing your boots a few feet away.

As she gets closer Wanda can hear you coughing and your wheezing gets louder. In her mind it is as if your light is dying out.

No.

She can't lose you.

You can't die.

One month ago

The movie still playing in the background is long forgotten.

You and Wanda continue to tell the kids not to worry and you should hear from the doctor soon.

As if he has an epiphany Billy asks, "Could it be a baby?" This gets Tommy perking up too.

You can't help but be curious how he got to that conclusion, "What makes you ask that?"

Billy responds like it's obvious, "You and mommy were talking about having another baby."

Tommy seems to have picked up how Billy got the idea, "Yeah, and we saw something on TV where someone said she was pregnant and that's why she was being sick."

You and Wanda glance at each other for a quick second, smiling at how smart they have gotten. Kids really are more perceptive than you give them credit for.

"We're not sure yet. That's why we went to see the doctor," you respond.

They still have questions. So Tommy asks, "But why did you go to a doctor, can't you check at home?"

"You check on a stick or something like that?" Billy adds.

"This sickness has been different from last time and it's come on quicker than when your mommy was carrying the two of you," you explain to the two boys listening intently.

"We were more prepared and it took a lot longer for you two to turn up," Wanda smiles, tapping Billy's nose making him smile. "And because this sickness is a little different, we thought it would be best to go see Dr Cortez. She said we will find out soon enough," Wanda finishes.

The boys ask more questions and you do your best to answer them. Eventually the conversation dwindles and you notice how late it has gotten. So you announce it is time for bed.

When you lay facing each other, you reassure Wanda, "Whatever this is, we'll get through it together."

You seal your promise with a kiss and hold Wanda until she sleeps. It takes you a little while longer, every bad scenario playing in your head regarding these test results.

Considering your track record of losing loved ones, your mother to leukaemia, your father to an aneurysm and your sister in battle, you don't like your odds. 

Your stomach is in knots, something in your chest feels heavy while your eyes burn. You hope that these test results come quickly and not at all at the same time. You are not ready to lose the love of your life.

Present day

You can just about hear the footsteps closing in on you as you cough out the dryness in your mouth. But you don't care, you just want to go back to your dream. The memory of your family on the couch watching a movie. Talking to each other about funny parts.

As the frantic steps get closer, you close your eyes, ready to be finished off. You think of your boys and of Wanda, sorry that you won't be able to see them again.

"Malysh!"

You swear you hear someone voice you recognise.

"Y/n!" A different voice shouts.

At least you think you recognise them. It is hard to tell with it sounding like you are underwater.

You can barely feel it but cold hands meet your cheeks, rubbing your skin. So that's who it is. Wanda rests your head in her lap as your hand makes its way to hers resting on your face.

Quickly catching up and remembering where you are, relief fills you when you see her, "Wanda," you smile tiredly. "You're okay."

"I thought I had lost you," Wanda sighs. "I saw you lying here, I thought…"

"No, no. I'm okay," you wheeze out.

"Try not to talk, okay? You need to save your energy," she says with tears filling her eyes.

The back of your head is covered in blood. Dust and mud is mixed all over your face and uniform.

You soon realise you are not actually okay. You know what is going to happen, how this is going to end. You can already feel life slipping away from your body.

Pietro is trying to reach someone through his earpiece but it seems to not be working.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," you begin quietly, your voice breaking as tears fall from your eyes.

"Stop… please don't talk like that," your wife begs you. She turns to Pietro and hurriedly tells him to get some medics and a stretcher to your location as fast as he can.

"Wanda, please look at me," you request, before the speedster disappears.

As always you are captivated by her green eyes that the forest surrounding you could never compare to. "Tell the boys I love them," your hand moves to rest on her stomach, "the baby too."

Wanda shakes her head not wanting to accept this was your end as you continue, "God, I hope they get your eyes."

One month ago

The day after your discussion with Billy and Tommy everything is normal, well as normal as the past week has been.

Wanda is forced to stay home because of her sickness while you take care of the boys then take them to school afterwards.

On your return you help Wanda however you can and get her to sit down to relax for most of the day, making sure she takes it easy.

To distract Wanda and even yourself you discuss a variety of things, from; getting things finalised with Fury - he says you will be needed for a little longer while they get the newcomers trained, he promises no big missions are in the near future, to; Billy and Tommy's progress at school.

It isn't until early afternoon that Wanda's phone rings.

She looks at you after she reads the caller ID on her screen, she finds you already looking in her direction.

You turn off the television as Wanda puts down her book to answer the call, picking up the device from the coffee table in front of you.

The look on your wife's face is undecipherable as she responds with short answers and verbal nods. You can't tell if she looks panicked, excited or nervous, maybe a mixture of everything.

A new appointment is set up which makes your stomach flip. Before you can say anything she thanks the doctor and hangs up.

Wanda takes in the apprehensive look you have on but a smile spreads over her face, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Wasting no time she reveals, "I'm pregnant."

Your eyes grow wide as your tense muscles relax. The smile on your face now mimics Wanda's wide one. You lunge forward kissing Wanda wrapping your arms around each other. You celebrate with teary smiles, hugs and kisses. Words of not believing this is real take over as you place your hands on her stomach.

"You're pregnant," you whisper into the quiet room, the smile never leaving your face as a happy tear falls from your eye.

She puts her hands over yours, "We sure are."

-

When you arrive home with Tommy and Billy after collecting them from school you share the news. You sit them down and tell them this is a little family secret. They couldn't tell anyone, not yet.

You were probably being a little too cautious but you didn't want to jinx it. It was an easy agreement between you and Wanda to not let anyone know until at least three months into the pregnancy.

Present day

"Well, I hope they get your beautiful eyes," Wanda responds, "we'll see who wins in seven months, okay?"

You breathe out a pained laugh, "You're really gonna fight me on this, right now?"

Your eyes are barely open but grow heavier as your blinking becomes slower. Wanda looks up to see if help is on its way.

As she looks around you take in all of her features. The beauty marks dotted around her face, laugh lines you are proud to be the reason for helping make, her soft skin you like to trace in the mornings. Especially the mornings you wake up before her.

You feel colder and the weight of Wanda's hand in yours is no longer there. The end is near so you take in as much as you can before you say your final words.

Reaching up, you stroke her face with your finger, you hope you are not pressing too hard, "I love you. Always remember that."

When she looks at you, you continue, "You don't have to do it all by yourself-"

"Stop that. I'm not losing you," she desperately cuts you off.

It doesn't deter you from saying what is on your mind. "You have Pietro and Nat. Even Clint is always giving his advice even when we don't ask for it," you laugh getting a small smile from her until you fall into a coughing fit with blood spluttering from your mouth.

Once it subsides she looks at you with her eyebrows cinched, "I'm not losing you," she says firmly and slowly. "I can't lose you."

"You'll never lose me, I'll always be with you," you say, putting your hand to her chest. "Always." A tear makes its way down the side of your face.

You know you don't have much longer. There is not enough time but you feel like you have so much you want to say.

Your eyes begin to droop close, "No, I can't lose you," you just about hear. Your ears feel cloudy, just like your vision. You try to tell her again how you love her, your voice but a whisper using the last bit of energy you have to say it one more time, "I… lov-" with all your energy dispelled you don't stay awake long enough to finish your sentence as your consciousness fades into darkness.

One week later

There is a small smile on Wanda's face as she dreams of you and the boys - it is you laughing with them. Well, you are laughing at your own jokes and the boys giving you a weird look because they don't understand the punchlines. Instead of explaining you chase them around the room jokingly chastising them for not understanding them.

She loves to observe moments like this in your daily life, appreciating having a family of her own. A dream that had to be dropped after she joined Hydra. For a long time she didn’t think she would find her place in the world. Be at peace. But she found it with you.

Her limbs are stiff in her uncomfortable position on the chair she fell asleep in. Night after night of sleeping in an awkward position has not done well for her aching body.

Shortly after you fell unconscious, Pietro returned with Natasha and transportation to get you both out of there. Wanda didn’t let anyone else handle you, afraid they would jostle you too much so she used her powers to levitate you to the stretcher which she then moved to the truck where the medics hurried to look you over. There was no way she could risk losing you if she hadn't already.

If Pietro wasn't there she would have hit the ground as she collapsed, her fatigue catching up with her. She was checked over and apart from a few cuts and bruises she was deemed fine.

No one knew to check the baby.

Something stirs her awake, as usual she hears the sounds of the machines around the private room and footsteps walking up and down the corridor behind her. This time however there is a new sound, not new exactly but it’s you, laughing.

Once Wanda’s confusion subsides she realises your laugh isn’t a lingering sound from her dream. It’s real. Her eyes finally focus enough on you laughing because of something Sam said who is standing beside you on the opposite side of the bed.

The sound is interrupted with you coughing in pain holding your ribs, “You’re the one that needs to stop making me laugh, Wilson.” It is enough to get Wanda to sit upright, the other man in the room, Bucky, catching her movements first out of the three of you.

“You’re awake,” Wanda rushes from her seat to sit beside you, carefully wrapping her arms around you and pressing her face in the crook of your neck, “I was so worried.” She can’t help but let a few tears fall, which you feel soaking into your hospital gown.

After checking you over the nurse was going to wake Wanda but you stopped her, wanting to let her rest. When the nurse was exiting the room she found the men lingering outside your door until she was done for their daily visit.

You whisper reassurances to Wanda, that you are okay and explain that Bucky, Steve and Sam were the closest to the room when you woke up.

Steve left after a few minutes because he was needed elsewhere - training duty with potential new Avengers. He expressed his relief saying he was glad you were okay before hugging you then leaving shortly after.

Bucky taps Sam on the shoulder, signalling to the door to give the two of you some privacy.

"I didn’t mean to wake you, love,” you say as Wanda pulls away, wiping her tears. She takes your face into her hands, “Sam was telling me to - 'Stop laughing, your wife will kill me if she wakes up hearing you in pain'," you mimic Sam as best as you can.

Wanda scoffs and shakes her head at your antics. She looks at you, really looks at you as if assessing you. You look tired, the bruises and cuts that litter your face, arms and peaking out from your robe not helping.

You cup her cheek, tracing a fading cut there as you get her to meet your eye line, “I’m okay,” you promise her, then move your arms around Wanda as tight as you can. You power through, your aching body not liking the movement of your limbs even if the feeling has been dulled down due to the pain medication running through your veins from the bag attached to your arm. 

Wanda can’t help but voice the deepest fear she has had this past week, "I thought I was gonna lose you." Your eyes well up because of her shaky tone.

"I know, I'm sorry," you pull back, "I'm sorry. I thought that was it, I was so worried. I had to tell you whatever I could." You look into her eyes, the ones you will be able to continue waking up to, thankful you still get to live your life with her.

Putting your hand on her stomach, you swallow the lump in your throat in fear of the answer you were about to receive, "Did you get checked out? Bucky and Sam didn’t mention anything about the baby."

When Wanda awoke the following day after the mission, she was told she was healthy. It hit her all at once about them not knowing to check the life growing inside her.

She places a hand over yours, with tears in her red rimmed eyes thinking about the worry she went through. First the possibility of losing you, then maybe losing the new part of you she had left.

“Natasha was there when I woke up, she found a doctor so fast when I told her,” Wanda recalls, remembering the sheer urgency she showed to find someone. Natasha all but dragged a doctor into the room to make them check Wanda.

"They did a sonogram," she trails off. You look at Wanda with regret in your eyes for not being there, "I got to see this little one for the first time," she says looking down to her stomach then back at you smiling, "they confirmed, everything is fine."

You sigh in relief, holding her hands between you, "I wish I was there to see and hear their heartbeat with you."

Wanda rubs the back of your hand with her thumb, "Would you like to see?" You respond by nodding your head. Wanda checks the pocket of the hoodie she is wearing and when it is empty she sees the small square photo paper on the chair she has been calling a bed.

Reaching over she grabs the photo that is face down and sits next to you after you scoot over making space for her, "We've got a strong one here," she says holding the image from the sonogram. You rest your head against Wanda's shoulder as you take in the blur of a baby in the picture.

You take a deep breath and smile at your wife. "We need to get that retirement sorted, huh?" You half joke, “This little peanut needs to stay safe, we can’t risk something like this happening again.”

Wanda agrees but senses your worry when you place a hand back onto her stomach, looking at it as if you can see the baby. “The doctors checked everything. Twice over, malysh,” she adds to reassure you. “She’s fine.”

Your head snaps up so fast, a small smile taking over Wanda's face, looking down for a second and scrunching her nose when she realises what she has just let slip. You can’t help the happy tears that well in your eyes, “A girl?”

Wanda replies with a nod, smiling tearily, “The doctor thought I already knew.” You move forward and kiss Wanda as much as your body will let you.

A little girl. She will be the one to complete your family.

After a few moments of silence basking in each other's presence, your forehead leaning against hers, you break it, "I would never have forgiven myself if I died."

Wanda scoffs at your comment effectively breaking you apart, "You wouldn't have forgiven you?! I wouldn't have forgiven you!" You chuckle at her comment.

You take both her hands in yours letting out a breath, “So Nat knows about the baby?” You ask in a whisper and Wanda hums in response. "And who knows about the retirement plan?"

"Just Nat,” Wanda replies.

“We are never going to be able to keep anything from her, are we?" You joke, making Wanda giggle.

"Erm, of course you’re not," Natasha says, walking into the room. "You two are always so obvious when you're hiding something. Though, I will admit,” Natasha pauses as she places her hand on your shoulder when she reaches your side, “I was surprised by the news of the baby." The three of you share a smile before she continues, "How are you feeling?"

"Alive." You smile gratefully, looking at Wanda then back at Natasha, "I hear I have you to thank."

"I'm sure Sam exaggerated but yes. Please send your praises my way," she muses, smiling back at you, taking a step back.

“He did mention something about you bulldozing a few trees to get to me,” you remark.

This gets the three of you to chuckle. When the joke passes Natasha asks, "You up for some visitors?"

As if on queue Billy and Tommy enter the room with Pietro following them. They run up to the bed and practically jump on you.

"Careful boys!" Wanda warns from next to you. They reply, sheepishly in unison, "Sorry mom."

Your chest fills with warmth as you push their hair back while looking at them, "It's okay," you look to Wanda before saying, "I'm okay," with an emotional smile.

Both boys start rambling on about all the cool things they have been doing with Uncle Pietro; playing games, eating junk food and something about being able to jump higher on the trampoline because uncle Pietro can use his superspeed to help. On top of that, how fun it has been having 'Aunty' Monica over too.

"So, not one nutritional meal this week, I'll take it?" You look at Pietro with a raised eyebrow. Then continue with a sarcastic remark, "And I see you've been showing the kids how to be responsible with powers?"

There is a beat of silence as everyone's attention turns to Pietro.

"The candy was fruit flavored!" He exasperates. The boys nod at his statement as Natasha stands to the side with her arms crossed, chuckling while you smile at the scene.

Pietro is about to continue but gets cut off by Wanda with an unimpressed glare, "Let's not forget this extra house guest I wasn't aware of."

"I needed the adult company…?" He shrugs unsurely.

It gets chaotic with Wanda telling Pietro off, the boys trying to defend him and Natasha standing on the side laughing at the whole thing. Even with the pain you can feel you can't stop yourself from laughing too.

Eventually your laughs stop and with a smile on your face, you take in the moment.

You wouldn't have it any other way. This is your family. Your small and silly little family.

You are glad to be able to live another day.