#i also have this weird dry cough

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Foul Legacy encouraging you through some difficult work. he curls up against you on the couch, where you've taken refuge to at least be comfortable as you scribble and cross out and scratch away, paper covered in lines of black ink. he can see the frustration etched in your features, the tiny cuts on your fingers from accidentally sliding against the parchment's edges one too many times. for the most part he simply leans his head against your leg, listening keenly to your pen roaming the paper as his wings flutter with every exhale.

but when he hears that characteristic sigh, that deep breath you let out whenever you're particularly frustrated, and Foul Legacy tilts his head to look up at you. he nudges your shoulder with a gentle coo before brushing your hand with his cheek in an encouragement to give him scritches. it's not just for him- Legacy is fully aware of how the motion soothes you, how his soft purrs loosen the tightness in your jaw, the same jaw he happily snuggles against, being careful not to jab you with his horns. it's time for a break, he can see it in your eyes. gingerly Legacy draws you closer to his chest, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. he croons tenderly, running his claws up and down your spine and gradually feeling your tense muscles relax.

the closest thing to a smile creeps across Foul Legacy's fanged maw, something you always loved and told him was beautiful. he holds you close, gently, soothing your mental and physical pains, for even the strongest warriors of the sword or pen must rest.

[puppyeared]

for like 3 weeks i was wondering why i was sleeping so much and felt listless. and just now I managed to email 3 people and responded to a month old message in the span of an hour because I got back to TAKING MY FUCKIN MEDS..........

[angryscreeching]

coughing up blood i am …

[blackknight-kai]

Got Sick? Have a Monkey Nurse

Request: “since I'm sick with a cold, I wanted to ask for hcs and maybe scenarios if you're inspired, for both DO and Sun Wukong about how they'd react and what'd they do if reader got sick with a cold due to bad weather conditions. And while it's not life-threatening it has reader cough badly, losing appetite, being absent mentally, getting fever, headaches and not eating, body weakness and all around exhaustion, to the point she has to rest more often and longer hampering the group's speed. (She also managed to nearly collapse on the spot while walking because she wanted to carry on and keep it a secret maybe) Reader is also low-key embarrassed about it since she is so weak as a mortal and thinks DO and SWK will surely despise her for this. also maybe she is afraid she'll get them sick too so she will at first try to create distance”

Below will be a snippet, a reaction for DO & WK separately, and then some bonus stuff!

He knew something was amiss with you but he couldnt quite place what at first. Your scent had changed and you seemed sluggish, slower than normal as you helped pick up the small camp that morning so you guys could move on. He checked on you but you waved him off and with a shrug he decided to leave you be. But he kept a close eye on you, noticed how you lagged behind and seemed a little out of it. You didn’t even really react when tried sneaking up on you!

That evening when you guys bunked down for the night you didn’t hardly eat, much to his annoyance and concern. And you went to bed early claiming that you’d just been extra sleepy but that you’d be good to go in the morning. Come morning though, he realized you were NOT ‘good to go’. Instead you were even slower than the day before. And you were avoiding him, keeping a weird little distance between the two of you as if he suddenly started to smell, he sniffed himself self consciously of course because of this….a few times. But no, he doesnt stink. He wondered then if maybe it’s his breath? Or did you just need space?

Several times he had to stop and wait for you to catch up, or you seemed to stall periodically and would say you thought you saw something, which was starting to irritate him because there is never anything there, but he could tell by the way you were breathing that you were fatigued. Speaking of breathing, your breaths sounded strange. Rough. Like you were struggling to breathe.

As the day continued on something shifted, you started to cough. Light at first and you swore it was just due to a dry throat. But even after hydrating your cough continued, got worse even over the next several hours. Your scent also has changed even more since the day before. Around mid day, while he was keeping a suspicious eye on you, you seem to trip over your own feet and he had to rush catch you to stop you from falling. You’re warmer than usual, trust him he knows, and so he leans in and subtly sniffs you. You dont smell ‘bad’ or anything, but you dont smell healthy….almost like…

His eyes widen and he takes a moment to look you over carefully. Your face is flushed with a sheen of sweat on your brow and down your neck, your breathing ragged although you seem to be trying to hide it. You are also slumped in a way he hasn’t seen you stand before as though you are barely remaining on your feet. Plus, now that he’s looking for it there is a slight sway to your body and your eyes are slightly unfocused. The worsening cough, no appetite last night or this morning, and the slight sniffle you have going that wasn’t there before.

Shit, he should have know. You’re sick. As he watches you he wonders what caused this? You guys hadnt come into contact with any one who was sick and there hadnt really been any changes in diet and the pace of your journey hasn’t changed…but then it clicks. A few nights ago there had been a very quick and sudden downpour and the two of you had been taken by surprise. Normally he would have smelled the rain coming but he had been distracted by watching you try to show him that you’d been learning how to use a staff just by watching him. You’d picked up a stick and were waving it around with such fierce determination he hadnt had the heart to tell you that you definitely hadnt learned a single thing, but he did laugh at you though. Quite a bit.

The rain though had drenched you both and you’d taken shelter in a small shallow cave hed been lucky to spot. Scrounging up dry fire wood was a pain but after some searching he had managed. While you both sat in front of the fire to dry, him stripped of most of his clothes save for a loincloth covering his dignity, you had refused to take off most of your clothes, preferring to try to sit in front of the fire to dry. He had snickered at you for it, especially when later he was mostly dry and you were still sitting in damp clothes. Now though he realizes what a mistake that was.

He presses you about it and at first you try to lie, of course you do. But then you finally sag a little and tell him that ‘yes’ you are sick. And when you sheepishly explain that you didn’t want to slow him down??? He throws his head back with a groan and huffs. Of COURSE you would try to power through. He’s annoyed at himself for not stopping and pressing you as soon as he noticed yesterday that something was wrong. He doesnt want you to be suffering like this!

From your point of view how he is reacting is exactly as you feared. You assumed he would be annoyed with you, upset that ‘of course the human is so weak she catches a cold’. And that he’d be frustrated at the delay in your journey. Guilt weighs you down, you’d done your best to push through your exhaustion and aching body to prevent exactly this. Plus, what if you got HIM sick? Can he even get sick? This is when he stomps off without you right? Because you’ve finally shown you weren’t made for this…..cant keep up with him.

A cough tickles your throat and you try to stifle it but aren’t able to and before you know it your hacking, the feeling of his warm hand on your back rubbing soothing circles doesnt go unnoticed. You try to apologize after you’ve stopped coughing and clear your throat but the unimpressed look he sends you makes you look away in embarrassment.

Your supply bag is lifted off your shoulders and a surprised yelp leaves your sore throat as you’re bodily picked up, you’re not quite thrown over his shoulder but it’s a near thing. He stalks off carrying both you and the bag, walking with clear purpose and you try to protest but he wont have it. His grip remains tight and his pace steady all the way up until he finds a safe place for you both to bunker down and for you to rest.

What to do about this unexpected issue?

Both:

- [ ] Massage your aches, be it legs, shoulders, head, neck, back etc.

- [ ] Be super sweet.

- [ ] Manhandle you.

- [ ] Might whine in the back of his throat when you cough too long and knows it hurts you.

- [ ] You will NOT be getting up unless it’s to use the bathroom.

- [ ] A little overbearing….

- [ ] Hand feeding - unless you protest

- [ ] Checks your temp regularly with his forehead and hand.

- [ ] Depending on how bad your sickness is he may pace while you’re asleep and fidget or grumble as he worries over you. When you’re awake he wont show it though.

- [ ] Wants desperately to take your pain away.

- [ ] When you dont have a headache/ aren’t coughing a lot will try to make you laugh a little

- [ ] When you’re sleeping will give you forehead kisses and nuzzles.

- [ ] You will be taken care of and pampered. Comfortable. Made to feel important and not like a chore.

Destined One:

- [ ] Bare with him….he has never been someone’s nurse before. So he’s going to be a bit tentative as he gets you settled on to your bed roll and tucked in with furs/blankets.

- [ ] He’s a bit annoyed at you at first, mainly because you didn’t tell him you were sick and had tried to pretend, probably making it worse.

- [ ] But as he see’s how truly sick you are he’s going lose that irritation and concern will swallow it whole.

- [ ] He’s not going to know what to make of you but hes going to do his best.

- [ ] You‘ll probably have to guide him a little, hes never really been sick before so he’s lost.

- [ ] But once he knows what to do he’s going to take care of you. Getting you water, changing the cool towel on your forehead, getting you a little to eat here and there.

- [ ] When he figures you’re not warm enough he tries to use his body heat to warm you.

- [ ] Rolls his eyes at your protests and does it anyway - he wont be getting sick dont worry.

- [ ] He’s gonna be a bit of a mother hen….dont wanna eat? Too bad hes going to make you eat a few bites at least and wont stop prodding you until you do.

- [ ] He’s very soft during this time with you, gentle. Soft monkey noises to soothe and comfort - something hes not used to but cant help himself.

- [ ] Only leaves when necessary.

- [ ] He hates it the most when you say you’re dizzy and your head is throbbing from a terrible headache, seeing you be in such pain hurts his chest and he will gently massage your head for you while he rests it in his lap/on his leg.

- [ ] Towel bath. He will be respectful but he will wipe you down to get the sweat off of you.

- [ ] His voice, or well the grunts and sounds he makes are softer so that he doesnt hurt your head.

- [ ] Will rub your back and shoulders as you cough and hack.

- [ ] If you like ‘white noise’ he will rumble/purr in his chest to help you relax / sleep.

- [ ] When you finally let it slip that you were scared of upsetting him and that you’re sorry you were weak…please dont leave you behind, he is going to pout up a damn storm and very gently pinch your cheeks.

- [ ] If you HC him as speaking every so often he will finally use words to tell you that NO he isnt going to leave you and that hes not mad at you. That he just wants you to get better so he can see you smile again. He will sign this out or use his body language to tell you if you dont think he speaks. Either way, he just wants you to not be in pain.

- [ ] He’s gonna make sure you know he’s there for you. Sickness and in health.

Wukong:

- [ ] He’s gonna immediately jump on the mother hen shit.

- [ ] At first he’s going to be huffy as he talks and does things, but it’s because hes mad that he didn’t notice your plight.

- [ ] His movements at first will be rough but gentle as he lays you down and makes you rest on your bed roll.

- [ ] He’s going to tuck you in and if he has to, he will tie you down LOL dont play with him.

- [ ] He has helped with sick restless monkey cubs in the past so he at least has the basics down. Will definitely compare you to one teasingly by the way.

- [ ] He’s going to not take no for an answer, ever. He’s gentle about it though dont worry. But if he has to, he will put water in his mouth and kiss you - pry your lips open with his/his tongue and make you take the water. (So…I mean maybe refuse water for a kiss…?👀)

- [ ] He is going to ask you to do things ‘for him’ as in “Eat one more bite for me?” Kind of stuff. And hes gonna be sooooo sooo soft about it that honestly you’ll have to just do it because how tender he’s being.

- [ ] Will always be touching you, tail around you somewhere or hes massaging your neck and shoulders.

- [ ] He hates everything about this because you’re clearly in pain and feel horrible, but loves taking care of you. Loves that you let him.

- [ ] For once he’s pretty quiet, unless you ask him to tell you stories or talk. Might hum, very off key, for you too.

- [ ] Wont leave your side unless he has to for something.

- [ ] He’s going to tease you and coo at you - sweetly though.

- [ ] Will stroke your face and comb his fingers through your hair. Massage your shoulders/neck/head.

- [ ] Takes wiping you down seriously and wont make any teasing comments or do anything funny.

- [ ] Will ‘let’ you use him as a heated mattress (he makes you LOL) - if you get sweaty too bad he will just remove the blanket but you’re not going anywhere.

- [ ] When you finally come out and tell him you feared him leaving you behind, getting him sick, and slowing him down he full on scoffs and blows a gentle raspberry on your cheek.

- [ ] Tells you that you’re silly as hell for thinking that because, HIM? Getting sick? Fat fucking chance. And leaving you? Pffffffft good luck getting away from him (said as a joke).

- [ ] As for slowing him down? Well duh, you’re sick its gonna slow things down but he’d rather that then you making yourself worse - which he calls you an idiot for doing btw (but very fondly). But keep in mind he can literally just carry you and make up time. And he will.

- [ ] Go ahead, ask him for something, anything because it’s yours and he will GLADLY provide. He’s WAITING for you to make a request.

- [ ] He only asks for a smile as thanks.

Bonus 1 Both: He gets sick

- [ ] Huffing, whining, glowering at you when you aren’t near him so he can use your lap as a pillow/body as a pillow.

- [ ] Acts weaker than he is. Just so you will pamper him more. (Still able to manhandle you funnily enough…) He’s needy and clingy.

- [ ] Loves your attention - may not admit it. But his weak tail swishing tells you otherwise. Purrs while you take care of him. (Yes some monkeys purr)

Bonus 2 DO: He gets sick

- [ ] Tries to take care of himself at first but when you insist he allows you to - he’s not that hard to convince in his weakened state.

- [ ] Very cuddly and honestly? Kinda needy but silent about it.

- [ ] Very soft and has big imploring soft brown eyes that you cant resist. Never had to be taken care of so he’s living his best life right now even if he feels like shit.

Bonus 3 Wukong: He gets sick

- [ ] If he gets sick he is a HUGE fucking baby about it. I hope you’re ready for his pouting, whining, and dramatics (when hes awake, because when he sleeping hes adorable and an angel)

- [ ] Will pretend like hes fine, put a good show of refusing help, extra pouty. But when he gives in? Well….good luck.

- [ ] Will take everything you give him though like a good boy - wont feed himself, you have to hand feed him. He’s greedy for your attention.

Bonus 4: How I think he would sneeze in general (sick or not), this just was a passing thought….

- [ ] DO: Sneezes 1 of two ways, hides it or….sneezes like an adorable kitten with a little monkey sound in there. - first time you hear it you’d probably melt.

- [ ] WK: Sneezes loudly, suddenly, and obnoxiously like an old man whose soul is ejecting itself forcefully from his body. Does this on purpose just to be annoying and piss people off or scare them.

[lowkeyrobin]

JAMES HOOK ; perfect revenge

summary ; after also turning into a weird flamingo hybrid with uliana, hook tries to conjure up a plan for revenge for you. and ulianna

warnings ; language, bullying

disclaimers ; reader is a siren (on land)

requested by ; @stargener

word count ; 902

masterlist

Uliana cackles, using her tentacle to hand you two flamingo feathers.

"That's too many!" Bridget exclaims

Uliana glares at her. "Does it look like I care?"

You swallow your feathers, giggling back at your friends.

"You're just jealous," She rolls her eyes, following your actions. "Of my beauty."

"You'll regret that," Bridget mumbles.

You and Uliana giggle and cackle, you leaning over her shoulder to look in her portable mirror. You smile, tilting your head as you watch your hair glow a bright pink.

Uliana jumps back, coughing up feathers with a worried, scared look. Her hair also glows pink, the color spreading from the fringe to the occipital rather quickly as she frightfully looks around, seeing all eyes were on her and you.

"You look a little.. pink" Hook giggles.

You begin to do the same, looking back at Hook, unable to call for him as you hack up feather upon feather. You fall to your knees, watching feathers magically grow from your skin, a thick coat of them burying into your flesh.

"Someone should help them!"

Your shaky hands are held in front of your face, you watch as your fingers grow into claws. Hook's expression clearly falters, seeing you watch yourself turn into some hybrid monster.

The laughter fills your ears, the smiles and giggles the only thing your brain would process. They stare at you as you sit hopelessly, watching yourself fall to the magical trickery. You'd never felt more weak. As your reputation quickly drips down the drain, you think of how you wouldn't be feared any longer, how you'd end up becoming a victim to your own creation.

"Yeah, someone should help them" Hades mutters, Maleficent smacking him.

Harry looks between the couple and then at you two, watching Morgie try and help Ulianna up from the ground. He's quickly smacked back, landing on his ass as Uliana rises, showcasing her new face job. Her face represented one of a flamingo, beak and all.

Her screams are turned into bird honks as she quickly chases after Bridget and Ella. She chases them away toward a side yard, the AK's following quickly. Hades and Maleficent shrug, following the crowd. Morgie does the same, breaking into a sprint after watching Red and Chloe chase after Uliana.

Hook rushes to you, paralyzed in fear and embarrassment on the concrete. His hands float over your shoulders, not exactly wanting to touch you.

"Go get them" You snarl, wanting your boyfriend to leave you be.

He quickly nods, rushing after his friends, his heeled boots clicking on the pavement.

Your limbs were coated in feathers, your hands now claws, your hair bright pink. With wide eyes, you stumble over to the fountain in the courtyard, hoping and wishing the magical water would rid you of your now hideous appearance.

Water was your home, maybe even just sitting in it would make you feel slightly okay.

You place your feet in the fountain, drenching your boots. You sit down criss-cross, running your head beneath the running water, a shiver running down your spine as the cold liquid hits your feathered skin.

You feel the feathers fall from your limbs, your skin revealed once again, leaving large dark marks on your skin, like strawberry skin but ten times worse. Your claws shrink back down to your normal hands, your hair's new pink glow fading as it rinses away from your scalp.

"Y/n?" James speaks from behind you, having rushed to your aid after Ulianna fell into the magic spring water pool not far away. "Are you alright, darling?"

"No," you quickly answer, eyebrows furrowed out of your internal anger.

He slowly approaches, trying to bring you away from the fountain, to dry you off at least. "My love-"

"Shut up."

You lounge in your dorm with James, trying to push your head anywhere that wasn't back earlier in the day. Your head rests on your pillow as you stare at the ceiling, allowing you to count the stars in the night sky through the skylight above your bed.

You wanted to get back at Bridget, but didn't know how.

She subjected you to humiliation, to embarrassment. She wasn't anything, she had to bribe people with food to be her friend. She was a pathetic excuse of life and a waste of space. She'd grow to be nothing-

"I have an idea," James speaks, turning back to look at you on your bed, having been looking out the window.

You turn your head to look at him. "What?"

He slyly smiles, a mischievous look in his eye. "We embarrass her at Castlecoming. She wouldn't miss it for the life of her, we make her fall to the floor, ugly as an ogre."

You blink. "You sound like you're talking about me," you mumble, rolling your eyes as you turn on the bed, your back facing him.

He sighs, pulling you up from the bed. You stand on your feet, your pajamas resting upon your frame as he laces his hand into yours, his hook carefully resting over your shoulder.

"We'll get her back, my lovely siren royalty." He smiles, his eyes gazing upon your lips before looking back at you in the eye. To say he was in love was an understatement. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

You lightly smile, glancing down before looking back up at him. "Yeah"

"Good"

[fairyhaos]

❖ take care of me anyway // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 1.7k+ words

tags: office worker!jeonghan not rlly relevant to the plot tho, sick fic, fluff, established relationship

warnings: brief fever-induced hallucinations ig?? but theyre rlly cute, pet names, reader has a cold

notes: im sick. like, 'i have a cold' sick. and i also have another sick fic planned so uhh yeah im a little Unwell in the head too

There are ten minutes left of Jeonghan’s lunch break when you finally call him.

“Hello, my darling,” he says, his tone both parts dry and amused. “How are you?”

“Sick,” you reply, and even just that word sounds horribly bunged up. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? You called in sick for me.”

Jeonghan just hums, smiling a little as he adjusts the phone against his ear, walking down the street back to his company building. “Maybe I did.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, and he can almost hear you pouting on the other end of the line. There’s a rustling sound as you adjust yourself in bed, and he sighs.

“How sick are you?”

“Very,” you say, miserably, and then give a series of harsh, wet coughs that has him wincing. “Very sick. I only just woke up, but my head is just…” You don’t finish your sentence. Just make a very pained sound like a wounded puppy.

Jeonghan chuckles. “Gee, I wonder how you managed to get so sick. It’s not like walking home in the pouring rain without a coat makes you ill, isn’t it?”

You whine at that, upset. “Han, I told you, I was gonna call you but my phone was dead. I had no choice! Wanted to get home fast to see you,” you add in a mumble, sounding dejected.

He smiles at that. “It wasn’t like I was going anywhere, though,” he points out. “I was all comfortably squished on the couch. I wasn’t gonna disappear any time soon. You could’ve taken your time. Waited for the rain to pass.”

“Yeah, but still,” you huff petulantly, then sniff. “Can you make soup when you get back home?” you ask after a beat, and sniffle again. “And also buy some tissues? And meds? And give me cuddles?”

Jeonghan chuckles at how pitiful you sound, resisting the urge to coo. “No.”

“What?” You’re whining again, and you sound all bunged up but Jeonghan just smiles, amused. “But your darling Y/N is currently suffering the worst cold in the entire world.”

“But alas, I think my darling Y/N is the sole person to blame for this cold,” Jeonghan says, lips twitching upwards. “Don't you think so?”

“Come take care of me anyway.”

“No.”

You make a noise of discontent, sheets rustling as you shift around in bed again. “Hmph. Worst boyfriend ever. I’m breaking up with you.”

That makes him laugh, the stunned sound being pulled out of him by your deadpan tone, and he grins to himself out on the street, rounding the corner until his company building is in sight. “Whatever you say,” he singsongs. “I’ll see later, okay?”

“Whatever. Bye.” A pause. “Have a nice day.”

Jeonghan smiles as you hang up, looking fondly down at your contact name. He’s standing in front of the company entrance, now, and he has three minutes of his break left. Just enough time to get into the elevator and up to his office.

He pockets his phone, turns on his heel and traipses off to find the nearest pharmacy.

───────────── 🧂

You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep the entire day, constantly stuck in that drowsy, so-sick-that-nothing-feels-real state, and you’ve hallucinated Jeonghan coming home a total of thirteen times in the past five hours.

At least, you think it’s been five hours.

Maybe it’s been less than that.

Whatever. Time is weird.

The point is, your mind is all fuzzy and everything feels like it’s floating, so when someone who looks an awful lot like Jeonghan comes into the room, you just groan. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 has come to pay you a visit, it seems, so you just frown and give him the response that you’ve given all his other clones.

“Go away. Stop trying to sell me fish.”

Hallucination Jeonghan #14 makes a confused noise at that, walking closer to your bed, leaning over to adjust your pillows and pull you up into a more upright position.

“I don’t want your fish,” you say, just in case he didn’t hear you the first time. “Stop it.”

That makes the hallucination chuckle, and his hand comes up to your forehead. 

Cold. Huh. None of the other hallucinations touched you before.

His hand drops from your forehead, swiping at the soft skin under your eyes gently, and his fingers are blessedly cool against your skin. You hadn’t realised how much you were burning up before.

“You’re really, really sick,” Hallucination Jeonghan #14 murmurs, and he sounds so concerned, before pulling out a bottle of water from one of the plastic bags he’s holding. Woah, you hadn’t even realised he was holding them. “Here, darling. Drink.”

You obediently take a sip once he uncaps the lid for you, before making small noises of distress when some of it spills down your shirt. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 (wow was it a mouthful to say, even in your head) just hushes you gently, dabbing at it with tissues that he’d procured from the plastic bags. 

“It’s okay,” he says softly, and his hands take yours, clasping them around the bottle. Once you’re holding it, he gets up, and for a horrible moment, you think this hallucination is going to leave again. You kind of like this one.

“Where’re you going?” you ask, but it comes out as more of a slur of vowels. You’re not sure he understood a word.

 “Drink up,” is all he says. He fishes out a packet of pills from the bag (it’s like a magic bag, you think blearily. It seems to have everything inside it). “Have these as well, okay? I’ll go make that soup you wanted.”

You nod, blinking. Dutifully, you sip the water that the hallucination has left you, because really this was one of the most gentle, doting, Jeonghan-like Hallucination Jeonghan and it kind of feels like he really does have your best interests at heart. 

Unlike the other Hallucination Jeonghans, who just wanted to sell you fish. This one really seemed to care about your well-being. 

You blink again, slowly. 

Oh. 

By the time Jeonghan comes back with a gently steaming bowl of chicken soup on a tray with a mug of tea, you're more lucid than before, pouting at him as he comes closer, having remembered his last words before you’d hung up the phone.

“You said you weren’t going to take care of me.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, setting the tray on the bedside table, before sitting down on the edge of your bed, wordlessly picking up the bowl and spoonfeeding you some soup. You open your mouth easily, and he hums in approval with a smile.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my darling be sick all alone, hm?” he says. “I can’t do that. Especially if you’re also seeing hallucinations of me who are trying to sell you fish.”

He continues feeding you soup in tiny sips, and the entire situation feels weirdly vulnerable, with you propped up on pillows and Jeonghan making small noises of approval every time you successfully swallow a spoonful. Like you’re a little baby bird, or something.

But he smiles so lovingly at you the entire time, so it’s kind of hard to feel too embarrassed.

“Well done,” Jeonghan murmurs, once you’ve finished half of the bowl. Your boyfriend is affectionate, almost overbearingly so at times, always poking you in the side or pinching your cheeks or tweaking your nose, but the softness with which he treats you right now is a whole other level of affection entirely.

Jeonghan cares deeply for you. You know that. You’ve never doubted how much he loves you, and he never gives you reason to doubt it. But still, when he smooths down your hair and strokes the back of your hand and gazes at you so gently, it makes you realise yet again that oh God, he loves you.

“We’re going to get you to finish the rest of the soup in a minute,” he says, reaching down towards the plastic bag at his feet, “but first. I wanted you to have this.”

Out of the bag, he pulls out…

A fluffy bunny plushie.

You blink, tilting your head, sniffing in confusion and also to try and unblock your bunged up nose. “What?”

“Say hi to Jjongie,” Jeonghan says. “He came up to me when I was buying your soup, and I couldn’t not bring him home.” The bunny’s pink ears flop adorably into its eyes as he holds out the soft toy to you. It even has a cream coloured ribbon around its neck. “He’s gonna keep you company whenever I can’t be here for you.”

“Oh,” you say softly, taking Jjongie from him with a smile. You rub your thumb over the soft fur of the bunny’s cheek. “He’s adorable.”

Jeonghan beams, proud. “Of course he is. He’s a me-substitute.”

You look up at him, smiling. “Han, I—” You can’t finish your sentence, too choked up. Literally. You suddenly start coughing, hand coming up to cover your mouth, and Jeonghan rushes forward with the mug of tea and an opened box of tissues that he suddenly procured out of nowhere.

“Hey, it’s okay, no need to cry over it,” he says teasingly as you glare at him, eyes tearing up from how hard you’re coughing. You accept the tissues and, when he pushes the tea insistently in you direction, you take the mug too.

“Yeah, yeah.” You blow your nose with one hand and then drink the tea, noting with a smile the subtle notes of honey in it. “Thank you,” you add, softly, looking down at Jjongie in your lap. Jeonghan really has gone out of his way for you.

Jeonghan just shakes his head, picking up the soup bowl again. “Thank me once you get better,” he says. “You can take care of me after. I’ll probably be catching your illness from looking after you.”

You grin, blowing your nose again, and even you can’t miss the way that Jeonghan watches you, eyes devastatingly fond.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna look after me anyways, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan grins, unashamedly bright. He taps the spoon against your lips, smiling wider when you sip the soup, the mug of tea in your hands, Jjongie the bunny in your lap. 

“Duh. I love you too much not to.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @butiluvu @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29

[saffusthings]

It's Written All Over Your Face

oscar piastri x personal assistant! reader

summary: the one where they learn feelings can be messy. and weird. word count: 15.9k (...) warnings: abuse aftermath, a sprinkle of angst, don't try this at home kids, poorly edited writing a/n: i have a love/hate relationship with my writing of this chapter, but it seems alright. but it's got a couple scenes i'm excited for y'all to see :) also mc is a Hot Mess but i love her sm

Part 1 | Part 2

“O- Oscar,” she trembles, too busy to be bothered to be professional. “I think s- something’s wrong…”

He pulls her in tightly, letting her head rest against his shoulder. 

"Shhh," he whispers. "I'm here. It's okay."

He's trying to be strong for her. He knows that she needs it right now, and even though something inside him is vibrating with fear.

She covered another cough with her hand, only to find it smeared a deep red.

Oh, that's blood. 

"Y/N, what happened?" He finds himself asking, even though he already knows the answer.

“I don- I don’t know,” she wheezes.

It’s been a few minutes since Oscar went into the bathroom. Lando also doesn’t hear any of the tell tale signs of two people… well, getting it on - so tentatively, he calls out for his teammate. “Everything alright, Osc?”

"No" Oscar finally manages to get out, his voice choked and thick. "Things don’t look too good. Can you… Can you go get help?"

“What?” Lando rushes in at the first sign that something is not right.

He turns to give Lando a panicked look, his eyes wide and desperate. "I don't know what's wrong - just go get help or something!" he demands, desperate for someone, anyone to help them. 

He wants to run his fingers through her hair again - wants to be able to soothe her - but he's worried he'll make it worse somehow. 

This can't be happening. This isn’t fair.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come t-to lunch. I was g- going to, b-but…”

Her hands feel cold. Why are they cold?

"No, no," he says, giving her his most convincing smile. "Don't talk, don't apologize - just breathe. Breathe." 

He's saying the words just as much to himself, he thinks. His mouth has gone completely dry, and he's sweating profusely. He can't tell if it's from the heat or terror or both.

Lando grabs his keys and reappears in a moment. “We’re going to the hospital. I’ll drive.”

He nods numbly, before forcing himself to think straight. This is not the time.

He tries to figure out how to do that. He's going to have to do most of the work here, but she's already weak as it is. He's going to have to try and carry her. When they finally reach the car, what feels like months later, Lando gestures for Oscar to ride in the back with her.

“Think she’d want you with her,” he explains quietly, before opening the driver’s seat and getting in. Oscar gives the older man a nod, climbing into the back of the car. 

She's so out of it now, his efforts to sit her up only causing her to cough harder. He tries to keep his hold on her strong, trying his best to keep her upright on his lap so she'll have an easier time breathing. 

"It's okay," he keeps whispering to her, countless times. "It's okay."

“It…” Her speech is getting more and more strained as time passes. “Hurts.”

He gives her a pained smile, trying to hide how absolutely horrible this is really going. 

"Hey, I know it hurts right now," he says quietly. "But it's all going to be okay. We're on our way to the hospital now, okay? You've just gotta hold on. You can do that, can't you? Hold on for me, I know you can."

She wraps one of her hands around one of his. The touch is soft, gentle.

It takes him a few minutes to realize that it’s meant to be a firm grip on his hand.

He feels completely useless - more useless than he's felt in his life. He wants to be able to do something, help her out in some way - but he can't. He's helpless here, completely at the mercy of whatever is happening to her right now. 

That's something that makes his stomach turn in terror. He's never been this scared for someone else's life before - and he doesn't like it.

As her eyes become half-lidded, he turns to face Lando.

“What do I do? Something is wrong with her, and I can’t tell what the fuck it is,” Oscar asks, frustrated, an undercurrent of panic in his tone.

"Hey, hey, just concentrate on getting her to stay awake, okay? She just needs to stay conscious. Just keep her talking, just anything. Doesn't matter what it is," he reassures him - although honestly, he's feeling just as scared, just as anxious as Oscar. His friend is coughing up blood in his backseat, and these cars ahead just won’t fucking move. In his mind, all he keeps hoping for is that they'll make it just one damn minute closer to the hospital. Just one more minute.

He starts to rub her sides gently - trying to get her to focus. His face is the picture of calm, a soft small on his lips as he soothes her.

"I'm sorry I got grumpy at you earlier. You didn't deserve that. I'll make it up to you later, I promise," he says.

“…Yeah?” She smiles weakly, trying to make him feel a bit better.

"Yeah, I will," he says, trying to sound brave. 

Once they reach the hospital, Oscar wraps her arms around his shoulders as he works to prop her up, supporting her weight. He ends up looping an arm underneath both of hers, before he practically drags her along with him. They inch towards the doors of the emergency room, Oscar hoping against all hope that she's still conscious. 

He can manage anything - he'll work through absolutely anything if she's okay. 

There are no clear images - the entire rush of the hospital sounds like it’s happening… underwater?

She can vaguely register that she’s in someone’s arms - probably Oscar’s. The ceiling lights look more like blurry blobs, disfigured and unclear. She tries her best to keep her eyes open.

Oscar is the one to spot a couple of nurses walking out of the double doors, and instantly, starts striding up to them in a panic. "Excuse me? Help, please!" he calls out desperately. 

He's trying to keep his voice from shaking, trying to get her to a hospital bed - and fast. His voice draws the gaze of the nurses, who look at them in astonishment, their eyes widening at the sight of the blood on her shirt. Immediately, they snap out of their stupor and get to work. 

"Bring the gurney over!" one of them cries out, as they push one the double doors open, allowing him to rush into the hospital - the girl now limp in his arms.

“…O-Osc?”

He hears the sound of her small voice, the word coming out broken and barely there. She’s speaking, barely, and for now, this is enough assurance for him that she's okay. 

"Oh, hey - it's okay, we're at the hospital now. You're gonna be okay, okay? Just hold on to me a little longer. We're gonna get you to a doctor, and it's all gonna be good - you'll see," he tries to reassure her, his hands gripping her shoulders gently - keeping her in his arms.

“I can’t-“ she wheezes out. “Can’t–“

He hears the sound of her labored breathing, and his eyes widen in panic. 

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay,” he coos gently.” You don't have to talk - just keep breathin’, alright? You just have to keep breathing," he tells her, voice straining to stay even, his knuckles going white with how hard they're gripping her.

“Can’t breathe–“ she finally manages to get out.

His eyes search desperately around for help, for a nurse, a doctor, somebody to come and help her. He’s just about to resume shouting for help when, like a breath of fresh air, he hears the clatter of the gurney being wheeled in, and two nurses pushing it up to him - ready to load her into the gurney. 

"Just stay awake," he tells her desperately, his face going deathly pale as she is shifted from his grasp. He only just manages to keep the sob of relief in his throat as he watches them wheel her away from him, towards a trauma room.

The sound around him feels like it fades in and out - distant shouts for an IV, for blood, about a fracture causing a lung puncture leading to internal bleeding. Time is too slow and too fast all at once. 

When something pulls at the corner of his mind, it’s only then that Oscar sees Lando trying to get his attention. He feels Lando gently nudging him again, trying to pull him away from the trauma room door - and his head snaps up, almost as if he's been woken up from a deep sleep.

"Huh?" he repeats back to Lando blankly. He blinks and shakes his head, feeling the fogginess in his mind start to clear a little. "What'd you say?"

He feels a little lightheaded - and it takes him a moment to realize it's from the fact that he's still not breathing right, too busy trying to listen to the nurses talk to the doctor through the door. Lando looks at him with a sympathetic expression, pulling him further from the door. "Come on, mate. She's gonna be alright. They've got it handled." 

He lets Lando shepherd him towards some of the waiting room chairs - a little bit further away from the door - as he listens desperately, trying to get some hint of what was happening from the murmurs inside. 

The only things that actually register in his mind is what he's pretty sure is the sound of beeping heart rate monitors - and the sound of the nurse informing the doctor that there's more bleeding somewhere then they'd originally thought.

For a second time, Lando's voice is what breaks his train of thought.

“I don’t mean to overstep,” he starts cautiously, afraid of setting off an emotional trigger of some sort. “But… do we know what happened?”

He blinks, and tries to focus on Lando, and not the faint sounds coming from the trauma room a few feet away. "I don't know," he tells Lando honestly, his eyes going cold like he's about to say something that he really just doesn't want to admit. "… But I'm betting it had something to do with her parents."

Lando’s not sure he understands. While he doesn’t know the exact nature of whatever is going on between Oscar and his assistant, he knows there’s something there. And he’s willing to bet that that means Oscar is the one who probably knows the most here.

His brows furrow. “What, like she’s sick?”

The younger man  nods, his jaw tightening slightly. "Yeah, you could say that."

"I'm fine, Lando," he says quietly when Lando seems to continue to hover nearby - because he thinks maybe Lando's concerned about him, and he needs his best friend to understand that right now, he's okay. "I'm just worried about her."

“And why’s that?” Lando asks knowingly.

"Because she-" he stops himself again, realizing that the one thing he doesn't want to say about her is exactly what he's just about to blurt out. But before he can utter another word, their attention is stolen by commotion in the trauma room.

His head immediately snaps up, eyes wide as he takes in the noise. The heart rate monitor sounds different - the rhythm of the beeping is somehow even more intense. It makes a strange sense of panic encroaching across his chest - the way suspense music in horror movies are meant to, except a dozen times worse. 

He can make out the sounds of nurses shouting different medical directives and things to each other. 

What the hell is going on in there?

His throat tightens as he takes in the noise. There’s shouting - they're commanding each other to do things, and it sounds like discord. It sounds too hurried, and incessant beeping of  the heart rate monitor doesn’t ease up either.. 

Lando spares a quick glance to check on Oscar, worried for him. He knows this cant be easy for him, and yet, Oscar's face has the serenity of a blank slate. He then turns his attention back to the room, trying to observe and figure out what’s going on through the small windows on the doors to the trauma room. Oscar, of course, does the same.

He can barely see anything through the little window. 

It's all flashes of movement, and he's not even sure which colours belong to who - but whatever is happening, it's happening really fast. The nurses are still shouting and the heart rate monitor is still beeping furiously and no-one has come out to tell him what's happening, and nothing about this seems remotely okay.

This isn’t real.

This isn’t real. It’s all he can think, feel - over and over again. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

When Lando turns to look at Oscar, he’s gone pale.

Paler than usual.

“Oscar?” Lando’s voice sounds far away. “Osc? Hey, mate, I need you to look at me, okay? You need to breathe, yeah?” He feels Lando's hands on his face, gripping his chin and turning his head towards him. 

He opens his eyes slowly - they're wet. 

When did the room start getting blurry for him? 

God, this feels like his worst nightmare is coming true.

If Oscar thought he was scared before, when the commotion started?

Then his heart stills in his fucking chest when the commotion is no more.

No. 

No, no, no, no. 

The silence feels all-encompassing - like it's drowning his senses. His chest feels impossibly tight. The room disappears - the noise around him mutes into a dull roar, and he can't breathe right now. He can't even feel his own fingertips.

“Sir?” A young man tries, attempting to get Oscar’s attention.

His head snaps up at the word, eyes blinking back into sharpness and his vision sharpening in an instant. He looks around, the sound of the nurse's voice bringing him back to his senses. 

“Are you…” the young resident checks his clipboard. “… Mr. Piastri?”

The Australian nods quickly, swallowing hard before speaking. 

He knows his voice is shaky right now. It's obvious that he's freaked out right now - everyone who walks by him is looking at him like he's going to fall apart, and he would if they'd just tell him what happened to her. 

"Y-yeah," he manages, "that's me. That's me. Can you tell me what's going on?"

“Could you provide a valid form of identification? It’s all procedure - we can’t release medical information to anyone except to the emergency contact we have on file,” he explains.

Right. Right. 

Provide information. Valid form of ID. Procedure. 

It's all very logical. It's all very reasonable. 

Oscar nods, reaching for the wallet on the other side of his back pocket. His fingers are only shaking a little, but it takes him an absurdly long time to pull out the card - because he can't remember where he keeps his ID and when he finally does find it, his hands feel some degree of numbness.

Lando puts a warm hand on his. “Mate, breathe,” he whispers, trying to get him to calm down. He’s just watched Oscar fumble with his ID four different times as he fails to slip it out of his wallet.

Lando gives him a small smile that he hopes is at least a little reassuring.

He takes a slow deep breath in and out - his fingers still shaking. Come on, Piastri. He tells himself - but the words ring false in his mind right now when he doesn't feel like he's really fully himself at this very moment. 

Someone needs to tell him what's wrong with her.

“Mate, he needs your ID,” Lando grounds him gently.

"Right. Right. Yeah," he agrees, trying to compose himself. It's impossible. He can't think straight. 

He finally manages to pry his ID from his shaky fingers, handing it to the man in the powder blue scrubs without another word. The assistant, after taking a moment to confirm, returns his ID and checks his notes before eyeing Lando warily, unsure if he should provide Y/N’s medical update in front of the third party.

He’s not looking to get fired, after all.

When all he gets in turn is a nod of confirmation from her emergency contact, the assistant swallows, and then starts to speak. 

"Based on the X-rays and MRI tests, we’ve been able to conclude that Ms. L/N has suffered an extensive lung injury. That's most likely the cause of the bleeding. We've also taken her to intensive care for urgent treatment."

The man in the lab coat hesitates before ultimately continuing.

“Right now, the doctor suspects the cause to be an untreated fracture of her ribs,” he reads off his documents before looking up at Oscar. “We believe that the cracked rib or ribs placed pressure on the lung, causing a puncture and the subsequent internal bleeding.”

Cracked ribs.

He wants to throw up. He thinks he might even dry heave for a second, but he stops himself. "I don't- I don't understand," he tries to say, his voice thick.

Lando watches the blood drain from Oscar's face. He needs to get Oscar out of the situation - out before the dam breaks. So he takes a small step closer and rests a comforting hand on Oscar's shoulder again. 

"C'mon," he says gently. "Let's go take a walk, yeah?"

Lando’s caught off guard when Oscar plants himself in that spot, his body resisting the older man’s hold.

"No." he forces himself to say. He can't think straight right now, but he doesn't want to move from the exact spot he's standing in. 

He stares at Lando, his jaw clenched, "I'm not leaving until I see her."

“Oscar-,” Lando tries, gently yet firmly using his arm to usher Oscar in the direction of the door leading outside.

He knows what Lando's trying to do - he's trying to help him not freak out in public, he's trying to keep him from falling apart in front of the nurses. 

Goddammit, Lando. Leave me alone. 

He shakes his head, his hands subtly clenching into fists, "No! I'm not- I don't need to go outside, okay? I'm fine! Just let go of me!"

He glances at Lando, his face desperate, before he repeats his plea, trying to focus on the one thing he wants right now.

"I'm not leaving until we see her."

Lando’s hands come up to both sides of Oscar’s face. They don’t shake him, but they do hold him - Lando’s hands a warm and firm pressure against him. “Mate,” Lando says slowly, evenly. He makes it a point to look him directly in the eyes. “You’re not talking sense. I need to know what’s going on, yeah?”

Oscar meets Lando's eyes, taking a steadying breath. "I just… I need to know that she's okay," Oscar whispers, his voice rough and hoarse.

“Okay,” Lando nods, trying his best to be understanding. “Yeah, I’m with you there.”

Lando’s eyes search his face for any indication of what he’s thinking.

"I like her," Oscar says quietly, finally managing to meet Lando's eyes, "A lot more than I should, and I'm afraid she might…" 

Oh.

That wasn’t what Lando was expecting. But I can work with that, Lando thinks.

Lando nods, and he understands and for some reason, Oscar feels like he might start crying in sheer relief right there. That, of course, would be horribly embarrassing. His pride won't let him do it, so he holds back. But he thinks he can start breathing a little bit easier, knowing that Lando gets it.

He swallows hard, his eyes closing for a moment as he forces the words out, "With her, it's just… it's different, y’know? Like someone who speaks your language in foreign land, she just-"

He cuts himself off, choking on the words.

“Yeah?” Lando teases good naturedly. Sue him for having a little fun with it. “Sounds like she’s special.”

Oscar nods. "Yeah," he says softly. "She is."  He looks up to find him wearing a small smile. 

“Say, how’d you bag an assistant like that anyway? No way she came ‘cause of your stats,” Lando shrugs, something smug brewing in the curve of his lips. 

Lando sounds genuinely curious as he asks, and it throws Oscar off a bit.

"I…" He stops, trying to force his mind to work right now. "She started out as a junior assistant at the team," he continues, trying to focus, but the memory of her at the beginning - her shy smile, her quiet, gentle nature - it's all flooding his mind again.

"She was… shy. More than shy - she didn't really talk, but- she was so quiet. The others-... they’d crack jokes about it, snide remarks and the like.."

"But when she did talk, she was... she was just so smart. And know how her sense of humor is - hers are the jokes that are actually funny.”

“That so?”

"Yeah," he says, the memory still fresh in his mind. He'd watched, completely entranced. 

He'd never thought of taking the assistant out for a drink before, but he'd somehow found himself offering her one that weekend.

"She didn't agree to go," he remembers, his mouth curving into a bitter smile. "I think she thought it was like, a joke or something. Like I was doing it to make fun of her."

"She was pretty wary the first few times," he continues, his voice softer now. She'd always been shy and quiet as his assistant, but once he'd begun to earn her trust, slowly but surely. It was only then he'd seen a different side to her - the confident, sweet, gentle persona that only he was privy to. 

"But then she got a little more open, a little more herself- god. It was this beautiful thing."

The idiot’s in love, Lando thinks. But some self-preservation instinct tells him that if he’d like to keep his body and his car intact, then he should keep his mouth shut.

At least this once.

They cross the threshold into the room, the sight of her broken body in a hospital bed greeting Oscar immediately. The room smells overwhelmingly of hand sanitizer, paper products and latex gloves. Fluorescent lights are dimmed, a couple of them on across the tiled ceiling.

She lays there, still and silent - not unlike the way she’d been asleep in his bed just last night. But like sand slipping through his fingers, that image gives way to the one before him: the present.

There’s dried blood on her lips from when she’d been spitting up blood earlier. She’s connected to all sorts of machines - the IV, the heart rate monitor, a couple other things Oscar’s sure must also be important. She’d hate this, he finds himself thinking.

Instinctively, he steps closer.

He’s almost frightened to get too close to her, too scared to make the wrong move somehow as he stands by the edge of the bed. She’s always had an elegance - a grace - about her that’s always commanded his attention. But right now, it’s all gone.

“They had to put her under to stop her from trying to speak or move,” an attendant pipes up, from where she’s been noting down her vitals in the corner of the. “Because of the fracture in her ribs.”

Oscar's face remains the picture of neutral, dancing somewhere between stoic and lost. 

“She can still hear you,” he informs him quietly.

He reaches forward, resting his hand carefully on the top of her head, his fingers gently smoothing down her loose strands of hair. “I’m here now,” he murmurs quietly, his voice cracking with an emotion he can’t place. “You’re okay - you’re okay,” he repeats, more to himself than to her.

He watches her for a moment again - she looks more peaceful now, now that he’s standing here, talking to her. His fingers move through her hair, the way he sometimes did when she’d accidentally fall asleep on his shoulder. 

“Do you think she can feel too?” he asks aloud, directed towards no one in particular. The attendant has left the room a while ago, but minutes blend together into one long indiscernible stretch of time.

Lando seems to consider the question thoroughly, his brow furrowed. 

“I’d say so,” he answers, quietly. “She might not react to it, because of the drugs, but her brain would register the touch regardless. I don’t think there’s anything that would stop her from feeling it.”

He takes his free hand, carefully wrapping his fingers around her much smaller, bruised one.

Lando briefly wonders if his mind is playing tricks on him when the beeping of the heart monitor speeds up by a fraction of a second.

Oscar, on the other hand, remains focused elsewhere. It’s the oddest thing, he thinks - how he was dying to be near her and now that he is, he’s not sure what to say.

Say something, he thinks to himself. 

But he’s drawing a blank. Everything he thought he’d say to her in a position like this vanishes from his mind and he’s left standing here, still holding her hand, a complete and utter blank.

He looks down at her face again, studying her. He can make out a scratch on her forehead that seems to disappear into her hairline, and he carefully runs his thumb over it. He stays like that, running his thumb over her forehead, over her eyebrow... until his eyes finally move down to her mouth. 

He pauses, watching the slight part of her lips, her lower lip still caked with the dried blood.

He doesn’t quite know why, but all of a sudden the idea of her being dirty, of being covered in blood - of looking so unlike her - feels like venom in his veins. 

His gaze is fixated on the dried blood stuck to her lip, and on an impulse, he grabs the tissue that’s resting nearby and reaches forward to clean it away. His touch is so gentle as he brushes the tissue over her lower lip, the dried blood coming off on the tissue. 

He wants the image of her, bloody, dirty, to stop plaguing his mind - he wants her to look like herself again.

He continues wiping carefully, his touch feather-light, wiping away the dirt that’s stained her face. She deserves to be clean, to be safe, and so he keeps gently wiping at her lip long after the blood’s gone from her face.

“Osc,” Lando calls tentatively, trying to bring him back to the present from wherever his mind has gone. “It’s alright, it’s okay. She’s clean.”

He snaps out of his reverie at Lando’s voice, stopping the repetitive brushing of the tissue against her lip. 

“I miss her too, y’know,” Lando pipes up. He’s not sure whether that’s helpful, but he says it anyway. The younger man doesn’t turn around to look at Lando, eyes still fixed on her face, afraid to miss anything if he loses focus for just a second. 

“I know,” he murmurs, his voice almost lost as he continues tracing mindless patterns on her palm.

“I’m not saying it’s the same,” Lando corrects gently. “I know that this… this is different. I’m not saying I don’t care about her, but anyone with eyes can see. “With you it’s different. You and her… it’s different,” he finally shrugs.

He doesn’t say anything, but he nods - his only acknowledgement of Lando’s words, not wanting to make a sound in case it disturbs her - in case she’s listening.

“She came to me.”

That makes him lift his head up for a moment, surprised by the statement, and he looks over his shoulder at Lando. 

“She… what?” he questions, confused.

He nods, a fond smile on his lips as he reminisces.

“Yeah. Asked me a whole bunch of questions, all about you - what you like to eat, where you like to eat, what kind of gifts you like.”

He shakes his head in disbelief and mutters, more to himself than to Lando, “I have no idea where the hell this girl manages to get so much energy from.”

Lando’s reply is simple, like it’s obvious. “You.”

His brow furrow. Huh? 

“Me?” he all but echoes, confusion clear on his face.

“Can’t you see it?”

He can’t figure out what Lando’s hinting at, so he shakes his head.

“I- I’m lost, mate. What d’you mean?”

“It’s… she’s different with you, mate. With everyone else, she’s more guarded, more reserved, more sarcastic. Not that she isn’t charming, but…” he trails off, trying to figure out how to put it into words.

“I don’t think she notices it either. She comes alive whenever you’re around.” For a moment, Luisa flashes in his minds eye.

He turns back to look at her again, his eyes scanning over her face, and then shifts his gaze to their hands - to his fingers, still tracing mindless patterns against hers.

He’s never noticed it - he thought that she always had this energy, that this was just who she was. But different? Oscar isn’t too sure about that. He looks down at her again and wonders why he never noticed anything himself before.

“She’s friendly, always. But anytime it’s the three of us, it’s like I get to be the third wheel to the most awkward and embarrassing old married couple ever,” Lando jokes.

For a split second, the joke makes him smile - a real, proper smile that’s genuine and not forced for any sort of public appearance. And, in that second, he almost imagines what it would be like if they were a married couple - like it wouldn’t be so bad.

“You guys finish each other’s sentences,” he deadpans.

“She’s just good at reading between the lines,” Oscar explains. 

But he can’t deny that in spite of that, Lando’s not entirely wrong. Even in all their time alone, they’d fallen into a certain sort of rhythm - an easy flow, like they both just instinctively knew what the other one was thinking at almost all times.

“It makes work easier,” he adds on, trying to downplay it.

“Yeah. Work.”

He ignores Lando’s sarcastic tone - he’s too focused on something else right now.

“She should be awake by now, right?” he blurts out, looking back at Lando.

“I don’t know,” his teammate says quietly.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he presses, his tone harsher than he’d intended.

He takes another glance at her face, hoping for some sign of change, some sign of life. 

Nothing.

“Just talk. Whatever you want to say to her, anything - you can just talk,” Lando suggests awkwardly. It’s often that Lando finds Oscar a bit difficult to read, but now it’s impossible to know what will help and what will set him off..

“Right, okay, yeah,” he mutters, nodding.

He turns back to her, silence filling the room while he thinks. There’s something he really wants to say, a phrase that’s been on the tip of his tongue for weeks now - but the timing is awful.

He decides to start with something simpler instead. His voice sounds shaky when he speaks up again.

“Hey,” he calls out softly. “…Hey.”

He waits for a response, any response - a word, a twitch, a blinking of the eyelashes - but nothing comes. He takes another deep breath before he continues.

“You’re really stubborn, you know,” he chides. “Stupidly stubborn.”

“Just… just wake up, okay?”

He takes a glance at Lando, who’s standing off to the side and observing silently, before looking back down at her face. But she’s still the same as before - no response, no movement, no sign that she’s even heard either of them.

“Oscar…” Lando starts cautiously.

He has a feeling he knows what Lando’s about to say. 

It’s not what he wants to hear.

“No,” he cuts him off before Lando even utters a word. “No, not yet. Just… give her a minute, okay?”

“Oscar…”

“No, stop,” he pleads, his voice cracking for a fraction of a second.

“Os-“

“I said stop,” he snaps back, turning to give him a pleading look. “She just… just give her a minute.” 

Lando takes it upon himself to try to limit the damage. He’s already got one friend laying motionless in a hospital bed - he is not going to let Oscar lose it now. 

“I just don’t think that that yelling at her will do-“

“I wasn’t yelling,” he bites back, though he knows that the volume of his voice was edging towards it. 

“Oscar,” Lando commands, trying to get Oscar to listen.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, lifting his head to look back at her. “Sorry, I just…”

Lando’s face molds into a sympathetic expression. He’s usually more comfortable in joyous environments, always the one to crack a joke or make things more relaxed. But here, he forces the discomfort down. Lando Norris is not one to let someone suffer alone.

The Australian knows what he wants to tell her - has desperately wanted to tell her, wants to say it so badly that it’s taking all of his willpower to not blurt the words out.

But the timing still feels wrong - the circumstances around them feel completely off and he can’t bring himself to do it. He looks back at Lando for guidance, Like there’s something the man can do that he can’t.

“She’s easy to talk to, isn’t she?” Lando remembers gas station runs, forbidden slushies and the dark of night as accessories to conversations that never seemed to end. Y/N is eloquent - there’s no doubt about it. Her words can command a room, can simplify the most 

“Yeah,” he replies automatically.

“Then just talk to her. She was your assistant, our friend - before she was ever anything else to you,” Lando says indignantly. “Talk to her. Tell her what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. This might be the onl-“

“Don’t.” Oscar is quick to cut him off. “Don’t say that.”

Lando’s lips press together into a straight line, falling silent.

He turns to look down at her again, his mind working overtime as he tries to figure out what to say. Oscar says the only thing he can, sparing no time for niceties or lighthearted anecdotes.

“You have to wake up, okay?” he mumbles, almost to himself. “I need to tell you that you were right about the error in our tyre deg numbers.”

He laughs softly, in spite of himself, as the memory of her being the sensible one for once comes to mind.

“And… and while we’re on the topic, I just need to say that you were also such a pain in the ass during flights, alright?” he continues. “You’re always so difficult with me when we fly together.”

“And don’t get me wrong, it’s almost endearing when you’re all bossy and sarcastic -” he’s talking faster now, his mind speeding through all the things he wants to say to her “- but it makes me want to strangle you sometimes. You drive me absolutely mental sometimes.”

“But at the same time…” he hesitates. Oscar’s never really been a man of many words. He thinks a lot more than he speaks.

He hesitates because it’s the truth - she drives him crazy, in some of the best and worst ways.

“At the same time, I don’t think I’d be able to do this without you, somehow. Despite all the insane, impossible things I put you through, you’re always here for me, always taking care of me, always by my side.”

Her first thought feels like it’s a distant memory, located in some faraway room that she can only think of if she tries with all her might not to let it melt away.

She can feel her fingertips.

He’s rambling, the words tumbling out faster with each sentence, and he doesn’t even notice that her fingers twitch against his hand.

“And I know you never ask for anything in return, I know you don’t expect anything in return, I know you just want me to be happy and healthy and I don’t even know how you just-“

The next sensation she registers is much less kind.

Before she can settle into the moment of unexpected peace, a sharp, stabbing pain pierces her side. She feels like molten lava dunked in ice cold water. She feels painfully cold and burning hot simultaneously.

It’s the way her body suddenly twitches involuntarily, so fast and hard that it jolts him out of his rambling, that he realizes something’s wrong.

“Hey,” he says, gripping her hand a little tighter to get her attention, “hey.”

Her hand twitches once again, but they barely have time to pay any attention to it because suddenly the monitor spikes, sending off alarms, the loud sound blaring through the room.

A cold chill runs down his spine, and his grip on her hand tightens without him even realizing. The next thing he knows, a swarm of doctors are rushing into the room. Instantly, her hand is being ripped from his and he’s looking at Lando with wide eyes.

He jumps up to his feet instinctively, wanting to follow where they’re taking her but being pulled back by Lando.

“Wha-“ he asks, his voice carrying an uneasy pitch, his heart threatening to break his rib cage with how hard it’s beating now. “Will someone tell us what’s going on?”

The words would have been loud, but the alarm bares over them. Everything’s happening faster than they can keep up with - one moment ago he was trying to think of a way to say how much he cares about her and the next she’s being pulled away and the machinery around her is going crazy.

There’s a man in a white coat suddenly ushering them both out of the room.

“Why?!” he demands as he attempts to wriggle out of Lando’s grip, trying to dig his feet into the floor to prevent himself from being thrown out. “What’s going on?!

“No,” he protests, resisting Lando's pulling, “No, I need to see her-”

“Sir, you can’t be in there-“

“Why not?!” he demands, his voice rising in volume. “Why can’t I be in there?!”

Lando has his arm around Oscar's shoulders now, trying to physically pull him away. “Mate, we don’t want to get in the way-“

“No! I’m not-“

He stays frozen there like a historic statue, but the man is physically stronger and he’s not able to break free. It only serves to make him feel more claustrophobic. 

Lando sighs. He never thought he’d need to wrestle Oscar. That kid’s got some serious fight in him.

He proceeds to put all his strength into holding Oscar back, trying to usher him into the waiting room. He can’t let Oscar thrown out of the hospital for not cooperating because forget the media circus - he’s not sure Oscar will be able to take not being able to see her.

Lando feels like something in his chest is cracking at the sight of seeing his teammate, his friend, practically his brother -  the calm and rational one of the duo - fall apart.

Instantly, when he feels Oscar shift, Lando’s muscles tense in anticipation of holding him back as he tries to break free.

Except he doesn’t.

Lando looks down to find Oscar shaking.

He’s crying.

Oscar’s head is suddenly hung low, and his shoulders are hunched forward.

He’s practically shaking, on the verge of breaking down completely. And it probably shouldn’t be such a surprise - he’s been running on adrenaline the past few days, and it finally feels like his body is finally crashing. He’s leaning heavily against Lando, and it’s the only reason he’s being held upright.

He can’t help but think there’s a chance that while he’s out here, he’s losing one of his best friends.

That could be the last time he’d get to see her.

The possibility of that just makes him cry harder, his shoulders shaking violently despite his best efforts. He’s slumped against Lando now, practically being held up by his best friend. He buries his face in the crook of Lando’s shoulder, not even trying to fight any more.

“It’s okay, mate. You’re okay, you’re alright, yeah?“

The words help somewhat - Lando’s familiar voice, and the firm embrace - but he can’t help the broken sobs. His brain is running through the last few days, the last few hours, over and over.

“I can’t  do this,” he rasps suddenly, his voice shaking. “I don’t know how to do it without her.”

“I know, I know…”

“I’ve never even…” he chokes out, shaking his head. “I’ve never even told her-“

“You’ll get to,” Lando winces, trying to console his friend. He inhaled deeply, internally praying to any deity that exists that he isn’t lying to him.

“You will. Breathe, mate.”

Lando stands there, arms locked around the younger man for what feels like forever. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s afraid he’ll hurt himself somehow or collapse to the floor. It’s a while later when his body finally loosens up a bit.

“I’m tired,” he mumbles over Lando’s shoulder, his voice still shaky. 

“Yeah,” Lando breathes shakily. At least he’s talking. “Yeah, o’course. Let’s get you sat, yeah?”

He nods his head weakly, allowing himself to be guided over to some of the nearby seats. He collapses onto the chair. His head is in his hands, his elbows on his knees, and takes several shaky breaths as he tries to regain some sense of control over his own body. 

Get it together.

Lando is awoken a few hours later by the sound of approaching footsteps.

He’s startled and disoriented when he’s suddenly woken up, and he has to spend a couple seconds piecing together where he is. He always did appreciate a good nap.

He tries to process the time - it’s dark outside. He’s in a waiting room chair, and Oscar’s in the seat beside him, sleeping with his head propped up on the palm of his hand.

His eyes instantly lock onto the person approaching them, and he blinks a couple times before recognizing the doctor from earlier. The woman seems nice enough with deep smile lines and warm auburn hair. She speaks quietly, presumably in an effort not to wake the sleeping man beside him.

“Mr. Piastri?”

Lando gives a quick nod, silently gesturing to Oscar as he does. He’s the other one.

He looks over, gently shaking at Oscar’s shoulder. “Hey, wake up, mate. It’s the doctor.”

Oscar’s eyes instantly shoot open, and he sits up quickly, any remaining drowsiness from sleep disappearing instantly. He’s instantly alert, his body tense, and a hopeful sort of fear in his eyes.

“Mr. Piastri?” she tries again.

“Yes,” he acknowledges, his voice coming out a little shaky. All the fatigue and tiredness from before seem to have left him at the doctor’s approach.

“Oscar Piastri?” she confirms.

“That’s me,” he nods again, watching her carefully. He’s trying to judge her expression, figure out what kind of news she’s come to give him. His heart is skipping beats, playing some sort of sick game, as he holds his breath.

“She keeps asking for you.”

The words immediately have the tension in his body dropping.

“She- What?” His tone is disbelieving, but there’s a part of him that feels lightheaded with relief.

The doctor smiles warmly at him, happy to be able to give some good news. “We’ve been successful in artificially resetting the bone in her ribs as well as patching the lung puncture.”

Pausing before she continues, she tells him, “In fact, you were very lucky to catch her when you did - if the nurses hadn’t seen her then, she likely would have choked-“

“Is she okay?” He swallows hard, trying to hide his voice shaking. “That means she’s well then, right?”

The doctor nods. “She’s still healing though, of course,” she reminds him, with a hint of an accent filtering through. Scottish, perhaps?

“I can see her?” he asks hopefully, already getting to his feet. “I can go in?”

The doctor nods in confirmation, before flipping a page up on her clipboard. “Just a few things before she has any visitors:

No outside food for the patient, and we wanna be as gentle as possible with her. Let's also try to avoid anything that would cause her stress - she’s just come out of surgery and we want her to recover nicely. Alright?”

He nods quickly, not even really caring what she’s saying to him at this point as long as it means that he can see her.

“Yes, of course. No stress. Gentle. I’ll do whatever you say.”

The doctor shoots Lando a wary look. Lando gives her a weak smile - He's harmless, he tries to tell her. “I need to see her,” Oscar explains, like it's the most obvious thing.

“He just wants to see her,” Lando reassures her. “Let him, yeah?”

Oscar shoots Lando a grateful look, before turning back to the doctor, his eyes practically begging the woman to let him in. She smiles kindly, turning around to guide the young man to Y/N’s room.

"That's funny,” she smiles, the kind that even has her teeth on display. “She said the same thing about you."

For the first time in what feels like so long, he starts to allow himself a spark of hope, and it makes his heart beat a little faster. His eyes roam over the doors on either side of them as the doctor leads him closer and closer to her room, his heart in his throat.

“When she was asking for me,” he asks, aiming for casual. “What did she say?”

The woman glances back at him and gives him a knowing look, like she knows something he doesn’t.

“That she wanted to see you,” she tells him as she stops before a door halfway down the hall. “She kept asking to see if you were here or around - likely to reassure herself.” 

She chuckles, a deep, hearty laugh. “But she was quite determined - nearly told off a nurse before we finally calmed her down.”

The thought of her asking about him, and asking to see him, soothes a part of him that he wasn’t even aware was aching.

He lets out a shaky exhale of relief, his entire body relaxing as the doctor stops in front of a room. His gaze locks onto the door, and then back at the doctor, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Don't worry," the doctor reassures kindly. "Your girlfriend is quite brave. The hard part is over, - she'll be okay."

“She’s not-“ He clears his throat, forcing himself to speak again. “Can I go in?”

"Of course," she replies softly, opening the door for him to enter before turning away to leave them be.

He gives her a short, grateful smile - before finally turning back to the open door. But then his eyes land on her figure on the bed and his breath catches in his throat.

She seems so small, so silent and peaceful. She’s covered in cuts and bruises that look fresh, dark purple and red marks covering her skin. And there’s an IV on her arm and god, he’d tear this place to pieces if he thought it’d bring her any comfort.

His eyes scan over her body, taking in the injuries on her, the way the bruises and cuts are scattered along her skin. His stomach clenches, bile suddenly threatening to rise up and overtake him. It’s more than he’d been expecting - more than he could ever be prepared for, the thought of her in this much pain-

He forces himself to take several deep breaths, steadying himself before continuing to approach the bed - slowly, carefully, like a scared animal.

“Y/N?” he murmurs under his breath. She barely stirs.

He gently places a hand on her shoulder, gently - so gently, mindful of the cuts and bruises scattered across her skin as he tries to shake her shoulder.

"Wake up,” he whispers under his breath, his fingers trembling. “Wake up, c’mon.”

She's disturbed from the thick haze of sleep by the feeling of warm fingers touching her skin.

Huh?

He feels her wake up, her body stirring as he keeps his hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her and reassure himself all at once.

“Hey,” he murmurs, as she starts to open her eyes. “Hey there-“

Eyes still bleary with sleep, her mind races to figure out what's going on. "O- Oscar...?"

She looks tired and disoriented, and it makes something in his stomach clenches. But the sound of his name from her lips is like a cool mist, soothing and familiar all at once.

“Yeah,” he confirms softly, his fingers gently tracing the same circle on her shoulder. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Hearing Oscar’s voice after so long makes something in her chest feel weird and warm and-

“Oscar.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he murmurs, his fingers running gently through the strands of hair at the nape of her neck as his other hand traces small circles at her shoulder. 

“I’m here,” he reassures, his tone as gentle as possible. Unsure of what to do or how to approach this, he resigns to standing there awkwardly. “I’m here. You, uh- you asked for me?”

Before she realizes, her face is wet with tears. Warm droplets trickle down her cheeks, dripping off her chin and onto her neck. She can barely see Oscar through her blurred vision.

“Whoa, whoa, shhhh,” he murmurs, trying to soothe her. “Hey, s’alright - shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here.”

He reaches forward, gently brushing the tears off her cheek. As the sniffles finally subside and Oscar takes a seat by her hospital bed, she turns her head toward him, taking in his presence. Every detail is one she’s trying to commit to memory - the swoop of his hair, the warmth of his eyes, the freckles that decorate his skin.

He tries to keep his expression encouraging, reassuring as she stares at him, but he’s sure that he looks as terrified and devastated as he feels. Instead of commenting on his own state of mind, he tries his luck. “Is it okay if I hold your hand?”

“Can we go?”

He tilts his head, not entirely registering what she’s said.

“What?”

She blinks once, slowly. “I want to go. Can you take me-“

“No,” he replies abruptly - before catching himself, mentally scolding himself for the sharp tone he’d used.

Instead, he tries to soften his tone as he gently adds, “No, Y/N. You need to stay here - you’re hurt, and you need medical care. They need to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine now,” she tries. Whether it's the medications or the sleep or whatever the hell is supposed to be in that IV, she has to find her thoughts through a haze. “They fixed me, remember? I can-“

“No, sweetheart,” he replies gently - but his tone is still firm. “You’re not leaving. Not until you’re properly healthy.”

She turns away, cross.

“You might feel fine now, but you- you were really hurt. You need to recover, and these people know how to take care of you,” he tries to explain.

“Whatever.” The syllables slur ever so slightly, making it sound more like whud-ever.

“It’s not fair of you to be mad at me for this,” he argues.

Her words are icy cold. “You can go now.”

His jaw clenches again, as he feels irritation stirring along with it.

“No,” he retorts, his voice still firm. “I’m sticking right by your side.”

“What if I don’t want you here?”

He falters at her words, something in his heart clenching. 

“That’s not fair,” he retorts, the hurt clear from his voice. “You’re mad at me for no reason.”

She turns over, and continues her silent treatment.

His irritation boils over, and he grits his teeth for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to settle himself down.

“Hey,” he murmurs, fondness bleeding through his voice inadvertently. Placing a hand on his shoulder, gently trying to turn her towards him. “Don’t be mad at me. Just- just talk to me.”

“I don’t wanna,” she mumbles gruffly. “I want to go home.”

He swallows against the painful lump in his throat that forms when he hears the word “home” from her lips.

“I know you do,” he answers, his voice gentle. “And I know you want to be out of here, but they’re trying to take care of you, yeah? This is the best place for you right now.”

She keeps ignoring him, hoping he’ll eventually go away.

He can feel his irritation rising as her silent treatment continues - trying to drown out the voice in his head telling him that she’s just scared and confused, and that she doesn’t really mean it.

“Stop it,” he tries again, his patience starting to run thin as he grabs her shoulder, and turns her towards him this time. “Don’t be like this. You have to know I'm trying to help.”

He’s only greeted by more silence.

He’s silent as well for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the heart monitor, watching the steady rise and fall of the screen, the steady, slow beeping that tells him she’s okay, she’s okay.

He tries to keep his voice quiet and steady, to avoid letting his frustration show. “Please just say something. Don’t do this.”

The silence is deafening, and he hates every second of it.

With a small noise of frustration, he reaches out to grab her shoulder, his fingers wrapping gently around it as he tries to pull her towards him. When she’s forced to turn, he finds she’s hastily wiping away tears.

All of the irritation and frustration and even a little bit of anger immediately evaporates, leaving only the urge to pull her into his arms and hold her until she feels better. Without thinking, he gently uses his hand on her shoulder to pull her towards him, helping her up into a sitting position and then gently pulls her against his side, wrapping a secure arm around her.

He’s quiet for a moment, just holding her close to his side as he feels her body shaking against his. He moves the hand that’s wrapped around her, sliding his fingers gently into her hair, gently massaging her scalp in an attempt to help calm her.

“You can cry,” he murmurs gently against her head, placing a gentle kiss against her hair. “It’s okay, s’alright.”

“M’not,” she mumbles. “I don’t want to be here.”

“I know. I know you don’t..” he sympathizes. “But you need to be here for a while - you need to rest.”

She plays along. “Yeah,” she sniffles. “I s’pose so.”

His hand moves without consciously meaning to, wrapping a gentle hand around her other shoulder and pulling her entirely into his side, so that she’s practically falling against him, leaning heavily against his torso.

“Right,” he murmurs, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Just rest, okay? Rest - I’ve got you.”

He keeps her close against his side, still absently moving his fingers through her hair as he tries to keep her calm and settled. But what comes out of his mouth is, “You’re still mad at me, huh?”

“Actually…”

He lifts an eyebrow, his hand briefly stopping the soft massage, his heart briefly stopping when it does. “Actually?” he prompts gently.

It’s a wonder that Oscar doesn’t comment on how heart is thudding against her chest. Maybe its because he’s being polite. Yeah, he seems like the type to do that. Or maybe he doesn’t have good hearing. Stallard should probably know about that-

Her mental rambling is only cut off when somehow, words tumble out of her mouth, seemingly of her own accord. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to lay in the bed,” she mumbles, except the words come so rapidly that they’re barely understandable.

Immediately, she goes to backtrack. “Or not! It’s fine actually-“

For a moment, she watches as he just blinks at her. It’s a little disconcerting, really.

“Move,” he instructs her softly, gently maneuvering her so that he can climb in the bed beside her. Eh, he figures. They’ve been in worse situations than this.

Once he’s settled behind her, he pulls her back closer to his chest, tucking her tight against his side, her back against his chest, and wrapping an arm snugly around her waist. He closes his eyes, his chin resting on the top of her head. “Better?”

“Mhmm,” she hums contentedly.

He can feel himself smiling as he relaxes, his body melting against hers. He feels her relax against him as well, her shoulders losing some of their tension, and his free hand moves to rest gently on her stomach.

W

It’s over two hours later when Lando starts getting fidgety - the man is not exactly known for his ability to sit still. It’s been a while since he’s heard from his teammate, and he hasn’t heard any updates. Once Lando reaches his third round of pacing, his phone finally lights up with texts from Oscar:

She's okay

Doctor says she'll be alright

But we're both tired, so I'm going to stay the night.

Oscar glances down at where Y/N is resting against his chest, and he feels some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Lando successfully forces sends Oscar home to get some real rest before tomorrow’s free practice - only after Oscar makes him swear on his favorite golf club that Lando’d call him immediately if anything happened. He grabs an extra chair and pulls it over so that it sits right by her bedside, and he sits down on it, watching her.

The sight of her like this feels incorrect, like those AI images that distort reality. The hospital room, the tubes, the bandages and the bruising and the cuts - none of it looks right. His mind struggles to wrap itself around how her parents could have done this to her.

He’s lost in thought, his knuckles absently running up and down the back of her hand, when suddenly, her eyes flutter open.

“…O- Osc?”

She’s disoriented when she first opens her eyes, confused to find herself still in a hospital room when she’d fallen asleep beside Oscar. But then she looks up, and she sees Lando’s face. 

“Hey… hey,” he says softly, smiling gently down at her as he keeps his voice quiet. “It’s me.”

“Oscar? Where’s Oscar? He was just…“ She looks around, confused. How much morphine have they been giving her?

“He’s at home,” her companion corrects eagerly, his voice gentle. “He had to go home, get some proper sleep. But he let me chill here and hang out with you.”

“He left?”

“Yeah,” he says gently, still speaking softly. “Only for the night, though.”

He keeps rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, trying to soothe her before she gets more upset than she already is.

“Oh.”

Lando’s heart clenches with pity when he notices the look on her face, her expression fallen, and his voice drops even further down to a whisper.

“I know you’re disappointed,” he consoles quietly. “But believe me when I say he needs the rest. You’ll see him again soon.”

Lando takes a moment to examine her in the hospital bed. He doesn’t need to be a doctor to notice how small she looks in the hospital bed - she always is in comparison with him and Oscar, but this just highlights it even more.

“How are you feeling right now? Are you in any pain?” he asks, his voice still lowered.

“I’m… feeling much better, actually,” she says carefully. If she lays it on too thick, Lando won’t believe her. “The meds have been helping.”

“You sure?” he asks, his voice doubtful, looking at her in a somewhat skeptical manner. “You’re really not in any pain?”

“Just a bit of discomfort, but that’s it,” she lies through her teeth. In reality, any real jostling of her midsection sends a searing pain through her side.

Lando gives her an uncertain look, still not fully convinced by her reassurances. His eyes search her face for any kind of hint to her real pain level, but she’s gotten too good at hiding it over the years for him to tell now.

He sighs. “Okay, fine. But if that changes, you’ve got to tell someone, alright?”

“Of course,” she smiles.

He gives her a look that says he’s still not convinced, but decides not to press the issue.

He returns the smile, gently squeezing her hand.

“Good.”

A beat.

“Are you hungry, thirsty? Or… or something?”

“I’m alright,” she answers, but is immediately interrupted by the sound of her stomach grumbling.

He smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Mmhmm. ‘Alright’, huh?”

He takes the hint though, standing up straight and offering her a smile. “You stay put. I’ll go find a nurse and see if I can get you something to eat or drink.”

Like she can go anywhere. “Lando?”

He’s halfway out the door already, but he pauses in the doorway, turning back when her voice calls out to him. “Yeah?”

“Think the cafeteria has mac n’ cheese?”

“Macaroni and cheese?” He repeats, sounding amused, but he’s still somewhat confused by it. “Like, mac n’ cheese, specifically?”

“Just a craving,” she mutters sheepishly.

“You are… something else,” he chuckles, shaking his head. Bringing his hand to his forehead in a mock salute, he declares, “I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Thank you! You’re the best!” she whisper-yells after him, 

He turns to head into the hallway again, and he throws a smile at her over his shoulder before disappearing out the door.

He returns to the room about fifteen minutes later, a large mug of hot tea and a bowl of what smells like shepherd’s pie in his hands. “Made you a cuppa,” he informs her, before her gaze lands on the fresh goods.

“Is that-“

Lando holds the steaming box out to her with an amused smirk, clearly proud of himself for his accomplishment. “Shepherd’s pie,” he confirms confidently, giving her a smile. “Just as you ordered, madam.”

“You didn’t.”

He grins, holding it out to her - he actually went and did it.

“I did indeed.”

“Wasn’t it closed?” she asked as she brought the tray table closer to herself, eyeing the comfort food with delight.

The first bite is so good she has to close her eyes to savor it. The warm, hearty food feels like manna from heaven for her weakened body - she could cry tears of joy. There’s no way this food was made in a hospital cafeteria.

Lando sets the tea on the table, watching her as she tries the food, and can’t help the smile that spreads on his face when he sees how pleased she is with the food he chose.

“Closed, yes,” he says, sitting back down on the chair he’d previously been in. “But I’m very charming and persuasive.”

“So you ordered it from a shop.”

He grins.

“And who’s the smart one?” he asks, watching her eat. “Turns out the place next door does a pretty amazing Shepherd’s pie. Who knew?”

She’s too happy at the food to be bothered to tease him back. “This is amazing, dude. You’re the best.”

He can’t help but smile again, watching her enjoying the food he got like it’s the best thing she has had in years. He’s happy to have done this one thing to make her happy - he can’t help but tease, though. “Well, you know…”

He sits back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“I am pretty great.”

“Alright, alright,” she says, waving him off. Now that she’s gotten a few bites in her, she gets a bit quieter. Eating and chewing is a surprisingly exhaustive task for someone who’s still on the mend.

She wipes the corner of her mouth, before finally turning to Lando.

“How is he?” she asks quietly.

He’s a bit surprised when she shifts the conversation, turning to ask about how Oscar is doing now, but he still answers willingly.

“He’s…” Lando hesitates a moment, searching for a word that would most accurately describe the situation .

“He’s… not great right now,” he says at last. Might as well be honest. “But… I think he’ll pull through. He’s a bit of a mess, but he’s… alright.”

“Yeah,” she sighs softly. She doesn’t look at Lando as she says it, feeling too responsible for his predicament. Instead, she tries her best to clean up after her meal - wrapping away the leftovers that feel like too much work to eat right now.

She gives her friend a tired smile before yawning. “Do you think it’s okay if I get some rest?”

He eyes her carefully, noticing the exhaustion on her face. “Yeah, f’course,” he assures her, standing up from the chair. “You’ve had a long few days. You should rest while you can.”

He takes the leftovers and sets them on the bedside table, before pulling the blankets up to her shoulders.

“Thanks, Lan,” she hums, before her eyes fall shut.

Lando doesn’t know when his own eyes fall shut, but they do.

Oscar does not, in fact, return.

Over the course of the next few days, Y/N gets very familiar with the hospital’s jello variety. She decides that she likes fruit punch the most, but that isn’t much of a surprise. What does surprise her, however, is when she wakes to a beautiful bouquet by her bedside. It’s an elegant collection, a haze of lavender florals - peonies and chrysanthemums - beautifully framed by stems of baby’s breath.

She eagerly reaches for the gift, excited to examine it up close. There’s a note tucked into the silk white ribbon that ties the wrapping together - a small cardstock thing that seems to have something written on it. Carefully plucking it out with her fingers, her eyes drift across the angular scrawl, penned in black ink.

“Heard you decided to sit Silverstone out. Don’t worry, it 

was boring anyway. You know it isn’t the same with you.

I’ll swing by sometime with bad puns and greasy pizza. 

That’ll fix you up real quick, trust me.

Get well soon, Loser.”

A smile blooms on her face as she reads the thoughtful words. She searches the note, trying to find the identity of the sender so she can at least send them a message of gratitude. Turning the card over, there's a misshapen looking smiley face next to a familiar name.

Love ya,

Logan

She’s lucky to have a friend like Logan - another American on the paddock, one who’s taken up the role of annoying older brother. They’d met through Oscar, initially - back in those early weeks of their rookie seasons. But then the conversation went to whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza, and then the rest is history.

The card is returned to her bedside table as shuffles in her bed, turning over to get comfortable so she can take a nap.

Letting her head sink into the starchy fabric of the hospital pillow, she tries not to think of the feeling that rose up in her throat when the name on the card wasn’t the one she was looking for.

Lando wakes up to his butt uncomfortably numb. Someone seriously needs to work on a better replacement for these inconvenient contraptions disguised as chairs. Isn’t the hospital meant to make you feel better?

Lando’s fairly certain he was much better conditioned when he walked in this morning - at this rate, they may just have to wheel him out.

“-and this one you’re going to take orally 3 times a day, alright? So that’s every 8 hours, to help reduce pain and any inflammation.”

Lando blearily blinks at the noise, but the words slowly get his brain up to speed, and he sits up a little straighter. He glances at her, who looks about as sleepy as he does - her eyelids look heavy, and her voice is still a little hoarse from sleep. 

“Okay,” she nods, taking the meds from the doctor, and putting them away in a bag by the bedside.

The doctor checks something off on her clipboard, before looking back up at the young woman seated on the side of the  bed.

“Right then. And do you have someone with you at home who’ll be able to keep an eye on you these next few weeks once you go home today?”

Suddenly, Lando really doesn’t like the doctor or the way this conversation is going. He doesn’t like the idea of her being all alone for the next few weeks. With all the medication she’s on, she’s not going to be able to drive.

She nods. “Yeah. I do. I live with my boyfriend,” she smiles reassuringly. The lie is so good that it even has Lando confused.

She has a boyfriend? That she lives with?

Lando’s immediate next thought is, Does Oscar know?

But he keeps quiet as the doctor continues to finish up her lecture about Y/N’s instructions for care. Lando sits there quietly, not knowing what to think.

Boyfriend? That’s news to him. If she had a boyfriend that she was living with… wouldn’t he have known that?

He watches her as she quietly nods and talks with the doctor, and he’s left to wonder how long this boyfriend has been around. When the doctor finally leaves and the room goes quiet again, Lando lets out a little yawn and then turns around in his chair to face her. There’s a confused, almost suspicious look on his face as he regards the girl.

“So… you have a boyfriend?” Lando doesn’t know if he feels protective or betrayed, but neither make the conversation less awkward. In all the time the three have spent together, the young assistant has barely, if ever, brought up her dating life. Probably because she’s in love with her Google calendar.

“Hmm?” she says, gathering her things. Finally, free at last.

Lando can’t really blame her for wanting to get out of a hospital bed and away from the crappy food. But he also hasn’t forgotten about her boyfriend comment from earlier. He looks at her skeptically. “You said you live wit’ your boyfriend, do you?”

“Oh,” she shrugs. “Just told the doctor what she needed to hear so I could get outta here.”

Lando blinks at her - and he’s left with the sudden, weird urge to laugh for the first time all night. The Briton stares at her for a few more seconds, trying to sort out the mixed bundle of feelings running through his mind. Then, teasingly bumping his shoulder with hers and grinning like the cat who got the cream, he finally manages to ask, “So… Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” she says with a wave of her hand, like the mere notion is ridiculous. “Single as a pringle.”

“Yeah? That’s not what you told the doctor, though…” He sing-songs. If she is actually seeing someone, then Lando can’t help but be happy for her. He’d be even happier though if it was Oscar - then he could finally make good those on that cash from some of the other drivers.

Lando hums. He’s been meaning to add a new Richard Mille to his collection.

“She wanted to  hear that I had someone at home in case something went awry. So that’s what I told her,” she explains simply. Once she’s done packing her things, she turns to Lando. “Ready to go? Oscar has a meeting soon and I’d like to be there for it.”

“So let me get this straight,” Lando says, no longer thinking of luxury watches. This time when he speaks, the tone of his voice is quite clear that he’s not happy with what he’s hearing. “You lied to a medical professional - told her you were living with a boyfriend - so you’d get discharged earlier… and there’s a meeting at work?”

“Yes,” she deadpans. “Now that you’re all caught up, can we go?”

When they arrive at the MTC, it’s business as usual. They each go their separate ways - Lando off to do whatever it is that Lando does, and Y/N to her office. She turns into the familiar space, dropping off her things, and taking inventory of the stack of papers that have accumulated on her desk in her absence.

Oscar’s sim session was okay. It wasn’t the greatest practice he’s had, but it wasn’t a complete disaster of a session either.

He tries not to think about the fact that he’s only semi-focused on the practice. His mind keeps wandering away from the simulator, and his eyes find their way to the office door that’s right across from the simulator room, where a familiar name plate adorns the door.

He shakes his head. His mind has been imagining her in this familiar setting - filling in the gaps where he’s used to her being. There’s been at least three occasions where he’s walking into her office, caught up in his theories or hypothetical to remember for a moment that she isn’t here.

A member of the janitorial staff saw him one of those times. 

It was embarrassing, to say the least. 

And yet his mind continues to picture her sitting at her desk. His brain supplies an image of her - a memory? - her, hard at work on her laptop or tablet, completely immersed, headphones on, chewing on her pen.

Except, when he blinks… the image of her is still there.

What the fuck?

“Good afternoon,” Y/N greets, trying to keep her voice as casual and even as she can. 

He nearly jumps up at the sound of her voice - but it’s also a familiar, welcome sound. Before his mind can catch up to his brain, he lets out a blunt, “You shouldn’t be here.”

She flinches ever so slightly at that.

“Was discharged this morning,” she smiles professionally, trying to keep it light. She decides to leave out the part where she orchestrated her own discharge from the hospital so that she could be at work, because she has a feeling that her boss will not react well to that.

He wants to be relieved. He does. But he also can’t stop the feeling of annoyance at the idea of her returning to work within hours of being discharged from the hospital.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” he starts, and the irritation he feels is definitely showing in his voice. “You were discharged this morning, and you came here?”

Her lips press together into a straight line. He’s the one who’s annoyed? 

“I am here now. Whether you choose to utilize my services or not is, of course, up to you.”

“That’s not an answer,” he counters, walking towards her. He’s definitely trying to suppress some feelings right now - irritation, relief at the sight of her, and something else that he can’t place.

“You’re supposed to be resting - not here,” he stresses, his stance and tone both authoritative.

“Oscar,” she hisses lowly. “I believe we have a guests.”

Y/N points her gaze in the direction of Zack and Andrea who seem to be making their rounds this morning, the CEO and team principal respectively. He turns to see both Andrea and Zack walking by and greeting people in the nearby rooms, handshakes and half hugs.

He can’t lose his cool now, even if what she’s doing right now is downright idiotic. He clenches his teeth, his jaw tight, but he manages to keep his irritation tampered down.

She can’t help but feel a little hurt by that. After everything, he could at least pretend to be happy to see her.

“Thank you, Mr. Piastri,” she says sarcastically, before plastering a fake smile onto her face. “Anything else?”

The too-tight smile she throws his way is unexpected. 

He tries to ignore the fact that it makes him feel like the world’s biggest dickhead.

“Er… no,” he says, sounding a little unsure. “That should be everything.”

“Very well,” she nods curtly, before walking off to god knows where.

She sets course for her office. When she reaches the sleek door, she pushes against it with, letting herself inside. 

Taking a seat on one of the armchairs placed by the coffee table, she leans her head back against the cushioned backing. Unshed tears of frustration stay locked in her chest, taking a deep sigh instead.

Why the fuck is she so worked up about this?

Everything is fine - she has no idea why she feels like shit. Oscar’s reaction to seeing her back from the hospital doesn’t mean anything. 

It shouldn’t mean anything. Right?

He watches her leave his office, and the whole time - the whole time he feels like he can feel the disappointment radiating from her.

It’s unwarranted - she has no reason to be pissed at him when she’s the one who’s being an idiot, he tries to convince himself. But he doesn’t quite manage.

He knows he’s in for a long evening.

The nagging feeling in his gut leads him to her door. There’s no reason to be nervous, right? Y/N has been here for the good, the bad, and ugly - sleeve deprived rants and mood swing and one drink too many and even giving him a ride from the sheriff’s office that one time he caused a fender bender.

Before he thinks it over any more, he pushes again the elegant oak door.

Her office is some combination of elegant and cozy. To one side, there is a sitting area - cream coloured armchairs he’s been a frequent visitor of. Against the wall, navy bookshelves frame both sides of an art piece, the shelves of books punctuated by hand crafted decorations.

To the far end of the room is where her desk is, a large monitor displaying the McLaren logo adorning the glass wall. There’s a few picture frames oh er desk that he’s seen dozens of time’s before - a little boy at his first soccer game, friends at a birthday party, someone posing at the top of some rock formation. Her vase has been filled with dainty lilac flowers.

Her tall, black office chair sticks out, and it’s there he finds her, face illuminated by the glow of the computer she’s diligently working on. The clacking of keys is the only sound in the room, interrupted only when she turns to note something down.

She’s a vision. A beautiful, perfect vision, with her hair pulled back into a claw clip, loose strands framing her face. And he’s frozen in place, unable to do anything other than just stare.

His heart is racing out of his chest, and after seconds of just staring, he tries to get his mouth to work.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks gruffly, surprised by how rough his voice comes out.

“Get lost, Lando,” she grumbles without looking. She’s not in the mood for Lando’s attempts to cheer her up - she just wants to be a miserable workaholic in peace.

He can’t help the chuckle that escapes his lips at that. It’s a quiet one, but hearing her think that he’s Lando amuses him.

“What, no time for me?” he asks, the tone of his voice teasing even though he’s feeling anything but on the inside.

Her eyes fly open in recognition, before she returns her attention to her desktop. Her eyes focus themselves on the facts and figures, making it a point not to  pay him any attention.

“I’m not in the mood,” she mumbles, still upset from earlier. What is he even doing here?

The silent treatment, really? After he spent the whole afternoon worrying about her? She doesn’t get to just ignore him after he spent the whole day unable to function. 

That thought makes him start to feel irritable. “I don’t care what ‘mood’ you’re in,” he snaps, not caring how harsh he sounds.

There’s something about the way she’s avoiding his gaze, ignoring him - she’s doing it on purpose. She’s making a point of deliberately looking away, looking elsewhere. It makes him frustrated, it makes him feel raw, like he’s suddenly vulnerable, out in the open.

“Look at me,” he says in an authoritative tone, his irritation seeping into his words.

“Don’t want to.”

His jaw clenches at her response. She’s being petulant, and maybe he does deserve it, but god does it piss him off.

He walks closer to her, stopping right before her and blocking her from moving any further away.

“I said look at me,” he repeats, his voice coming through gritted teeth.

With a roll of her eyes, she brings her gaze to his face.

He tries to resist the urge to immediately look her over - to make a visual catalog of each cut, bruise and injury on her skin, to catalog which specific shade of blue and red every mark is, to count how many stitches are on her forehead - to catalog the full extent of the damage that’s been done.

Instead, he forces himself to look into her eyes, his irritation turning into intense, barely concealed anger.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back today,” he accuses, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Well, here I am.”

There’s more clicking, a shift in the color of the light reflecting her face as she switches between tabs. A beat of silence passes over the room.

“You done?” she says with a raised eyebrow.

Nope, he’s not done. He hasn’t even started.

“No, actually,” he shoots back, his anger bubbling up at her feistiness. “We’re not ‘done’ until we actually have a real conversation.”

“What are you on about?”

“You heard me,” he says, his voice more firm in response to her disbelief. “If you think we’re just pushing this to the side, and act like everything fair and dandy, then you’re very mistaken.”

Finally sparing him a glance, she tells him nonchalantly, “I don’t see much for us to talk about.” 

His face scrunches, eyebrows pinching together as he holds back a scoff. “I’m the one over here who’s trying to fix whatever the hell this mess is,” he points out, gesturing with his finger between the two.. “I’m the one who’s actually worried about you, after what you went through -”

He breaks off abruptly, not wanting to go there.

She whips her head to the side when she hears that.

“Fuck off,” she spits, almost-tears in her eyes. “You don’t get to act like you care about me whenever you feel like it and then decide you don’t whenever you want.”

“Goddamnit - that’s not what I do!”

Anger is rising in his chest. Does she really think that he only cares when he feels like it? Does she have any idea how much time he spends worrying about her, how many times he has to hold himself back because he’s worried of crossing a line?

“You just don’t want to accept that I do care about you,” he accuses, his voice rising, his temper flaring.

Her reply is immediate, a pre-loaded bullet.

“No, ‘Hi, how are you?’ or ‘Glad to have you back.’ No, instead,” she scoffs, “the first words out of your mouth after you see me is, ‘You’re not supposed to be here?’”

That stops him in his tracks.

His eyes widen in realization as he’s suddenly hit with the realization of just how cold and shitty his first words to her had been.

No greeting, no ‘good to have your back’, no ‘glad you’re okay’ - just accusations. His heart clenches in his chest as he realizes it - how careless he must have sounded.

“You know,” she laughs humorlessly, like it’s an inside joke that only she is in on. “I can’t believe I was foolish enough to think that night meant something to you.”

Images of that night, what feels like years ago, flash in her mind - his tender touches, his caring whispers, those soft kisses they shared. The way he’d confessed how much he cared about her as he patched her up,  how he’d come to her aid when she needed it most.

“But apparently not. Because apparently it’s really easy to ignore me for a whole week, to give me the cold shoulder all day, right? To make sure you have anyone else to replace the work I do for you every day?”

The words feel like a slap to the face.

He feels the anger in his gut subside, being replaced by immediate regret.

“That’s not what it was-” he stumbles over his words, his voice coming out more pleading than he’d like to admit. 

“That’s not what any of it was,” he shakes his head emphatically, trying to make her understand, make her see that he didn’t mean to come off the way he had. “I was just- I was just worried about you, I-”

“Tell me you didn’t have Kelsey schedule your meetings then. Or have Hendrix manage your correspondence. Or, maybe you didn’t specifically ask for Annika to run your errands just so that you wouldn’t have to talk to me.”

His heart is in his stomach. When she says it like that - lists all his actions out in such a clinical way - it sounds so damn manipulative that he doesn’t have an immediate response.

“It wasn’t like that-” he tries to protest, trying to say something, anything to make her understand that no, that wasn’t him trying to give her the cold shoulder, that wasn’t him trying to get away from her.

She puts a hand up to halt his train of thought.

“Look, it’s one thing to disagree with a personal decision of mine, but to punish me for it professionally?” Her tone is as incredulous as it is hurt.

“I work very hard, and I am damn good at my job,” she states, certain. “There is a reason it takes so many people to fill in for what I do everyday.”

She takes a breath, trying to keep her voice even.

“So you do not get to insult me and my work this way.”

He takes a few steps towards her, his hands itching desperately to reach out and grab her. He wants to grab her shoulders, make her look at him - to just let him say something, but she’s right.

“I know,” he says quietly, his voice laced with shame, “I know you do good work. I was just…”

“I was just mad,” he confesses with a reluctant sigh. “I was mad that everything… everything happened, and I didn’t know what to do. And I know that’s a terrible excuse, but I didn’t- I was just feeling all these- feelings, and I reacted like an - an ass, and I…”

He runs his hand along his face, exhaling in frustration.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for how I acted.”

She continues to glare at him, silent.

He hates the way she’s looking at him - like the sight of him hurts her.

“Please,” he whispers, hating the pleading tone that crept into his voice. “Please, don’t look at me like that. Just- just let me make up for it, yeah? Let me make this right. Can you… can you at least…?”

He slowly starts moving closer to her - one, then two steps.

She moves back.

“‘At least’ what? What do you want from me now?”

He takes another step, the distance between them now a mere foot. When he’s standing just in front of her, he stops.

His heart is lodged in his throat. 

“Can… can I touch you?”

“Why? You want me to be your charity case again? Something you can hold and try to fix to make yourself feel better?”

Okay, maybe that was a bit too far. But she was scared because she was this close to forgiving him, to letting all the anger dissipate like it never existed and letting him hold her like he did so many nights ago.

She shouldn’t forgive him so easily. She shouldn’t want to forgive him so quickly.

He shouldn’t influence her as easily as he does.

He winces, as if she’d physically hit him with those words. He hates the way she’s reacting - hates how she’s talking like she doesn’t know him.

“No,” he says shakily, the word coming out as a breath. “No, I… you’re not a charity case. I just-”

He’s desperate now, desperate to fix this.

“I want to hold you,” he says quietly, his voice breaking. “I just want to hold you.”

“Why?” she tries to sound demanding, angry, cross with him. But her voice cracks instead.

The sound of her voice cracking makes his chest ache.

“Because I care about you,” he says, the words coming out rushed. “Because I’m terrified that you’ll disappear. And because after everything that’s happened these last couple days, I… I just want to hold you in my arms and make sure that you’re real. That you’re here. I just want you.”

“Please,” he whispers. “Please just let me hold you.”

His heart is beating so damn fast that it’s making his head fuzzy, but he needs her to say yes. 

She eyes him warily. This wouldn’t be the first time he acted like he cared about her like this, only to distance himself after.

“I’m not leaving,” he says slowly, his voice serious. “I’m not going to push you away. I swear. I swear to you, I will not push you away again this time, okay?”

He reaches out slowly, trying to seem as unthreatening as possible, and puts his hand lightly to her wrist - just barely keeping his touch there, like he’s afraid she’ll recoil away. 

“Please,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving hers. “Please just… just give me a chance. Let me just have this one thing. Please.”

Still eyeing him, she gives him the barest nod. 

She’s never been that good at saying no to him anyway.

Slowly, he moves closer to her, taking one small step at a time. His hands hover at her shoulders for a moment,  pulling her to stand up, before he reaches out again and gently pushes her shirt sleeves up slightly, exposing her bare forearms.

She watches him curiously, wondering what he’s doing.

He carefully wraps his fingers loosely around both of her wrists, being mindful of a bruise, and gently guides them up and around his shoulders. 

His hands settle on her hips, and then he hesitates. He knows she’s still upset. He knows that he’s still got to apologize and make it up to her properly, but right now, he desperately just wants her close. So he takes a deep breath and gently pulls her body closer, until he can feel her flush against him.

He rests his chin on the top of her head, and god, she feels so good in his arms. She feels so right, and he doesn’t even care that she’s hurt and angry with him right now - she’s here. She’s here, and she’s not pushing him away.

She inhales and that scent that’s so Oscar fills her senses.

She wonders why Oscar smells like coming home.

His hands rub up and down her body slowly - still as gentle as he can manage, not wanting to overstep. He feels her flinch when he accidentally brushes his fingers over a patch of bruise just above her hip bone, and he quickly moves his hand to other spots.

He just wants to hold her. He wants to be close to her.

“Do friends hug like this?” she whispers, not daring to look at him.

The question catches him off guard, and he freezes for a moment.

“No,” he says slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. He continues his slow rhythm of rubbing up and down along her body, tracing an invisible pattern of loops and circles. Silence falls over the room like a blanket of fog, the night sky a backdrop to the intimacy of two people.

“No, I don’t think friends do,” he says quietly.

“You kissed me. The other night, at your place - you kissed me,” she murmurs into his embrace.

He doesn’t move for a moment, absorbing the words.

“I did,” he says simply.

His hands continue to gently rub up and down against her form, his touch careful and calculated. It’d be so easy, so easy just to slip his hands beneath the fabric of her clothes, to just touch her - skin to skin. But not yet.

“And when I did, you kissed me back,” he says quietly.

Her breathing hitches - she wasn’t sure he’d remember. 

“I did,” she admits quietly.

A warm feeling begins to take root in his chest and he tightens his hold around her. Pulling his head back, his hooked finger tilting up her chin, he tries to read her eyes.

“And if I were to kiss you again right now, do you think you’d kiss me back?” he asks slowly, his voice still a soft whisper.

She looks up at him, eyes meeting his.

“Only one way to find out,” she breathes.

He holds her gaze for a moment longer, searching her face for any sign of discomfort or uncertainty. 

And then he’s carefully lifting one of his hands to her face, his fingers barely coming to rest against her cheek. He rubs the pad of his thumb across her cheek for a moment, just wanting to savor the brief feeling, before gently tilting her head up. 

And then he’s slowly lowering his head down, until he can just barely feel her breath against his lips.

Foreheads pressed together, all she can see, feel, breathe is him.

“Don’t play with my heart like this,” she murmurs against his lips.

He swallows hard.

“I’m not,” he breathes quietly, his eyes closed. He can’t bring himself to open them now - he’s scared of what he’ll see in her expression.

He hesitates. He wants to kiss her, wants to kiss her so bad, but he’s not sure she’ll let him. He’s not sure she trusts him again yet.

He moves his head slightly, his nose just brushing against hers. 

“I won’t,” he says quietly, this time with more conviction - more force. “I swear I will never hurt you again. I’ll prove it, I’ll show you-“

His words are interrupted by a knock at her door. 

They have the worst timing.

Part 4

[whore4abby]

ok this is probably the weirdest ask ever but i think about it so much. do u think modern ellie would have the same build as she does in the game? bc i physically cannot see modern ellie stepping foot in a gym

sorry if that was weird i need a second opinion on it

a/n; can u tell i got carried away with this🤭 nonnie like ask me more if u have any this was rlly fun !!

i mean we know she canonically doesn’t eat much but like modern ellie would still naturally be pretty slim yknow?? probably not as like ‘toned’ (?? is that even the right word) as she is in the game yknow ??

but like imagining modern ellie with a lil pudgy tummy is just aksksjakajajka 🤭🤭 she’s the cutest.

a/n;okay like here’s my random tangent i went on, so irrelevant😭

i see her as such a picky eater !!!! her diet probably consists of dino nuggets, frozen pizza and the biggest monster cans she can find. “look baby, a pterodactyl!” smiling like a goofy little kid and shoving it into her mouth before you even get a chance to look, giggling with her mouth full as you groan at her for being so gross.

totally agree with you on her never stepping foot into a gym !!!!! like that girl cannot take anything seriously she would get distracted in the first 2 minutes of her workout. BUT i feel like if she did workout (as sporadically as it would be) i can totally see her trying to like dry scoop pre-workout and just absolutely choking violently. coughing like a maniac as a big cloud of powder comes out from her lips.

also i just feel like she’s clumsy and uncoordinated😭😭 but she honestly believes she can pull this shit off. “babe look what i learned!” and proceeds to attempt a one-handed push up and fall flat on her face, the both of you cry laughing for a solid minute at her pathetic attempt.

© 2023 whore4abby all rights reserved

[bigmammallama5]

ok that wasnt as bad as it has been in the past, but ow my body

go get ur shots yall

Got my covid booster finally, hopefully i wont turn into a complete lump.

[iiotic]

─── જ ‎` ‎𓂃 ‎ ticci toby general headcanons

𖦹 ‎ quick disclaimer: the slendermansion doesn't exist in this universe, did i enjoy reading it some years ago? yes, i loved it and i still enjoy reading it from time to time, but would i want to write about it? naah.

english is not my first language, i apologize for any grammar mistakes.

masterlist | nav.

practically isn't homeless but is? he made himself a little apartment in an abandoned butchers house. he has his mini fridge in there, some mattress, pillows and a blanket left behind so he thought, why not make it his?

collects mugs and cds!! even though most of the time he isn't drinking from the mugs nor listening to music 24/7.

whenever his tics get really bad, he likes to listen to the cds he collects, it calms him down.

cannot drive for the life of him.

knows the forest like the back of his hand, knows every shortcut, every trap, where every lake is, where other creeps might be located; like the rake.

the gash on his cheek is fully healed, but it doesn't really look pleasing to the eye. basically there's still a hole in his cheek but the meat around it is healed and sorta dry? i dont know how to describe that.

because of that when he is in public he wears a bandage over his cheek to not scare the shit out of people. its not like he gets weird stares for his tourettes from intolerant people or pity stares from those empathetic ones already, but there's also his favourite type, the normal i don't give a shit one.

is easily irritated by loud chewing, someone breathing though their mouth or slow walkers.

hear me out, his style is something between midwest emo, grunge and a slight touch of fairy core.

loves tim burton movies! doesn't have a favourite.

tries to get his hygene under control, showers at hotels or in the lake as he doesn't have water in his hut. he really doesn't want to stink like one of his fellow individuals *cough cough* jeff.

cannot stand pure black coffee, thinks its disgusting.

wants to learn how to play the guitar but doesn't know where to start.

visits lyras grave at least every two weeks, he misses her deeply.

touch starved, but feels uncomfortable if anyone who isn't really really ckose to him touches him.

sometimes spends his time with tim and brian (he sees them as a father figures, WHO SAID THAT??)

has friend-hatred relationship with jeff.

canonically was in a relationship with clockwork but shit happened and they broke up. i like to think that they broke up 'couse clockwork came out as lesbian and the chemistry between them wasn't chemistrying, yk?

is closer friend with BEN and ej, no questions asked no questions needed.

is heavily manipulated, brainwashed by the operator to kill people.

he's on team samsung, thinks iphones sucks.

© 2024 iiotic. — do not steal, translate or repost any of my content onto any other platform

[tgmsunmontue]

I never knew I was missing you 2/? WIP

Jake is just trying to find a connection. Shame the guy he connects with the most is lying about his identity online; because he sure as hell isn't A-list Hollywood star Bradley Bradshaw.

ONE

CHAPTER TWO

                Despite everything, PinballWizard is funny, dry and sarcastic with his humor, but definitely a nerd of the highest order. As well as being able to talk about pinball machines, he also knows a lot about naval aviation, can rattle off facts that even Jake hasn’t heard before but when he goes and looks them up, they check out. Jake assumes it’s how it ties into the model plane making. Obviously the guy is a fan of Bradley Bradshaw, imitation being the highest form of flattery or whatever it is, but Jake is wondering whether he can get an actual photo of him.

                He’s not too proud to admit that he’s a little vain, or a lot vain depending on who you ask. They’ve been chatting for a week now and Jake can’t believe how much he’s actually been enjoying it. Getting to know him, learning that he apparently lives with his two closest friends that he’s known since high school, enjoys swimming to keep fit but will do other things if he really has to. Grew up in California and has been coerced into doing all sorts of things because he loves his friends and would do anything for them. Jake has talked about being in the Navy and flying, both of which he seems incredibly knowledgeable about, which just makes him more convinced that it’s definitely not actually Bradley Bradshaw. Because while Jake doesn’t consider himself a huge fan, he’s pretty sure he’d have remembered if Bradley Bradshaw had any ties to the US Navy.

>>If you don’t believe me then why do you keep talking to me?

>>Well, even with your weird hobbies I find you more interesting than the people who are just sending me dick pics or only want to fuck.

>>Great to know what your priorities are.

>>Hey. Just telling it like it is.

>>Just be glad I’m not reporting you to the police for pretending to be someone you’re not.

>>I’d like to see how successful you are with that.

>>More successful than you.

>>Why are you talking to me when I don’t believe you?

>>Because I enjoy talking to you.

>>Yeah well, ditto.

>>What would it take for you to believe me?

                Jake sighs, because they’ve gone around this in circles once already, PinballWizard sending a new photo which Jake is pretty certain is simply stolen from the deep recess of the internet, somewhere like Pinterest or something. And sure enough another photo comes through and it’s definitely a candid shot, the stubble isn’t something he’s used to seeing in pictures, just the moustache, which he’d grown for a part and then found he liked it enough to keep it. Jake’s glad, he’s a fan of the moustache for sure. It does disappear for some parts, but Jake is always relieved when he sees it growing back. This photo though has an almost beard, and not a closely trimmed one, patchy in places and he wonders if maybe PinballWizard actually has access to Bradley Bradshaw’s private Instagram account or something.

>>You just grabbed that off the internet. It’s fine. Whatever.  Don’t send me a proper photo. You’re probably some pot-bellied guy in his 50s living in his parent’s basement mending your little machines…

                He knows he’s being an asshole, but he’s hoping to provoke him into at least something real. Knows what he’s typed out is at least half lies, PinballWizard talked about his friends too easily to make Jake think that they weren’t real, and he’d have to live with other people given the cost of rent. Then his phone chimes and the next photo that comes through makes him choke and cough, because holy shit, definitely not pot-bellied or in his 50s. There’s no face this time, but written on a piece of paper, very clearly, is Fuck you Brad2lover andif he’s not mistaken it looks like the guy is trying to give him the finger. His arms are nicely muscled, and his stomach is flat and there’s a hint of abs and he doesn’t think PinballWizard is even flexing. Holy shit.

>>Holy shit PW, why are you lying about who you are when you have a body like that?

>>Not lying, but you won’t believe me so we’ll just have to agree to disagree.

>>Damn you’re stubborn.

>>Yeah.

>>With good reason.

>>So are you.

                Jake laughs and shrugs, despite the fact that no one can see him.

>>My name’s Jake.

>>Share your name at least.

>>Call me Brad.

                Jake rolls his eyes.

>>Fine.

>>Brad it is.

…            …            …

                “Your flyboy checks out,” Ron says, taking a sip of coffee and Bradley looks up.

                “What?”

                “I did a background check. Plus I asked Ice to have a look. He’s squeaky clean.”

                “I didn’t ask you to do that,” Bradley states, even though he understand the necessity of it, he doesn’t have to like it.

                “No, you didn’t. You shouldn’t have to because it’s part of my job and I’m not letting your delicate sensibilities of wanting to find out about the person organically put you at risk again.”

                “Yeah. Fine,” Bradley says with a sigh.

                “I’m not telling you anything else. Just… you can trust him. Open up and share things.”

                “Well, he doesn’t believe it’s me he’s talking to anyway, so it doesn’t even matter.”

                “Huh. That’s not a problem I thought we’d have.”

                “Yeah well. It’s the problem I have.”

                “You like him?”

                “Uncle Sli, it’s hard to like a guy who thinks I’m lying to him.”

                “Taking that out of the equation, do you like him?”

                “I’ve been talking to him every day all week.”

                “Am I meant to extrapolate my own answer from that?”

                “Fine. Yes. I like him. Happy now? He makes me laugh. I don’t think he’d care about the fame, if he actually believed it was me. But he doesn’t.”

                “Hmm,” Sli hums, his eyes narrowing and Bradley shakes his head.

                “No. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but the answer is no.”

                “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

                “Do? Maybe not. But you can’t say anything either. Not to Mav, and not to Ice.”

                “Well, too late. Ice already knows, because he wanted to know why I was asking.”

                “Of course he did,” Bradley says, rubbing his forehead. God. This is going to turn into a huge mess. Maybe he should just cut his losses and stop chatting with Jake. “Please tell me you haven’t mentioned it to Mav at least…”

                “Nope. I haven’t. But you really want me keeping secrets from my husband?”

                “I want you to remember who pays you and that you’ve got a confidentiality clause you’re meant to stick to.”

                “You know very well he’s exempt…”

                Bradley sighs, because he’s right, because Mav decreed that he should know everything. Which of course has led to Bradley trying to keep even the smallest thing from him, and Ice lording it over him if he ever finds out something first.

                “Please. Don’t share anything with him. There not yet anything to share. He has no self-control, so please don’t tempt him with it…”

                “You know him so well.”

                “My whole life,” Bradley mutters, used to this refrain between them and prepares himself for the sappy rejoinder, ready to pull the face Sli expects him to make despite the fact that he wants what him and Mav have.

                “And the rest of mine.”

                “Gross. Go visit him. I’m not going anywhere.”

                “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

…            …            …

                Jake isn’t sure why he’s persisting with Brad, and he wonders if he should maybe do a little digging, but isn’t sure whether he can do about Bradley Bradshaw, or about Brad. He isn’t tech savvy enough to hack into anyone’s account, but he can ask harder to answer questions. Maybe see if he can get something concrete.

>>So, real talk.

>>Worst relationship?

>>Creepy stalker woman.

>>Any relationship that ends up having to involve the police is the worst.

>>Well shit, I was just going to say getting broken up with while deployed.

>>Yeah. That would suck.

>>Yeah. But still better than getting cheated on. Cause that sucks worse.

>>Ouch. Yeah. Been there too.

>>When did dating or finding someone get to be so hard?

>>I know my parents didn’t have it this hard.

                Bingo. Jake knows that Bradley Bradshaw is an orphan, his father dying when he was young and then his mom when he was a teenager. How has never been covered, questions deflected away carefully, but Brad is talking about his parents.

>>I mean, I can’t ask them, because they’re dead. But even my godfathers seem to have had it easier.

                Well shit, the guy clearly knows Bradley Bradshaw pretty well. Back to the drawing board it is.

THREE

[levi-supreme]

Levi taking care of you when you're sick

Characters: Levi x fem!reader

Genre: Modern!au

Warnings: SFW, fluff. Established relationship. Levi is the best lover anyone can ever ask for. A little self-indulgent. Use of nicknames (princess, baby, babe, love).

A/N: I'm down with a fever and all I want is to have Levi take care of me so, please enjoy this little drabble of Levi taking care of you <3 tbh this can also be for a gender neutral reader, but I decided to tag it as fem!reader because of the nicknames, so read it at your own discretion!!

You woke up feeling like you got run over by a truck, your body unusually sore and aching. Your head was pounding and your throat felt as dry as sand. Weird, you thought. You felt okay last night before you slept.

"L-Levi?" you croaked, your voice cracking and your throat hurting. "Levi? Babe?" you called out, feeling hotter than usual under your layers. Your boyfriend stirred in his sleep and opened his eyes.

"Yes, baby? You're up early," Levi scooted closer to you, but his expression turned sour.

"You're sweating a lot." Levi jumped up and grabbed a thermometer. Touching your forehead, he realised you felt warmer than usual. As the thermometer beeped, he took it out and saw the reading on the screen.

37.8°C. You were having a fever.

"Get up, princess. Wash up. We're going to see Hange." Levi supported you up and carried you to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet seat and helping you remove your sweaty clothing.

"W-wait, it's only 8am, love... Hange's clinic doesn't open until 10—"

"I'm calling them in a while. Don't worry. Are you able to stand?" You nodded and stepped into the shower, assuring Levi you're fine. Levi quickly went to give Hange a call, and they said they would wait for you two at their clinic.

Once the both of you were done washing up, Levi blew dry your hair and forced you into a thick sweater and comfy track pants. The heat was unbearable and you could already feel yourself getting sweaty, yet Levi said it was better to sweat it all out. Putting on a surgical mask on you and himself, Levi quickly escorted you into his car and began driving to Hange's clinic.

"Oi, four-eyes," Levi pushed the door of Hange's clinic and the loud chime of the bell signalled his arrival. Hange was already at the counter.

"Friendly way to greet your friend who opened up their clinic an hour earlier for you," Hange replied without looking up from their computer, taking a sip of steaming hot coffee from their mug.

"I'm sorry Hange," you let out a few coughs, feeling the swell in your throat, "I know you only start work at 10 and—"

"I'm kidding! Don't be sorry. I was just teasing Levi." Hange laughed and waved their hand before opening the door to one of the consultation rooms, telling Levi to bring you inside. Hange then put on a pair of gloves and a surgical mask and took your temperature. Your temperature was now 38.0°C.

Taking a stethoscope, Hange began asking you questions about your symptoms and you recounted them to the best of your ability. Levi had an arm on your shoulder, giving you reassuring squeezes and rubbing your back whenever you coughed. Hange wrote the prescriptions on a small card before handing it to the pharmacist through a small sliding window. Opening the door, Hange told you and Levi to wait outside.

"Remember to take your medicine on time and you'll recover within the next few days, okay?" Hange smiled as Levi collected the medicine from the pharmacist. You nodded while suppressing your cough and Hange frowned.

"Don't do that, it's bad for your throat. Also, no cold drinks or food, no snacking, and no physical activities even after you've recovered." Levi grunted a word of thanks as you waved goodbye before walking you out of Hange's clinic, making a beeline straight home.

"Go take a shower, princess. I'll cook you some soup." Levi told you as he unlocked the door, helping you remove your shoes. You felt really lethargic all over and badly needed to nap, yet you knew you had to get a rinse to cool down your temperature. You slowly made your way to the bathroom and took a well needed cold shower, hissing in pain whenever the cold water hit your skin. When you were done, you made your way to the dining table. Levi was still in the kitchen, and you could catch a whiff of fragrant soup.

"I know you don't have much of an appetite, but you need to eat, okay? Drink some soup first. I cooled it already." Your boyfriend gave you a soft kiss on your forehead and pushed the bowl of vegetable soup in front of you. You took a good look and realised it wasn't the bowl you usually used for meals, but a smaller-sized one. You gave him an appreciative smile before taking a sip while Levi sat beside you.

"Mm... It's good," you took slow sips, coughing sometimes as Levi rubbed your back.

"Want more? I'll get you another bowl." Levi stood up and went to the kitchen with your half-empty bowl, coming back with a new piping hot bowl of soup. You took your time and finished your soup, feeling your throat less scratchy and dry compared to how it was in the morning.

"Come on, let's get your hair dried and you need to take a nap." Your boyfriend held you up and walked you back to the bedroom. You could feel your head spinning and the aches all over your joints, you couldn't wait to fall asleep. Levi helped you sit and began blow drying your hair for you, making sure he wasn't accidentally pulling your hair or scratching your scalp too hard. The soft pressure from Levi's fingers combing through your hair was so comforting that you nearly dozed off without realising. Once Levi was done, he quickly got you your medication and made sure you took all of them before tugging you into bed, making sure you were comfortable.

With your head on your pillow and your blanket covering your entire body, Levi was closing the curtains when you softly said "b-babe," after a small coughing fit, cringing after hearing how hoarse your throat was. Levi hummed in response.

"... can you nap with me?"

Levi turned around and gave you a grin, "yeah, of course, princess. Give me a sec, okay?" and he left the bedroom for a short moment before coming back with a huge flask of water and your water bottle, setting it on top of the bedside drawer. Levi got under the covers and gently pulled you closer, letting your back rest against his sturdy chest as he loosely draped an arm around you.

"Y-you don't—cough—you don't have to be s-so close," you shivered, "I'm really w-warm, and I don't want to pass my f-fever—cough—to you—"

"Shhh, it's fine," he pressed a fleeting kiss on your crown, "you're toasty." Levi let out a long breath before pulling you closer to him. "go to sleep, love. Before I knock you out." you bit your lower lip and tried to hide your laughter, instead you broke into a coughing fit. You briefly turned to look at your boyfriend.

"Don't be mean babe, I'm sick."

"And I'll take care of you until you recover," Levi gave you another small smile and pressed a kiss to your cheek, "go to sleep. I'll wake you up before dinner." you nodded and closed your eyes, listening to your boyfriend's slow breathing behind your back. Levi kept his eyes on you, watching you until the crease between your brows disappeared before joining you in dreamland.

A/N: This is also a reminder to drink more water and eat your fruits and veggies, and take care of yourself!!! <3

Tagging: @levi-lover @ack3rlady @cinnamonlevi @roralore @imkumichan @kristinecharmm @notgoodforlife @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein @sweet-assh0le @hannie2kay @ack3rlevi @levislovingwife @galactict3a @hauntedhousecat @suukee @thesimpsstuff @ackermendick @greenfurret @evas-leslas @levisbrat25 @chaotic-nick @lilshades @svftackerman @youre-ackermine @ladycheesington

Levi imagines, scenarios, drabbles master list | Levi main master list

[onlytendoguesses]

Telltale Tokyo || Tendo Satori

est.bf!Tendo Satori x est.gf! Reader

 !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗

Genre - Fluff

Summary - All Tendo wants is to go for a run, but when he finally gets home to his girlfriend, he may have gotten much more than he bargained for.

Spotify - Telltale Tokyo

Word Count - 4.4k

 !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗

‘You’ve got another thing coming if you think you're getting out of this, Y/n!’ 

The front door slammed against the wall as Tendo swung it open. 

‘Not answering my texts or calls, leaving me high and dry, do we really need me to miss you any more than I already do?’

If he had his way he would kidnap you from your law firm and make you a partner in his factory. The job would come with part ownership, unlimited potential and… perks. 

‘Y/n?’ His smile wide and a spring in his step, he yelled out again as he gave the open plan apartment a once over. 

He had been patient about your reluctance to get back into running for far too long. 

You were making great progress up until the recent flu season, and you were out for two weeks with a bad cold. Any athlete knew a two week break was as good as pushing the restart button. 

Tendo also knew you were eager to get back in the gym full time. But the heavy chest and cough that the flu had left behind needed to clear out first. Since then your evenings consisted of walks, and light jogging. 

The desired effect was met, but you wouldn’t budge about running; having always hated that form of cardio.

Before the flu you'd had a steady pace that you didn't waver on out of pure discipline, but getting you back to it had been a pain in the ass. 

For days he’d been pushing the subject, until you finally ran out of excuses and relented. 

He was excited to leave the factory early and get his running shoes on. To him there was no comparison to that type of refocus. The air in his lungs, the feel of his rushing pulse and the urge to keep his legs going long after they had reached their limit.

It was good for clearing the head. 

His smile dimmed down as the seconds ticked by without an answer.

The silence he was met with when he entered your apartment was out of character but not above being part of one of your grand schemes to escape cardio for the day.

You weren't in the kitchen or the lounge area. The TV was silent and the terrace door shut. The sliding door and at least some of the windows were always open when you were home. 

It was an aesthetic thing. The fresh oxygen from your plants outside, the chilly wind from your highrise apartment, the open air somehow breathing new life into the atmosphere.

You had that in common, needing the sharp clarity. The slap on the wrist from nature to pause in your thoughts and appreciate the present time. 

Your penchant for working hand in hand with the universe and going with the flow made more sense to him than you realized. He just had a more direct approach to things. 

He was Tendo Satori. World renowned chocolatier and infamous Guess Monster of the volleyball court from his heyday in Shiratorizawa Academy. Bypassing the bullies, the weird looks and the rejection – he did what he wanted, when he wanted and didn't let any form of the word ‘no’ phase him. Returning to Tokyo had been the best decision he’d ever made too. It was the reason he’d found you.

He paused; his confusion palpable.

Glancing down at the compact shoe stand just inside the doorway, he noticed your day shoes were still present and your house shoes weren't. So you were definitely in here. 

‘I will find you.’ He stated more softly as he kicked off his shoes and closed the door behind him. There was no doubt about it. 

Making his way through the layout of your apartment that was now second nature, he noted that there was no brew of coffee in the air either. You usually have a cup every few hours. 

The narrow hallway leading out of the lounge housed doorways to your bedroom, bathroom and study. He would bet his money on any of them. 

But on further inspection of the study and bathroom, the doors were wide open - and unoccupied. 

The slightly ajar door of your bedroom was a telltale sign, but every game of hide and seek needed a bit of time to play out. Where was the fun in winning early? 

Pushing the door open, knocking being an unnecessary politeness at this stage, his smile was returned to him at the sight he was met with. 

The only light in your bedroom peeked from between two closed curtains that covered a wall span of mid-level to ceiling high windows. The sundown rays barely reached the foot of the bed, leaving most of the room in evening shadow.

The double bed in the center of the room sat between a one seater against the wall, a tiny dresser for your nighttime essentials and your current read of the week.

He walked into the room, taking care to avoid the pillows that were thrown haphazardly to the floor. His presence blended into your personal bubble that had already grown accustomed to him.

There you were in the middle of the bed. Scattered across your pillow was your hair, your eyes closed and your breaths uneven as your body curled up in a fetal position around a particularly large pillow. 

On instinct his eyes scanned the MSBY Black Jackals team calendar stuck on the side of your bedroom cupboard. The 17th of July. He sighed softly. It was that time.

His change of plans were immediate. No longer was running and a healthy meal on the agenda. It was time for comfort and calories.

Softly stepping around the pillows, he had spied your phone upon entering and turned it over to see a number of unread messages both from him and a few friends. But nothing seemed too urgent, no one more important. 

As far as he knew, you definitely attended work, so you either started cramping later in the day or probably stuck it out until you got home.

The battery percentage was 42% so he plugged your phone to charge and kept it on silent taking care to turn it over again for when the screen lit up with notifications. 

Leaving the room, he made quick work of ordering food instead of opting to make it himself because he was not sure of how long you hadn't eaten and he would rather keep his focus on you.

He squinted at his phone, caught between spicy ramen or spicy chicken or spicy tuna. You liked all three and all were comfort food and he knew of two different establishments that would be happy to add on. A lightbulb went off in his brain and he pulled up a frequent contact. 

‘Onigiri Miya, how can I help you?’ 

‘Ushiwaka!’ Tendo whisper yelled. ‘Can I get an urgent delivery?’

‘Uh… sure, please state your order, name and address, Sir?’ 

Tendo’s left eye twitched. ‘Wakatoshi.’ He replied slowly. Mildly offended that his best friend did not recognize his voice.

‘... Yes, that is my name, please state yours and what I can get for you?’

Tendo slapped his forehead. ‘It’s Satori!’ 

On instinct he looked toward the door of the bedroom, hoping he didn’t wake you up.

‘Tendo.’ Wakatoshi Ushijima stated over the phone line, Tendo understood it was partly a greeting.

He sighed loudly, squeezing his eyes to shut out the need to fight with Ushiwaka over the phone. ‘Would you be able to schedule a delivery for two platters in the next 20-30 minutes?’ He knew you would want options and sushi would be the most filling and binding enough to tide you over till tomorrow. 

‘Yes. We can squeeze in a drop off for that time. Should I tell the kitchen the spicy tuna rolls are for y/n?’

Tendo scoffed. Y/n he remembered easily. He whistled out a breath. ‘Yes, please tell Samu it’s for y/n, Wakatoshi.’ Y/n was known for haggling Osamu for spicy tuna and any new spicy recipes and he would know how best to make her order.

‘Payment on delivery?’ Tendo offered after a few seconds of soft clicking and silence.

‘That would be perfect. Enjoy your evening Tendo.’

‘I’ll visit you at the shop soon.’ It was a mild threat. 

‘Okay.’

The dial tone lasted a second before he clicked off. 

Tendo’s eye twitched again as he continued looking at his cellphone, resisting the urge to throw it. Always so calm, collected and unphased was Wakatoshi Ushijima.

He whistled another breath, before dropping his phone on the kitchen counter and moving on to the rest of his tasks.

He put coffee to brew, noted that there was chocolate in the fridge and peeked into the bedroom one more time before he tore his shirt off to shower.

As he pulled his red hair back, a bulk of it in one of your hair ties, so it didn’t get too wet, he caught a glimpse of the outline of a curled up fox on his left rib cage. Long-tail curled around the small form of a female fox, sleeping soundly – his Y/n was just as simple, just as vibrant, just as feline, just as secure in his presence. The matching black fox with a slightly shorter tail sitting up with his ears perked would easily be found on your right shoulder blade.

The match was easily deduced, your connection unyielding, the loyalty unending. He would always have your back… you would always be close to his heart.

Love was very different with you. Somehow it didn't require too much effort to keep up. Were you stubborn, a bit controlling, easily swayed by emotions and headstrong about your opinions, sure. But you were adaptable. You heard him out, kept up with his antics and newly found hobbies and supported his idea to open his own chocolate factory too. A risky idea akin to becoming Willy Wonka and building a castle in the sky, but you supported him anyway. 

The world was too big to be realistic but too small not to have firm foundations for any big dreams. And the middle is where you made yourself comfortable. You taught him it could be comfortable. 

Conversation was easy. Fighting was hard. Like when you were offered a job at a new branch in a different region — a promotion to run it, and you refused because your heart was with him. He would have moved too, but by then he'd invested in his factory and he didn't like holding you back. Ultimately it was your decision. 

Choosing you on your hard days, cooking dinner, letting you vent, providing input or just being there seemed to be everything for you.

Those nights, when tears leaked from the edge of your vision and you weren't strong enough to carry it all, you let it free. He found you then, his tongue lapping at the tears, his long fingers firm on your thighs, his teeth teasing, coaxing, driving you over while he held all your shattered pieces together. 

Some days were harder than others. Like when machinery broke at the factory or someone put in the wrong quantity of ingredients ruining an urgent batch or even dispatching too much stock. A start-up that he needed to keep up with, he did his best, but some days his best just didn’t cut it. 

Those days you let him swipe at you, let him taunt the reality of what was, his honesty a bit cutting, and unnecessary. But you curled into his side, never allowing him to push you too far away and when he worked his way out of his head, he would hold you as close as possible. 

Making love to you on those nights were primal, edgy, kinky, nothing off the table, very few hard limits. And a combination of colors, your only lifeline to stay sane. 

He was loud and rowdy. You were quiet and observant. But you could keep him in check and he could hear you in the silence. 

Maybe days like these where you were overly sensitive and could cry at the drop of a hat were supposed to be harder. He didn't think so. 

In honesty, he saw your monthly cycle from a mile away. Your boobs were sensitive, you looked a bit plush and rounded, your appetite seesawed between not hungry and ravenous and you were extremely restless and horny.

He knew you enough to notice the signs. And he would never tell you this, because you would hate it, but he loved when you were like this. 

He didn’t mind the blood. The messy sheets and underwear. Making a last minute run for pads or tampons. And definitely didn’t mind a bit of blood on his cock when you asked him to make you feel a bit better. 

When you were this vulnerable and sensitive and overwhelmed he was ready to grab a hold of you with both arms and keep you close. Feed you food. Share showers with you. Just overall dote on you and revel in the right to do every bit of it. 

Plus, you already knew he had a thing for dacryphilia. It played a big role when orgasms helped with the cramps. First three days were either the best or the worst. He preferred the former over the latter.

It was not that you didn't let him take the lead on most decisions or consider him in every scenario, but some masculine pride had to be felt at the fact that in these moments, for these few days, you followed him blindly and without question. 

Deep in his thoughts he didn't even notice he was on autopilot until he answered the door. He'd already had fresh clothes on, his hair slightly damp and skin flushed from a hot shower. A gray sweatpants he used when he stayed over and an old, frayed at the edges, purple shirt he had bought in Paris, easy material that you wouldn't find too abrasive against your skin. 

Once done paying up and thanking the delivery guy, Tendo placed the food on the counter but didn't unpack anything yet. 

He would usually take time to tease the person doing the delivery. Something easygoing, like receiving the order with his head upside down, or rising to his full height to be unnerving. If he was in a good mood he might make easy friends with them, provide unsolicited advice to the college goers or tell a mild secret about the volleyball professionals that would make Onigiri Miya an interesting hotspot for a few days. Then he would wait for a phone call where Y/n’s favorite Miya twin would sigh heavily, the simple action taking a lot of effort from the very composed male.

By now it was dark, the sun set at least half an hour ago, and the dull street light hue shone through the lounge. He drew those curtains, making sure no light peeked through. He knew your eyes tended to be sensitive to light and too much exposure would give you a headache, which would only cause you to be even more miserable.

Ticking the boxes in his head, as he switched on and dimmed the lights of the apartment, he unplugged the heating pad and made his last stop to the bedroom. 

You had turned over to face the doorway and were a little awake, probably having heard all his shuffling. 

He leaned against the door jam. 

‘Hi.’ You said softly. A small strained smile on your face. He didn't like when you were in pain, but he masked the twinge of irritation he felt curl around him. Focusing rather on your voice and how you were feeling.

He knew how bad the cramps could get. And he didn't like how he could never fix it. Not yet anyway. A nine month break was a plan for the future. 

He swallowed hard, doing his best to stop himself from imagining you with a round belly, a glow to your skin, his baby inside of you… the surge of protectiveness almost making him snarl. Dammit, it was not time to get you pregnant.

Instead he tilted his head to the side. ‘That bad, huh.’

Tears welled in your eyes at his words. He knew it was an involuntary reaction. You were frustrated, had every right to be too. But the irritation he originally thought he could handle could be felt in his taut cheeks. 

‘Just a few days.’ You reminded him. A tiny attempt to make the inscrutable expression on his face soften.

‘Can I move you?’ He asked before he could help himself. He needed to be close. He needed you close.

You barely had time to finish a head nod before he made his way over and climbed gently onto the bed. 

You expected him to curl up behind you and spoon. But he sat up against the headboard and as gently as possible brought your back to lean against his front. 

The slight jostling had you moaning in discomfort. Your clothes were too abrasive. And you were both hot and cold. But the cramps in your belly were the worst. The type of pain that can't be pinpointed or fixed — just felt. It made you hypersensitive to almost everything.

‘Shhh,’ he soothed, his lips finding the top of your head. His kiss was a tender reassurance, making you feel completely together despite unraveling your senses even more.

You tensed slightly when his arms came around you and he placed the heat pack on your belly. 

‘Mmmmh,’ you whined in slight relief as the heat seeped through your clothes. You gave yourself a minute before sighing and leaving your entire body weight to sag on your boyfriend. 

You felt his smirk. ‘Better?’

Letting yourself lean against his shoulder, you hid your face in the crook of his neck and let the world disappear. ‘What would I do without you Satori?’

‘Exactly what you were just now.’ He replied easily, his fingers crawling up under your shirt and applying light pressure at your sides. ‘And somehow you would find the strength to take care of yourself.’ You groaned at the slight pressure, the pain from the cramps slowly becoming manageable. ‘Eventually.’ He added after a moment.

‘But,’ he stopped and one hand slid up your body to tilt your chin up. ‘I'm here to make it a bit better.’ 

He pecked you on the lips and let you relax again. 

‘Reconsider,’ you teased. ‘This is almost every month for the rest of your life.’

‘I don't scare easily, baby.’ His answer was instinctive. ‘I'm the monster in the dark, remember.’

Awkward position aside, you tilted your head up again to peck his chin. A small reminder that you had accepted every single part of him a long time ago. 

You both sat in silence, in the dark. Feeling each other's heartbeat align. His arms around you, strong and secure, his cheek pressed up against your forehead — like no other moment in the world could be more perfect. 

‘There's food,’ he whispered after a few minutes, ‘coffee and chocolate. And a very famous chocolatier at your every beck and call.’ 

‘Spicy food?’ Appetite mood swings aside, your mouth watered at the option. 

‘Osamu’s best.’ 

‘Belgian coffee?’ Only the best that he would bulk order for you. 

He hummed. 

You smiled to yourself this time. You had no choice but to count yourself lucky. ‘I might just be in love with you.’

‘Yeah? How can you be so sure?’ It was a very Tendo question. Where he knew, as you had both confessed months ago, but he would like an elaboration anyway. 

‘Because… ‘ 

It may be more than a few months since you’d started dating, but how could you explain it without sounding insane? How could you say that you needed to hide yourself in the crook of his neck. That you needed his arms around you and his fingers intertwined with yours. How could you explain that his work cologne was strong but his clean Satori skin felt like home. That his body curled around yours and his lean legs that held firm on the outside of your thighs were a cocoon of safety. That Tendo Satori’s wit and humor and smile and song were a force to be reckoned with and your whole heart only ever craved more of him. 

‘I want to turn you around so I can watch the emotions race across your features, but I'm trying to take care of you.’ His long index finger traced his name on the top of your thigh. The sensation tickled, and had you shivering in anticipation. 

‘I'm thinking.’ You answered through clouded thoughts. 

His chest shook with laughter. ‘Questioning if you love me? You do.’ The only reason you knew not to get offended was because he wasn't laughing at you — he'd never do that to you. His laughter was a Satori-trait. It didn’t always signify humor, rather a clear sign of his confidence, sometimes an acknowledgement, on the odd day… a dare.

‘I'm thinking about how I know I never want to lose you.’ You answered softly. ‘That I always want you with me when it gets tough, and I want to tell you first when things go right, and have you cheer for me in the same way you sing your song.’

‘What about how much you love me?’ He pressed on. 

It was not love. It went deeper than that. He knew it too. 

On surface level may seem simple, but Tendo Satori lived his whole life making peace with the fact that he chose not to flee and not to fight, he chose to just ‘be’ – he was a monster of a different kind. What did that make you, that you tasted his heartache on his lips and chose him anyway.

This time he did turn you around. His patience running thin when you didn’t answer. 

He lifted you up easily, his lean body and muscle strength, aging like fine wine and strategically maneuvered your body so you straddled his lap, the heat pad stuck securely between your bodies and your arms finding purchase on his neck. 

You winced slightly at the new position, but you also felt better being face to face. A serious conversation popping up in a very not ideal situation.

His big round eyes shined with mirth and… some other unnameable emotion. Something darker. A promise. And the vow to do absolutely anything to keep it. 

He touched his nose to yours as you held eye contact. ‘You're never getting rid of me, you know.’ He pulled back and a slow smile grew on his face. ‘You have to love me.’ He blinked. ‘You have to love me alot.’ 

His tone mocking you playfully, purposely provoking, stirred up a need to lean in further and bite. ‘In fact, you have to marry me too.’

Your eyebrows shot up, not missing a beat before awarding him a response. ‘Are you proposing?’

‘I can if you want me to.’ He was nonchalant, his gaze now hooded. A sense of all-knowing overcoming his energy. Like you should consider it done if that's what you really wanted, but it would be a mere formality. ‘I can do the flowers in a heart on the floor.’ He brought one of your arms forward from around his neck. ‘I can do candles and fairy lights.’ He placed a tender kiss on the inside of your elbow. ‘I can get down on one knee.’ He snorted. ‘Or both.’ Then his fingers curled between your own and he met your eyes. His own, a quiet smolder of heat and resolution. ‘I can tell you how much I love you too, y/n.’ 

‘I didn't s—,’ 

‘You don't have to.’ 

His other hand snaked around the back of your neck and pulled you further into him. His face, a hair's breadth away from yours. ‘I can promise you forever.’ He whispered against your lips. ‘And a life together. And to stand with you until the very end.’

‘But most of all,’ he placed a tender kiss below your eye, removing the wetness you didn't seem to notice until now. ‘I'll remind you that I can't unlove you. That this scarred heart, this weird complex man, labeled for as long as he can remember, found a world within having you that he never wants to leave.’

You couldn't speak, your throat clogged with emotions too intense to unravel, a cloying need to cry and make sense of what you just heard, but you could only feel. ‘How ‘m I supposed to top that?’

His lips formed a triangle shape, mouth open and his teeth showing off a burst of happiness. ‘You say, yes.’

The single word was cataclysmic. It cascaded through you, all the many reasons you could never not choose him. His sharp wit, his daring nature, his competitive spirit and perspective on life. His weird hair and resilience to stand up after being pushed down, a force of nature in his love. 

‘Say yes.’ You repeated back to yourself. There was never any question. 

‘Say yes.’ He decreed. His focus entirely on your lips, the heat of his words waiting to fold into yours.

He waited. He didn’t prompt, tease or provoke… he just waited. And for a man that would do anything to get what he wants, that simple action was your undoing. ‘Yes, it is then.’ 

He captured his lips with your own and immediately the world spun on its axis. 

Kissing Tendo Satori was like crossing a line you may never find your way back to. There were no sparks or fireworks in the background, just a deep need. It had the potential to be sickly sweet or bitter and dark, a chocolaty thickness that melted to an unhealthy point of no return. He was an addiction, his smile a borderline threat and demanding lips, a reminder that you no longer belonged to yourself. 

‘Guess I have a label now too.’ You sighed softly when you came up for air. 

His forehead touched yours, eyes closed, breathing hard. ‘What's that?’ 

You covered his heartbeat with your hand, making a silent promise of your own. ‘The girl that fell in love with a monster.’

 !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗

[neyswxrld]

of ration bars & allergies

Hunter, no pairing

summary: Hunter tries a new ration bar. Little does he know that his immune system isn't amused at all and he has a heavy allergic reaction. Luckily, his brothers are there for comfort. Set before Echo joined the squad.

warnings: heavy allergic reaction: rash, difficulties with breathing, stomach aches and throwing up, needles and injections

words: ~1540

a/n: hello! another fic for @summer-of-bad-batch! man, i feel like i'm slowly filling all the prompts, hehe. this time i combined lula and "hold still.". it also might scratch on the comfort zone prompt, hehe. i luckily never had a severe reaction like that, but i researched that there are different stages and i thought if hunter has enhanced senses he might get a worse reaction, even though senses ≠ immune system. BUT! please don't expect this to be an accurate process of a reaction. well. i hope you still enjoy!

MASTERLIST

They are sitting in the cockpit of the Marauder.

Hyperspace is flowing around them, and they are on their way to their next mission.

Wrecker is lifting Gonky, training his arms. Crosshair is napping in a chair. Hunter is sure his neck will hurt as soon as he wakes up. Tech is sitting in the pilot seat, tinkering with some of his new projects.

And Hunter? He is just lingering in a chair next to Crosshair, eating some rations and enjoying the small break between missions. The last few were very stressful, and he was happy to just do nothing for once.

All his reports are done already (well, he thinks so at least) and his brothers are safe and happy for the moment.

Everything is fine and relaxing. Nothing bad is going on.

Or at least it seems like it.

When he first notices the uncomfortable feeling in his throat, he thinks nothing of it.

This new ration bar they have on board for now is very dry and has a foreign taste, but he doesn't mind it. He actually likes it a lot. But he has to drink a lot because of it. He thinks the feeling comes from the weird mixture.

Then, within the next minute, he realizes that his breathing is getting unusual. He has problems with taking air in, and he actually feels like someone is putting their hands around his neck, strangling him.

He coughs and turns around to make sure that isn't the case, but of course: no one is there. It is just his throat that did odd things.

But when time goes on, and his throat gets even worse, panic slowly makes its way into his system.

It is not just a scratchy throat - his whole mouth and lips are tingly, too, and when he touches them, he realizes that they have to be swollen.

"Tech," he coughs, and puts his hand on his throat, trying to scratch it. But it doesn't really help, because it is inside of it.

"Tech, I can't breathe," he croaks, his voice just above a whisper.

Tech immediately turns around, Wrecker plops down Gonky and moves in closer, and even Crosshair opens his eyes, suddenly wide awake and looking at him worried.

When Tech looks into Hunter's face, his eyes get big.

For a few seconds, none of them moves. Everyone just sits still, while Hunter coughs, pulling at his throat.

"Wrecker, get the med kit," Tech orders.

Then, all of them move at high speed.

Wrecker is sprinting away, coming back with the small kit, Crosshair runs to the bathroom to wet some towels, while Tech is crouching in front of Hunter, ordering him to open his mouth.

"Your tongue is swollen, too. And you have a rash on your face. What happened?" he asks, but Hunter just keeps coughing.

He holds up his hand with the ration bar, showing it to Tech, who seems to understand.

He pulls out his med scanner and uses it on the Sergeant.

Crosshair takes the wet towel to carefully wipe away some of Hunter's sweat and cool his face.

Hunter feels worse with every second.

He is getting nauseous and his stomach starts to ache. He is sure being hit by a speeder would be more pleasant.

He absolutely doesn't know, what is going on. Something like that never happened to one of them before. And it happened so, so fast! A few moments ago he was fine, and now he was scared of dying!

It has to be because of this new ration bar. He didn't do anything different from his routine today.

"What's going on with him?" he hears Wrecker, but it feels like he was far away.

He still can't breathe well, and he notices how some black dots seem to invade his field of view.

"I think he has an allergic reaction," is all Tech says, before a needle picks his skin.

"Ouch, Tech!" Hunter coughs and tries to move away, but Crosshair and Wrecker are at his side immediately.

"Hold still, di'kut," Crosshair hisses as Tech takes out another injection.

Even though Hunter feels like his throat gets a bit better immediately, it's the last thing he hears from them, before he slowly starts to fade away, letting the dark spots take over.

When he wakes up the next time, he's laying in his bunk.

There's a breathing mask across his face, and he notices that he can breathe much better than before. His throat doesn't feel thick and scratchy anymore, but he still feels very nauseous.

"Hunter? Are you awake?" he hears Wrecker's voice. He notices how he tries to be quiet, but it doesn't really work.

He nods and opens his eyes carefully.

A wave of nausea hits him again, making him gag.

"You need a bucket?"

Hunter nods, rips his breathing mask off his face and not a second later, he is bent over said bucket, throwing up his guts.

Wrecker's hand comes down to hold his hair back from his face.

"Thanks," he groans before gagging another time.

"Tech said you have an allergic reaction. It's better than before now, but you still have some symptoms. Enhanced senses an' stuff... Made it worse," Wrecker explains and helps him to sit down comfortable.

"Are you feeling better?" he wants to know a second later. Hunter just shrugs.

"Nauseous," he murmurs, just for his stomach to cramp together just a second later. "Argh," he whimpers and curls up.

"I'll go get him," Wrecker stands up when he sees Hunter's pain and is out of the room a second later.

When Tech arrives with his other two brothers in tow, he checks Hunter over again and tells him some stuff about his immune system's reaction he already forgets a second later. Even though he doesn't feel as bad as just an hour ago, there are still different aches in his body.

He throws up another time before the others can leave again.

Wrecker is at his side immediately, bringing him is bucket again.

"Thanks," he moans, but doesn't feel well at all.

He doesn't even know how his stomach is still able to come up with contents.

"You should lay down again. I'll bring you some medicine," Tech murmurs, and off he goes. Wrecker follows him, trying to help him with whatever he's doing with the meds.

Crosshair pats his legs through his blanket. He is still a little white around his nose.

When he slowly stands up, Hunter reaches for him unconsciously.

"Can you stay?" he asks quietly. Crosshair looks down on him again, before nodding.

"Yeah, just give me a second…," he murmurs and walks over to Wrecker's bunk. 

"What're you doing?" Hunter wants to know.

"Nothing," Crosshair gives as an answer, but a second later, he is by his side again, pressing Lula into his hands, trying to look disinterested and nonchalant. "Here."

Hunter can look through his façade but doesn't say anything.

"Lula? Why?" Hunter still asks confused when he pats the plushies head.

"Just take it," Crosshair growls, and shakes the plushy impatiently.

"And when I throw up on her?" Hunter asks again. He still feels sick, and tired, and at the same time the meds from before make his brain weird.

"Then we'll wash it," Crosshair assures him.

"Okay," Hunter whispers again and presses the plushie onto his chest, hiding his face between her ears.

"You think Wrecker will mind?" Hunter questions then. Crosshair shakes his head. Hunter smiles.

A weird but still very familiar smell tickles his nose. She smells like oil, sweat, fear, grieve, and like his brothers. Especially like Wrecker. And Crosshair.

He immediately feels better.

"Can you tell me something?" Hunter asks, looking for even more comfort.

Crosshair looks at him with raised eyebrows.

"Please? For your sick favorite brother," he tries to tease.

Crosshair scoffs. "You're not my favorite brother."

Hunter's smile widens. "Yes, I am."

Crosshair rolls his eyes, before sighing quietly.

"You remember those regs from last mission?"

Hunter nods.

"Found their secret stash," he admits, and pulls out a small bag of gummies out of nowhere.

"That's not what I wanted to know. Crosshair! You can't steal stuff," he murmurs.

Crosshair opens the pack in a demonstrating way and pulls out a handful of the colorful sweets.

"Yes I can!" he just says and offers some to Hunter. He shakes his head. He doesn't want to throw them up again.

"How did you even find it? If it's secret, it had to be in their barracks," Hunter says, already worrying about possible complaints they might receive in foreseen future.

Crosshair starts to tell about his adventures in the regs' barracks, and Hunter slowly starts to drift off while listening to the quiet voice of his brother.

He is already out of it again before Tech comes back with the meds.

Over the day, he wakes up various times, to either throw up or drink some water. He still feels nauseous and his stomach was still very upset, but every time he opens his eyes, Lula is still in his arms, comforting him, and Crosshair is still sitting next to them, taking care of him.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023 @freesia-writes

[momotonescreaming]

STWG Daily Prompt: a warm cup of tea [Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

Fuck, Steve sounds like he’s going to cry again. He supposes it’s the concussion of it all, the brain rattling around in his skull. Bringing all his emotions close to the surface. Tommy watches as Steve sniffs, all wet and gross sounding, before he pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s such a familiar move. Steve holding back tears, his emotions. His fathers words echoing in his head. Boys don’t cry. Man up. Don’t be such a baby. Harrington’s don’t act like that.

Tommy’s father was the same. He gets it. He also thinks that maybe if anyone had a reason to cry, it was Steve. He was freshly broken up with, beaten, and in hospital with a concussion.

It sort of hits Tommy, in that moment, just how alone Steve must have felt, before Tommy showed up. He knew it absently, let the fact wash over him, that all the conversations he had were surface level shit. But he had Nancy. The girl he left Tommy for. But now he doesn’t have Nancy, and his parents aren’t in town, and he didn’t have Tommy. What was it like? Checking into the hospital alone? Weak and woozy and afraid?

But Tommy’s here now, and he’s not fucking leaving. He squeezes Steve’s hand. Ignoring the screaming in the back of his skull that sounds suspiciously like his own father. Telling him it’s weird, and wrong, and he should have let go by now. A handshake is fine, but men don’t hold hands.

He takes a deep breath, and consciously doesn’t let go of Steve’s hand. They both need it, he thinks. A physical symbol of the connection between them. There again. Getting stronger. Tommy is here, and he’s trying, and he fucking missed Steve too.

“So what is there to even do while you’re in here?” Tommy says, looking around the room. There really isn’t much. A table on wheels, to drag over to the bed. A radiator. A painting. An old newspaper.

“Not much,” Steve says, sounding a little calmer now, adjusting his grip in Tommy’s hand but not letting go. “I mostly just doze. The nurses kept waking me up before I could really get to sleep so now I feel all out of wack.”

“Lame,” Tommy scoffs, and Steve smiles at that, soft and sort of sleepy.

“Yeah. I tried reading a newspaper for a bit, just for something to do.” He replies, gesturing at the offending paper with their joint hands. “But it made me feel like my brain was about to melt out my ears and I almost threw up. So.”

“So fuck the newspaper then?” Tommy jokes, smiling back at the other boy. Steve laughs as he nods, an exhale of air. “There’s not even a TV in here. Think your parents are rich enough that they could get one?”

“Probably.” Steve says, laughing, before it quickly dissolves into coughing. Dry, constant, coughs, that shake Steve’s chest. He tries to heave breaths through it all, slow the coughing, until his breaths start to come back to normal. It isn’t until Steve’s stopped that Tommy realises he’s gripping Steve’s hand tighter, and he’s almost hovering on the edge of his seat. Fuck, what if you can really ill from shit like this?

“You okay, dude?” Tommy asks, brows furrowing, trying to keep his voice steady. He cannot lose it now. He’s fucking calm, he’s fine, and Steve is there and he’s okay.

“I’m fine,” Steve says, sort of slumping back down onto the bed, into the pile of pillows keeping him propped up. “My throat’s just dry. Been too tired to sit up and drink. And then the nurse took my water jug away to replace it and never came back.”

“Fucking rude,” Tommy says automatically, enjoying the way Steve smiles at it. At him. At his bitchy little aside. Maybe Tommy doesn’t have to tone himself down too much. Steve loved to gossip and bitch with the rest of him. Seeing something juicy and then turning to Carol and Tommy with a look on his face like did you fucking see that? “Want me to go grab you something? Water? A cup of tea or some shit?”

“Why’re you saying it like that, man?” Steve asks, sort of smirking, teasing. “A cup of tea. It’s not like it’s gross or anything.”

“Warm tea is so fucking gross, dude,” he retorts, smiling. It feels more like they’re settling into what they once had. Friendship. Teasing and joking and actually having fun and enjoying each other’s presence. “Like, who are you, my grandma?”

“I’d be honoured to be Nana Hagan,” Steve laughs, quickly and quietly coughing again. Tommy’s heart clenches at the sound.  “She’s quite the woman.”

“Stop flirting with my nana,” He says, starting to stand up. “I’ll go get you some gross-ass grandma leaf juice.”

And then Tommy’s standing, having pushed himself up with his free hand. And for a moment, he’s just standing there, hand outstretched, still clutching Steve’s. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t loosen his grip. And neither does Steve.

Neither say anything.

Steve, who looks up at Tommy, letting his eyes draw a line up his arm, their conjoined hands. Inhales, swallows, and then slowly lets go, dragging his hand along Tommy’s. Lingering. It almost feels like static electricity, building as the callouses of their fingertips touch for one last moment.

“I’ll be back.” Tommy says. A statement, not a question. Voice almost too quiet.

“Okay.” Steve says on an exhale of air. Almost relieved he didn’t have to ask for it. To confirm it. That he wouldn’t be alone again. It was only a trip down the hall, but still. Tommy wasn’t going to be mean about it. No way. Steve was always a clingy guy, touchy and affectionate with every girl he’s dated. He was with Tommy, once upon a time. He thrives on touch and company and he was alone.

So Tommy leaves the room, and slips down the hall in search of a nurse. A water cooler. A kitchenette with shitty tea. It would be so fucking gross, and at a weird strength, but he’d make it for Steve. Not like the guy could really get out of bed. He can’t even picture how Steve managed to get all the way down to the phone and still be lucid enough to make a phone call.

He hurries down the hall, not wanting to leave Steve for so long. Because he looks so sad about it, yeah, but also because Tommy can’t help but feel the shiver that runs down his back at the thought of Steve changing his mind. Now that he’s alone, now that he doesn’t have Tommy hanging around him, like Florence fucking Nightingale — maybe he’ll realise that he’s still better off without him.

A nurse leads him down to a small kitchenette, built into another alcove down the end of the hall. Designed for visitors and the nurses on shift at the desk. Tommy makes a cup of tea. Just how Steve likes it. And tries to not to spill it as he hurries back down the hall.

[Part Six]

[st6rly]

bury me deep (where my words won’t reach you)

synopsis: it should’ve been me; it is me (or in other words, sudden confessions) | wc — 1.9k

[ !! ] — masterlist.

characters: ayato & kazuha x gn! reader (separate)

categories: fluff, slight angst if you use a magnifying glass, a little suggestive in kazuha’s part, modern au, scenarios

warnings: my inability to write kissing scenes 👎👎 also it’s just past 2:30am so this is not proofread my bad so if there are any proper, warnings please let me know

notes: an old fic that i edited bc omg ?? my grammar was horrible :(( pls do not spam like my posts! reblogs are always welcome however.

for @kamiyatos bc ayato (hope you don’t mind the tag 😓)

AYATO.

“Ah, so this is where you ran off to.” 

You sighed. Dim lights filtered through the doorway as Ayato looked at your position on the floor with a smile. 

“Nice place you’ve got,” he chuckled, closing the door slightly behind him and taking a seat next to you.

A sweet silence passed between you; muffled music from the gym and the cheering voices of students echoed through the hallway. You turned to gaze at him, resting a hand on your knee with your head leaning against the wall. It’s funny when you think about how much your tired eyes contrasted with his relaxed posture. 

“Why'd you come looking for me?” 

Ayato opened an eye, looking at you from the corner of it with a twitch of his lips before he said, “It's my duty as a part of the student council that everyone is enjoying themselves at these types of events. Even if it’s just a little bit.” 

A stifled laugh turned  into a dry cough as you gave him a lazy smirk in return, amused by his words. 

“Does that duty not stretch to you yourself? Weren’t you voted the king of the dance this year? It’s strange for you to not be interacting with your loving fans.”

“Who cares about them? They don’t know me.” He sighed and muttered under his breath, “Not like you do.” 

“Even so, you’d usually go and talk about the benefits of the event with the rest of stuco,” you shrugged. “It’s your night, you should be having fun.” He turned to face you more, running a hand through his hair.

“Would you believe me if I said that this,” he waved a hand between the two of you, “was my idea of fun?”  

“No, I would not believe that hiding in the janitor’s closet is your idea of ‘fun’.” You uncurled your legs from the way they were previously scrunched up. “Then again, you are weird so it wouldn’t surprise me if that were true.” It’s faint, almost lost to the noise from the gym, but you could hear how a chuckle bubbled out of his throat and made out the way his shoulders shook with the sound.

“Even if the person I were to be hiding with is my best friend?”  

“Especially if that person is your best friend.” 

You shifted in your spot, the formal wear you had on stiff and unwilling to let you sit comfortably. 

“God, I hate wearing stuff like this,” you muttered, glaring at him when he laughed at your misfortune. “Shut up. Don’t act as if you’re any more comfortable than I am.”

“If it makes you feel better, aside from the whole uncomfortable part,” he said as he looked you up and down, eyes softened, “I think you look great.” 

You chuckled weakly. With a sigh, you closed your eyes and rested your head on the wall of the cramped space again.

“I highly doubt I look as great as you’re saying right now.” You heard a faint scoff come from him.  

“Nonsense. You look amazing as always.” 

Ayato speaks of nonsense just as it builds up in his chest, There was a longing, a crave even, for him to clasp his hand overtop yours; he fiddled with the buttons on his coat instead.

“I see you every day yet I’ve never wanted to kiss you more than right now,” he blurted out with a hushed voice, startling even himself with what spilled from his lips. A moment’s pause passed as he took in what he just said, unaware of the heat that crawled up your neck. He casted a weary glance towards you.

“My apologies, Y/n. My outburst was uncalled for and I'm sorry if what I said made you uncomfortable.” He covered his face with one hand. “I understand if this changes things and I completely accept if you only see me as a friend or if you don’t want to be friends any-” 

The ramble was snuffed out as he was suddenly met with your lips pressed against his. You pulled him by the collar, eyes closed as you hastily swept him into a brief kiss. Ayato sat there dazed as you moved away, eyes casted away from him. 

He hesitated, movements slowed as he rested a hand on the back of your neck and rubbed small circles on your cheek with his thumb. He smiled, and dove back in; breath fanned across your skin as he devoured the dizzying feelings and melted into the contact. A small amount of satisfaction filled your chest when you parted again, smiling as a red hue decorated his face while his eyes looked at you so dearly.

“In all fairness,” You rubbed the back of your neck and muttered inaudible words before continuing, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time now, too.” You managed to whisper out, resting your forehead against his shoulder. A warmth covered your hands as you still gripped his collar with one, and raising your eyes you saw a kind smile sent your way.  

“Kissing my childhood best friend in a janitor's closet, now that,” Ayato laughed, bold and bright, “that is more than enough fun.” Using the wall to brace himself, he gently raised you both off the ground. 

“How would you like to go somewhere a little less cramped?” 

“What are you, my prince charming?” You teased, hand held tightly in his and grinning bigger that the snort he let out,

“If anything, you’re the real saviour here. My ticket for leaving this event.” He bumped his shoulder against yours. “My precious knight in shining armour.” You lightly shoved him back. 

“I love you,” you murmured, a dopey smile on your face. Ayato couldn’t tease you for it even if he wanted to because he probably looked the same, just as lovesick. 

“I love you more.” It was softly said with such truth and sealed with a squeeze of his hand.

KAZUHA.

Soft chuckles could be heard through the library as the librarian sighed and sent a shush your way. Looking over his shoulder at the page, you couldn’t help but choke up on laughter as Kazuha recited the lines of poetry with a straight face. Tried too at least. Even as an admirer of poetry himself, romantic stanzas and free verses’ chalk full of metaphors about hearts fluttering like butterflies always sent chuckles the vibrated down his spine. Though he couldn’t deny how warm reading them out loud made him feel, imagining your wistful smile as he tells you his latest idea of love.  

“That last poem reminds me of a book I've read before,” you mused, head tilted as you relaxed against the bookshelf. He sat down next to you with his lips curled into a grin.  

“Oh really? What was it about?” You scratch the back of your neck, thinking for a moment.  

“It was a classic teen romance novel. New kid in the school meets the main love interest, and the main love interest falls head over heels for the new kid.” You turned to face him. “The new kid plays hard to get but falls just as hard. Average love story.” You shrugged, a lopsided grin on your face. “Wasn’t my favourite read but definitely wasn’t the worst.”  

“What's the title? I’d like to give it a try and see what all this fuss is about,” He asked, laughing at how you blinked blankly before shaking your head.  

“I can't remember, sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve read it and besides, it really isn’t worth a whole reading session.” Kazuha cocked his head to the side, a curious glint in his eyes. 

“And why not?” 

“They kept dancing around each other a little too much for my liking. I mean, I love a good slow burn but damn.” 

“I guess you aren’t the target audience then.” 

You nodded your head and slumped against his shoulder, hair tickling the side of his neck.

“Definitely not,” you groaned. “Mainly because it reminds me of how lonely I am and how I won’t live out a romance like that.” 

“What makes you say that?” Kazuha watched as your expression turned sour, lips pursed and brow furrowing slightly. His fingers twitched, wanting to cup your face and smother away that look to see you laugh and smile again. 

“Romance in the middle of school seems…” you trailed off, an exasperated laugh breaking your sentence, “it looks hard. I don’t know how people do it. There’s already so much to do and a relationship on top of that.” You shook your head. “Full respect to students who can keep a healthy relationship going.” 

He hummed to himself, taking in your words. 

“That makes sense,” he mumbled and tried not to look so troubled by it. He sat up and you looked at him worriedly.   

“Did I say something wrong? your tone is off,” you pointed out. 

“No! I mean, no. Everything is fine. Don’t worry about it.” A bout of nervousness rushed through him as he coughed and smiled. He could tell you didn’t buy it; the sceptical look on your face said it all before you lunged at him, rolling you both onto the floor with you on top of him.

“Hey-” before he could even ask, he broke out in laughter as you began to dig fingers just below his ribs.

“W-wait!” He struggled to regain his bearings when you stopped, face flushed as he stared up at you. “What… what was that for?”

“I don't want to force you to tell me anything, but frowning doesn’t suit you.” you chuckled. Kazuha could help the small pout on his lips as he sat up onto his arms, slightly distracted with the way the light from the window hit your eyes.  

“I love you so much,” he mumbled, shoulders shaking in both laughter and slight heartbreak, knowing that what you said earlier was right. “God, I wish I could kiss you.” 

He stilled as your smile grew bigger; he hadn’t noticed the way your laughing had seized earlier or the hitch of your breath when he said those words.  

“Say that again.” he gulped at the serious look on your face despite the grin you wore, heat creeping up his neck and ears turning pick as you moved closer. 

“I wish I could kiss yo-” 

His eyes widened as you connected your lips with his, a hand on his chin and noses nearly touching, before sinking into the feeling. It stirred up butterflies that darted around his chest, heart rapidly beating as you both pulled away. Kazuha raised a hand and hovered it over his mouth, as a new smile bloomed on his face. You found yourself joining in on his giggles again.

“What happened to not liking school romances?” He joked through the chuckles. His breath caught in his throat as you clutched his tie in your hand with a smirk.  

“I think it’s going quite well right now but,” you leaned in closer, eyes trailing over his face, “I'll need to check again to make sure that’s not a fluke.” 

He flushed under your stare. 

“You remind me of a character from the book I was talking about earlier.” 

“Oh? Which one?” He whispered. Your grin was dangerous. 

“Definitely the new kid from that story.” You tugged him to look up. “Because i’ve been wanting this ever since we first started hanging out.”